Page 13 of Stepping Up to the Plate

“No, baby, what stoplight color are you? Green, yellow, or red? Do you need to safe word?”

She stares at me for a minute before responding, “Safe word? We aren’t having sex yet.”

Who gave this woman her safety spiel? A safe word can be used any time in any circumstance. Before I can tell her that, there is a loud, persistent knock at the door. I don’t want to walk away while she is crying, but she doesn’t want my comfort and the knock is insistent.

I open the door to find a flustered Eric.

“What?” I grit. “There better be an emergency if you’re interrupting a session.”

“What file did you read? What did it say?” he rushes out, voice sounding slightly panicked.

“The one for this room. New, probationary member into degradation and open to impact play, bondage, and a variety of toys,” I repeat.

“Fuck!” he exclaims as he runs his hand though his fair. “I think the files got switched when Craig grabbed them. The one you read wasn’t for her.”

“What?” I grouse. If that’s true, this is a huge mix up and reflects terribly on the club. We need to figure this out now to make sure it is a one time issue caused at the desk and not a systematic error.

I turn to the woman – who has thankfully stopped crying and is now only sniffling – that I will be right back. I take one last glance at her before I leave and head to meet Cole up front.

When I return to the room a few minutes later, I am disappointed but not surprised to see she is gone. She must have left through the side stairs because I would have seen her walk by the desk. I read her file when I was there. She is not into degradation at all. In fact, she might be on the entire other end of the spectrum. No wonder she reacted the way she did. I hate that she ran out and I’m not able to fix this situation. There is no telling where this encounter left her emotionally.

The idea that something I did could have hurt her sits heavy in my chest as I proceed to Cole’s office to discuss what happened. I know the client relations team will try to follow up with her, but I doubt she’ll respond. I could probably get into the application portal but that would be highly unethical and I would be guessing which profile was hers, anyway. Hopefully, she’ll return to the club in the future and I can make it right.

ChapterSix

• LOLA •

March

After my unfortunate night at Club Hedone, I decided to bury my head in the sand. I am mortified I sobbed in front of a complete stranger who was literally there to fuck me happy. I want to blame it on the period that came the next morning, but I can't – even if I did cry at a video of an old lady reuniting with her dog after rehabbing her hip replacement.

The whole experience showed me that I am not ready to put myself out there. No matter what the circumstances are. I need to take some time to focus inwardly, to figure out who I am and become that person before I add intimacy or another person in the mix.

Carina and Tiffany are both at work today, and Robby left for camp. I have the place to myself. Taking a break from binge-watching home organization shows, I pull out my phone and browse social media. While scrolling, I come across a quote that knocks me on my ass and jumpstarts my journey. It says, “Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion; today is special.”

I have spent much of my life waiting for a special occasion or moment. I save things for a rainy day, but even then, I feel guilty using them. No more! Starting right now, I am a new Lola – Lola 2.0. And Lola 2.0 lives in the moment and enjoys life to the fullest.

I run into my room and tear through my closet. I grab everything I bought to wear to Phil’s stuffy work parties and the city council meetings I attended for work, and toss them on the bed. Anything that doesn’t bring me joy is out.

Digging through my stuff, I find the candle Carina got me for Christmas last year. The one I’ve yet to burn. I bring it back into the living room with me and light it. Grabbing a notepad, I map out a plan to become a new me.

Step one:Makeover. I’ve already started with my closet purge. I’ll replace what I got rid of with new items that I love and fit my style, not the style of who I think I’m supposed to be. As soon as Tiffany gets home, I will convince her to chop off my hair. I kept it long because Phil preferred it that way, but it is a pain to take care of and fuck what he prefers.

Step two:Find a job so I can stop freeloading off Robby and Carina/the joint bank account Phil hasn’t cut me off from. I scour the internet for freelance journalist positions I can do from home. I find one with the Nashville tourism board and quickly apply. I pitch myself for a column as being a new transplant to the city and exploring it. I also link to my experience writing on city matters and local interest pieces from my old position.

Step three:Deal with Phil. It’s been three months since I left. It’s time to finally tackle the issue. I shoot an email off to my attorney and tell her to draw up the divorce papers and file them as soon as she can. I know it’s going to cause a shit storm, but I can’t have this hanging over my head anymore. It’s time to live for me.

ChapterSeven

• BRADY •

Iam still shaken up by the encounter a few weeks ago at Club Hedone. After Eric told me about the files getting mixed up, I went back to apologize and provide aftercare because she was rightfully upset, but I didn’t get the chance. By the time I got there, she was gone. I don’t blame her, but I can’t help but feel like an absolute asshole.

I have protective, caretaking urges for every woman I am intimate with, but I especially had them for her. I royally fucked up that situation. I know it wasn’t technically my fault, but she doesn’t know that. And even if she did, it wouldn’t un-hurt her feelings or absolve my responsibility. I’m annoyed I won’t get the chance to make it right, but maybe it’s for the best.

The whole ordeal highlighted the discontentment I have been dealing with lately. It started when my brother got married and was exacerbated by seeing our pitcher, Robby’s, relationship with Carina. I’ve been happy with my life, but seeing two of the men closest to go ga-ga for their women makes me feel like I’m missing something.

I love taking care of people. It’s part of what attracted me to the dominant side of the BDSM world. That and the fact that I am a possessive, bossy bastard. I’ve been fulfilled by short flings and scenes for the past decade, but now I can’t help but think how amazing it would be to have that 24/7. How much better would it be if the person I was taking care of wasmineand not a temporary partner? What would it be like to have someone to take care of every day? Someone whose life I got to be fully involved in. Sure, I do that on some level with the guys on the team, but it isn’t the same.

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