Amazing Grace Ch. 01-02

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D_Lynn
D_Lynn
1,362 Followers

My chest heaved a sigh in an effort to catch my breath between pants. It had been one of the most powerful climaxes I could remember. I glanced beyond the foot of the bed and almost chuckled at myself. My aberration was gone.

I pulled my legs together and rolled onto my side. Lifting my head, I glanced at my bedside clock. 3:43. My head fell heavy on my pillow and a moment later a shiver ran through me. I reached down and pulled the covers up over my nude frame.

My mind was still. Not focused on anything but the tiny, familiar noises of an empty house. I pulled the covers tighter to my chest and curled my torso, bending and tucking my knees as close to my body as possible. Then the tears came. Like they always did.

It was more than just loneliness. It was the nagging belief that it would always be just like this. For the rest of my life. That even if I did find someone with feelings for me ... if that was even possible ... I didn't deserve to be loved. I'd pushed my husband into the arms of another woman. I knew that now. It was my fault that my marriage had failed and I just didn't deserve another chance. Ever.

***

The room was filled this time. It appeared as though there were twice the number of people as the previous meeting, not that I had a free moment to count. From the first minute I arrived until we were seated for announcements, I'd been inundated with questions and comments.

Many of the women confessed to having bought my books after the last meeting. It was what I'd hoped for. The community being as tight-knit as it was, word of mouth spread fast. They were a very gracious group, many of them offering to help in any way they could. I found it difficult, but finally summoned the courage to ask for public reviews. It was the one thing struggling authors needed most to be successful. Only time would tell if they'd follow through.

I honestly had no time to think about him until John was on the platform. I glanced over to the spanking bench. The shadowy outline of a couple was all I could see, and the man was definitely not Ethan. It dawned on me in that moment that Ethan was most likely with someone. How could he not be? Last time was a fluke. His girlfriend probably had a cold or something.

I decided for my own sanity to not look for him. What's the point? John's mention of my latest book and his brief introduction of me drew my attention back to the task at hand. Showtime.

I was far more relaxed than I was at the first reading. The crowd was on my side for sure this time, I knew it. I glided through the synopsis and then the snippets and chapters I'd chosen with great ease. I ended the reading with a drawn-out sex scene that heated up the group considerably, judging from the rustling of leather and grinding of metal zippers.

Once again I moved away from the spotlight after the last word was read and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dark shadows. It was my own personal brand of torture. I wanted to see what I couldn't have. A brief thought crossed my mind. He's out there somewhere. Maybe with two women at once. God knows he's beautiful enough. The notion didn't even sadden me as I thought it might. He deserves to have everything he wants. I shuddered at the next sentence that popped into my thoughts.

John didn't wait very long before stepping up to the platform. There wasn't much time left. I'd tried to keep the reading at about the same length as the previous meeting, but being more relaxed, I read slower. I glanced up apologetically at John as he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the impassioned crowd. He'd reluctantly abandoned his own half-dressed partner on the chair next to the stage.

Clothes were hastily dragged back onto bodies in an effort to get to their cars or home to take advantage of their prevailing libidinous buzz. The appreciative glances as they made their way to the door was all I required for thanks.

A couple approached the platform and the man peeled off to speak with John. The young redheaded woman stood with flushed cheeks. It was fairly obvious from her glow that she'd just been brought to climax. A consuming wave of envy caught me off-guard. In our best days together, Robert hadn't been able to do that for me. It took some serious hard pounding for me to even get close, and no one could be expected to last that long. According to Robert, anyway. I'm sure he's right. And my quick release the other night was just a fluke. A product of going so long without.

One of the things that kept drawing me to this particular lifestyle was the openness. I watched the redhead waiting for her lover to finish talking. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing was barely covering her, yet she stood there unashamedly replete. And the adoring expression he greeted her with when he turned around made my heart stop. He was completely in love with her and didn't try to hide it from anyone. He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply, then paused to gaze into her eyes for a silent moment. The understanding that passed between them twisted my stomach in jealousy.

He gripped her to his side as they walked toward the door. My eyes followed them until they were out of sight.

