And much different than how I was two and a half days ago when Gabriel had to leave for Munich.
I had driven over to Gretchen’s immediately after I left Gabriel in the parking garage. My drive was a blur of tears and racing thoughts, but thankfully I’d visited her place of business before so I didn’t have to concentrate on finding it. Located in the warehouse district, her narrow brick building resembled just one of many that lined the street. Only the ornate red door hinted at the naughty and improper things taking place on the second floor.
Pulling up to the side street gate, I punched in the code Gretchen provided me with before driving through. Thankfully the covered deck was empty. I wondered at what I would’ve done if I met any of her early arriving clients—especially if I’d already been introduced to them at the benefit the week before.
I didn’t doubt that Gabriel’s security were already here somewhere out front. For all I knew, he’d already had Gretchen investigated and was aware of exactly what she did for a living.
I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to being followed.
Gretchen met me at the back door, dressed in a turtleneck, matching pair of black tailored pants, and ruby heels. She ushered me in with a wave of her manicured hand. “Let’s go to my sitting area, Emma, and I’ll fix you a drink.”
No questions. No judgment. Just welcome.
Grateful for her kindness and support, I followed her through the elegant waiting area. The dark paneled walls held several paintings worth more than my combined salary for the past three years. Everything about us, from the Persian carpets beneath our feet to the lighted case featuring Peruvian antiques, oozed costly history and privilege.
Aware of the time, I knew I’d have at most an hour with Gretchen before her small cadre of employees was due to arrive for the night shift. I had to be quick. We passed through a stout door shipped from an Italian farmhouse and went up a spiral staircase, going past the second floor and up to the third. I glanced down as we went up and noted the six doorways below. Scenes took place inside each soundproofed suite. Gretchen had already given me a grand tour after she renovated and furnished the space last year.
Back then I’d admired the towering armoires filled with D/S apparatus, eyes bulging at the sight of certain restraints. The hanging bars and hooks filled me with curiosity, but more with how they worked than the why. Little did I know I’d be intimately involved in learning how to live out those scenes in real life.
That is if I ever get a chance.
When we reached the top floor, Gretchen led us down a short hall. With little fanfare, she opened the door to her inner sanctum. Done in colors of sage and ivory with bursts of crimson and gold, Gretchen’s tranquil den invited quiet relaxation. Her footsteps whispered as she walked across the beautiful plush rugs. She turned on several lamps, instantly setting the mood for contemplation and conversation.
“Sit down, lovely. Rum and coke?”
“Yes, please.” Gretchen’s sharp memory made her a natural for this lifestyle. She never forgot your favorites—drink, food, interests. She also never forgot the things you detested the most. Even if only mentioned as a well-intentioned reminder.
I was going to court that side of her tonight, to test my resolve and maybe my judgment.
Gretchen pressed the glass into my hand along with a napkin. I’d already taken a sip by the time she sat across from me in a matching armchair. Patient as always, she waited for me to fall into confession. I felt the imbalance of power keenly.
“I’m sorry for calling you at the last minute again. I just didn’t know who else to talk to about this. I sure as hell can’t call my mom up and say ‘Ma, what do you know about kink?’”
“You can always come to me, Emma. You know that.”
“I do. Thank you.”
“I’m your friend, but I also feel the need to tell you that the bond between a Dom and his Sub is sacrosanct. I won’t interfere with that or try to sway you into doing anything that would damage that bond.”
“Good.” Her stance didn’t deflate me. If anything, it made me feel all the more safe in speaking to her about Gabriel. I could trust she wouldn’t trash him or me over what happened earlier in the evening.
“Also, I will urge you to come to your gentleman first in the future. You cannot keep secrets from him or hide what you really feel. I say this not so you can’t confide in me, but so you understand that you must confide in him first.”
“I understand.”
Gretchen nodded her head once. “All right then. What happened tonight?”
I cupped the glass in both my hands. It was easier to stare at the liquid than raise my head and speak. And because it was so hard, that’s exactly what I did. I met her gaze. “I love him too much. It’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to be without him. Ever. I can’t concentrate. I think about things I never let myself before. I want to do everything to make him happy, but I can’t seem to get it right.”
She didn’t say anything. This encouraged me to spill further.
“I f**ked up, Gretchen. I pushed when I shouldn’t have. I won’t go into the details, but he spanked me and then stopped. I tried to force him to finish but he wouldn’t.”
“Why did he stop?”
I flushed, feeling embarrassed over my behavior. “Because I withdrew the first time. He said I wasn’t sharing the experience with him, so there was no point in going further.”
