putting together something that’s probably far below his skill-set – this little bookstand we got from a supplier. Such long, careful fingers. I want to suck them into my mouth, right now.
Though I refrain, of course. I probably wouldn’t, if Andy were here. He could just tell me what to do and I’d obey and humiliate Gabe into oblivion.
God, have I pushed him to oblivion? He seems … OK. I don’t want him to be anything less than OK, even if he had seemed to really, really enjoy a lot of it. Maybe there’s another way he can really, really enjoy it, without seeming much less pleased than he had when we first screwed around.
‘What makes you say that?’ I ask.
He sort of half-glances up from his work, then, as though realising he might have said too much. Though about what, I can’t say.
‘Times were hard,’ he says, finally. ‘I’m not exactly made of stern stuff.’
He turns back to his bookstand, too quickly.
‘I’m not even stern enough for right now.’
I sip my coffee, as though my insides aren’t churning. So that’s the issue.
‘Why do you have to be stern?’ I ask, as he slots tab A into opening B. I think he’s considering, but it’s hard to tell.
‘Women generally prefer assertive men.’
‘You don’t think you’re assertive?’
‘No. No – of course I’m not.’ A pause. God I wish a customer would come in. ‘I can’t even ask for what I want.’
‘There are other ways to go about getting something.’
‘Well yes, maybe. But I don’t think that you … I don’t want to be some sort of game.’
I can’t believe how quickly this conversation has turned into sex alley. I’m amazed he’s still talking.
‘You seemed to like it.’
‘No – I … yes. I … enjoy being with you. In that way. But the first time I make love to you, I don’t want it to be something ridiculous.’
That last comes out all in a rush, and he seems embarrassed as he says it. I’m embarrassed, too. I’m so embarrassed that I think I need to lie down for a little while. Did he just use the words make and love? Was the word love there, already?
I don’t love Gabe. We’re just a … thing.
‘I mean, that is, if you want me to make love to you. Or have sex with you or whatever it is that you want to do.’ He pauses. He’s no longer putting together the bookstand, but I can see him piecing together and ordering something in his head, anyway. ‘I realise you might not want those things from me. Like that, you know? Because I’m not assertive. And I can’t ask. Apart from that last bit, I did ask that. About the sex, I mean.’
I think that’s the longest bit of speech I’ve ever heard him say, all in one go. He talked a lot about Oliver Twist when we got on to that, but discussing literature and Nancy’s boobs in the musical really doesn’t count. Even if he had laughed, when I had pointed out how magnificent they were.
The boobs, I mean. Not the long bits of literature.
I mull this over for a moment. In all honesty, I can’t think what to say, in response. There are a number of things that he needs to be told: I don’t care that you’re not assertive, I want to … I want to have sex with you. Have sex, not other ways of describing it that make me feel a little bit weird. I don’t want things to make you feel ridiculous or humiliated.
I need to know how much humiliation you want, in order to get you to that place of shuddery, red-faced excitement, without the uncomfortable self-doubt and awkwardness, afterwards.
But I’m just not practised enough, at any of this. This all seems very dom/sub or something like it, and although I’ve read a great deal of material on the subject, I’ve no idea how to carry myself like Andy.
Though the words that finally come out of me seem very a) Andy-like and b) as though I do actually know what I’m doing, and want this all to continue, immediately.
‘If you find it hard to ask for what you want, then we need to find
Though I refrain, of course. I probably wouldn’t, if Andy were here. He could just tell me what to do and I’d obey and humiliate Gabe into oblivion.
God, have I pushed him to oblivion? He seems … OK. I don’t want him to be anything less than OK, even if he had seemed to really, really enjoy a lot of it. Maybe there’s another way he can really, really enjoy it, without seeming much less pleased than he had when we first screwed around.
‘What makes you say that?’ I ask.
He sort of half-glances up from his work, then, as though realising he might have said too much. Though about what, I can’t say.
‘Times were hard,’ he says, finally. ‘I’m not exactly made of stern stuff.’
He turns back to his bookstand, too quickly.
‘I’m not even stern enough for right now.’
I sip my coffee, as though my insides aren’t churning. So that’s the issue.
‘Why do you have to be stern?’ I ask, as he slots tab A into opening B. I think he’s considering, but it’s hard to tell.
‘Women generally prefer assertive men.’
‘You don’t think you’re assertive?’
‘No. No – of course I’m not.’ A pause. God I wish a customer would come in. ‘I can’t even ask for what I want.’
‘There are other ways to go about getting something.’
‘Well yes, maybe. But I don’t think that you … I don’t want to be some sort of game.’
I can’t believe how quickly this conversation has turned into sex alley. I’m amazed he’s still talking.
‘You seemed to like it.’
‘No – I … yes. I … enjoy being with you. In that way. But the first time I make love to you, I don’t want it to be something ridiculous.’
That last comes out all in a rush, and he seems embarrassed as he says it. I’m embarrassed, too. I’m so embarrassed that I think I need to lie down for a little while. Did he just use the words make and love? Was the word love there, already?
I don’t love Gabe. We’re just a … thing.
‘I mean, that is, if you want me to make love to you. Or have sex with you or whatever it is that you want to do.’ He pauses. He’s no longer putting together the bookstand, but I can see him piecing together and ordering something in his head, anyway. ‘I realise you might not want those things from me. Like that, you know? Because I’m not assertive. And I can’t ask. Apart from that last bit, I did ask that. About the sex, I mean.’
I think that’s the longest bit of speech I’ve ever heard him say, all in one go. He talked a lot about Oliver Twist when we got on to that, but discussing literature and Nancy’s boobs in the musical really doesn’t count. Even if he had laughed, when I had pointed out how magnificent they were.
The boobs, I mean. Not the long bits of literature.
I mull this over for a moment. In all honesty, I can’t think what to say, in response. There are a number of things that he needs to be told: I don’t care that you’re not assertive, I want to … I want to have sex with you. Have sex, not other ways of describing it that make me feel a little bit weird. I don’t want things to make you feel ridiculous or humiliated.
I need to know how much humiliation you want, in order to get you to that place of shuddery, red-faced excitement, without the uncomfortable self-doubt and awkwardness, afterwards.
But I’m just not practised enough, at any of this. This all seems very dom/sub or something like it, and although I’ve read a great deal of material on the subject, I’ve no idea how to carry myself like Andy.
Though the words that finally come out of me seem very a) Andy-like and b) as though I do actually know what I’m doing, and want this all to continue, immediately.
‘If you find it hard to ask for what you want, then we need to find
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