LoveSexSpumoni Page 2

  “She’s right about that.”

  She usually was. “I mean, she obviously knew I was talking about doing it with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you. I forget that you two know each other and it just now occurred to me that talking about my sex life was basically telling her about yours too.”

  He smiled. “First of all, I don’t run into Barb all that often. We specialize in very different things and we don’t exactly run in the same social circles. Heck, I remember reading her papers in grad school. Besides, we’re both professionals. Unless she thinks you’re in danger, she’s not looking at me at a conference thinking ‘I know how big your penis is and what you do with it, Dr. Abramson.’”

  His impersonation of Barb’s voice was so dead-on I burst out giggling and the laughter seemed to carry away another tiny bit of my self-consciousness. I marveled again at how much there was to love about him, at how he could move past my barriers like no one else—without sneaking or force or coercion.

  “Secondly,” he said after a moment, “she doesn’t necessarily know you’re thinking about me. A lot of people who have an interest in sexual spanking, particularly strong, self-assured women who are conflicted about it, choose to find a stranger or even a professional to try it with.”

  A stranger? Sheer panic ripped through me at the mere thought. My palms started to sweat and I felt my well-honed fight-or-flight instinct kick in. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Not at all. The anonymity makes them feel emotionally safe.”

  His rational, matter-of-fact tone calmed my heartbeat. I could sort of see his point, but it still held no appeal for me.

  “To be honest, though,” he said, “I’d want to be the one. I’d know you’d be safe and, yeah, I really want to. Plus, I think it would create a very deep sense of intimacy that I don’t like to imagine you having with someone else.”

  No way was some stranger laying a finger on me. No way would I want that—or survive it with my sanity intact. And anyway, didn’t Geoff know how I felt about him? I’d thought it was obvious, but maybe not. Was this the time to tell him? It wasn’t exactly how I’d planned, but then I hadn’t planned this conversation at all. Which, upon reflection, was probably part of why I was struggling so much. Emotional revelations had never been my strong suit and I’d always preferred to think through risky conversations in advance so I could look for areas of danger or fear, get my feelings under control and prepare for the sense of exposure I always felt. I’d had no time to prepare for the talk we were having, it had come straight out of the blue and taken me by surprise. But maybe that was what love was about, coping with things as they came and letting your partner see your fear—and help you through it. I opened my mouth, but he continued before I could get the words out.

  “Still, if this is something that really interests you, you need to explore it in the way that feels right for you.”

  My heart melted and another little bit of fear with it. He always looked out for me first, always would. I had no reason to question that. I kissed him, trying to tell him what I hadn’t gotten to say without words. I pressed up against him, eager for the warmth of his body against mine, and wrapped my arms around his neck, hoping he could feel that I never wanted to let go. He pulled me even closer, his palms pressed hotly into the small of my back, and the fire that had been simmering quietly in my core began to boil again. Our lips parted in unison and our tongues found each other, twining together, licking, exploring. He slid his hands down over my backside, cupping my ass and squeezing until I moaned. I tangled my fingers in his thick, dark hair and let the fantasies flood through my mind. I could shove him down in the grass by the side of the walkway and ride him like a banshee right that minute. I could hand him a wooden spoon and lift my skirt five minutes before company arrived for a dinner party. I could glide down a garden path someday with flowers in my hair and say “I do” at the end. With every thought, my heart raced faster and my pussy got wetter. The last thing I wanted was to leave the shelter of his arms, but I knew the fantasy upmost in my mind would gnaw at me until I figured out what to do about it. And we really couldn’t fuck on sidewalk, libidos notwithstanding. Reluctantly, I pulled away.

  “I want you so much right now I can hardly stand it,” I said. “But you need to understand something. Most of the fantasies we’ve talked about and tried, I’d had those for years. This one didn’t crop up until after I met you. I don’t just fantasize about trying it with someone. I fantasize about trying it with you.”

  He kissed me again, a slow, sensual caress, then we walked on in silence. Talking with him openly, trusting him with things I could barely admit to myself, had intensified our connection in a way I couldn’t quite understand. Maybe that was part of loving someone too, really loving them. Barb had said that everyone had a “final boundary,” a thing or thought or confession so intensely personal and risky that none but the most trusted and loved got to see it. I knew what that something was for me—vulnerability to hurt and humiliation, both physical and mental. The thing I’d watched my mother hand over to a dozen unworthy men, the thing I’d seen them abuse and enjoy. The thing I’d sworn to never repeat. Maybe that was why my fantasy had only shown itself after I started to fall for Geoff. It symbolized my final boundary, something I would never, ever consider—except with him. Was this the leap of faith that could lead me to the kind of connection I’d always craved but never thought I’d have—the proverbial kiss to wake me from a long, mistrustful sleep? Excitement surged through me, pulling me to dizzying heights of emotional stimulation. The night seemed darker and the stars seemed brighter and I felt more alive, more…invigorated than I had in a long, long time. I felt like I was on a train speeding rapidly out of my control, but I didn’t want it to stop. There was more to say anyway, so I cleared my throat and went on, trying to rein in my runaway emotions and continue in my accustomed, level-headed way.

