Page 6 of Sexpresso Night

And there was the problem. Could you make someone dominate you?

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head regretfully, reluctant to tell him the things she needed. If he’d been shocked by a little light bondage, and hadn’t liked her going down on her knees in front of him, he’d be horrified to know the dark desires pushing their way up inside her. “I’m sorry, Chris.”

She left his apartment, heaviness weighing down her body, legs feeling like she had weights on her ankles, wishing with all her heart that things could have worked out between them.

She walked slowly to her car. She’d drive to the beach. The ocean always soothed her with its infinite, rhythmic back and forth rush of water.

There, she kicked off her flip flops, and warm sand shifted beneath her feet as she trudged to the water’s edge. The ocean curled cold, foamy fingers over her feet and around her ankles. A spirited beach volleyball game went on behind her, even now in the evening, and a few last sun worshipers stretched out on towels and beach chairs.

After that last mudslide of a relationship with Evan, the one thing she thought she knew for sure was that she was going to be in control. So she’d dated guys who let her call the shots. Wasn’t that what every woman wanted? A man who deferred to her, who let her have her way in everything? Just like Chris.

But once again here she was, struggling to know who she was and what she really wanted. Fighting against the things she longed for deep down inside her. Those urges had gotten her in so much trouble. Maybe she just wasn’t destined to have a completely satisfying relationship. Maybe she would never be happy with anything.

She had no desire to go home to her empty apartment, so she strolled onto Stearns Wharf and bought some clam chowder at the little seafood place, sat and ate it. Surrounded by laughing couples and chattering groups of friends, her aloneness settled over her like a heavy blanket. But she wasn’t alone in the world. She had a full, busy life. She had her friends. She’d see them tomorrow afternoon for their usual Sunday afternoon coffee.

As she walked off the Wharf, the thought of meeting her friends at Karma Coffee reminded her of seeing Carter again. He’d noticed her unhappiness last weekend, and something soft and warm unfurled a little inside her at that.

It was Saturday night. He’d said she should come.

She still wasn’t sure what adult night was at a coffee shop, but hey, it was right down the street from her. She paused—should she turn left down Cabrillo toward Karma Coffee, or turn right toward the parking lot where she’d left her car?

She turned left.

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