Spars

23. The Getting Of Wisdom

Since I became sexually active, I have never, ever, declined sex. For the first two years, I didn't know it was possible. And since then, I've never wanted to. I know, me and every other guy on the planet, you'd think. But lacking that will is a lonely thing too. I'd isolated myself, avoided social engagements. Drunk in a bar is an ungenerous situation when you can find yourself wedged into a toilet stall smelling of vomit and spilled Jägerbombs, a cock or an ass in someone else's story.

Dani was my friend though. The fact that she was generally devoted to Jayden had let us be friends without benefits, and, just to be clear, I'd never had many friends. We'd hung out together, relaxed together and been social together, looking like a couple, but chaste. Dani had Jayden, and to be honest, I think she thought I was gay.

Then Jayden pissed her off, and she needed a hug. On balance poking her with an erection might have been what made her review my status.

Hugging became kissing, and kissing became fucking.

The next morning, she cornered me at work, apologizing profusely.

There should be a greeting card for this, an "I'm Sorry I Fucked You" section nestled in between the "We'll Miss You" and "Hooray, You're Pregnant" selections in Barnes & Noble.

I was touched and did my best to be reassuring. We pretty much resumed our previous status, with me back in the friend zone, well, till Jayden fell from grace again.

And again.

Dani was a strong character and picked up on my submissiveness pretty early on. She wasn't into giving pain, but she was a born top, and we had great sex. Google "reverse cowgirl" if you're curious councillor.

So we were barely through the door when she pulled open the flies of my jeans and pulled them down around my knees. Normally this would have been followed by her dragging and me shuffling to the bedroom or the couch if she was in a hurry.

Instead, she stopped and stared at my choice of underwear. Ah.

"What the fuck? Zack, are those girls pants?"

"Well technically, they're boyshorts"

"Don't take the piss. *

Why*

are you wearing women's underwear? And who's is it?"

At last a question I could answer. "Alexa's."

"That biker chick?"

"Well yeah, though she's more of a truck driver really".

Fun fact, Kiwi girls can punch really hard.

"Tell me."

I was going to pull up my jeans, but Dani pushed me down on the couch and yanked my boots off, followed by the jeans. She pulled me back to my feet, then sat herself, doing that finger spin that says *

turn around*

.

Lucky me. Performing in girl's underwear two days in a row.

Twirl completed, I stood in front of her, one hip cocked and borrowed an expression from Jill, that cool look that said *

well?*

"They look good on you."

I resisted the temptation to curtsey, and simply smiled thanks, and took my jeans from her. She looked wistful, but offered no resistance.

"So this is serious then?" "I hope so..."

I was interrupted by my phone.

"Speak of the devil... hi Alexa!" An amused voice said "Sorry Zack, right phone, wrong person"

"Oh, hi Jill, how are you?" *

Jill?*

Dani mouthed. I waved her down.

"Sorry I missed you this morning. Did you get in to work safely?"

"Yes, no problem."

"That's great. I wanted to thank you for being such a great sport, I really enjoyed myself."

If I didn't stop being monosyllabic, Jill was going to think something was wrong.

If I did, Dani was going to have a whole new set of questions to ask.

"I had a great time too"

Totally worth it for the look on Dani's face. I held up a hand in the universally accepted signal of *

Shut up. Please don't fuck this up for me. I promise full disclosure if you'll just let me finish this call.

*

Dani closed her mouth and folded her arms giving the accepted return signal *

fine, but just this once, and it'd better be a damned good explanation.*

Jill was businesslike. She and Alexa were heading out to do a rope show that evening, but she still wanted me to join them for the weekend, if I was still up for it. *

Yes! Whoo hoo! *

"Of course, I'm looking forward to it".

"It'll be an early start. You live near the university, correct?" Yes." Okay, I'll need you to text me your address, but can you be ready by six?

SIX?

"Totally, no problem"

"Dress for the country. I know it's an early start, but you can sleep in the truck." *

Okay then.*

"I saw how much you enjoyed those wings last night. Is dressup something you like?" It was.

"Good, I can work with that. See you in the morning." We said our goodbyes and I hung up and held up a finger to Dani

One last thing

. She rewarded me with a frown warning that I was near the edge of her patience.

