Page 51 of Games We Play
“That’s what Gina also said,” Leah muttered.
“Gina’s smart. Listen to Gina.”
Leah slammed one of the Thai cookbooks back onto the shelf. Melissa rolled her eyes and suggested that Leah had become too spoiled since meeting this woman from Chicago.
I still haven’t told anyone who Sloan really is.Everything was couched in words like, “The woman I’m seeing,” and “She has a lot of money, but you wouldn’t know her.” Everyone nudged her and suggested that she was the luckiest sugar baby in Portland, but Leah felt like what she had with Sloan wasmorethan that. Would a mere sugar baby be flown out to Chicago, when Sloan could have found someone closer to home to spend the night with? Would a sugar baby be spoiled as much as Leah was? Maybe, but it was still different!
What happened Saturday night… that wasdeep.Leah had read about those feelings before. God knew she had a sizable collection of dirty romance novels that kept her titillated and her fantasies fueled over the years, but none of them prepared her for the raw emotions flooding her body the moment Sloan took complete control.
The worst part? She had no one to truly confide in. Her friends didn’t understand her desires. They were as vanilla as it got. Even Sloan was standoffish about discussing what happened Saturday night, let alone what was going on between them on a deeper level.Does she want something more from me, eventually?Leah had to reign herself in. There was no point to falling in love with Margaret Sloan if she ultimately knew it would end in heartache.
“If you’re okay here,” Leah said, “I’m gonna go check out something else.”
“Sure. I’ll find you in the BDSM section when I’m ready to leave.”
Leah was as white as the pages in the books before her. Melissa laughed. How had she known?
Occasionally, Leah had dipped into the “alternative lifestyles” section to read about what she might have one day. Now? She was looking for specific information, and she didn’t care if she had to dive into battered used books from the ‘70s or recent tomes that featured smiling couples on the cover.Like you two have a show on HGTV. Call me when you’re that mainstream.
She didn’t find the kind of information she needed the most. Nobody really dove into “subspace” and how a single woman dealt with it after an intense encounter. Hell, Leah wasn’t sure that’s what happened. Sloan had implied it, but the more Leah thought about it, the more she realized Sloan had done the bare minimum.I mean, it makes sense… it was intense for her too, right?Blah. Those were excuses. Now that Leah had a clearer head, she needed to realize that Sloan wasn’t…
Wasn’t what? Real girlfriend material? The Domme of her dreams? Easier said than done. When a woman scratched the kind of itch Leah kept hidden beneath bandages half her life? She was going all out when the nails finally hit her skin.
Leah pulled out another book, this one sporting a demure cover that did not betray the contents unless the (tiny, barely readable) subtitle was stared at long enough. She opened the book to a chapter titled,“Deciphering the Line Between Kink and Trouble.”
Trouble. That was a nice word to use instead ofabuse.
Leah skimmed the chapter. Nothing she hadn’t theoretically considered before.Why is this so different in practice?Because real people, including herself, were involved. That side of Sloan she saw Saturday night went beyond a hardass businesswoman with a chip on her shoulder and a uterus full of crap to prove. Something had snapped inside of her.
I was ready to take advantage of it.To be fair, Leah had been in her own snapped-space. Who had fed off the other more? Who was technically responsible for initiating that mess? It had been three days, and Leah’s nipples were still sore.It’s my fault. She told me to practice with them. I didn’t, because I live at home and am busy.No. Leah shouldn’t do that to herself. Sloan was also responsible for taking things too far.
Leah flipped to one of the final chapters.
“Surviving the Drop and Becoming a Stronger Couple.”
Leah’s throat was dry. Again, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t read before. The chapter was written with dominant types in mind, and most of it was advice on how to deal with a partner who had achieved subspace during a scene and had to deal with the emotional fallout.That happened to me. I hadn’t felt anything like it before.Like sweet, saccharin-coated shadows dripping down the back of her throat. It tasted exquisite. It felt like one step above death.
If Sloan hadn’t consoled her… Leah didn’t want to know what would have happened. It was the kind of situation where a woman could easily walk away with new traumas.
Not me… God, I hope not.
This book seemed decent enough, and it was a used copy, so Leah could afford to part with a few dollars so she could peruse it in private later.
Melissa texted her that she was in the café grabbing some coffee and a snack. Leah promised to meet her there, but the throng of people infiltrating the large store meant she had to take a detour from her usual route to the café. She hadn’t been in the children’s section since Karlie was young enough to read nothing but YA books (she claimed them too immature now that she was about to be a legal adult,) yet that was the only place not stuffed to the gills with people attempting to stage a coup on the poor workers trying to restock the shelves.
Leah held her nondescript book against her chest in case some soccer mom decided she was poisoning the mind of children. The last thing she expected, as she wove between children with picture books and parents marveling over coloring books, was to bump into an old acquaintance she hadn’t seen in years.
“Leah? Leah Vaughn?”
The man’s voice stopped her cold. A small child bumped into her from behind. After a meek apology, the kid ran toward the man who had called Leah’s name.
He had changed a lot since she first knew him, although that was unmistakably Daryl Wagner sitting on a bench, a middle grade chapter book in his hands. The Carhart jacket and boots gave him away as a manual labor before the rough hands and hint of a uniform did.You’ve gained so much weight.So had Leah, if she compared herself to seventeen years ago.
“Daryl?”
He waved at her. The chapter book dangled between his legs, while the youngster at his side clung to his arm and shyly dug her face into his shoulder. He acted as if his daughter was always attached to him like this. “Long time no see,” he said, using the same genial smile he had back in middle school. A simple wedding band glistened on his left hand.
Leah approached. “Yeah. Really long time.” The last time she saw Daryl was when he contacted her on Facebook to announce he had gotten married, and his new wife was already four months pregnant with his latest child. That must’ve been the little girl at his side.
