Page 33 of A Lesson In Beginning

“What?” I spoke too loudly, drawing the attention of more than one patron surrounding us.

“If you’re interested in him, I could arrange a more formal introduction.” Joel shrugged nonchalantly as I turned to stare up at him. His entire stance was once of nonchalance, but I could see through it, just below the surface, where there was an awkward tension and sense of nerves I couldn’t quite put my finger on. All I knew was that his discomfort at the thought of me showing interest in someone else gave me a thrill.

I quickly shook the thought from my head, turning my focus back to the stage as I answered him. “No, Joel. I do not have an interest in your friend Enzo.”

Out of the corner of my eye, just on the edge of my peripheral vision, I caught the grin on his face. I made no mention or show of it, but tucked the information away — for what purpose? I couldn’t say just yet.

On stage, the man had finished securing the woman to the table, her knees bent and legs pulled back, holding her open for all to see. His hands ran over her body slowly, sensually. While I could see nothing but adoration from the way he looked down upon her, I still could not stop my body from freezing, tensing as I remembered being in a position not unlike that on that night, years ago, just moments after I had wed Josiah.

The man’s hand slipped between her thighs, touching her. Back arching, she sighed so viscerally at the invasion of his touch I swore I could feel it myself.

I stood watching, frozen in place, my very breath caught in my lungs.

“Breathe.” Joel’s spoken word held the same command that held me captivated, transfixed, and unable to do anything but obey his whispered direction.

One deep breath in. One long exhale.

His hand stilled on my back but didn’t move away, simply providing a sense of grounding I was thankful for in that moment.

The man on stage had moved over the woman, touching her here and there. Her whimpers and moans began to build. Immediately I want to turn away, to run from the room. It was such an intimate moment. The old Adah would have rejected the entire affair as sinful and depraved. The new Adah was still uncomfortable, but I made myself stay, allowing Joel’s presence to calm and ground me.

The man took an item from the tray, and a buzzing sound filled the room as he turned it on. He moved it over her, touching her here and there, always moving lower. When his hand disappeared between her open thighs, I could not look on. My eyes lowered, my head bowing as a blush more vibrantly red and heated than any I’d ever had flushed over my cheeks.

Joel moved behind me, his hands finding my waist, though he did not stray from the simple touch. It grounded me further, and I felt myself relax slightly. That is, until I felt his breath near my ear.

“Eyes up, Adah. Watch what he is doing to her.” The low timbre of his voice, that commanding quality that I seemed incapable of ignoring, shot through me, straight down through my chest and stomach, settling between my thighs in a way that made me clench and made shivers run up my spine.

I could barely pay attention to what was happening on stage, the motions happening before my eyes blurring together as all my concentration fixated on the man behind me. The feel of his hands on my waist. His fingers curling and tightening on me each time the woman’s sounds grew in volume. The way his breath felt, fanning out just behind my ear. I was acutely aware of him in a way I don’t think I had ever been aware of another person before.

The woman’s sounds grew more and more insistent until she was nearly screaming. The man’s hands had stopped roving over her body. Positioning himself between her thighs, he worked diligently, uttering phrases I couldn’t quite understand as she writhed and nearly screamed.

“Do you want to leave?” Joel asked. He had shifted until he was standing next to me again, turning me slightly until my eyes met his furrowed and concerned gaze.

“What?” Confusion flooded me. Had I done something wrong?

“You seem uncomfortable.” He leaned in close, so that our whispered conversation did not disturb the scene, though I doubted anyone could hear us above the woman’s now full-throated screaming. The man urged her on, telling her he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. I felt my stomach flip in displeasure at such words and such intentions.

“I just don’t think this is for me.”

“Why is that?” Joel asked, his gaze focused solely on me, even as my own eyes turned back to the scening couple.

“I couldn’t handle pain like that. It is of no interest to me.” My nose scrunched, lips nearly snarling in distaste at the very thought of it. “I’ve been subjected to enough pain in my life.”

“Wait…” He trailed off, leaning in closer in order to keep us from drawing unwanted attention. “Adah, do you think that woman is in pain?”

“Just listen to her.”

He smirked, his eyes glimmering as he chuckled to himself.

“She’s not in pain, Adah. That’s pleasure. She’s being pushed to the brink of ecstasy with pure, unadulterated, and unrestrained pleasure.” I looked back at the couple, trying to reconcile what he was saying and what I was seeing and hearing on the stage.

“That certainly doesn’t sound like pleasure.” My nose wrinkled in distaste as the woman’s legs began to shake and her back arched so violently it came clear off the table, even if only by a little as the leather straps held her tightly.

“Some women are louder than others, but that kind of pleasure is pretty intense.” He laughed a little, but the smile died quickly as he took in my expression of confusion.

“Well, in all my years, I’ve never experienced anything that remotely resembles that.” My derisive scoff and the roll of my eyes only further confused him, it seemed.

“Have your orgasms not been so intense?” He asked, but his eyes roved over me as though he were trying to figure me out.

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