Floor Time (22 page)

"What brings you here on a Wednesday?" Evan grabbed a glass and leaned across the bar.

"I need you to tell me I'm not losing my mind."

"Huh." Evan grinned at him. "Need me to help you put on your make up too? How about adjust your tampon."

"Fuck. You."

"No. Thanks."

Jack knocked back the rest of his beer and pushed the glass at his friend. "What are you standing there for? Serve me." Evan raised an eyebrow then turned and refilled the glass with the amber hoppy brew Jack liked. "You just blew your tip." Even flipped him off but smiled.

"You are not losing your mind. You're just readjusting. I know. It was tough for me too."

"Whatever, man, it is killing me." He shifted, trying to release the skin-crawling sensation he'd sustained for four days. Four days of not seeing her, not even talking beyond some email and text exchanges while she "worked out" how she felt about him. "I'm obviously no good at this. I told you that the last time." Evan rolled his eyes. A soft feminine hand on his shoulder made Jack jump and nearly spill his beer.

"Dude, relax." Evan smiled over his shoulder, and Jack saw his face settle into familiar lines, happy ones. "She won't bite. Well, unless you want her to."

Jack smiled at the stunning blonde woman who'd captured Evan's heart, kissed her lightly on the lips and looked back at his friend. "Dude," he emphasized the word. "You let this gorgeous creature out in broad daylight for anyone to see? I mean, really. I'm disappointed in you."

Julie's laugh was light. "Yeah, keeps him on his toes." She accepted a glass of deep brown lager. Evan brushed his fingers across her lips before leaning back over to Jack. Suddenly struck deep by the bond between them Jack couldn't tear his eyes away. It was as if he could actually see it, a thin, strong strip of light from Evan's hand to her. He shook his head. Damn, next thing he'd know he'd be crying and would need a tampon adjustment.

As Julie leaned back on her bar chair, Jack saw it. Around her neck. Just a flash of metal he knew would be platinum, forged with a single connection that took a small key to release. He sucked in a breath, visions of Sara again bombarding him, her wearing his collar, his ring, anything, to prove she was his. He ran a hand down his face, suddenly exhausted.

"You have to let it happen. Otherwise, it will eat you alive. I can tell it already is. It's who you are -- who
we
are. You've been denying yourself this for too long." Evan's low voice spoke the truth he needed to hear. Jack looked up at the ceiling.

"You're right. But…" Evan held up a hand.

"No. No excuses."

"Fine." He stared to rise, feeling trapped again, claustrophobic and bone tired.

"We're going to the club this weekend." Evan nodded at Julie. "I think you should come."

"I don't know, man."

"I do. But can you get Sara to come too? Even if you can't, you should join us. I really think it will help you."

His phone buzzed with a text at that second. He glanced at it and he felt his vision darken slightly at the sight of Sara's name.
Mine
.

"Speak of the devil." He sat back down. "But no, she isn't ready for that. Especially, not after what happened to her last weekend."

"Yeah, you may be right. But the invite stands." Jack watched as Evan and Julie exchanged a silent bit of communication. Julie was a fiercely independent woman -- a successful pharmaceutical sales manager. It really proved what he'd always known. A true submissive had to be strong in order for the relationship to thrive. Choosing to submit took strength. A weak-willed personality, who wanted nothing but to be topped day and night, did not lead to success in a situation where so much depended on the strength of two personalities. He sighed. Jenna, in a nutshell. Weak-willed while pretending to have strength. It had been her fault, but also his as he'd been young and untested, just going with his natural rookie instincts.

"
Hey
" he stared at the single word she'd sent, realizing it spoke volumes about where she was in her head regarding him. He smiled and typed.

"Is your pussy bare and ready for me?'

Sara grinned at Jack's text in spite of herself. "
Busy
" she shot back.

"Big Deal. I'm having a beer but thinking of you and your bare pussy -- multi task with me"

She waited about thirty minutes before sending back: "
Well my bare pussy and I are about to sell a million-dollar house so there."

"
Cool
Remember, don't push. Million-dollar buyers need more handholding than you think.

Then after about an hour:

"What are you wearing?"

She really was trying to show these houses and get one sold, but could not help but smile as she responded while her buyers traversed the current gargantuan house.

"Skirt, blouse, shoes, you know the usual"

"No, underneath"

"Nothing, except a sheer bra"

"Nice. Just the picture I needed to get me through the rest of the day."

Sara carried on until about five p.m., when she was with another set of buyers before her phone alerted her to another text:
"I want to lick your nipples."

Her scalp tingled.

"Might be awkward right now, with people"

"Let em watch -- something tells me you'd like that as much I would."

The email he had sent her the night after she'd bolted from his house, explaining away the "Heather texts" again, reminding her that he was new to the "relationship thing," had gone a long way towards melting the ice forming around her heart. Telling her he meant what he'd said, but that he thought they both needed to "take it slow" was something she could relate to, especially since he was the one to say it first. She'd kept reading about the lifestyle Jack had once lived. Realized they were a nearly perfect fit. She was willing, practically compelled to submit to him. Something in her psyche needed it. But it was so far outside the realm of her reality, she needed more time to adjust. She sensed he was easing back into something very powerful, something he needed to re-learn how to control.