  “Barb also said that there may be an organic reason the idea arouses me. She said for a lot of people, minor pain stimulates pleasure reactions, which is why I liked it when you slapped my ass in bed. She said it’s no different than a man who gets turned on when a woman scratches him with her fingernails or people who like getting hickeys.”

  “That’s true. And Gabby, we’re not even talking about what people would normally call BDSM, at least I’m not. The BDSM people would laugh at us right now. You made it clear when we first started talking about boundaries that there would be no bondage or whips and chains. I respect that and it’s not my thing either. I understand why it’s a turn-on for some people and more power to them, it just doesn’t work for me. I would never want to really hurt you and I certainly would never degrade you or humiliate you, physically or verbally. I’m not into that.”

  “But the idea of, well, you know…” My stomach dropped and I realized I still couldn’t say it out loud.

  “Spanking you?”

  But he sure could. Oh my. “Yeah. That turns you on?”

  “Not on a regular basis and certainly never in a nonsexual situation, but occasionally, as sex play, yes it does. I hope you know I would never do anything you weren’t okay with, though.”

  I did know. And maybe that was part of the point too. He couldn’t just storm my final boundary. I had to make the choice to let him in. “I do. I’m just…” What exactly? Confused, excited, terrified, nauseated and overwhelmed? “Nervous.”

  “That’s all right,” he assured me. “You’re allowed to be. I do think that if it’s something we’re both fantasizing about we should talk about it more at some point, but I really didn’t mean to bring this up tonight. It just sort of slipped out. Do you want to go back inside and dance? Surely they’ve cut the cake by now. We could nab a couple of slices, take a little mental break?”

  Break? Cake? What? I stared at him, momentarily bewildered, then pried myself out of my own internal debate long enough to remember where we were. Cake. Right. That stuff normal people ate at weddings when they weren’t fa
cing down their deepest emptions and fears. Get a grip, Gabby. “In a little while,” I said, letting the thought of perfectly shaped fondant roses lead me back to my usual rational state. “But since the topic’s come up, I wouldn’t mind talking about it now, if that’s okay with you.” As though there were a therapist alive who wasn’t willing to talk about virtually any issue at virtually any time.

  He laughed. “Let’s see…does the psychologist with two left feet want to talk or dance? Tough decision.”

  I laughed too, but I had to be fair. “I know. But we’re at your cousin’s wedding. I don’t want to pull you away from the whole reception.”

  “Sweetie, it’s nine thirty. We’ve got another couple hours until the old fogies go home and the rest will be kicking it up until two or three. Besides, I’m really just here to show you off and see you all dressed up. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “Oh, a time or two,” I said happily. “Feel free to go on saying it, though.”

  He caught me by the hand. “Gabrielle, you are the loveliest woman here and I’m very lucky and very grateful that you’re here with me.”

  Elation bubbled through me. “Well that makes two of us.”

  “Come on. There’s a gazebo down that path to the right. It’s quiet and completely secluded—a good place for an intimate conversation.”

  “On the other side of that chain marked ‘private property’?”

  “It’s my uncle’s private property,” he reminded me. “It’s fine. And I can pretty well guarantee we won’t be interrupted.”

  Chapter Two

  The gazebo was indeed private, set back off the path and half-shielded by magnolias. Even if it had been on the resort grounds, I might not have seen it unless I was looking for it. He helped me up the short flight of wooden steps, making sure I didn’t trip on my dress in the dark, then led me unerringly to a wide, cushioned bench at the back. Trust Geoff to choose somewhere convenient and comfortable. The night cloaked us in a protective cover so thick I could barely see the path from our seat. The sensation of being alone in the world increased and I scootched over until our thighs touched. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I leaned my head against his chest. The quiet walk had given my rocketing emotions a chance to settle and I felt more ready to face the issue before us like the scientist I was. As long as I could take my personal feelings out of the equation and evaluate it objectively, I’d feel safe, in control. Then maybe I could work up to the rest.

  “Can I ask you some questions?” I asked. “About this idea?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think I understand why it’s arousing for me. What’s the attraction for you?”

  “Well, part of it is purely physical. I love your ass. I love looking at it, touching it, rubbing it. When I’ve slapped it before, the sensation turns me on and so does the way you react. You tighten around me and there’s a raw, sort of primal, tone in your voice. I don’t know how to describe it.”

  He didn’t have to, actually. I’d heard it myself and been just as surprised and aroused as he was. “But you wouldn’t be inside me for what we’re talking about, would you?”

  “No, not during. But I’d still get to see you get turned on by it. And I would want to have sex with you afterward.”

  “Doggie style?” I asked, smiling a little at the thought. “So you could admire your handiwork?”

  He laughed quietly and stroked my shoulder. “Face-to-face. So I could see the desire in your eyes and let you see how desperately I want you. So I could kiss you. So I could hold you.”

  My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to stay calm and objective. “Oh.”

