“Everything looks good,” she had glanced up over her reading glasses. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” her voice had been clipped.
“Uh, no...” I had started to blush.
“From time to time I encounter women passing through these doors that outwardly look fine but are in reality involved in an abuse and sometimes violent relationship.” Her eyes had fixed on me watching my reaction. “I don’t see many women though with immaculately shaved parts and fading whip marks on their buttocks.”
Oh God! I had wanted to be swallowed up and to disappear into the floor. I must have been crimson.
Her voice had changed tone and she leant forward and practically whispered at me. “Are you in a BDSM relationship, Gemma?”
I had nodded. I could not talk from the shock of such an intimate question.
“Well it helps for me to know, that way we can look after you appropriately and chose the right birth control. You’re not been forced to do anything you don’t want to?”
“No. It is all consensual. I chose this lifestyle, I’m OK with it.” I had managed to find my stunned voice and started to relax. She was not judging me.
She had suggested regular six monthly appointments and that turned out to be a successful arrangement, as on a few occasions I had the opportunity to ask about intimate health matters.
“He wants to do body piercing on me, you know, and I’m not talking earlobes,” I had told her on one visit.
“Well, it is not a good idea. The risk of infection can be quite high and they can remain painful for some time. The question really is do you want to be pierced?”
She had been right, I did not want it and I never took up the offer.
Now I was back and things were different. The doctor handed me my prescription.
“There you go. Are you in a new relationship?” she asked in her abrupt fashion.
My doctor did not know about my assault. I could not face telling her, she might had had a told-you-so look about her. I was being unfair as she had never openly criticised my lifestyle.
“Yes, it is going well. I’m very happy. I’ve moved in with him. I’ve not done that before.”
Her response was typically blunt. “Look after yourself.”
The visit was over and I headed out to find Gibson.
***
The cold, frosty night unfolded before us as we headed to Blythewood. It was Friday and Jason collected me on the way back from the office. My Friday shopping session had been much more successful. Taking up Jason’s tip, I ventured up to a shop assistant in Harvey Nicols and asked for advice. Once she saw my eagerness and lack of concern over the ridiculous prices, she preceded to fawn all over me. I had a jolly good time. The clothes were all in bags in the boot of the car, waiting to impress two sets of parents.
Jason was busy talking on the phone to Philip, his number two. It was a very impersonal relationship and Jason talked rapidly and directly, not wasting time on details or unnecessary waffle. I would try to communicat
e with Jason in a similar candid fashion as it seemed to hold his attention better.
I stacked the dishwasher and he was standing behind me. Dinner was over and the lack of conversation over the meal had been noticeable. Now he watched as I pushed the dishwasher door shut with my hip. Hands on my waist, Jason whispered in my ear.
“I want what’s mine.”
“I know, sir,” I whispered back tingling at the word ‘mine’.
Ten minutes later, I knelt naked, waiting for him to arrive. I ran my hands up and down my thighs, the expectations growing stronger with every second. Then he was here and his feet pattered on the dark wooden boards. I could see him out of the corner of my eyes. Dressed only his black jeans, his muscular pectorals on full display. He looked twenty-five not thirty-one, quite the hunk. Over he went to the chest of drawers and he opened one and removed something from inside the drawer. I caught a glimpse of it causing my skin to tingle and my tummy started to do flip-flops. I had been waiting all week for this evening, almost with desperation. I wondered if he had been eager too. Shutting my eyes, I awaited his instructions with glee.
***
Relaxing in the luxury of the Austin Martin, Jason and I were side by side and I had to admire his driving skills. The car might have behaved skittishly for an inexperienced driver but Jason was the master of it with the same confidence he controlled my waking life. He drove fast when he could, using the power of the engine to accelerate, overtake or simply cruise. When in traffic, he eased back and was happy to join the flow of traffic.
Occasionally fingers would point at us as the car was observed by passer-bys. An envious man’s gesture or a child’s wave from the back seat of the car in front, then the swoon of a woman’s eyes as she wondered if a film star or footballer was at the wheel. We were none of those - the driver was an anonymous businessman and my boyfriend.
The car was a welcome distraction from my nerves. Perhaps for him too as he enjoyed the pleasure of driving himself instead of being chauffeured. We had briefed each other over breakfast about what was not a topic of conversation in the presence of his parents. Sexual exploits were definitely off the agenda, which went without saying. Jason reassured me that I should just be myself and that I should not address him deferentially, it would look weird to his parents for a girlfriend to call him sir. I laughed in agreement and reminded him the same applied tomorrow with my parents.