Page 32 of Surrender
Gareth: Sloan, you know me. Don’t lump me in with all the other footballers you work with. Trust me when I tell you that what happens between you and me stays between you and me.
Sloan: Will you be home at 5:00 tomorrow?
Gareth: Absolutely.
Sloan: Okay, I’ll see you then.
Gareth: I look forward to it.
I set my phone back on my nightstand and flick the TV off, far more interested in thoughts about Sloan than football recaps. I lie back, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling and realising that she is the first woman I’ve been excited to spend time with in years. And that’s a crazy thought.
It’s not that I have a problem feeling attracted to women. The truth is, I think the female body is a stunning fucking sight, and I could get hard just thinking about Sloan naked beneath me. But the pressure to connect with women on a personal level has never been something that I’ve wanted. I’ve always envisioned myself as the terminal bachelor, fulfilled by my siblings and their families more than ever wanting something of my own. I don’t see myself having kids. Someone who looks to me every day for comfort, for help, for guidance…That’s a lot of bloody pressure.
The second someone begins sharing personal shit with me is the second they realise how much I’m constantly holding back. Hell, I barely talk to my siblings about personal shit. I help them with their problems, but I don’t need their help with mine.
So I’m grateful that I’ve found someone whom I can consider a friend and dive into this arrangement with clear boundaries and expectations. There’s something about Sloan that makes me certain she won’t fall for me. She has a wall around her heart, and that’s something that will work very well in our situation.
Feelings can’t be part of this arrangement.
Sloan on my doorstep in a beige trench coat evokes fantasies beyond my wildest dreams. Her sheepish smile desperately makes me want to kiss her, but I know that is an important limit for her, so I will respect it. The fact that she’s here at all is a victory in and of itself.
“So I have an idea,” she says, entering my home and dropping her small bag on the floor in the foyer. She bends over to rummage inside of it, then stands with a small fabric tape measure in her hand. “I’m going to fit you for a suit.”
“You’re going to what?”
“But first, do you mind that I brought some wine?” she asks, her eyes wild and her tone slightly out of breath as she stuffs the tape measure in her pocket.
“Erm, no. I won’t have any, but I don’t care if you do,” I reply regretfully. I should have been prepared for this and bought some for her.
“Good,” she replies and bends over again to dig in her bag. She holds a bottle of white out for me to take.
“What else have you got in that bag?” My eyes are wide and wondering.
“Never mind that,” she states firmly. “Open this for me.”
I pull my lips into my mouth to suppress my grin at her bossy tone. “Yes, madam.”
“Oh my God, don’t call me madam,” she balks, following me into the kitchen just past the formal dining room where we decided to embark on this crazy new sexual arrangement.
“Well, what should I call you?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder and eyeing her stiletto heels appreciatively. God, I want to know what she’s wearing under that coat so badly, I’m not sure I can focus on adult conversation.
“I like Treacle.” Her voice is soft and contemplative as I set the bottle on the large island counter.
I make quick work of opening the wine and grab a stemless wineglass out of the cupboard. “Treacle it is.” I smile as I pour some of the golden liquid into the glass and hand it over to her. Our fingers brush when she takes it from me, and her sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed. She’s extra sensitive tonight. This should be fun.
“So this concept of ours is simple,” she states, drinking her wine and staring off into the distance as she speaks. “I tell you what to do and you do as you’re told.”
“Sounds about right.” I hold back an amused chuckle.
“This isn’t true BDSM. This is just…escapism. Or what you called it. Freedom.”
“Absolutely.”
“That means every time I come out here to visit, we will be liberated from our real lives. We will leave our personal lives at the door and only focus on the sex.”
“Sounds good to me,” I reply, my eyes falling down to her pointy black stiletto pumps. What if she’s naked under there? Fuck me, it is going to be really hard to give her all the power.
“And I’m in charge.” Sloan’s words sound like they are trying to convince herself more than me.