"What is it about them that you find so interesting?"

I turned toward the voice, fully knowing who it was even before I laid eyes on him. I glanced around him, left and right, and then settled my gaze on his curious green eyes.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

I shrugged in an effort to render his question, and my subsequent answer, meaningless. "I guess it's just how into each other they seem to be."

"They are. It's touching. You shouldn't be embarrassed to admit it."

"I'm not."

That annoying half grin reappeared. "Your defensiveness is showing again."

"You have this way of bringing it out."

"I make you nervous."

I started to argue with him and then stopped myself. It would only come across as defensive. Again. Besides, it wouldn't be the truth. He did make me nervous. Very nervous, even.

"That's a little better."

"Why? Because I didn't argue with you?"

"No. Because you took a deep breath and relaxed your shoulders. You probably had no idea you even did it." I shook my head briefly. "When you're not trying so hard to fight me, you soften."

I sighed deeply and rubbed my forehead. Talking to him was a tad exasperating. "Why do I feel like I'm being scrutinized around you?"

Ethan shrugged dismissively. "I don't know, probably because you are. I can't quite put the pieces together. It bothers me."

"What does?" My voice came across as almost shrill. I hadn't realized how much his dissecting was beginning to trouble me.

"You're so different in person than you are in your writing."

"I'm not the characters in my story."

Ethan chuckled. "I'm not talking about the characters, I'm talking about the way you see yourself. You finished your last novel less than a year ago. What has happened since then?"

I shook my head and huffed at him as I tried to hide my disbelief over how perceptive he was being. I wanted to avoid his question. More than I wanted anything in the entire world at that very moment. I considered a feigned attempt at shock so I could make a quick exit and hightail it home never to return. But it would've come across as so completely fake. My cheeks began to flush at the thought of how it would look. Especially since he hadn't said or done anything appalling. Yet.

By way of a small miracle, John intervened. "We need to get going, don't we?"

Ethan held my gaze for another moment with that familiar crease in the center of his forehead, then he glanced at his watch. "Julian is due here any minute to lock up. I'll wait around for him; you guys go ahead."

John nodded at Ethan and turned toward the door. I took a step to follow him out but was stopped in my tracks by Ethan's hand on my arm.

"Please stay."

My eyes rose from his hand to his face and locked onto his gentle gaze. His expression had changed drastically from perturbed to pleading. It stole my breath. I nodded and swallowed back the bile that was about to rise from my nervous stomach.

Ethan held onto my arm until John and his friend were through the door as if I might suddenly change my mind and bolt. The thought had crossed my mind.

He motioned for me to sit in the nearest chair. I got the distinct impression that my refusal would be insulting to him, so I sat. Ethan pulled the stocking beanie he'd been wearing off his head and ran his fingers through his hair for a few moments before heaving a huge sigh.

"How did we get so off track? I'm no good at games. I want to talk to you without all the bullshit."

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts for a moment. Then he sat down on a stool opposite my chair. "Did you think about me at all these past two weeks?"

I wanted to lie but I knew it would end the conversation right there. "Yes."

"While you were masturbating?"

For a fleeting moment I thought maybe he had set up cameras in my house. My cheeks became enflamed. "Yes."

He blew out a lungful of air and nodded. "Thank you."

My mind was set to reeling. I had no idea how to interpret what he'd just said. I wanted to ask him but I couldn't find the courage. Instead I just planted a confused look on my face and waited for him to continue.

"Listen, Julian is going to be here any second. We can't stay here but I don't want to end this conversation like this. I really needed to know if you were acting this way toward me because you hated me or liked me."

"Oh." I hadn't really considered how I might feel about him. I mean, he was so out of my league there was no point. But of course I didn't hate him. "I don't hate you."

Ethan tilted his head to the side and grinned. "Well, good. I guess that's a start."

"I didn't mean..."

A loud crash startled me in mid-sentence, followed by a shouted expletive.

Ethan laughed and rose from his stool. "You alright, Julian?"

"Yeah. Tripped over a fucking cord." He walked up to us and nodded to Ethan, then turned toward me. "Hey, how ya doin'? Julian."