  “Gabs, when we’re going at it doggie style and I smack your ass, that’s just pure, animalistic fucking. I’m spurring us both on, upping the intensity level. Don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome and I love it, but what we’re talking about now comes with a much deeper emotional component, especially in your case.”

  So he had realized it too. Probably long before I had. “Trust and control,” I said.

  “Trust and control,” he confirmed. “That’s the other piece of the attraction for me—knowing that you’re putting yourself in my hands, that you’re willing to be completely vulnerable to me. That’s a huge ego stroke and a huge turn-on, I have to admit. With you, it would be more than that because I understand the kind of trust it would take to put yourself in that position.”

  “That is a lot of vulnerability. A lot of trust. It scares me.”

  “I’m sure it does. That’s the other reason you never told me that you had these fantasies, isn’t it? They scare you as much as they turn you on.”

  I nodded against his chest, then rushed to assure him. “Not physically. I don’t worry about that. I truly don’t think you’d hurt me. I mean, of course it would hurt some, that’s the point, isn’t it? But I wouldn’t worry about you taking it too far.” The knowledge made my heart swell. It was half the battle, after all. “I’m not making sense.”

  “You are making sense. It’s a huge compliment that you’d feel physically safe with me. That’s a big deal and I appreciate it, though I’d want you to choose a safe word, just as a precaution.”

  Wow. Was that scary or reassuring? A little of both? “Isn’t that usually for S&M?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I honestly don’t think you’d need it, but I’d rather not risk any communication problems. That way you know you have the power to stop things at any moment if it gets to be too much for you, physically or emotionally.”

  I smiled inside. Of course he was thinking about my mental state. He pretty much always was. “How about ‘spumoni’?”

  His laughter came warm and rich. Genuine. “Spumoni? Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, laughing with him. “It just came to me.”

  “Well, it would certainly fit the bill. It would catch my attention and I wouldn’t mistake it for anything else. But I wasn’t telling you to pick one now. We’re just talking here. It’s perfectly okay if this never happens. There’s no pressure to plan anything or do anything.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t think up another one now if I tried.”

  “Spumoni it is, then. What was I saying?”

  “That you appreciate that I feel physically safe with you. Which I do.”

  “Ah, yes. I was going to say that I understand there are emotional safety issues too. Honestly, that’s probably the bigger concern in your case. You know I wouldn’t injure you and, frankly, you’re well-prepared to defend yourself physically. But, you’d be giving me the opportunity to shame you, to embarrass you. You’d be giving up some of the power you’ve worked so hard to get, for a little while, anyway.”

  “For good, actually. Putting myself in that position just once means forever after, you could tell someone, hold it over my head, bring it up in an argument.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right. I’d never do that to you, though. You’ve been incredibly open with me, both in bed and out of it. I love that about you. It’s what makes sex with you so phenomenal. It’s what makes the whole relationship so special. I’d never use that openness against you.”

  A lump formed in my throat and tears pricked my eyelids. No, he wouldn’t. He cared about me too much, maybe even loved me the way I loved him. And besides, he was such a stand-up guy, so much more honorable than the trash Mother had consorted with. “I don’t think you would. But it’s still scary.”

  “I understand.” He sat silent for long moments, letting me process at my own speed. After a long while, he asked “Is there something else?”

  I looked away, hoping my face wasn’t actually glowing in the dark. How could I explain the look of disdain I’d seen in Mother’s boyfriends’ eyes? The way they’d sneered at her lying broken and weeping in a lump on the floor? How she’d picked pills and pennies out of the long, filthy shag of the carpet as though they were gems? I forced my voice into an even tone.
“I worry that it would change the way you look at me, feel about me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, that you might have a hard time respecting a woman who’s willing to give someone that much power over her. You’ve always said that you’re attracted to strong women.”

  “I am. And you are a strong woman. If anything, your strength is what makes the idea so intoxicating. I wouldn’t want to take that away. That’s why it would have to be completely your choice. If it isn’t going to turn you on too, I don’t want to do it.”

  The sincerity in his voice warmed me straight down to my toes and my shoulders relaxed a little. “So you don’t think you’d see me as weaker afterward?”

  “Not at all. This isn’t about me taking your power from you, dominating you against your will. It’s about you choosing to entrust me with your power. In light of your past and in light of the way society tells us a strong woman should behave, I think it’s a show of strength that you’re even willing to talk about it, willing to admit that it arouses you.”

  I struggled a moment, fighting against shame, determined to be honest with him. “It really, really does,” I said, unable to repress a small shiver of anticipation.

  His arm tightened around me and he kissed my hair. We sat for a minute, letting the cool night air wash over us.

  After a while I posed another question. “Let me ask you this. How would you feel about the reverse?”

  “Reverse?” he asked, clearly confused. “I don’t oh, you mean you spanking me?”

  He sounded like the idea had never entered his mind. I couldn’t really blame him since it had never crossed mine either.

  “Well, to be honest, I can’t say it’s a particular turn-on for me. But if it was something you really wanted or something you felt you needed to restore a sense of balance, I’d be willing to try it.”