“So you’re not liking it?” asks Scarlett.
I sit on a box of vinyl that I haven’t opened yet, studying my fingers. “Why did you leave?” I ask. I haven’t ever asked Scarlett why she left the club. For as long as I’ve known her, she has been a sexually open person. It seemed like an impossibility to offend her sensibilities or catch her by surprise. If anyone could thrive at Club Crave, it is her.
She cringes a little, but hops up on a table and looks thoughtful. “Things got messy.”
I laugh a little. “I can relate to that. What happened?”
“Well, my parents found out, for starters. They always wanted me to be an engineer. When I was in school, teachers kept pushing for me to skip grades because I was a natural at math. All my friends thought I was going to go to college and study some advanced mathematics that would make most people’s heads spin. The truth was it never felt right. Yeah, it came easy to me, but it didn’t excite me. So when I studied graphic art and design instead of math, my parents never really got over it.
“After that, they were a little frosty, but I think they gradually started to accept it. They saw how happy design was making me and learned to live with it. We were never wealthy, and the school I went to didn’t offer scholarships unless they were for the arts. So I was paying it all myself. That was when I got into Club Crave. I met a guy my Sophomore year who was into BDSM and introduced me to it. His parents were ultra wealthy, so he could afford the membership.
“I was offered a position after he and I broke up, and I took it. I worked there for a few months. I met some guys. Some were serious, some were just for fun. I still don’t know who it was, but one of the guys I met knew my dad. An old high school friend who went on to run some mega corporation or something, probably. When my parents found out… It was the final straw for them.”
I shake my head. “Their little engineer was working at a BDSM club and studying design. Yeah. I can see how that was a shocker.”
She laughs. “Yeah. Shocker is an understatement. It was like a nuclear explosion. They started making all these crazy posts on Facebook about me. They dragged me through the mud in front of everyone I’ve ever known. I never really forgave them for that. I tried not to let it, but it ruined BDSM for me. I had so many relatives and old friends messaging me online telling me what a slut I was and how wrong what I was doing was that somewhere along the line it poisoned the fun.”
“Wow,” I say slowly. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I had no idea.”
She smiles. “That’s one of the things I liked about you.”
I smirk.
“So. I spilled my beans,” she says, sighing and slapping her thighs. “You’re obviously going through something. It’s your turn.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. I knew the question was coming, and I think I even want to get it all off my chest, but voicing my thoughts makes them feel more real, and I’m afraid of that.
“Um,” I say, fiddling with my fingers and looking down. “You know how when people get addicted to a drug, they keep needing more and more to get the same experience?”
“Yeah…” says Scarlett. “Did one of those assholes get you on something? It’s not heroine, is it?”
The look on her face momentarily breaks me out of my nervousness. I laugh. “God. No. I’m just using it as an example.” The smile fades quickly from my face. “I think I’m having that problem with the sex. It felt so good and so incredible the first time. I didn’t--still don’t--understand why I liked it so much, but I did. It felt dangerous and wrong, but that just turned me on even more, you know?”
Scarlett smiles a little nostalgically. “Trust me, I know.”
“At first just the threat of punishment was almost enough to… er,” I clear my throat. “Yeah. Well, now it’s like I can’t enjoy it unless I’m controlled. And I need him to take it farther every time to still feel dominated. Like I need to be afraid he’s going to actually do permanent damage or something. Anything less just feels like a game.”
Scarlett frowns. “Maybe you need to pull back some. I mean, when I first started college, I could drink one cup of coffee and stay up all night. By Sophomore year, I needed more like eight cups. So I quit for a few weeks and then when I started again it was like it used to be. Maybe you need to just, you know, drink less coffee.”