"Especially with strangers." She grinned, settling onto one of the stools tucked against the counter. "Last week a barista handed me my latte and I accepted it like she was presenting me with a sacred offering. Both hands cupped around it, eyes down, the whole thing." A laugh bubbled out of her. "The poor girl just stared at me. Todd almost choked on his espresso."
We carried our tea back through the curtain and into the lounge. The warmth of the mug seeped into my palms, steadying me as I scanned the room.
Damien was exactly where he said he'd be—settled into an armchair near the far wall, Todd leaning forward in the seat across from him. They were deep in conversation, but as if sensing my attention, Damien's head turned.
Our gazes met across the room.
A tether pulled tight between us. He was still there. Still mine.
"This way," Vivian said, tugging gently at my elbow. She steeredme toward a pair of overstuffed chairs angled near the pink corner—close enough to hear the soft giggles of the women braiding each other's hair, far enough to have privacy.
I chose the chair facing outward. The one that kept Damien in my line of sight.
He noticed. Of course he did.
A small smile curved his lips before he turned back to Todd.
Vivian settled into the chair beside me, tucking her legs beneath her like a cat. "You two are adorable, you know that?"
A flush climbed my neck. "What do you mean?"
"The way you watch each other." She sipped her tea, gaze sparkling over the rim. "Like you're afraid the other might disappear if you look away too long." She set the mug down, expression softening. "He never looked at me like that, for the record. Not once."
I ducked my head, lifting the mug to my lips. The tea scalded my tongue—bitter lemon and heat. I winced, blinking back moisture, but it gave me something to blame for the flush spreading across my face.
"Careful," Vivian said, amused. "It's hot."
"Thanks for the warning," I managed, voice slightly hoarse.
She laughed softly, then set her own mug aside, angling her body toward me. The playfulness in her expression faded into something more sincere.
"So." She folded her hands in her lap. "Is there anything you want to know? About any of this?" She gestured vaguely at the room around us. "I'm an open book, Emma. Ask me anything—the lifestyle, the dynamic, the community. Whatever's rattling around in that head of yours." A small smile. "I remember how overwhelming it was at the beginning. Having someone to talk to would have made it a lot easier."
Questions collided, overlapped, demanded space. The collar. The rules. The surrender. How did anyone trust someone enough to givethem that kind of power? How did you know when you'd found the right person? How did you silence the voice in your head that screamed this was wrong, shameful, broken?
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"How did you get into this?"
The question felt safer than the others. A starting point. A way in.
Vivian's expression turned thoughtful, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug.
"Honestly? By accident." She huffed a quiet laugh. "I was twenty-three, fresh out of a terrible relationship with a guy."
She paused, attention drifting toward the pink corner where the women were still giggling over their braids.
"Then a friend dragged me to a munch—that's like a casual meetup for people in the lifestyle. Totally vanilla setting, just coffee and conversation." A smile tugged at her lips. "I went expecting to hate it. Instead, I met people who were... kind. Respectful. They talked about consent like it was sacred. About communication. About trust." She shook her head slowly. "It was nothing like what I'd experienced before."
"And that's when you knew?" I asked.
"God, no." She laughed. "That's when I got curious. It took another year before I worked up the courage to actually try anything." Her gaze returned to mine, warm and steady. "There's no rush, Emma. Everyone finds their way in their own time."
"How did you figure out you wanted the..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "The traditional housewife thing?"
Vivian's smile turned wistful. "That was its own journey."
She shifted in her chair, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.
