The Promise of Lace Read online

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I stopped tracing my fingers across his chest, flattened my hand and ran it down around his waist, sort of hugging him closer to me.

  “Sorry. This isn’t… isn’t really a second date thing.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. He was right, this wasn’t a second date thing, but it was hard to deny we had a connection, and I could hear his heart hammering under my head. And I was really uncomfortable with just having ordered him around the way I had if he’d been abused. Sex games weren’t the same as abuse, and I knew that… but with no discussion beforehand I needed little more explanation to be okay with what had just gone down between us. “You can tell me whatever you want.”

  “Okay. Okay,” He blew out a breath. It didn’t slow down the beating of his heart. “Umm… so… I don’t want to go into a lot of detail about an old girlfriend on a second date, but she was… awful. She was controlling and not just… I don’t know, whatever people think that means in a normal relationship, but she… I don’t even know how she managed it. It’s like, at first we were dating, like normal, and then somehow I couldn’t talk to my friends and she was checking all my texts at dinner and deleting the numbers of people she didn’t want me to talk to and throwing fits so that I couldn’t make it to group projects and I was trapped in a lease I couldn’t afford with her and I was missing classes and she… she just completely controlled every aspect of my life. I don’t even remember how it all happened, but at the end she controlled what I ate, she threw out most of my clothes and controlled everything I wore. She’d insult and degrade me in front of everyone we knew to the point that no one talked to me anymore. I was… totally cut off. I felt like was going crazy.”

  I hugged him a little closer “And no one believes that it’s that bad when you’re the guy. If you complain they make fun of you for being whipped. If you try to get help there’s nowhere for you to go. And she was like a foot shorter than me and it’s not like I had marks or bruises or anything. She only hit me once. It wasn’t that kind of abuse.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “God. I’m so sorry. This is not…”

  My own heart was beating too fast now. For one, because I definitely felt bad about getting pushy with him now. For another because this had gotten really deep really fast and now I felt responsible for reacting in the right way. I pushed myself up and kissed him lightly. “It’s alright. Tell me what you need to tell me. It’s okay.”

  “That’s sort the missing piece of how I wound up in this job. I umm… I sort of woke up one day.” He looked away from me as he kept talking, so I set my head back on his chest, hoping that he’d be more comfortable that way. “Realized how bad it really was. Because, I mean… I was the guy. And she wasn’t really physically abusive. I didn’t realize what was going on until… one day I did. I needed to leave, like that second, I needed to go. I didn’t have any money anymore, she controlled all of that. I took my computer to three pawnshops before I found one that didn’t ask me to try and prove that it was mine. Which was great because I didn’t even have the password to it anymore. Then I got the cash, got on a bus, and wound up here. I lucked into this job almost right away. I was in a youth hostel for a couple weeks, and then when the computer money dried up and I was still waiting on a paycheck I was in a shelter for a couple weeks. One of the girls at work had a couple friends who needed another roommate for their house. And I just… sort of… went overboard doing whatever the hell I wanted for a while. A lot of Mexican food and staying out all night, because I wasn’t allowed either of those things while I was with her. I got a tattoo. I tried on a pair of panties at work and just… I just needed things that were mine so badly it almost didn’t even matter what they were.”

  “Yeah. I get that,” I said quietly, pressing a kiss to his chest as he spoke.

  “And I calmed down after a couple months. Convinced my mom that I really did have to drop out and move away. That my girlfriend really was doing this to me and I really didn’t have any choice but to leave. I stopped going out drinking just because I could. Tried a little bit of dating here and there. Which was… hit and miss. Went out with a few girls that I just didn’t connect with and one girl that reminded me of her so much that I had to have my roommate come pick me up because I was too freaked out to get home by myself. It’s been a little more than a year. I’m over the… you know. The reaction stage. But a couple things stuck. I make killer fajitas and empanadas because I like them and because no one stops me. And I… exercise my discount sometimes.”

  I nodded, then realized that wasn’t quite enough. I moved up to kiss him again.

  “Thank you for telling me all of that,” I said softly. It felt weirdly hollow, like it always did. It was the response I’d fallen into the habit of using during a very unusual streak in my junior year of college when four people in the group that Hailey, Carla, Gillian, and I had hung out with had all come out one after the other. It was mostly an affirmation for them that the big thing that they needed to get off their chest had been received and that it was okay, but it just sounded so… detached somehow.

  His arms, which had been loosely wrapped around me, tightened around my back a little. “I’m sorry. That was… that was a lot to just drop on you.”

  “It’s okay… just…” I licked my lips and squirmed a little in his embrace. “It is a lot. But it’s okay.”

  He kissed me again then pulled my hair back from my face and looked directly in my eyes for the first time in the last few minutes. “I’m a work in progress… but I really like you.”

  He whispered it to me like it was a secret.

  “I really like you too,” I whispered back. He grinned.

  “So… Mexican food huh?”

  “Love it.” He nodded. “And Tex Mex. I even make a couple of Middle American things. There’s this Nicaraguan stew I could make you some time.”

  “You cook?”

  “I love to cook.”

