Page 16 of Submissive Lies

FIVE

We had argued.

Again.

The day I flew out for the show, Thomas had driven me to the airport. All that morning I had been irritable, fighting with myself to do what I knew I needed to. Thomas had picked up on it, and as we rode in the car, he called me out.

“Jen, come on. Seriously, talk to me. Something’s been bugging you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I told you before, it’s just… work. This trip. I’m fine. Fine.”

Arguments like this had been happening off and on since that night. The Night of the Rough Sex, as I’d begun referring to it. At first Thomas had thought he’d discovered my secret, and in doing so the explanation behind why I had been so reticence and distracted lately. But when nothing had changed, my attitude the same if not worse than it had been before, Thomas began to show signs of frustration of his own.

After I checked my bag, Thomas stood with me as I waited to join the line for security. There was still the barrier of tension that separated us after this morning’s argument, although to give Thomas credit he was doing his best not to let it show.

“Have a good show. Come back soon.” He held me in his arms and kissed me, but I could feel the stiffness in both acts. Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt so bad for what I was doing to him, and though a part of me still wished there was some easy way out of this, I knew there wasn’t.

Do it, Jen.

“Thomas…” I faltered, unable to force out another word. Talk or continue with the lie. Those were my choices. Neither was ideal, neither was easy, and both had built up a death grip level of frustration inside me. Still, I knew I had to do something.

Thomas wiped away the tears that spilled down my cheeks. He pulled me tight to his chest again, and then gently leaned back, letting go.

“What, Jen? What is it? Please. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I…” I choked. We need to talk about our relationship, Thomas. I have something I need to tell you. About me. About who I am. About us. I needed to say one of these things, the right one, but in the end, I said nothing at all.

“Jen.” I watched as his jaw went tight. “Dammit. Come on. Talk to me.”

I kicked the can down the road. “It’s…nothing. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you.” I gave him a hurried peck on the cheek, sniffling.

“Okay.” For a second his voice sounded different. An undercurrent I couldn’t pinpoint that disappeared as fast as it had come. “Okay.”

The smile he gave me at first I took for tenderness, but as I stared back at him silently, it suddenly looked like something else. Something that was less sympathy and more like disappointment.

Thomas gently pushed me away. “Love you too. Now, go. Before you get me started.”

I did. Snapping my mouth shut, I let the words I should have said wither and die inside me. I walked into the line, looked up once to see him still standing there, and did not look again until I was at the other end of the conveyor. Looking back, he was still there, distant now, waving at me. I gave a quick wave then headed for the departure gate.

Sitting in the waiting area, looking out of the large glass windows, I stared at the white plane that idled at the gate waiting to take me away. The show ahead of me was in Chicago, at McCormick Place. I’d done shows there several times before and I knew the things I needed to look out for. An easy show is what I wanted, and my reasons were simple. I needed time to think. I didn’t want to focus on the show. What I wanted was the space to concentrate on what I’d been avoiding addressing with Thomas. Looking in the show packet, I’d seen only one minor change that indicated anything different from the last time I’d been there, and that was nothing I couldn’t handle.

I was still mulling these things over when they began boarding us. The flight was almost empty, a blessing I rarely experienced. I held my breath as the rest of the passengers settled in. I didn’t want a companion this trip. A grandmother who’d want to chat and ask me why I wasn’t married yet, popping out babies. Or—even worse—another business person, a guy who’d want to know all the details of what I did to either try and sell me whatever it was he peddled, figure out if he had a chance of getting me into his hotel room, or maybe both.

Right now, either would have had me at the brink.

I had thoughts to think, and I just wanted to be left alone in blissful peace. I sighed with palpable relief when the last passenger was aboard and the remaining seat in my row was still vacant. Settling in as we taxied out to the runway, I listened to that weird drone aircraft engines make as they build up for take off. I took the free drink offered, opened my computer bag and pulled out my folder of paperwork to spread out in front of me.

I intended to read it one more time, but the effort was in vain. Soon my mind was drifting as I’d often found it doing in the past week.

My submissive desires had awoken from their slumber. And in any other situation that should have been a wonderful thing. But I had poisoned the well big time in that regard. Rather than embracing it, I started to resent it. The frustration the reemergence of those thoughts and desires brought on became traitorous tendrils that twined themselves to choke out everything I had worked hard to do to turn ‘normal.’ Vanilla. I tried slashing them away whenever they appeared but for each I destroyed a new one replaced it. And as much as I railed against it, I knew my aggravation was only growing more pronounced. I’d thought Thomas had taken his discovery of my rough sex fetish as sign he’d solved whatever was bugging me. In the week after The Night of the Rough Sex that assumption had proven wrong. My exasperation with myself had turned into resentment and try as hard as I might it trickled over into my relationship with Thomas. And he picked up on it. Prior to that night he’d simply questioned me, asking me what was going on.

‘Jen, what’s wrong? Is something bothering you?’

‘No. I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot going on at work right now.’

It was another lie, and each lie I told piled on top of the last, notching my irritation level up even further.

‘Hey. Is everything okay? You seem kind of tense.’

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