"Hi, Julian. I'm Kimber Lee."

"Oh, yeah, you're the, uh, writer. Right?"

"Yeah."

Julian turned to Ethan. "You guys finished in here? Cause I got some work to do in back if you want some time."

Ethan shook his head and slapped Julian on the shoulder. "No, man. We're just waiting on you."

Julian followed us to the front door where we said quick goodbyes to him before turning toward the near-empty parking lot.

"How far do you have to drive?"

"About 30 minutes. North."

"Me, too. Are you familiar with the Lewisville area?"

"Yeah. It's not far from where I live."

"On the corner of 121 and Stemmons, there's a coffee shop. You can follow me."

I nodded without even thinking. "Okay."

"Good. I'll see you there."

I walked to my car and suddenly wondered if I would even remember how to drive. I was having trouble walking and I'd been doing that for much longer.

The drive actually calmed my nerves a bit. The soothing chords from Bob Dylan's guitar coming across my speakers helped a great deal. The classic rock station I regularly listened to was highlighting songwriters from the 60s. And the numbing feel of just following a pair of taillights and not having to decide where to go was so comforting to me, somehow. I was tired of making decisions. Of everything falling on my shoulders. So tired.

I parked my Honda sedan next to his late model Volvo. We came together at the back of the vehicles and he motioned toward the door, placing his hand at the small of my back to direct me there. I got the feeling he was worried I'd back out. Once again, his instincts were spot-on. I still wasn't sure what I was doing there, and the only thing keeping my feet moving toward that door, other than the reassuring, warm hand at my back, was morbid curiosity.

We waited behind an older gentleman who was ordering at the counter. Ethan leaned toward me to speak in a low voice. "What would you like?"

"Oh. I can get mine. You don't have to..." His perturbed glare stopped me from continuing. "Um, something without caffeine."

Ethan reacted with a tiny triumphant smile. "They have an excellent assortment of herbal teas here."

"That sounds great."

Ethan nodded and stepped up to the counter, ordering two of the same type of tea. I briefly wondered if he'd done it to make me feel comfortable, or he just happened to not drink caffeine in the afternoons, either. I didn't have to wonder for very long.

"If I drink caffeine after noon, it keeps me up all night. I've never been a big tea drinker until I came here. I love this brand. I even stock it at home now."

I nodded, not sure what to add to that tiny confession. I was completely out of sorts, even more so than usual. I kept wondering to myself, what am I doing here? What could he possibly want with me?

We sat with our drinks at a small table for two against the windows. I anxiously lifted and dunked my tea bag several times, thankful that I had something to keep my nervous hands occupied. All the while repeating the mantra: Don't panic. Don't panic.

"I didn't think to ask before, but are you seeing someone?"

His question was so absurd to me I nearly burst out in laughter. "No."

"Oh, good. Because I'm really not in the mood to be confronted by a jealous boyfriend."

"Are you ever in the mood for that?"

Ethan grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes I am, actually."

I chuckled and took my first sip of tea. As he was taking his first taste, another thought jumped into my head. "How about you? Am I about to get my eyes clawed out by some raving ex beauty queen?"

Ethan's eyes grew wide and then he smiled. "No. I wouldn't be caught dead with an ex beauty queen. Too complicated."

Well, then that really takes me off your radar because I'm an utter quagmire.

"How long have you been writing?"

I was relieved for the conversation to turn. "Three or four years, maybe."

"How did you get started?"

"It was a fluke, really. I just sat down to write something short one day and before I knew it, I'd written seven chapters."

"You're good at it."

I could feel the color rising to my cheeks. "Thanks. I'm okay. My vocabulary is a little weak, I think. I'd die without a thesaurus."

"People don't read stories for the fancy words. Especially not the type of stories you write."

I nodded. "You're right. I think they mostly read my stuff to get off."

Ethan frowned. "It's more than that. You cut yourself short. I think most people just like to escape for awhile. Get lost in something other than their own life."

"Is that why you read?"

"Actually, to be perfectly honest with you, I don't read all that much."

"So what you're saying about my writing is actually more hypothetical."

