“Is it porn?” I ask, curious.
“Some of it is, some of it isn’t. Although what does the distinction mean, anyway? The fact that most of my illustrations are sexual even though they’re not necessarily about sex, that’s what makes it a kink in the first place.”
“I understand with some of the drawings you mentioned,” Hank says. “The superheroes had erections. And the wasp ladies. There’s pain involved, and penetration. Domination. But you mentioned one that’s just mythological creatures blowing bubbles.”
“Those are my favorite clients.” Elliot sits up. “There are entire online communities into mythological creatures blowing bubbles. I’m a minor celebrity in that world. Who else understands the subtleties in how an ogre, a river spirit, or a centaur might purse the lips? Who else cares about the color of the bubble like I do? And I don’t pander to my audience with hunky, generic heroes. No! I deliver real, everyday faerie dragons. The working woman’s swamp witch, caught in a private moment of play.”
I laugh as the rain pours. “It sounds quite fun, actually.”
Elliot shrugs. His eyes are sunken, and his hair is wild. “I like fan communities. Small crowds of enthusiasts. Geeky stuff like that.”
“I’m a local library fan,” I share. “I adore a book reading with an audience of three.”
“Exactly.” Elliot smiles. “No one’s putting Sonic the Horny Hedgehog in The National Gallery, but I’m pretty happy.”
“Do you have any interests like that?” I ask. “Or it’s all for work?”
Elliot shakes his head as he goes back to playing with the hair on my thigh. “No kinks for me. I like experimenting and trying new stuff, though. Why? Do you have any kinks?”
I’m surprised by the question, although I shouldn’t be. I just asked. “No. I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean, you don’tthinkso?”
I huff, embarrassed that I immediately started thinking about the sock thing. “I don’t have any kinks,” I explain. “There’s nothing special that I need to get off.”
Elliot’s eyes widen, and I can tell that he’s reading me like a book.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, too exhausted to keep a secret. With the storm raging and our survival questionable, Elliot and I are already laid bare to each other here on the island. No reason to act coy now. “It’s nothing. But I’ve always thought socks are sexy.Cleansocks!” I quickly clarify. “Not dirty socks. That’s yuck. Gross. But technically, I do think there’s something hot about a guy wearing nice clean socks. But not enough to call it a kink.”
“Give me enough time and new packs of Nike socks, I’m sure I could turn it into a fetish.”
I huff out a laugh. “I know that I’ve truly lost it, because I’ve never told anyone that in my life.”
Lightning crashes again.
“I’m glad you did. I think it’s hot that you think socks are hot.”
I grumble under my breath, but I appreciate it.
“I hope one day you find a boyfriend you can tell about your sock thing,” he adds.
“Yeah. I hope you find everything you want, Elliot. You need to survive this disaster, get home, and lead the full, I’m-sure-strange life you have ahead of you.”
He chuckles to himself. “You’d probably hate dating me,” he says. “I love to go out all night dancing with my friends, and I leave a makeup and outfit disaster in my wake when I’m rushing out the door.”
“I’d hardly care if you went dancing. The mess might be a challenge.”
“I bet you wouldn’t let me talk to you during movies.”
“Well, not in theaters.” I rub his arm. “We’re at different stages in our life. You need someone who will get into trouble with you.”
“I’m trying to get into less trouble, as a matter of fact,” Elliot says. He pushes a hand through his hair. “Good thing we don’t have to worry about any of that boring stuff here.”
“Just surviving the elements.”
“The simple life,” he jokes.
The storm picks up again, and we cuddle closer. The darkness stretches in every direction. Exhaustion settles back in as I gaze into the shadows. Naked and holding Elliot for warmth, I fall back into an unsettled sleep.