  “Do you want to make breakfast in the morning?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’d love to.”

  “Fantastic. I’m a terrible cook. I’ll be in charge of chopping and coffee.”

  “Alright.”

  I reached out to my nightstand/end table and flicked off the light, then settled back down on his chest. I felt him tuck his nose to my hair and fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

  Chapter Eight

  Things were awkward in the morning. I’d expected that. It’s rare for a deep confession that seemed totally and completely necessary after a couple drinks and a couple orgasms to still seem like a brilliant idea in the harsh morning light and Dieter had run through a couple major confessions last night.

  I pulled on my green satin robe with the orchids embroidered on the borders right after I woke up. It was a good thing we had slept naked last night. This robe and the purple nightie he had picked out for me a couple weeks ago were the only even moderately nice pajamas I had. Everything else was old and worn out and full of holes.

  I let him use the shower first, figuring that since the bathroom was the only other room in my entire place it was his best chance to clear his head. I had the French press done by the time I heard the water turn off. He showered fast.

  I suddenly realized that his underwear was totally unwearable and wondered for just a second what he’d wear. I entertained the idea of him wearing a pair of my panties for a moment. It was… intriguing until the logistics kicked in. For one, I was not going to lend my Plain-Jane-Hanes to a guy who regularly wore nicer lingerie than I did. For another, nothing that fit my slim frame was going to be able to pull over the fine, taut muscles of that ass.

  He could go commando. He’d survive.

  He gave me a mouthwash sweet kiss as we switched places between the bathroom and the main room and when I got out of the shower there was a cup of coffee set out on the kitchen counter for me and he had dug out a pan and a bunch of things from the cupboard. Whatever he was doing it smelled great.

  I walk
ed through the living room/bedroom portion of the apartment over to my wardrobe and stopped when I realized the issue I was about to run into.

  The only thing that really divided the kitchen from the living room/bedroom was the kitchen island. It was a studio apartment. Other than the bathroom, it was really just one big room. While Dieter had either seen or had his tongue on pretty much every part of my body last night, it still seemed odd to just drop the robe and stand here naked while he was sautéing.

  But not as weird as it was to dig out clothes and run back to the bathroom. That would just exacerbate this little veneer of overexposed awkwardness that overlaid the morning. I always forgot that happened with one-night stands.

  I slipped my underwear on under the robe, then hung it up, put on a bra, and stepped into the jeans that Dieter had thrown across my apartment last night.

  I caught him watching me out of the corner of his eye as he tossed warmed tortillas onto plates and decided that I liked the way he was looking at me. I spent more time that I really needed to flip through the blouses in just my bra before picking out an orange camisole and an orange and blue checkered shirt to throw over it. He looked at me nervously as I came over, and I tiptoed up to press my lips to his.

  “How did you sleep?” I asked quietly.

  “Really well,” he said, with a dopey smile that suddenly made all the awkwardness fly out of the room. I kissed him again and settled into one of the stools at the kitchen island that served as the only delineation between my kitchen and my bedroom/living room.

  He’d made eggs with spinach, onions, and Worchester sauce. They were fantastic. I hadn’t realized that eggs had degrees of deliciousness. My eggs only came in edible, rubbery, or burnt, but Dieter really could cook.

  Normally the presumption of a guy just digging through my cupboards would have irked me, but I liked that Dieter felt comfortable enough with me to do that. Besides. He had done it in the name of breakfast.

  We sat, chewing in silence that started out comfortable, but become more and more expectant the longer we went without speaking. Dieter tapped the tines of his fork against the edge of his plate. They made a soft “ting-ting” noise.

  “Roxanne?” he started. “Are you okay with what I told you last night?”

  I took refuge in continuing to drink from my coffee cup. “Which part?”

  Nice, Roxanne, I berated myself. That was a jackass question

  He cleared his throat. “Um, all of it.”

  I nodded. Set my mug down. Turned it back and forth for no real reason. “Honestly?”

  I glanced up. He was looking down at his plate with evident concentration.

  “Seems a waste to be dishonest at this point,” he replied quietly.

  “Okay. The old girlfriend issue? That’s not you. It’s just something that happened to you. I wouldn’t hold that against you. The underwear thing… I umm…” I cleared my throat. “I… got a kick out of last night and it’s not like it actually matters.”

  “But?” he prompted.

  “It’s not exactly a ‘but’.” I raked my hair back from my forehead. “I got…You know, I got controlling with you last night. The footsie at the table just so you’d squirm… and then making you… you know.”

  “Come in my panties?” he supplied. He had a slight upward turn to the corner of his mouth.

  “Yeah. That.” I cleared my throat. “Are you okay with what happened last night? Because if I’d known there’s no way I would have… pushed like that. I mean… we should have at least talked about it.”

  “Roxanne.” He set his hand over mine. “You were trying to make me feel good, weren’t you? Turn me on and get me off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m okay with it. Plus it’s…” He heaved out a breath and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I don’t want to really go full Ricki Lake on this, but… being… in control in a sexy way wasn’t her MO. We never would have done what you and I did last night—because I did get off on it. And I still kind of hate this, but that’s one of the reasons that I like a woman who can take control in bed now. Because it’s another one of those things that I just get to like for myself now.”

