“It was what they all had in common.”
A pause.
“Trust.”
The word settled quietly between us.
“Not because people found certainty here. Because they chose it.”
Her voice softened.
“I’m tired of being afraid of the things I want.”
She took a step closer.
“I didn’t choose this because I thought it was what you’d want.”
Another step.
“I chose it because it’s what I want.”
No hesitation. No qualifiers.
“No audience. No performance. No pretending.”
Her hand found mine.
“Just us.”
For the first time that evening, I felt the last of the distance between us begin to disappear.
I walked with her to the wall where the ropes hung in careful rows.
For a moment neither of us reached for anything.
The room had become very quiet.
Not awkward.
Reverent.
I watched her study the choices in front of her and realized that, for perhaps the first time since I had known her, she wasn’t looking for permission. She wasn’t trying to anticipate what someone else wanted.
She was deciding for herself.
The realization settled somewhere deep inside me.
Not because of the room.
Not because of what came next.
Because choice had always been the thing she had been denied.
And now she was standing in front of it with both hands open.
Winding her body in the soft threads was a new experience for me, there was a reverence present that had replaced observation. It wasn’t just anyone, it was Polina… her long silky thighs expertly cinched in her choice of rope.
Her chest and thighs glistened in the pool of light above her and she looked like the goddess whose name she’d claimed. Suspended, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Legs tucked up beside her ribs. Her bottom was thrust out, as were her breasts. She looked delicious, good enough to eat.