So. I texted my address to both Jill and Alexa's phones, then turned to face the Spanish Inquisition. "WHO THE FUCK IS JILL?"

"You've seen her. Blonde hair, pale, tall"

Commanding.

"Oh right. I thought she was Alexa's girlfriend" "Erm yeah. Kinda."

"But you've been shagging Alexa." Shagging is how New Zealanders make new New Zealanders.

"Erm yes."

Sort of. Well Jill actually.

"It's complicated."

"Complicated" Dani had a very skeptical snort when she was aggrieved. I got both nostrils. As fun as this was, I really didn't want to piss her off, she was the only other human at the coffee shop.

I took a deep breath and went full disclosure. "Alexa and Jill are a couple. But I'm part of it too, I think. We're spending time together."

"I can't think of any way this ends well." Dani was pragmatic as ever. I grimaced. "Yeah, I know, but so far it's working".

This is why I was friends with Dani. Instead of arguing, nagging, pointing out the myriad ways things could go spectacularly wrong, she pulled my jeans up, did up the buttons and belt (small confession: there was probably more physical contact in this process than strictly necessary), gave me a restrained peck on the cheek and said "Right, lunch."

As the cupboard was bare, this took us back out to the corner diner. As a public service, I listened to the savage details of Jayden's reported dalliance with the random. Who was a tart apparently, which I'm guessing means something different in Wellington.

24.Road Trip

In case you're wondering how to be ready for a six am start, the trick is to go to bed at eight o'clock the night before. I'd safely navigated Dani's Jayden crisis, and Dani was onboard, if pessimistic. The bathroom even got some love before I crashed. Packing was a challenge, but a flannel shirt and long sleeve henleys are good for most occasions.

Lulu appeared in the middle of the night, and settled in against my knees, smelling of adventure and garbage. She settled in and began washing herself down, but I was asleep again before we could have any meaningful conversation.

At five I was about as awake as it's possible to be without artificial stimulants. I showered whilst coffee brewed, put kibble in Lulu's bowl for her to ignore, packed the last few toiletries into my duffel, filled my thermos and headed for the street.

After being confronted by Lulu of course. After zero appearances for the last two days, she was apparrently outraged that I was deserting her.

Before you get all PETA on me, she was co-habiting with at least two other people in the block, had ample food and water, and

only

pulled this stunt when I was running out the door.

Luckily I had emergency treats on hand, and broke her out a pilchard. If you don't know what that is, buy a lottery ticket. Leaving her to her stinky snack, I headed out to the street. A quick run to the bakery scored me pastries and some coffee cups, and I took up station outside my building.

Did you ever do this? Stand in the early morning light waiting for your ride? Then you know. It's not the same for every ride. Heading off to school, you're all cool, flipping through messages on your phone, practicing insouciance. Getting a ride to work, you're trying to learn to sleep standing up, as close to comotose as being vertical permits. But a date? A road trip? I was practically on fire with excitement.

The seconds crawled past as six o'clock loomed. I reviewed my clothes, my packing, my thesis, thought about how Lulu had smelled so bad last night but not in the morning, and what that meant about the state of my bed. When my phone chimed with a message, I had to crawl back from fifty miles away to focus on it.

Five minutes. Getting coffee

. I literally punched the air in excitement before texting back

got coffee

.

Five minutes and thirty-three seconds later a familiar blue truck nosed around the corner. I spotted two heads and waved. They pulled to the kerb and Alexa hopped out and came round to the kerb, grabbing me in a hug. She was once again wearing her leather jacket and jeans, this time with a flannel shirt under the jacket. We looked like siblings from some Country and Western family band.

I couldn't stop smiling at her "Hi!". She grinned back "Hi yourself". She rolled back the tarp on the back of the truck and took my bag from me, stashing it in a niche then replacing the cover. As she began tying it down I grinned "Hey, need some help with that?" She rolled her eyes at me and said "Go say hi to Jill". I never even thought about it, just went to the driver side and clambered in, sliding over to Jill's side, balancing my coffee and bag of pastries.

Which left me with no hands free. Jill wrapped her arms around me and hugged me hard enough to hurt. "Morning lover!" This was quite possibly the best feeling I had had for the past ten years. She gave me a kiss that brought me to the brink of passing out, then chirped "Are those Danish?" They were. And there were Bear Claws too. By this time Alexa had finished roping down the truck bed and joined us.