  I nodded, absorbing that. I’d think about it in more detail later. Maybe even hash it over with Hailey. I was, and had always been, in full support of a guy who had no problem giving in in bed, and I had learned that in the Internet Pornography era it was damn hard to find a guy who could be into being a submissive without wanting a van’s worth of equipment involved and at least one kink that should give decent person the heebie jeebies.

  I wasn’t exactly in love with the reason that Dieter got off on it, but despite the sex and confessions, we didn’t know each other all that well yet. It was too early on to be making assumptions about how he would react to things or what he would like.

  “Plus… you know. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…” He shrugged. “I have hard-won good instincts now. If I had asked you to stop, you would have stopped. Right?”

  His face was oddly still as he asked that. I would have expected the confidence of a declaration, or maybe the vulnerability of a man asking for confirmation, but he was just waiting.

  “Of course I would have,” I assured him. The side of his mouth quirked upward, still only half a smile, but more than it had been.

  “See?” he said. He shook his head like a dog after it climbed out of a lake. “Anyway. Let’s lighten up a little here. Would you rather be a rich action movie star or a respected dramatic actor?”

  I smiled back, sipped more coffee. We both picked an ‘option c’. Dieter wanted to be the well-liked scriptwriter; I wanted to be the beloved comedienne.

  We ate. We chatted. He loaded the dishwasher while I brushed my teeth. I showed him some of my sketches and a couple of posters that I had designed and still had lying around. I let myself get sucked into making out on the couch for half an hour before I finally, officially had to kick him out so I could work.

  A little bit of making out had to be done at the door as well, as it turned out. I finally pushed him away, but kept my fingers knotted in his shirt. “No, I’m serious, I have to work now. I really mean it.”

  “Okay,” he kissed me, pulled back like he was really going to leave this time then kissed me again. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

  He didn’t. He brought his lips back down to mine again and cleared his throat. “You’re really okay with what I told you… right?”

  I liked my lips and stepped just a little closer. “Yeah. Dieter. I’m really fine.”

  “I know it’s… a lot to drop on someone right up front like this.”

  “I get why you had to tell me though. It’s alright.” I tugged at his shirt again. “And I get the impression that you just scratched the surface too.”

  “Oh yeah,” he admitted ruefully. “Very… surface on the big heavy crap. With the panties and the abuse and all.” He scoffed and kissed me, holding his large palms around my waist. “I’ll try and save the really evil stuff for at least the third date.”

  His topic was heavy, but his tone was light, so I smiled and leaned into his body. “Excellent.”

  “Umm… speaking of a third date.” He cleared his throat again. “There is this thing at the Art Institute that I wanted to go to. Is that something I could talk you into?”

  “Yeah. Absolutely,” I answered. I liked his tendency to schedule a new date at the end of every ending one. It made me feel like he couldn’t wait to see me again.

  “Are you free tonight?”

  “Yeah, actually, I am.”

  “I’ll pick you up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.”

  I kissed him again and pushed him out the door before I could get swept into some sort of ridiculous, in person version of “no, you hang up” and was forced to just throw up all over myself.

  It was a pretty normal day. I cleaned up more than I usually would. Listened to my music a little louder, but all in all i
t was ordinary.

  Hailey dropped by around five to see if I wanted to go out for dinner. Noah was at some sort of pick-up football thing at the park.

  “Are you serious?” I asked as she dropped down onto my couch. “We’re already going out to eat like every weekend. Shouldn’t we lay off?”

  She grabbed a thin piece of glossy paper out of her jacket pocket. “I have a coupon for artichoke dip.”

  “Tempting though splitting a small cheese appetizer with you is, I’ve got a date.” I started pretending to tidy up around my apartment, so that I didn’t get sucked into sitting down with her. If I did, then Hailey would be able to convince me to go out to dinner with her when I had work to do and a third date dress to pick out.

  Hailey perked up. “Are you going out with Dieter again?”

  I nodded and started ferrying dishes from the coffee table back into the kitchen. She threw her arms upward like she had just scored a touchdown and woo-ed loudly.

  “Three dates in a week, huh?” she laughed. “Am I seeing a double date in our future? Is the Great and Single Roxanne on the verge of joining us poor peasants in coupledom?”

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “He invited me to an installation at the Art Institute that I wanted to see anyway and I’m too old to be playing coy.”

  “Uh-huh. And how is he in bed?” she asked.

  “Interesting,” I replied. “Attendant. Conscientious.”

  Hailey slapped her thigh. “Good for you.”

  “I mean, we’ve just been fooling around.”

  “Oh, like you need to justify yourself to me.”

  I opened my mouth to ask Hailey if she had ever… well. Any of it. Had Noah cross dress. Done a ruined orgasm. Dated a guy who had been abused.

  But she hadn’t. She had been with Noah almost as long as I had known her and she told me everything. Usually too much.

  She had noticed my hesitation. “Roxanne? What is it?”