I've known him since he was sixteen in a blue polo shirt, snapping a rubber band on his wrist to stop himself from saying swear words. Clean cut and well behaved, even then I saw the rustic, emotional artist underneath. I wasn't so different: prim, proper, and longing for more.
We weren't right for each other in the traditional, everyday sense. Jay was chaotic and occasionally unhinged, fighting to prove himself as one of the best visual artists of our time. I was hungry too, but for financial success and a family that wouldn't let me down.
We dated in our twenties. And sometimes we didn't date but we hooked up. And avoided each other. And were friends. And asked each other for relationship advice. And got drunk and talked about our sexual fantasies. And went to brunch and talked about work.
In our 30s we met each other's partners, sent each other flowers, and called each other when life got hard enough that we didn't know who else to call.
In short, we've always loved each other.
So was it such a surprise that in our 40s, once we'd built our careers and families that we found our way back to each other?
Jay was single, after many years. And I was a decade deep in a marriage to someone smart and stable who never really saw me. And certainly never fulfilled me.
Here's the plan we made: a long weekend away at a resort off of the beaten path. A place for us to explore our sexual desires without the confines of a relationship or expectations. We filled out kink questionnaires, compared interests, and came up with safe words. Any recordings would go directly onto an encrypted drive that we could only unlock together. People knew where we were but they didn't know we were together. We both said we were going to "unplug" for the weekend.
He texted me the hotel room number while I was in a car service on the way to the hotel. I got it, then turned off my phone - per our agreement. I was still 20 minutes away and nervous without my phone to distract me. What would he have me do? How would I feel? I knew I could tell him anything, try anything, change my mind about any of it and he'd be okay. We'd be okay. I also wanted so badly to be used, to be out of control. To let someone see this bad bad side of me. And I felt so lucky that it would be him.
Jay didn't greet me out front, but a bellman did. I told him my room number while I sped off, eager to see Jay. See if his hair was long or short, if his beard was back, if his nostrils would flare when he saw me.
He looked great. He looked like the clean cut 16 year old I met at my first basement concert. Short hair, no beard, goofy smile and that feeling of simultaneously being out of place and finally in the right place at the same time.
Hi.
Hi.
I grinned and jumped into his arms, legs around his waist like I used to do when we were dating and I'd just gotten home from a work trip.
"Oh god it's good to see you" he said into my neck.
"I've got no words."
"I do." He ran his hand over my cheek. "Are you ready?"
I took a deep breath. "Ready."
He nodded. Took a deep breath. And grew three inches.
"Strip."
I stared at him.
"Quickly, Anna. I said strip."
This is what I had asked for. And I knew this would be the awkward part. The transition into sub space.
"Yes sir." I squeaked out. Off came the shirt. The shoes. The pants.
"Look at me." I did. "Look at me while you take off the rest."
I locked onto his bright blue eyes while I unclasped my bra and dropped it on the ground. Stayed staring at him while I pulled my underwear down, in a little squat as I pulled each leg out and stood up straight.
"Very good." he growled. And I was more turned on than I'd been in years.
"They're bringing your bags?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Follow me."
We'd been standing just inside the door. I followed him down a hallway to the left (was this a suite?) and into the bathroom.
"Stand there." He pointed. "Hands on your head, elbows out."
"Yes sir."
He took a towel, folded it neatly in half, and laid it on the floor. "Sit here, on your knees. Arms stay up."
"Yes sir."
