Page 124 of For Real

The intimacy of it was almost unbearable.

But before I could turn away—get away—do anything—Robert looked up, met my eyes, and smiled.

So I had to smile back.

I had to wait for him to uncuff his lover. I had to wait for them to kiss, exchange love whispers, touch each other gently, familiarly. I had to wait for them to walk over and join us.

At some point, we’d become a crowd. Since he’d begun playing in public, Robert always drew a crowd. It was easy enough to understand why. He was so good at what he did, and the chemistry between him and…Noah, the man’s name was Noah…was undeniable. They were beautiful together.

“Laurie.” He was still smiling as he greeted me, sweat glittering on his brow, arousal still hot in his eyes. “It’s been ages. How are you? You remember Noah, right?”

He always said this. I didn’t think he meant to torture me, but it seemed unlikely that the man who possessed everything I had once so deeply cherished would just slip my mind. “Yes, I remember, Noah. I… You… That…”

I had run out of everything it was possible for me to say.

Toby cleared his throat loudly. His hand wriggled into mine, and I folded my fingers tightly around his.

I took a deep breath. “Um, I don’t think you know… I don’t think you’ve met… Um. This is my…partner, Toby.”

I waited for shame, triumph, pride, anything. But there were just these truths, stark and undeniable: Once Robert and I had loved each other. Now Robert loved Noah. And I loved Toby.

A ripple of something—surprise, curiosity, amusement—went round the assembled kinksters. Toby and I were nothing like Robert and Noah. We were mismatched, implausible, absurd. My tastes were well known, as was my availability, my preference for casual encounters. For Toby’s sake, I wished there wasn’t that familiarity. I wished I didn’t have that history. It made me feel washed up and well used, a poor exchange for all his passion and sincerity.

I was afraid I reflected badly on him. I was afraid I made him laughable.

And that made me hate myself.

Robert touched me—he touched my arm—as though we were friends, as though he had the fucking right to do that. “I’m happy for you. And good to meet you, Toby.”

I still couldn’t think of anything to say. I wanted him to leave, disappear into his fucking happy ever after with Noah, and leave me alone with whatever I had with Toby.

“Thanks,” said Toby into the silence. I had no idea what he was thinking. If he was all right. If he hated me. “I loved what you were doing with the two floggers. That was awesome.”

Robert smiled his easy smile. Everything was easy for Robert. “You should try it on Laurie. He loves it.”

I gazed at Robert, mute and pleading. Please. Don’t. Just don’t. The worst of it was, I didn’t think he was trying to be cruel. He was just so far away from me, so far from us, that none of this even mattered to him.9

But Toby was laughing. “Mate, I’m worried about fucking up with one flogger, let alone two.”

That turned the laugh general. Most of the doms here would never have dreamed of admitting something like that. And there was little Toby, who either knew too much or too little to be ashamed of his fallibility, his uncertainty, his beautiful, imperfect humanity.

“You mean,” asked a different voice, someone I maybe recognised, maybe didn’t, “you’ve never flogged him?”

“They haven’t been together very long.” I thought that was Grace.

“Oh, Toby,” said Robert, “you have to. He needs it.” I shook my head, hating to be so discussed, revealed, made public, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to me. “He’s beautiful under the whip. Beautiful.”

“He’s beautiful all the time.” My Toby. So ridiculously loyal. Ridiculously stubborn. “And we’ll get round to it, y’know, when I’m sure I’m good enough.”

“I can give you some pointers, if you like.”

I was dimly aware of audience approval. Everybody liked a little theatre.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Grace again.

“Come on, lad.” That was a stranger, someone I’d probably subbed to or slept with. “Don’t be shy. Show us what you’ve got.”

Various other comments followed—most of them fairly well-meaning, but humiliating nonetheless, in their certainty that Toby had something to prove or stripes to earn.

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