We headed out. Pro tip, if the sun's on your right in the morning, you're facing north. We cleared town pretty quickly, hitting Interstate 5 and (ahem) trucking along it for an hour or so, before heading into the risen sun for a while and around eight thirty pulling up to a fairly secluded lake house. There hadn't been a lot of conversation on the trip, Jill had fallen asleep on my shoulder and Alexa, whilst slowly reprising her blues riffs on my thigh, was characteristically focused on the road. I may have nodded off for a while myself, sue me.

The house was pretty isolated, little more than a cabin, but it did have a boatshed and jetty. Jill roused herself and went off to the boathouse, whilst Alexa oversaw my transformation into a pack animal, ruthlessly loading me down with oversized duffels and sending me off down the jetty with them. Honestly though, it was idyllic, still early enough in the morning that the lake was a mirror, reflecting some mountain and many trees. City boy here. The trees were mostly green, if that helps narrow it down...

Jill emerged from the boatshed riding some kind of water vehicle. I believe the technical term is "boat", though for all I know it might have been a small ship. Bigger than a canoe, smaller than an ocean liner, it had one of those food mixers on the back that beats the water to provide propulsion and steering. We passed down the bags and embarked, which is getting in (on?), but with class.

The boat, which I was reliably told was a sixteen foot utility boat, failed to sink as we headed out into the lake. It

was

pretty utilitarian, but then we were only heading to a nearby island, so the canapés could wait. The island had a sandy beach, but no jetty. I got to get my feet wet, having removed boots and jean, as did Alexa. We dragged it high onto the beach, allowing Jill to step out onto dry land. In what seemed an excess of caution Alexa tied the boat to a tree. I suppose it's what she did.

Close to the beach was a small clearing surrounded by old trees, which smelled like pine cones. There was evidence of rigging mounts, so I guess this was an old haunt. As it'd been almost an hour since our last coffee, that was ithe first order of business. Alexa made a small fire and brought a set of tarps and a coffee pot from the boat.

It looked like we were settling in.

25.Every Man Is An Island

The clearing turned out to be rather like Alexa's living room. Here the difference was a lot of nature, mostly cute and cuddly, and largely benign after we'd shared out the mosquito repellent. I was in that mildly euphoric state of being up early after enough sleep, outdoors with no destination, and, oh yeah, hanging out with two women I was infatuated with.

While the coffee brewed we'd portered the bags over from the boat, and they were stacked to one side of the clearing. We were sat on a fallen tree reflectively inhaling the steam and spotting the local fauna.

"So," said Jill, "Here we are. We've got lots of dressup, and Alexa's brought enough rope to build a bridge to Canada. What shall we do?"

I wasn't used to being given choices, although it was dawning on me that I was going to have to get better at it fast. "Erm, whatever you like?"

That didn't go down well. "What I'd

like

is for us all to be a little more consultative. Honestly Zack, did your Mrs. West beat your free will out of you?" And then she saw my face, and read the truth there. "Oh fuck. If I ever meet her..." She came over and sat next to me. I was

not

crying, there was smoke. I'm not even fooling myself here, and to be honest the worst thing was that I felt I was letting Jill down. "Zack, firstly I'm sorry. Secondly, you need to be open with me, and Alexa. Neither of us want you to parrot the answer you think we want to hear. And that's not meant to be a stick to beat you with either. Oh God. I'm not explaining this well at all. Alexa, a little help?"

Alexa had been busy rigging ropes to anchors, absorbed in her own world. But when she looked around and saw how upset I was and Jill's frustration, she came right over. I'm getting tired of describing her hugs as "fierce," but there really isn't a better word to describe that combination of consuming affection and brute sex appeal she embodied. So. A fierce hug was delivered, and accepted. "Zack. You know we really like you." I nodded. "That

like

isn't conditional. It's not based on you performing to meet our requirements. It's

you

we like, not what you can do for us, or even how sexy you are". Okay, blushing now, but Alexa wasn't finished.

"This has moved pretty fast, it's only been, what, three days since you wrote your number on my coffee cup".

I nodded, being pretty good with maths myself.

