Page 108 of Ward Willing
“So, what brings you here, Zoe?” Her face is open and friendly, and despite Orion promising me that I didn’t have to say anything about my sexual preferences, something about her makes me want to say something.
I shrug. “I’m just curious.” I see Orion raise his brows as he takes a sip of his water, so I continue. “I’ve been reading up on BDSM, and I think I want to know more.”
She grins. “You’re in the right place. I’d be happy to mentor you and help you become better informed if you’d like?”
“Me too,” Carla, another one of the women chimes in.
“Me three,” Orion says, smiling. “You are family, after all,” he drawls.
Everyone else agrees, murmuring their willingness to help, and it’s…
I swallow the emotion clawing up my throat. “Thank you,” I say slowly, realizing they’re all waiting for me to speak. “I know I’m young, but I think… this is something I’d like to explore further.”
“You can ask us anything,” Kandie says gently, placing her hand on top of mine. “Once you come to one of these, as long as you’re not a dickhead, you’re in for life.”
I give her a watery smile before clearing my throat. “How do I find out what I like?” I ask. It’s the one thing that’s been eating at me ever since?—
Since Catalina.
“There are quizzes online,” Orion offers. “I can text you the links. Once you have a baseline, you can do more research. There are videos, seminars, articles… the information is out there. And if you come to the weekly slosh, we can answer any questions you may have.”
I give him an appreciative smile. “Okay. So… where do I start?”
* * *
Thinking back to my first munch and now this one, where we’re all playing a very inappropriate game of Cards Against Humanity in a public place, makes me teary-eyed. These are my people; the same people I’ve spent every week with for the last year. And while I don’t plan on going anywhere, it’s still crazy to think that it’s been a year. As I say goodbye to everyone, including Orion, who doesn’t mention Liam at all, I find myself wandering down the main street of Crestwood with a sappy grin on my face.
It’s past seven, and most of the shops are closed, but I still peruse the windows anyway. I’ve come to appreciate Crestwood as my home. When I get to a small house on the edge of the main street, I stop and wrap my arms around myself. It’s light green with white trim, and there are hedges along the perimeter. The porch light is on, and I almost walk up and knock, but I turn around and walk away instead.
What would I say, anyway?Excuse me, I’m sorry to disturb you, but my father grew up in this house. He’s dead now, though, and I miss him.
Huffing a laugh, I walk past the coffee shop, and my eyes catch on a sign tacked to the door.
Elevate your writing prowess alongside acclaimed authors! Craving real-time, expert evaluations for your work?
Embark on a transformative 30-day workshop in the heart of London, meticulously designed to immerse you in a writing experience like never before.
This exclusive opportunity is tailored for unpublished talents seeking to hone their craft.
Inquire now but be forewarned: invitations will be extended only to those meeting our discerning criteria.
With limited spaces available, our selection process is rigorous.
Dare to join the ranks of the chosen few?
I type the website into my browser, and immediately I’m pulled in. The workshop takes place in a 18th century townhouse in central London, and as my eyes take in each author who’s run the workshop in the past, excitement lances through me.
Holy shit.
They’ve gotten some major people in the industry—famous writers, agents, and even publishers.
I keep scrolling for more information.
It’s a scholarship, and the award is based on talent.Great.No big deal. It’s thirty daysin London…a place I’ve always wanted to go ever since Stella told me about her experience growing up there. The next session takes place over my Christmas break—in seven weeks. Applications close tomorrow…
Before I know it, I’m sitting on a bench underneath a streetlight and filling out the application. It asks for a writing sample, so I copy and paste my favorite part of my book, hoping it’s good enough to be selected.
I hitsubmitbefore I can second guess myself.
