30
NOVA
Iwoke up to homework from Wes. Straight uphomework.
Apparently, he was connected to the Internet somewhere in his multi-million-dollar townhouse, because the man asked for my email address and then sent me a list of articles for kinky education.
Wes
Take your time. Flag what you like, don’t like, and any Qs.
Your text gets an A-. You managed to use an oxford comma even with your medieval torture device, and while you did include an abbreviation, it was of satisfactory usage.
Wes
U better watch it… I’m the one grading next.
A shiver of anticipation crawled down my spine, and the aroused energy stimulated me through a solid three-thousand words of my manuscript.
Over the next four days, I managed to dodge invites from The Circle and its various characters, using the tried-and-truesorry, I’m in the Writing Caveexcuse. Though, I would admit, the temptation of free meals was enticing on this month’s shoestring budget.
Before I went back in, I needed a game plan to find Lorelei that was more foolproof than my past failed attempts.
It was a miracle I could focus on writing with Wes’s homework waiting for me every evening. He’d sent me articles on different types of power exchange dynamics, safety guides, and questionnaires that proved hard for me to answer with my glaring lack of experience and barely subdued shame.
“You don’t have to be perfect,” Wes told me on the phone. “I just need to be sure of what you truly want. That’s important for my own safety too.”
“But what if I don’t know exactly what I want?” I asked. It was Thursday night, the night before our first official date.
“Leave things blank if you’re unsure. You’re not married to anything you write. You can change your boundaries at any time, and I will always talk to you first before I assume. We’re not in a dynamic. If you want to focus on getting to know each other before any of this, we can do that too. I just wanted to help, given what you said about not knowing where to start.”
I released a breath, deciding to be brave and honest even when my entire body protested the unfamiliar approach. “No, I—thank you. I’m enjoying the learning part.”
“Somehow I knew you would be the perfect teacher’s pet,” he drawled.
My toes curled, smiling because I knew he couldn’t see it. “Maybe, but it’s a selective predisposition. Depends on the teacher.”
“You know just what to say,” he said. “I’m going to need you in a plaid skirt when you sit on my lap and read what you’ve written.”
I rolled my eyes, biting on my smile as my nose wrinkled. “I thought you were better than that, Wes.”
“I’m still a man, at the end of the day.”
I gulped. “Frightening.”
He chuckled. “One last thing. Don’t think about me at all while you’re answering any of the questions. None of this is about me—or anyone else, for that matter. It’s aboutyou.Let the world hold its judgments and misunderstandings. It’s none of your business what others think. Your world matters, Nova. Every desire, every need, every limit. Those are all yours, no one else’s.”
“You know just what to say,” I echoed. I sighed, once again jealous of all those bold women and men on dating apps who could just own their true freaky selves without a care in the world.
“I just know how hard it can be to unravel your own wants from everyone else’s. You’re not only dealing with the complexities of your upbringing—you’re also dealing with a society that is brutally unforgiving of anything it doesn’t understand.”
A million different VidWave and PicWave posts came to mind. The puritanical discourse was never-ending. Everyone had an opinion, and anyone could make their opinion sound like the only reasonable and moral one with enough of a pseudo-intellectual lilt.
“I’m so sick of the assumption we’re only like this because of trauma or some bullshit classical conditioning model from psychologists who never thought to consult an actual kinky person,” I admitted, reflecting on one of the articles about the history of kink. “Or the supposedly feminist idea that I’m justa dumb robot with no agency who’s only a sub because of thepatriarchy.”
An unfamiliar irritation eclipsed the shame I’d become accustomed to—for the first time in my life, I was actuallydefendingwho I was instead of agreeing with everyone who thought people like me shouldn’t exist.
“Someone should tell that group about male subs and female Dommes,” I continued. “Or, you know, queer kinky people. It would blow their minds.”
