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appears on my ass.
    I’m being unbuckled from the cross. I am done.
    ***
    I’m standing in the antechamber, wearing a robe. My eyes are closed. I have a knot in my stomach that has nothing to do with being whipped. There’s a moment of reckoning coming and I am filled with nerves.
    There’s a knock on the door. It is John.
    “Sara,” he says, hesitation in his voice, his eyes slightly troubled. “There’s a customer here who would like to talk to you. Normally, I wouldn’t even bother you, but he says you know him. His name is Doug Patterson.”
    I square my shoulders. I can avoid this moment now, but I can’t avoid it for ever.
    “Yeah, that’s fine, I know Doug,” I say, my voice purposefully light.
    “I’ll send him in then,” John says, relief in his voice.
    I close my eyes again and try to calm myself. I hear another knock and someone enters the room. I look – it is Doug, and he is furious. I can feel the anger blazing off of him, but he holds it in check.
    He eyes me expressionlessly. I have backed into a corner. He notices. “You don’t need to fear me, Sara,” he says, his voice flat. He shows me the tub of cream in his hand. “Take off your robe,” he says, “lie on the table.”
    Every muscle in my body is clenched and I am on the point of fleeing. But I force myself to obey. Somewhere, there’s a little part of me that tells me that I can trust Doug and I sense that this part of me is right.
    His hands are gentle on my body as he massages the cream into my ass, soothing it. John has done this with me before, but here, now, with Doug’s hands roaming over my body, there is heat, there is intimacy; there is comfort. I feel desire rise in me but first, we have to talk.
    “You are angry with me,” I start. I’m lying face down on the massage table, I can’t see his face, and he can’t see mine. It’s probably better this way. His hands roam over my body, part my legs, and rub cream on my inner thighs.
    “Tell me why I’m angry, Sara.” His voice is level.
    “Because I was naked in front of an audience?” I ask.
    “Ok. Why else?”
    “Because I should have asked you for permission?” I ask, though I don’t like the idea of having to ask permission to do anything.
    “Nope. Wrong. Try again.” His hands now massage of my back and my shoulders; they feel like heaven. I hold back the rising desire and try to focus on our conversation.
    “I don’t know.” I’m confused. I’m assuming this is some kind of control thing but he’s denied it. What then?
    “See, Sara, I get the sense that you think this is a Dominant-Submissive conversation, where I tell you off for breaking a rule.” Doug’s voice is hard. “But it isn’t. When I sleep with someone on Sunday, and I make plans to see her again on Saturday, I’m old-fashioned enough to expect that in between those timeframes, she’s not sleeping with someone else. And Sara, in my opinion, the House of Pain is tantamount to cheating.”
    He’s right. I can’t dispute it even if I want to. After all, I broke up with Colin because I didn’t think it was fair to him for me to be doing shows at the House of Pain. I can’t see myself performing at the House of Pain, and sustaining a relationship at the same time.
    “I should have told you,” I say.
    “Yes, I think it was relevant information that you had a show scheduled mid-week.” His voice is level again.
    “Are you going to punish me?” My voice is now wary.
    Doug laughs, but there’s no humour in the sound. “You think I’m going to punish you because I’m angry, Sara? It doesn’t work like that, not for me. To me, that’s the same thing as beating you, and Sara, I don’t lay hands on a woman in anger.”
    “What happens now?” I ask, and I’m glad my face is buried in the table. There’s too much potential for hurt in his answer. If he rejects me here, it will matter, and I will not be able to hide it.
    “If you want to come over Saturday, there are