quandary. Right?”
Max raised his eyebrows. “Bridget, I’m an English professor and you’re out-language-geeking me right now. Tell me what’s going on.”
“All right, I’ll start over.” She took another swallow of the rich pinot noir. “My article was a hit.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. You were so worried.”
“No, no, not a good thing. Definitely not a good thing.” Was it warmer in there suddenly, or was she just feeling the warmth of his leg an inch from hers? She drank more wine. “I’ve been given a raise. And a new assignment. They want me to blog about my relationship with Erebos.”
“But you don’t have a relationship with Erebos.” Max leaned back to look at her more clearly.
“I know .” Bridget flopped back against the sofa and gestured with the wineglass. The wine sloshed a bit, so she finished it and set the glass down on the coffee table. “I know I don’t. We don’t.”
“So why would they think you do?” His brow furrowed. “Did you tell them we were intimate?”
“Nooo, Marcy presumed it from what I wrote. I wasn’t going for intimacy, I was trying to keep things detached, but I guess it didn’t work.” She picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass. It really was an excellent pinot noir.
“So why didn’t you tell her the truth?”
“What, and lose my job?” Bridget shook her head. “I didn’t lie to her, but I just didn’t correct her. If she finds out I don’t know anything, and she wants to go all edgy and shit with the magazine, I’m going to be monitoring fucking personal ads in the back pages by the end of the month.” She sipped more wine, more like a gulp, then studied the glass so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “So I kind of told her I would do it.”
“I see. That is a quandary.” Max plucked the glass from her hand and set it down on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough of this right now, all right? I want you coherent.”
“I’m fine. It’s just really warm in here.” Bridget fanned herself with one hand.
Max just sat there, his hands resting lightly on his knees, waiting for her to continue.
“So, now I’m here. On your couch.” Bridget took a deep breath and let it out, steadying herself. “I want to learn about BDSM.”
“I told you a lot the other day, but I can get you some books if you want.”
“No.” Bridget shook her head. “I want…you…to teach me.” She couldn’t make eye contact. This was really it.
“What do you mean?” Max’s tone implied he knew exactly what she meant.
“I mean, I want to learn about what you do. I want to learn about dominance and submission. I want to—” she swallowed, “—to experience it for myself. I want to be able to write about it from my own perspective, not make something up. I want to know. I want you to…show me.”
Max hesitated. “Bridget, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“No, it is. I’ve been thinking about it.” She flushed again, remembering in what circumstances she’d been thinking about it. “I trust you, I mean, I know you aren’t some psychopath or something. And you could show me what it…feels like.” At last, she chanced a look up into his eyes. He was so close to her, just a few feet away, watching her with an expression she couldn’t fully understand.
“Bridget, I don’t know if this is something you’d enjoy.” Max’s voice had become quieter.
“Then if it’s not, we stop. Safe words and all that. Right?” Hopefully he would see her point.
“And you would blog about it?”
“Yes. Anonymously, of course. No one would know it was you. Or me. Either of us.”
“You know, there are a lot of erotica writers out there. If you read enough of it, you can probably imitate it.”
Bridget made a face. “Yeah, I thought about it, but Marcy wants a relationship. She wants details, and not just sex details, but details about two people in a relationship who also practice BDSM together. If I make
Max raised his eyebrows. “Bridget, I’m an English professor and you’re out-language-geeking me right now. Tell me what’s going on.”
“All right, I’ll start over.” She took another swallow of the rich pinot noir. “My article was a hit.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. You were so worried.”
“No, no, not a good thing. Definitely not a good thing.” Was it warmer in there suddenly, or was she just feeling the warmth of his leg an inch from hers? She drank more wine. “I’ve been given a raise. And a new assignment. They want me to blog about my relationship with Erebos.”
“But you don’t have a relationship with Erebos.” Max leaned back to look at her more clearly.
“I know .” Bridget flopped back against the sofa and gestured with the wineglass. The wine sloshed a bit, so she finished it and set the glass down on the coffee table. “I know I don’t. We don’t.”
“So why would they think you do?” His brow furrowed. “Did you tell them we were intimate?”
“Nooo, Marcy presumed it from what I wrote. I wasn’t going for intimacy, I was trying to keep things detached, but I guess it didn’t work.” She picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass. It really was an excellent pinot noir.
“So why didn’t you tell her the truth?”
“What, and lose my job?” Bridget shook her head. “I didn’t lie to her, but I just didn’t correct her. If she finds out I don’t know anything, and she wants to go all edgy and shit with the magazine, I’m going to be monitoring fucking personal ads in the back pages by the end of the month.” She sipped more wine, more like a gulp, then studied the glass so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “So I kind of told her I would do it.”
“I see. That is a quandary.” Max plucked the glass from her hand and set it down on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough of this right now, all right? I want you coherent.”
“I’m fine. It’s just really warm in here.” Bridget fanned herself with one hand.
Max just sat there, his hands resting lightly on his knees, waiting for her to continue.
“So, now I’m here. On your couch.” Bridget took a deep breath and let it out, steadying herself. “I want to learn about BDSM.”
“I told you a lot the other day, but I can get you some books if you want.”
“No.” Bridget shook her head. “I want…you…to teach me.” She couldn’t make eye contact. This was really it.
“What do you mean?” Max’s tone implied he knew exactly what she meant.
“I mean, I want to learn about what you do. I want to learn about dominance and submission. I want to—” she swallowed, “—to experience it for myself. I want to be able to write about it from my own perspective, not make something up. I want to know. I want you to…show me.”
Max hesitated. “Bridget, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“No, it is. I’ve been thinking about it.” She flushed again, remembering in what circumstances she’d been thinking about it. “I trust you, I mean, I know you aren’t some psychopath or something. And you could show me what it…feels like.” At last, she chanced a look up into his eyes. He was so close to her, just a few feet away, watching her with an expression she couldn’t fully understand.
“Bridget, I don’t know if this is something you’d enjoy.” Max’s voice had become quieter.
“Then if it’s not, we stop. Safe words and all that. Right?” Hopefully he would see her point.
“And you would blog about it?”
“Yes. Anonymously, of course. No one would know it was you. Or me. Either of us.”
“You know, there are a lot of erotica writers out there. If you read enough of it, you can probably imitate it.”
Bridget made a face. “Yeah, I thought about it, but Marcy wants a relationship. She wants details, and not just sex details, but details about two people in a relationship who also practice BDSM together. If I make
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