"You've had a few surprises since then, and we've learned that you've more baggage than that little duffel you brought with you this morning. But you stepped up Zack, when we threw at you more than you could have expected, you embraced it and we love you for it."

I was really crying now, like a fucking idiot. "We don't want you to be a parrot, or a sock puppet. There's thing I want to do to you and with you, and Jill's got some pretty dark places she'd like to take you to."

That got a snort from Jill, but she gave a weak smile and nodded when I looked over at her.

"But we don't want to bully you. We don't want to make you do things you'd rather not, and if I can be a little indelicate here, we'd like you to bring

your

imagination to the table and let us be the monkeys in your twisted fantasies once in a while."

That got a smile from me. "Good" said Alexa. "Can I tie you up?"

And that made all of us laugh. Jill was the first to speak. "Zack, do you have a problem with being tied up? Can you share it?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Of course I have a problem. Of course I can't share it.

"I'll try. Mrs. West used to tie me up. Mostly just my wrists, but she liked to tie me to a ceiling hook, on tiptoes."

In lingerie.

So she could properly use a riding crop on my behind. I pretty much gave up sport in my senior year because I could never have explained the marks. It wasn't a sacrifice because I loved it.

"I know you were young, but did you tell her that you didn't like it?"

"No. And I

did

like it. I loved being controlled, and I loved the pain when she beat me."

That earned me two puzzled looks, which I guess is fair. Oh well, may as well tell the full story...

"As long as it was in Mrs. West's house across the street, I was comfortable. She was so much more experienced than me, and it was only gradually she started beating me. I liked it when she spanked me, and it was helping me to perform better for her." The look Jill was giving me was that of somebody biting their lip when a stranger's child is slapped in public.

Mute Disapproval.

It sounds like a selection in some emotional paint chart, alongside Alexa's Supressed Anger.

I'm not an idiot.

I know what I was saying showed just how emotionally immature I'd been whilst I was under Mrs West's sway.

But knowing you're being an idiot is something you put on the opposing scale to having sex, and having the emotional depth to know you're being conditioned and manipulated isn't ever an easy reach, especially for a seventeen year old boy.

And Mrs West continued to be the most important person in my life.

Taylor was away at college, Mom was still flat out with working, and I now know coping with some pretty serious emotional damage herself.

When I was with Mrs West, she gave me her full attention. I had been taught how to please her in every way possible, and I think I became a reflection of her own self loathing.

When she whipped me, it was her own demons she was beating. I'm not making excuses, but I'm not throwing stones either.

"The problem was when Mrs West moved back in with her husband."

It had been a trial reconciliation, for the sake of the children. I was a frequent visitor to the upmarket home that Mrs West had moved back into.

Ostensibly, I was there to provide a comfort for Michael and Hannah, but to be honest, I think I was an addiction for Mrs West by now.

Her bedroom had a full harness to strap me to, and she had been using her crop on me when a call came from the Equestrian Center, saying that Hannah had fallen from a horse. She was okay, but could Mrs. West come and pick her up?

She didn't even look at me. Just pulled some clothes on, and took off.

Leaving me literally hanging there. In a basque and lace panties. I was relieved when I heard a car pulling up, though mildly concerned that Hanah might walk in on me.

It wasn't Mrs West's car.

26. I Wasn't In The Closet

When they make a movie of my life, this will be one of those scenes that they film with a skaky handheld camera. Probably in black and white, overexposed, with my eyes terrified and my hands twisting inefectively against the ropes that held me open for inspection.

"Barb?" It was a masculine voice, presumably Mr West, this being his house.

As far as I knew, he slept elsewhere, so I kept quiet.

Maybe he'd not come into her bedroom.

I was familiar enough with bad porn and hinky movies to know that being discovered by a cuckolded husband was a

really bad idea

. Especially when you're tied up and wearing lingerie picked out by the wife. Oh, and there was a riding crop on the bed.

I heard him moving around downstairs, then the sound of him talking on his phone.

"You're where? ... How Serious is it? ... Yes, I can do that. Where?"

And then the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Shit.

I was behind the door as he walked to Hannah's room, but was going to be fully exposed when he headed back to the stairs.

After throwing drawers open and slamming them closed for a while I heard him move back into the hall, foyer, whatever it was called.