Page 17 of Rock Bottom
“Right.” I blew out a breath. “I pee out all the salt I take in, so I have to oversalt my food and drink electrolyte drinks. Well, I don’t peeallof it out, but too much, and I guess I sweat out too much, too. A side effect of having both a dick and a pussy. I drink a salt-plus-electrolyte mixture we’ve dialed in over the years, mostly during and after a performance, or when I work out, but otherwise, I just put a ton of salt on my food when I eat. Celtic salt, not table salt.”
He nodded. “Okay. Can you tell me what you use? And what symptoms to look for?”
“I’m not sure there are symptoms you’d notice before me. Lethargy, maybe, but anytime my muscles don’t feel right, I drink the mixture.” I told him the electrolyte brand I prefer, the Celtic salt brand I buy, and the recipe we’ve come up with, and he nodded and changed the subject, thankfully, “Finally, a question my security would like me to ask, so they can prepare for any possible issues while we’re out. Which public bathroom do you use?”
“I use whichever bathroom I’m dressed for and it’s never been a problem. It isn’t like I have a beard while wearing a dress. I look like a guy when I’m a guy, and like a girl when I’m a girl, so it’s never been an issue.”
“I believe those are all of my difficult questions for now. More may surface in the future, but unless there’s something you’d like to share while we’re on the topic, I’d like to talk to you about how you see power exchange. Once you’re in a relationship, is it a scene-only thing, or do you prefer twenty-four/seven?”
“I’ve been in a TPE relationship, and while I think I might enjoy doing so for a week here and there, I don’t want it to be my everyday life again. I think an ideal long-term relationship might be a sex-on-demand thing, so long as it doesn’t interfere with my work, but no power over the rest of my life. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it absolutely does, and I’m comfortable with that as well. I don’t want the responsibility of taking over someone’s life, but having the power to order you over the side of something so I can fuck you, or to your knees to give me a blow job whenever I wish it — this appeals to me. I do not know when my schedule will allow me the kind of time necessary for the proper care and feeding of a relationship, however.”
“That’s cool. You haven’t asked for exclusivity, and neither have I. I’m good with seeing each other once a week, give or take, and seeing how things build over time.”
Chapter 7
Silver
Two months later, I was rethinking my relationship with Julian. I wanted more, but I understood his work obligations a little better, so it would do no good to tell him.
We saw each other nearly every week, though twice he was out of town a week or more, traveling with his boss, so there were ten to fourteen days between.
But that was okay. I stayed at the Beast Castle a lot, and the band had a whole lot of days-long sessions, writing lyrics, putting them to music, and then working and reworking them. One date every week or so was fine, and to be honest, sometimes it took a week for the crop marks and belt marks to fade.
Julian found all kinds of things for us to do together. We did a really fun drink-while-you-paint night where everything was supplied and an instructor talked us through making a landscape painting — though mine looked like a drunk raccoon had painted it. There was also Top Golf, side-by-side massages, a moonlit cruise on The Southern Belle down the Tennessee River a few miles and back, a haunted history walking tour of the downtown area, an outdoor concert, a nighttime baseball game with fireworks afterward.
We had fun on our outings, no power exchange at all, just two people dating, learning each other’s rhythms. Sometimes it felt like he was courting me in the old-fashioned sense, the way you read about in romance novels — and then we’d go back to my house, and Julian would give me the most beautiful pain I’d ever felt, along with orgasms I swear got better every week.
I hadn’t told him yet, but I was starting to fall for him. And it scared me a little, how much I looked forward to our dates and video calls, how happy I was when he texted me.
But I still didn’t know much about his childhood, and I hadn’t been able to find anything of him singing opera in Italy online. I mean, I know he said he sang in small theaters, but surely his name would show up somewhere in relation to him performing on stage, even a small one.
Early on, he told me he doesn’t have his own home to take me to, that he has a nice room at his boss’s house, so I hadn’t mentioned him taking me back to his place.
He invited me to a small party at his place one evening, and said he’d send a car to come get me, but I told him I could drive if he’d give me the address. He texted it and then called to tell me, “Use the last five digits of your mobile phone to get in the gate. The number will only be active for the thirty minutes around your expected arrival. Really, it will be easier if you let me send a car for you. Plus, that way I can take you home after the party and make sure you get home safely. It’s a curvy mountain road, and I’ll worry.”
I sighed. He wasn’t wrong about the curvy mountain road, based on the address. If I still had my car, I’d have enjoyed playing on the curves, but for some reason I’d thought I needed an SUV. “Okay. Have whoever’s coming let me know what they’re driving, when they’ll arrive, and the name I should give the gate.”
“I’ll text you when I have the information. Casual dress, which means some people will be in jeans, some in suits, and some will dress up.”
On the day of the party, I walked into my boy closet, looked through the clothes, and then went to my girl closet, where a dress practically leapt out at me in purples and indigos. Not a dressy dress, but an everyday one. Casual. I had some cutesy indigo Mary Jane shoes — major wedge heels with kind of a jarring kindergarten look. I curled my hair, clipped some long wavy indigo extensions in along with a couple of shorter lavender extensions to bring some color around my face, and then I wore understated makeup everywhere except for creative indigo eyeliner.
I looked in the full mirror and was pleased. Casual attitude with a touch of flair. Okay, maybe more than a touch, but it was still casual and not over-the-top crazy. I pulled some indigo stick-on nails from my drawer and put them on. They’re really good and rarely fall off before it’s time to take them off. I don’t often mess with my nails. Guitars and long nails don’t go together, but I have a stash of the stick-on deals in a ton of colors for special occasions.
When Adelaide can’t guard Julian, someone named Ember usually accompanies him, and tonight, Ember picked me up in a nondescript black SUV. It’s weird, sitting in the back seat with only one person up front, so I sat up front with her. She was wearing black pants with pockets all over them, and a utilitarian black shirt. She kind of looked like an assassin, or maybe a soldier. Or a SWAT guy with boobs.
“Adelaide is off work tonight?”
“She is. I’ll be helping with security for the party, and then I’ll return to your place with Julian.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so the SUV was filled with silence for a few moments.
“I believe you already know Cora and Kirsten, yes?” she asked as she pulled out of my subdivision.
I nodded. “They’re friends with the bikers and their ol’ladies, so they come on the Girls’ Night Out traveling parties.”
Kirsten used to be my therapist. She’d given me the name of someone to go to when she closed her business, but I have my life figured out now, and seeing someone brand new, educating them about who I am and why I’ve made the choices I have? No thanks. Would it be awkward to see her in a social situation? I hoped not.
