“Good. Just tired now.”
“How long was your shift?”
“Ten hours.”
Nora fills me in on a new job she found teaching art on Thursday evenings at a retirement home. She tells me about her plans to have them create self-portraits and even other crafts like painting pottery.
The car ride is fast with her in the seat beside me to keep me company. We make it to my condo. It’s in the heart of the city with underground parking. I live on the top floor of a skyscraper with amazing views of the entire city. With a private elevator, we step out into a small hallway and I unlock the door. Her eyes widen, taking in the open floor plan with ceiling-to-floor windows.
“Nice pad,” she says.
I wrap my arm around her, bringing her close to me. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, hands resting on my chest. Nora closes her eyes, reaching up to kiss me. I grip the back of her neck, holding her close to me, and deepen the kiss.
Pulling away, I take her hand and guide her to the couch, where Claudia left a bottle of wine and some wine glasses before she left for the day. “You said your major was financing in school, right?” I ask.
We sit on the couch together, and she graciously takes a glass of wine from me after I’ve poured it.
“Yeah, I took a few art classes as my electives. And I’m on YouTube a lot to learn new techniques.”
“Why didn’t you choose an art major?”
“My parents convinced me I needed something more practical. Turns out they were wrong. Math is definitely not my strong suit.”
Our knees touch. She tenses but doesn’t say anything. “Sorry,” I offer.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ve been better lately. It’s mostly just loud noises.”
I raise a brow. She hasn’t mentioned feeling better in our texts or calls. “Is it because of our night at the club?”
“Partly. But also, I’ve been making strides with my therapist.” Nora picks at her nails. “It’s trauma-related. I put in a lot of work to recover from things.”
“Trauma-related,” I repeat. “Is it something you want to share with me?”
She sips her wine, then nods. Avoiding my gaze, she says, “I do. But not now, okay?”
“Okay.”
She notices the folder on the coffee table and reaches for it. “So you want me to stay here overnight on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays? What if I have work? Do you expect me to be here all day?”
“I was hoping I could pick you up Wednesday evening for dinner and you’d stay until work Thursday morning. Then Fridays would be the same. You’d stay until Sunday morning. I’d want those to be days you don’t work.”
“I can request the days off. They're just not guaranteed.”
“Which brings me to the next thing, Nora. You should not be working more than forty hours a week. Especially if you’re going to be teaching on Thursday evenings now.”
“I agree,” she says. “But I can’t lose my job either.”
“I can help you with any bills.”
She glances at me in disbelief. “I don’t want this to be an arrangement with money, Becker. I want to do this because we like each other. Money makes things complicated.”
“Not when I have as much as I do. It isn’t a big deal, Nora.”
“And this contract is for six months. After that, I’ll have to find a new job if we decide this doesn’t work out.”
“The contract is for the Dom/sub aspect of our relationship. It’s not about dating. It’s to protect you during a scene, Nora. Things won't just randomly change in six months. In fact, you can spend that time figuring out what you want to do in your life. I fail to see how this is a negative thing.”
She huffs, tearing her gaze from me. “I don’t want to be reliant on you. I’ve…”