Page 27 of Submissive Lies

-No?-

Yes, no. I’m done. Because trying again wouldn’t make any difference. There’s no way I can turn off being a submissive. It was stupid as hell for me to think I could. And what did my one attempt at trying to talk to Thomas get me? Sex doggy style. The lie is killing me. And we both know what would happen if I tried to come clean with him and tell him who I am.

-So, that’s it?-

This has always been the only real option. I just didn’t want to admit it.

-Admit what?-

That I need to end it.

I caught the server moving back down the counter towards me out of the corner of my eye. Before he reached me, I put up both hands in mock supplication with a weak smile. He stopped, took a deep breath, and moved back to where he’d been.

-So some guy comes along, holds your hand, makes you feel all squirmy inside, and that’s all you needed to decide your relationship is over? Six months of stringing Thomas along, tossed down the drain.-

That wasn’t what caused this. This has been fifteen months in coming. And we both know how this is going to end.

-No, we don’t! You haven’t even tried yet! That’s pure supposition on your part!-

Now who’s lying?

There was only one option. I knew this now with undeniable clarity. Continue to perpetuate the lie? No. Dead end. Talk to Thomas, admit to him I was not the person he’d thought I was, then expect that he’d accept this and want to be with the real me?

I recognized that for the bullshit it was.

The epiphany, my decision regarding my relationship, all of it centered on the power being a submissive held for me. My desire to submit for the pleasure of my lover and for myself. I enjoyed being a submissive. No, wait. I didn’t just enjoy it. I loved it. I craved with every fiber of my being engaging in those acts which were at the core of my personality. My kink. My dynamic. They were all part of what made being submissive powerful for me. I owned that. It was mine. Mine to give, and mine to receive.

I had tried to deny that part of myself. Tried to remake myself into something I wasn’t.

And I had failed.

As those thoughts streamed through my head, I came face to face with reality. It was clear there were challenges ahead of me. What I had done after Ben was nothing more than a screwed-up attempt to escape the pain he’d created. I had to accept that there would be a great deal more pain in my future, but this time of my creation. Pain of an intensity potentially greater than anything I had experienced in the past.

Thomas was a good man. But he was not the right man.

I would have to tell him that and tell him why. There was no Ben to push the blame onto this time. I was the Ben now. But I was determined I wouldn’t be like Ben. I wouldn’t hide anything from Thomas. I would talk to him, come clean, no matter how difficult and painful it would be for the two of us. And I knew it would be. Probably more than I had any concept of. I sat there, idly spinning my tea glass around in circles through the condensation that pooled on the counter top. Even as I considered all the challenges that faced me, through it all there was one overriding emotion. Relief. Nothing I was doing diminished the sense of liberation that flowed like an undercurrent beneath the thoughts rattling around my head. I was freeing myself from the self-imposed prison I had built. The inmates had rioted, stolen the warden’s keys, and now they were marching out the front gate, never looking back.

It felt good. Scary, but oh so good. And unlike in the past, I wasn’t going to put this off. I would do it right now.

I pulled out my cell just as the waiter started to come back towards me. I scrolled to Thomas’ office number and hit DIAL. Just as he drew close, I brought the phone up to my ear. He stopped, and I shot him an apologetic smile and half-hearted shrug. He didn’t even bother to hide his disdain as he turned and moved away. Asshole.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Hi! This is Thomas Kiernan. I’m on the phone or away from my desk right now, but your call is important. Please leave your name and number at the tone and I’ll return your call as soon as I can. Thank you!

“Hey. It’s me. Listen, can you give me a call when you have a sec? I need to talk to you about things. It’s lunchtime here, but even if it’s later don’t worry about it. Just call me when you can and I’ll take it. Thanks. Bye.”

I knew I was two hours ahead of him, so he wouldn’t be at lunch yet. Maybe he was in a meeting. It didn’t really matter. When he called, I’d slip away and take it. What was I going to say? Was I going to break up with him over the phone? Of course not. Probably not. I didn’t know. That was the thing; I had no idea what I would say or do. All I knew was I was going to do something, finally. Because I needed to. Had to. Because letting this go on was wrong. For both of us.

There was nothing but melted ice cubes in the bottom of my glass, the tea gone. I looked for some symbolism or metaphor in that, but if there was one, it eluded me. And for some reason even that made me smile.

“Could I have the check, please?” Embarrassed, I smiled at the waiter as he turned to look at me. He frowned, and I grinned sheepishly in return. I smiled as I paid, and I smiled as I left him a tip. I smiled because even though I hadn’t known just how tremendous the weight I’d been carrying on my soul had been, I did now. And feeling it falling away left me happier than I had been in a long time.

-You’re scared. Admit it.-

Of course I am!

-When you do get in touch with him, or if you decide to wait until you get home… This is going to hurt, Jen. It’s going to hurt like hell.-

I know.

-Think about it. We can still walk this back…-

No, we can’t. You and I both know it.

It scared me. I feared what would take place when Thomas found out I wasn’t the woman he thought I was. When I told him the mistake I’d made. When I confessed to my lie. Not just that, I was a little scared of what would happen when I walked back across the street and into the hall. Into that booth where Steve was waiting. But I could deal with all of that. I could deal with anything now. Because I was Jennifer Boyd. I was once again me. The person I was and had always been, and not the person I’d tried to force myself to become.

And that felt too good to ignore.

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