She nodded and asked gently, “Is your gentleman upset with you?”
“No. He isn’t.” A knot released in my belly. It felt so good to know Gabriel wasn’t angry with me at all. At least, not because of this.
“Are you upset from being spanked?”
I considered her question, searching through the chains of my emotions to follow the tangled end. “No, not about being spanked. I’m sore but okay. It didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.”
“That’s good to here. Why are you here with me and not with him right now?”
“He had to go to Munich.”
“Ah. So what did he do after he disciplined you?”
“Nothing.”
Gretchen’s brows drew sharply into a frown before smoothing over. “Did he perform any aftercare?”
“What’s that again?”
“Did he hold you and show affection or did he dismiss you after your discipline?”
“Oh. Aftercare. I remember now.” I thought back my nap and how he held my hand. I also thought to the parking garage. “He showed me a lot of affection.” I smiled, remembering our parting. “He wanted me to come with him to Munich.”
“And you said no because you’re so responsible.”
“Of course! I worked incredibly hard to get this opportunity at Med-Tech. There’s no way I’d repay them by leaving them in a lurch like that.” Even as I let out my heated explanation I couldn’t deny I wished, even for a fraction of a moment, I was less responsible and more spontaneous. And for me that was a deadly sin.
“It’s a problem, Gretchen.”
“What is?”
“I thought about going with him.”
She smiled, eyes bright and merry. “You’re in love. Everyone loses a bit of their common sense. It’s natural.”
“No, not for me it isn’t! I’ve never let anyone get in the way of my goals. And now…”
“And now things are different because you’ve let yourself really fall in love with someone who’s as complicated as you are. So what’s the real problem, Emma?” She cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive cat. “You got spanked, adequate aftercare, and you’re not angry over being punished. There must be more or you wouldn’t be this upset. Or is it not anything specific, but rather a general sense of unhappiness?”
I took another sip, then another, before standing up. I traveled one end of the room to the other. My lips parted, tears stung my eyes, and my throat burned with words that had no form.
“It’s like I said at lunch. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t have a compass to point me in the right direction. I thought I could do this. I thought it would be enough to just give in. I thought wrong and now I don’t know anything! And all I’m doing is going in circles. I can’t break this down in my mind. It doesn’t make sense and when things don’t make sense…I become like this.”
What I didn’t say was “…when things don’t make sense…I want to run.” It’s why I ran away the first time. I run so I don’t hurt. Ironic, right? I was in a relationship that centered around hurt, that centered around the worship of pain and the dignity that came from suffering it.
And I wasn’t worthy.
I loved Gabriel. I’d loved him in some way almost half my life. So why was I so scared? Why did I want to run far away, to put distance between us just so I wouldn’t let him down? I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my headache from growing further.
“Emma, may I be frank with you?” Gretchen’s manners always became ever-so-exquisite whenever she was about to detonate a bomb of information.
I froze in mid-step. Eyes wide and body stiff, I managed to mumble, “Yes, please. Whatever you need to say, I want to hear it. Just tell me straight.”
She crossed her legs, managing to turn her little armchair into a mighty throne. How I envied her gift, especially since I felt so powerless!
“Initially, I thought you were just going through Sub Drop.”
All these damn terms made me feel like I was back in school. I’d need an S&M dictionary at this rate. I racked my brain but came up blank. “Okay, Gretchen. You’re going to have to explain this one to me too. I don’t remember us talking about this at all.”
“We didn’t because it never came up.” She propped her chin on her hand and started her impromptu lesson. “A ton of endorphins were released after your gentleman spanked you. It tested a new limit for you. Often the emotions that come out of that can leave you sad and fatigued. This can last for a few hours to a few days, depending on your specific body chemistry. That’s why I asked you about your aftercare.”
I considered Gretchen’s explanation. If I could step out of my situation for a bit, I’m sure I’d find the psychology of it all fascinating. Unfortunately, I was too close to the situation to feel anything but aggression and melancholy. Because of that I wanted to grab onto any kind of explanation and, most importantly, a cure.
“Sub Drop. Could that be what is wrong with me lately?”
“If you’re going through Sub Drop it’s not helping, but I think there’s more to your particular situation.”
“Like what?”
“You.”
I blinked. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re complicating your life unnecessarily by trying to control the uncontrollable. Because of this, you’re wound too tight. I don’t wish to scare you, Emma, but you’re making yourself miserable and eventually you’ll make your gentleman miserable as well. Is that what you want?”