Page 24 of Interview with a Sadist
“Because … he’s asadist!” I snap, trying to stay quiet and failing.
“And let me guess, you’ve been taught that sadism is bad?” Octavia says, and I suddenly feel dumb. “You keep trying to judge all of this based on what you’ve been taught and other people’s opinions, but you need to go and learn about it on your own. Sure, he’s a sadist, and maybe that does sound scary to people who don’t know what it really means. It sounds scary to people who don’t get it—to people who aren’t into that kind of thing, but maybe that doesn’t apply to you.”
“What? Why wouldn’t it apply tome?”
“Because you're interested in it.” I freeze, watching and listening to Octavia as if she’s the only person in the world. “Maybe you feel something about everything you’ve seen because youreally are into it. Maybe you’re enticed by his sadism because you’re curious about being a masochist.”
I shake my head as fear grips me. “That can’t be true.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s …pain! I’m not interested in being hurt. That’s ridiculous.”
“But, is it, though? You’re acting like the pain he’d give you is the same as being tortured to death. This isn’t having your arm chopped off or being waterboarded. It’s not bamboo under your fingernails. My husband and I have done plenty of experimenting, and trust me, girl, some pain is worth it.”
“ I … What … I know, but …”
“Stop fighting it, Bree,” Octavia says, finally leaning back in her seat but still eyeing me closely. “Stop thinking about what your friends might say, too. True friends will love you no matter what you’re into, as long as what you’re into isn’t hurting anybody. I think it’s time you started thinking about yourself. You keep going back and forth with this, and there’s no reason for that. Just do what the fuck you want to do. The only person you really have to answer to is yourself.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure I’m capable of disregarding what my friends and family think of me, because it has always been in the back of my mind with every decision I’ve ever made. Now, I’m being flooded with an entirely new way of thinking, and it’s all so overwhelming.
Nobody wants to be judged for being who they are, and nobody should have to keep themselves hidden either, but I’m not one hundred percent sure about anything right now, and that needs to change.
I feel what can only be described as terror as I try to focus on myself for the first time in my life. I’ve been battling internally since the moment I met Nolan, denying myself every thought that would be out of place in my perfect little world where everything different from me is bad. I’ve been immature. I’ve been scared to live. I’ve been too hard on myself, and I’ve done everything except what I want to do.
I take all of those thoughts and swallow them down. I choke on it at first, but eventually I get it down and refuse to let it come back up, heartburn be damned.
Octavia is right. The only person I have to answer to is myself, and I’ve never given myself the proper care and attention. Well, it’s time for a much needed change. A permanent one.
ChapterSixteen
I’ve never given much thought to impulses. Even at the age of twenty-nine, I’ve never thought about whether or not I had them, and if I felt anything sexually impulsive, I discarded the idea. Like too many people, I was taught that being sexual in any way was wrong, and that it would lead to horrible things happening to me. Obviously, the best way to avoid the damage being “promiscuous” would cause was to avoid unclean or impure thoughts. It became a habit that I continued subconsciously my entire life, and now that I’m breaking out of my cell, the hardest part of being free is discontinuing the habits that kept me caged. With my mind more open, I’m feeling things that are brand new to me. New, terrifying, and exhilarating.
Just seeing The Black Collar from the outside has my stomach in knots. I know what takes place behind those doors. I know what magic lies within each room—and that’s what it is—magic. The ability to turn pain into pleasure is as close to real magic as my world will ever know. My memories excite my entire body, filling me up from my feet to my head. My heart races and I feel the need to swallow more than I normally do. My breathing shudders and my skin flushes. All of this just from looking at the building with a new set of eyes.
I step out of my car and walk on wobbly legs across the street, adjusting my plaid, ruffle trim, pinafore dress as I go. Maybe I took some extra time to pick out a dress that leaned more toward the sexy side than it did the business side. Maybe I didn’t. The world will never know. All that matters now is that I’m here, feeling as confident as my mind will allow, and ready to see where my life will go after the final part of this interview concludes today. When we’re finished this afternoon, I’ll ask Nolan if he’d like to spend some extra time together. Maybe dinner. Maybe … whatever the hell he wants to do with me. He won’t know just how open I am to things, but he will know I’m interested in him and what he calls the lifestyle. Before the day finishes, my life will be on a new path. A path my friends will judge and critique endlessly.
I let out a long exhale as I knock on the door, hoping to set free any more thoughts about my friends that could distract me today. Octavia was right—I can’t allow other people to dictate how I live my life, and by the time Maddy opens the door, I’m no longer picturing the judgmental, unobjective faces of Melissa and Teagan. I’m in the moment and ready to embrace it.
“You’re back … again,” Maddy says, swinging the door open. Her curly hair isn’t as well put together as it usually is, and her blue eyes have bags under them. She must have just woken up from a difficult night, because it’s written in the pores on her face.
“Yes, I am,” I begin, stepping inside. “Today should be the last part of our interview.”
“So, this will be the last day we see each other?” Maddy asks, closing the door.
“Well … who knows,” I answer, feeling sheepish and protective about what I’m thinking. “Maybe we’ll see each other around.”
Maddy cuts her eyes over to me and scoffs. “I doubt that. I don’t usually hang out in many vanilla spaces, and we both know I won’t see you here. So, thiswillbe our last time seeing each other.”
Instead of arguing with her about it, I simply nod and follow Maddy down the hall. As we pass the rooms on both sides of us, I picture what’s behind each of the black curtains hanging in the doorways now. I imagine the chains on the walls, the beds, the cages, and the crosses—so many devices used to bind and hurt people.
Damn. I have to get out of thinking about all of this in such a negative way. The people who participated in what I saw here weren’t just being hurt. They were being satisfied after having given their consent. They wanted what they got, and they loved it. No negative connotations are necessary. This is a house of pleasure, even if it’s painful.
Maddy leads me down the hall and into the big open space that is the bar and dancefloor of the club. The bright overhead lights are on and the place is completely devoid of people, with the exception of two men at the bar. As we approach, I recognize Ethan, the bald man behind the counter from the other night, but the new man with the shaggy, curly hair is someone I’ve never seen before. His skin is caramel like Nolan’s, and the hair around his mouth is neatly trimmed and connected to a perfectly manicured beard, while his almond eyes seem to look into the depths of my soul as Maddy and I reach them.
“You’re the girl from the other night, right? The journalist?” Ethan says as he cleans out glass cups with a white towel.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I answer. “And you’re Ethan.”
