Read Playing Knotty for Free Online Page B

advice. “Maybe.”

Chapter 6

    A s it turned out, there were entire websites dedicated to recipes you could make with ramen, but this particular concoction was not one of the better ones. Emma poked at the noodles with one chopstick. She should’ve known better than to trust any recipe that used so much cilantro; in large quantities, the stuff tasted like soap. Resigning herself to the inadequate dinner in front of her, she had just taken a huge mouthful of noodles when the phone rang. She chewed hastily, hot soup splattering her chin and the front of her shirt as the noodle ends flopped back into the bowl. Ugh.
    The caller ID told her it was Ian. She felt her stomach twist, and not from the excess of cilantro. They hadn’t spoken since he’d visited her apartment a few days earlier. Since she’d looked up his website, gotten all turned on, and masturbated to thoughts of bondage porn. Well, bondage porn and . . . him.
    â€œHi, Ian.” She set the bowl of noodles down on the coffee table in front of her, then shooed Miranda away from it with one slippered foot while leaning back on the couch. Hopefully she sounded normal and not all fluttery.
    â€œHi, Emma.” Had his voice always been that deep? She hadn’t noticed it before. Hadn’t thought of Ian like that at all, actually, until imagining rope and his hands and all sorts of naughty new territory. Now just listening to him say her name on the phone made her skin feel hot and tight. “I was calling to see if the evening of the twenty-fifth would work to host my class.”
    Emma walked over to her wall calendar with the chickens on it. “That Sunday? Yeah, I can do that. The store closes at six, and it usually takes me until around six-thirty to close everything up.”
    â€œI’d be starting the workshop at seven. That would give me some time to set up.”
    What did setup usually consist of ? “Um . . . do you need supplies?” She sat back down on the couch and reclined, resting her feet on the opposite armrest.
    â€œNo, just a place for people to sit. How many chairs do you have, so I know how many to bring?”
    Emma counted in her head. “I have six or seven in the back room.”
    â€œOkay, I’ll bring the rest. I need fourteen.”
    Emma tried to imagine what this whole scenario was like but came up empty. “So how does the whole thing work? How do you advertise?”
    â€œMostly through FetLife and some kink newsletters.”
    Emma filed the name “FetLife” away for future reference. It was probably not something she would want to be searching on the Starbucks Wi-Fi, though. With Ian on the phone and not right in front of her, it was easy to let the next question slip out. “And what . . . happens at one of these workshops?”
    The silence that followed her question made her wish she hadn’t asked, but she had to know. It was professional curiosity, she told herself. As the owner of the establishment housing the workshop, she needed to be informed and aware of what was going on in her own back room. It had nothing to do with the fact that her body was tingling just from thinking about what Ian might answer.
    â€œWell,” he began, “I usually open the event up to six or seven couples. This is a beginner class, so I don’t take things very far. Basic ties and knots. I bring a model with me to demonstrate on, and the guests get to practice on their partners.”
    â€œOh.” The word came out more breathy than Emma had intended, and her heartbeat was racing as if she’d been trying to catch a bus. “You, um, have a model?”
    â€œA bondage model, yes. I usually ask someone from my local FetLife group. My friend Lizzy helped me out last month and said she’d do this one, too.”
    â€œOh. That’s good. It’s nice that she’d do that.” Emma cringed. She sounded completely