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—Rope Play - Rigger x Rope Bunny

—Bondage

—Impact Play

—Spit Play

—Degradation/Humiliation

—Voyeurism/Exhibitionism

—Free Use/Sexual favors in exchange for payment

My eyes linger on the last line, and I wonder if he added that part just for me. What does that say about me that I’m getting turned on just reading it?

An incoming call from Greer lights up on my phone, and I’ve never been more relieved for a distraction.

I answer on speakerphone as I make Tilly her dinner. “What’s up?”

“Thank God, you answered,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “I’m going crazy at this away tournament. I need to talk about something besides soccer, or I think I’ll wind up on the nightly news.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea. I’m losing it over here. These people literally have no outside interests besides their kid’s sports. If I have to hear one more dad analyzing the game and explaining why we keep losing, then I’m going to walk out into traffic.”

“Damn, G. That escalated quickly,” I say with a snicker. And she likes to say I’m the dramatic one.

“I may not know shit about sports, but I promise you, the answer is not to give Quincy D—not to be confused with Quincy A, both of whom are named after their fathers, by the way,” she clarifies,”—more playtime. The kid doesn’t even know how to run without tripping over the paint on the field.” She blows out a huff. “Striker my ass.”

“I wish I understood anything you just said, but I’ll have to take your word for it. Fuck those Quincys.” I make my way into the kitchen where I give Matilda a scoop of peanut butter from the jar clearly marked with her name before pouring myself a hefty glass of wine.

“Thanks for the support. I think it’s safe to say I’ve officially exceeded my quota of interaction with Quincys for the rest of my life.” Her voice muffles like she’s covering the phone with her hand, and I overhear her ordering a glass of wine at the bar. “Okay,” she says a moment later, sounding a little calmer. “I’m done talking about it now. For real this time. So how are things going at work? Anything exciting happen since our last call?”

“Oh… uh…” I bite my lip, not sure if I want to open this can tonight. “Just work as usual,” I say, but my voice comes out a little too high-pitched. “I’ve actually been volunteering at the local theater in my free time,” I add. “I forgot how much I love the theater environment. It’s an easy way to get those community service hours.”

She knows that I filled in to help Mary for her dinner theater show, but I may have skimmed over some of the details. It’s not that I don’t trust her or anything; I just don’t know if I want her to influence my decisions any more than they already have.

Besides, it’s not like Greer has any experience with this kinky shit. At least she has the excuse of raising two kids on her own.

“That’s nice,” Greer says, but she sounds distracted. I can tell she was hoping for something juicier.

I decide to test the waters a bit. “Would you ever let someone dominate you? Sexually, I mean?”

“Um…where the fuck did that come from?”

“Just curious,” I say. “Marguerite mentioned something in our last session about how I could benefit from submission sexually…or something like that.”

“All I’ll say is this. It would take a very competent man to get me to do something like that,” she says, her voice more serious than I was expecting. “And I’m not sure a man like that actually exists.”

“Why do you say that?”

She heaves a sigh. “I don’t know. In my experience working with people all day long, seeing them at their most vulnerable moments, I think it’s rare for the man to be the strong one. Nine times out of ten, the women carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and hold their families together. Men like to believe they’re the ones in charge, and we let them think we believe it to protect their fragile egos. But nature says otherwise.”

“Shit, Greer,” I spit out a laugh. “That’s depressing as fuck.”

She just chuckles. “Sorry. Like I said, it’s been pretty rough over here.” Then, as if wanting to shift the mood, she adds, “But just because I don’t believe it exists, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go out there and gather evidence for yourself with a certain hunky billionaire…”

“Subtle,” I tease.