His email had been long, eloquent, and heartfelt. She'd read it about a hundred times before responding. They'd engaged in a long back and forth that night and, Sara believed, had worked through some stuff.

She frowned, waiting for the intolerable buyers to finish wasting her time. Craig had been ignoring her for the bulk of the week, avoiding her eyes when they passed each other in the hall, asking for advice from other agents instead of her, like he used to. She was conflicted, aggravated at them both and herself.

A final message, around six pm:

"Hey, you going to this thing your brother is hosting out on Strawberry Lake or wherever?"

She reddened, but was not that surprised he knew about it. She would have given anything to stroll into the party on Jack's arm, his attention only for her, and have her brother accept it.

Fat chance, on both counts.

After the heartfelt email, he hadn't ignored her or anything, but seemed unwilling to revisit the conversation. It made her nuts, this not knowing, but she reminded herself she should take what she could get from him, and what she wanted more than anything right now, was his hands on her body.

Funny, this addiction to him. No, not funny. Fucking annoying.

"Of course. He invited you? Really?"

"Sure. I'm the life of any party"

"Whatever. I'll be there."

"Wanna ride -- I can show you my new wheels."

"I guess -- not sure I'm safe with you though."

"You're as safe as you want to be Sara"

"Pick me up in half an hour, my place"

She finished their texting session.

* * *

He showed up in an amazing 1962 Lincoln Continental convertible, red, with a white leather interior. It was all she could do not to laugh out loud.

"Jesus, Jack, seriously," she asked as she walked toward the passenger side to let herself in. Her every nerve ending was tingling; New Sara could not wait to be near him again. The little homey, domestic scenarios that had played through her waking thoughts kept intruding. Would it be possible for them to ever take things a step further? She didn't know after her extreme reaction to that girl's text messages. She didn't know if her psyche could take it. Did she even want it? Her brother kept pressing her to go out with Craig -- an officially Blake-approved mate.

She slid into her seat, leaned her head back and sighed. The decision suddenly appeared, bright and clear. She'd tell him once more. Give him a chance to accept or retreat. The word "trust" had to play a big part in the conversation whether he liked it or not.

"Nice car," she said, not looking at him. The radio had been replaced at some astronomical expense with a modern, satellite version, and old 80s college rock poured from the speakers as he held his arm over the bench seat back and grinned at her.

"Thanks, I like it." He grabbed a beer for her and himself a bottle of water from a cooler in the back seat.

Sara had managed to persuade two different buyers to meet her tomorrow to write offers, and strong-armed a couple of sellers into price reductions. She felt strong, determined to take back the reins of this thing with Jack, not let him hurt her but willing to open up a little again, if he would. She accepted the beer he offered, and drained half of it.

It was a two hour drive out to her parent's property, which consisted of one small house with three bedrooms right on a lake and one smaller house with a room plus a bathroom they had always used for overflow guests in the summers she spent out here. Jack had great music on, the weather was perfect, and his arm stayed casually draped around her shoulders as they sang along with the Smithereens, The Clash, the Ramones and the Stones.

As they exited the freeway and began the forty-five minute drive out to the lake, she began to squirm, nervous at the thought of strolling into Blake's party with this man. The one he'd warned her about, rescued her from. Jack's hand stroked her neck, transferred to her thigh, moving her dress skirt up to allow him better access.

It set off a small fire in her belly but also tipped the scales in favor of what she planned to say to him today. She smiled but her throat clenched at the sight of his grin and moved his hand off her leg and back onto the steering wheel.

"Pull over at the first left," she held her hands together, fighting the urge to touch him. She had to have her say. Whenever she was this near Jack something in her knew they were a great fit. Her heart lifted at the thought of their night together, the day of her attack, giving her strength. He did as she said, and made his way into a small open space about a quarter of a mile from the road, private and surrounded by tall trees.

"Hey," he said, turning to her. "Did you lose your virginity here?" 

"Maybe." She shifted in her seat and turned to face him as he shut off the engine. "Wait." She dodged the hand he extended to pull her close.

"Okay." He sat back, his eyes darkening. There was a palpable change in the air and Sara gulped once, trying like hell not to lose her nerve.

"I, um, want to talk. Really talk just a minute. I mean, I think that we have potential. I'm not averse to the lifestyle you have, ah, introduced me to. It's not that. I'm just afraid,"

"Sara, we've been through this."

"No, let me finish." She bit her lip and forced herself to continue. "I think I could be this…this…submissive for you. I think I might even like it but, from what I've read about this arrangement trust is a key component."

"Yes, it is." His eyes narrowed, his long finger tapped against the back of the leather seat, distracting her.

"Well, the thing is, Jack, I don't know that I can. Trust you that is. I don't think you are ready to let me. No." She held up a hand against his protest. "I have more. It's okay. I mean, I wish I could but I have to be honest with myself and engage a little self-protection here, you know?"