Page 40 of A Lesson In Beginning

“I… uh…um…” I stammered incoherently, my hands immediately moving to my braid, toying with the ends.

“I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?” His slight wince of remorse made me feel slightly more at ease.

“Maybe just a little.”

“Okay, let’s start smaller. Do you feel comfortable talking about last night?” Already, I felt better, more at ease with the singular line of questioning.

“Yes, I would be happy to discuss it with you, Joel.”

Why did I just say that?? Lord help me, it’s too late now.

“Good!” His smile lit up his face, making me blush anew. I had a feeling that blushing in his presence was not about to stop any time soon. “What were your thoughts about being out on the floor with other people?”

“Well, the first night I came, it was completely packed. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see where I was going. It was all so overwhelming.” My fingers stopped toying with my hair, finding it easier to relax in his presence now that I had begun. “It was far more palatable last night. The smaller crowd didn’t make me feel as panicky.”

Just don’t talk about what happened after.

“That makes sense. How did you feel about witnessing the scene?” His fingers drummed out a rhythm against the steel top of the table, his hands stretched out partway across the surface. It made me want to reach out to him, to still his nervous movements. It was a feeling I knew well, and the desire to soothe him was nearly overwhelming in its power. Yet, I held back. That would be far too forward of me.

“It was intense. Much more intense than I expected.”

“And how did that make you feel? Do you have questions about what you witnessed? If you feel comfortable asking, that is.”

“I think that is the part that has me thinking so much. At the moment, it was mostly confusing. It wasn’t until later, when I had time to really think about everything, that the questions began to plague me. I tried to talk to Ruth about it, but of course that didn’t go well and —” I cut off sharply, realizing I was rambling without care or concern for my censorship. It wasn’t becoming to be so uncouth.

“It didn’t go well? Do you want to talk about that?” That adorable little wrinkle appeared between his brows, his concern etched over his face.

Absolutely not!

“I feel like it might be improper, and I do not wish to overstep.” My own hands mirrored his, though instead of drumming along the surface, I simply picked at my cuticles, not even registering the motion until Joel’s hand covered my own.

“There is nothing improper about our conversations here. You are free to say anything you wish, to have any and every emotion. It’s not overstepping, Adah. It’s welcomed. This is a safe space for you.” It was his words, or perhaps the feel of his hand on mine, but I sat there in silence, letting it all wash over me.

This is a safe space.

Safe.

Was that what made it so difficult to compose myself in his presence? I was unsure if I had ever felt safe in the presence of another person, let alone a man — not ever. Everything, every interaction through the course of my entire life had been glossed over, danger lurking just in the peripheral.

“Talking about these things is hard, in and of itself. But I’ve realized that I have questions. Questions that need answered. I tried to speak with Ruth about them, but it was altogether too awkward. She’s my sister, and while I value the relationship and trust we are rebuilding, I’m finding it a little too personal to discuss with her. I want to be open like that, like she is, like so many people I’ve met seem to be. But I’m simply not.”

His thumb brushed over my inner wrist, a gesture that was so soothing, and altogether so intimate, that it pulled my focus from my words straight to his circling finger. It was completely unassuming, with no demand or expectations put on me. It made me feel freer in that moment than I had in as long as I could remember.

“You could be, you know. Perhaps not with your sister, but with someone you felt… more comfortable with?” There it was again, that adorable tinge of a blush on his cheeks that let me know he was just as nervous, just as human as I was.

In that singular moment, all my concerns about being open and honest with him disappeared. He was right. This was a safe space. And I could be honest.

“I want to know if all kink scenes are that intense.” I blurted the words out before I could find a reason to hold them back any longer.

“No, not all scenes are that intense. There are plenty of kinksters who enjoy easy, light play, and plenty who enjoy intense, elaborate scenes, and everything in between. It’s all about negotiating.” His explanation was simple and forthright, and all the while, his thumb continued its nonsensical, soothing pattern against the skin of my inner wrist.

“Are all orgasms that intense?” My cheeks flushed what had to be a brilliant shade of red, but I paid it no heed. I wanted answers, and for once, I would get them.

“I’m not a woman, so I can’t speak for them, but to my knowledge, no, they are not all that intense. Some are less, some are even more intense. It can vary, depending on several things.” I reached my other hand across the table, palm up, absent-mindedly seeking the same comforting touch from this hand as he was paying to the other.

Without a word, his hand wrapped around my hand, his thumb mirroring the other, just as I wanted. I visibly relaxed into his touch.

“How does one know what they want to try or not try?”

---