"No." His voice came across as somewhat disgusted. "I read all your books. And your short stories, although I liked hearing you read them better."

It felt like flames were overtaking my entire head.

"I just don't read that much in general. I prefer to live in the here-and-now than dwell on fiction."

"What about role-playing? That's a pretty big part of the BDSM scene, isn't it?"

Ethan shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah. I suppose. I don't think of it as pretend while I'm doing it, though. I like to play out real situations with real emotions and fears. Anything other than that just doesn't interest me."

What he was saying made perfect sense. Even though I wrote fiction, probably to escape from reality myself, I couldn't see myself participating in any sort of play-acting. And like him, I preferred to keep my fiction as close to reality as possible.

"I want to go back to something I said in the dungeon. Something you reacted to before we were interrupted, but I don't want to scare you off. I get this feeling that you have one foot out the door already."

A weak smile tugged at my lips. I lowered my head in absolute guilt. He'd been nothing but pleasant and honest with me and I was acting like such a first-class coward. "I won't run. I promise."

"I was right about something happening recently, wasn't I?"

I nodded my head and cast my eyes to my lap.

"Is it too personal for you to talk about?"

"No. Just a little painful. I lost my husband last November. It was very sudden. A brain aneurysm. He was only 35, so you can imagine the shock."

Ethan nodded. A concerned look had crept across his face and I felt instantly guilty about it. I quickly tried to remedy the situation.

"It feels like ages ago now. I'm fine."

"Were you in a D/s, M/s type of relationship?"

"No, not anything like that. We never, you know, did anything like that. All my limited experience comes from before I met Robert. I just like to write about it."

"I can tell his death has changed you. You seem to be so much more unsure of yourself in person than you are in your writing."

I nodded and shrugged. I couldn't decide if his close examination of my psyche was bothersome because it was true, or because it was more personal than I was ready to deal with at the moment.

"I'm making you uncomfortable again. I don't mean to." Ethan reached his hand across the short tabletop and pulled my clenched fist into his warm palm. "I'm not judging you, Kimber."

I blanched at his use of my pen name. It didn't sound right. If we were going to get personal, he should at least know my real name. "It's Grace. Grace Davis."

Ethan ran his thumb over my knuckles and I instinctively loosened my fist. He was smiling at me as his thumb worked its way into my half-closed palm.

"I'm really okay. You don't have to feel sorry for me."

"Sorry? Is that how you think I feel?"

"Well, you're being so nice and everything. I just want you to know you don't have to be on my account. I really can handle myself."

"Whoa. Where did that come from? Nice?" He lowered his voice as if talking to himself, "I've never been called that before."

Ethan huffed a sigh and frowned at me, all the while still holding my hand.

"I'm not here because I'm trying to be nice to you."

"Why are you here, then?"

"Because I want to be. I don't do anything I don't want to do. Don't you read your own books?"

I winced at his question.

"I meant ... damn you're so frustrating to talk to. I meant that it should be obvious to you that I'm interested, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"But, interested in what? I mean, I'm obviously not your type."

"You're not? What exactly is my type, then?"

"I don't know. Young, attractive, killer body, I'm sure."

"And you don't think you're any of those things?"

I shrugged and glanced around us to see if anyone could hear our conversation.

Ethan leaned forward, tilting his head to the side and lowering his voice. "Where is this coming from?"

"What?" Again, my voice was approaching that shrill defensive tone that he drew from me so effortlessly.

"This gross misconception of your self. Did your husband do this to you?"

"No. How could he; he's gone."

Even as I said the words, I felt sickened by them. They were only partly true. Ethan was so close to drawing out the most personal thing that I could imagine about myself. I didn't want to give it up. If I said it out loud, he'd see me for what I really was. He'd see things the way I saw them and I wanted to hold onto this lovely little fantasy for just a few more seconds. I wanted to believe, even if for only a moment, that he found me attractive.

With a sigh, he spoke gently. "I think people can have a long-lasting effect on us if we let them. Especially if we love them and they hurt us in some way. Is that what happened, Grace?"

D_Lynn
D_Lynn
1,362 Followers