long?”
“Hmmm…. Say, five typed pages.”
“Okay. Interning at your company…what would I be doing?”
“Sheesh. I don’t know. Filing, probably. Entering data.
Whatever needs doing.”
“All right,” she said. “The massage. I don’t know anything
about giving a massage.”
“It’s not that hard. I can tell you most of what you need to
know to satisfy me. Or I can have someone give you a couple of lessons.”
“All right. The last one is pretty straightforward. So the
only other one.” The words caught in her throat, making it hard to talk. “Would
it be…hard?”
Again he hesitated for a moment, but he understood what she
meant. “Hard enough to hurt. It’s supposed to be a punishment. Not hard enough
to cause any harm, though.”
“Would you do it? And how? I mean, would I have to…?”
“I would do it. And—bare?” he asked. “Absolutely.” He paused
while he made a right turn. “Meg? You’re going to be taking your clothes off
for me anyway.”
“Oh. Right.” She was just as glad it was dark so he couldn’t
see the flush that must be making her face bright red. The skin felt as if it
were on fire. She drew in a deep breath. “Will you use your hand?”
“Sometimes.”
“Not all the time?”
“Not all the time.”
“Okay.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes before she looked
around outside, didn’t recognize where they were, and asked, “Are we going to
your place?”
She could see him well enough to discern a shrug. “Seemed
like the most reasonable place. Would you prefer I took you to a hotel?”
“Dear heaven, no.”
“I thought not.”
“Kyle, what would you…? No, never mind.”
“It’s got to be your choice. I think you know what you
should do.”
Not someone who’d take the easy way out . That’s what
he’d said about her. On the other hand, different people might make different
choices about what was easy and hard. She wasn’t even sure what was truly hard
and easy in her case. But she was pretty sure she did know what he wanted or
hoped for and it did mesh with her choices. Still, there were risks. Probably
more to her heart than anything else, but that was big enough to give her
pause. Said organ had just barely survived being torn apart once before.
But if she wanted to have more than a shadow life, she
needed to start living. And living meant taking chances.
“I’ve made my choice,” she told him. “Numbers five and six.”
He sucked in a breath and his fingers tightened around the
steering wheel. “Are you sure? You can have more time to think about it.”
“I’m sure. I’m not taking the easy way out.”
“No.” A harsh laugh followed before he asked, “Is it the
right way? For you? Don’t choose those because you think it’s what I think you
should do or what I want.”
“Is it what you want?” she asked him.
She heard his breath go in and out before he answered, “Yes.
But that shouldn’t influence your decision.”
“It does, but only a little. It is right for me, maybe very
right, but…”
“What?”
“It scares me as well,” Meg admitted.
“Both options?”
“Both. Number six mostly, though.”
“There’s reason to be scared. It’s meant as punishment. But
I’m not a psychotic, a criminal or even a cruel man. Surely you realize I’m
taking as much of a risk here as you. Maybe more. My professional and personal
reputation is important to me and I’m probably giving you enough ammunition to
destroy it. I won’t harm you. I won’t do anything you really don’t want or
can’t handle. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. If you want to change your
choices, we’ll do it. I’m not sure what other kind of reassurance you need.”
“Not the kind you can give, I expect.”
He turned off the main street into a subdivision of new,
large houses, spaced well apart. Two turns later he pulled into a driveway, hit
a button on the device clipped to the sun visor and the door of a
Bob Brooks, Karen Ross Ohlinger