Hitting the Bottom Ch. 08

Easier said than done. I clear my throat. "Yeah, all right. Just - when is your period due?"

Sandra does a quick calculation in her head before answering. "A little over a week, maybe 10 days or so, I think. I'm pretty regular but don't really track it all that precisely." She bites her lips and adds - "so I think it's safe. I mean, not 100% fool-proof... but pretty safe."

I can see she's ready to drop the subject, and debate with myself whether or not I should raise the possibility of the morning after pill. But then, Sandra is a nurse; she must know the drug exists, and is likely to have access to it if she needed it.

What if she chose to take it?

Even though on a rational level I believe it's her choice, that I could never force her to carry an unwanted pregnancy, to raise an unwanted child, certainly not when it was clear from the start that we were going to use condoms, that a pregnancy was something neither one of us wanted... even so, some deep, wild, visceral part of me wants to roar and lash out at the mere idea of Sandra terminating that crazy chance before it even took root.

But then, she didn't suggest the morning after pill herself. She said she thought it was safe, but she'll let me know if her period was late, and then 'we'll talk'. That doesn't sound like she's planning on doing anything without telling me... right?

Trust and hope, Dan.

Finally, I decide to let the subject drop. For now.

"Okay."

She smiles and reaches for her coffee. I do the same, and we drink in silence, both of us still deep in our own heads, slouched back on the worn cushions. Slowly, I feel myself unwinding, relaxing in the light afternoon breeze drifting through the open window of my living room.

After a while I feel mostly calm and centered; enough so, I think, to tackle the next item on my mental agenda. I put my cup down and turn to face Sandra. She mimics my movements and looks up at me, acknowledging the change in mood between us. I keep looking at her thoughtfully, silently, and she sticks out her chin in clear challenge.

"What?!"

Gosh, I adore her guts. I smile, shaking my head at her attitude while catching that chin gently in between my thumb and finger, and dropping a light kiss on her lips.

"Tell me how you liked your first spanking session, babygirl."

Her face softens, her lips parting in a tiny gasp. "Oh, I loved it, sir." And then she adds cheekily - "although, you know, technically speaking, that wasn't quite my first spanking session. I did have a boyfriend or two spank me on occasion."

It takes every effort to keep my fingers gentle around her chin while jealousy slices my guts at her words. She'd already told me about those previous boyfriends; but right now I hate the reminder. I purse my lips, exhale slowly... and then I catch the twinkle in her eye. The little minx! She did that on purpose!

I shake my head, and tell her in a mildly chiding voice: "You know, baby, it really is poor taste to mention your previous bed-partners to your current lover."

She bites her lip, but then meets my gaze head-on, looking more daring than remorseful. "Is that what you are to me, then? My lover?"

I try reading her mind, but fail miserably. There's a challenge to her words for sure, and also the ring of hope. But there's something else there, which I cannot put my finger on. Pain, maybe? Inhaling deep, I release her chin to slide my palm along her jaw until it cradles her head. She leans slightly into my hand, and the small gesture warms my insides, giving me courage to answer her question.

"Among other things, yes, I most certainly am your lover," I say, then add -"as well as your 'friend'. At least, that's what you told your family..." I let my unspoken question ring.

She grins. "You're also my Dom. 'Exclusively', even, as we agreed. But I didn't think it was the appropriate timing for sharing that bit with my family."

I chuckle. "Yeah, I think I'd like a chance to get on Lucas's good side first."

Sandra's grin widens. "So, that would make you my "exclusive-dom-lover-friend", then. It rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?"

Your exclusive-dom-lover-friend who loves you. I think, but manage to say instead, "Sounds really good to me, babygirl".

She peeks at me from under lowered lashes, and asks haltingly - "Would it... would it be alright if I used 'boyfriend' for short?"

I laugh. "Sure, baby. I'd admit being called 'boy'-anything is a bit strange at my age... but I'd take it. Gladly. Especially if it means I can publically claim you as my girlfriend, too."

"Absolutely. Thank you." Sandra mumbles close to my lips, before giving me a sweet kiss, which I'm all too happy to take over, coaxing her lips further apart and inviting her tongue to play with mine. At her gasp, though, I draw back.

"So, let me rephrase my question, girlfriend... How did you like our first spanking session?"

Her smile turns wicked. "Mmm... I liked it very, very, very much, sir." Then a tiny frown appears on her brow. "In fact, I think all of your neighbors heard exactly how much I liked it... maybe you should gag me next time?"

My initial satisfaction at her words is chased away by her mention of 'gag'. Immediate flashbacks of the last time I gagged and spanked a woman - Naomi - flare up in my mind, dizzying in their intensity. I shake my head, trying to keep them at bay, to focus on the here and now, on Sandra on the couch next to me.

"No. No gag. That's definitely a hard limit for me." I manage. Barely.

Sandra's mouth drops open, but then she shuts it and nods instead. "Okay, no gag." She gives me a tentative smile, which I return, sort of. Then she adds - "maybe..." and stops abruptly.

"Maybe... what?"

"It's just that I get so loud... I couldn't really help myself, but now I'm embarrassed thinking about the possibility of meeting your neighbors on the stairs. It's kind of... humiliating."

"Baby, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I loved hearing you."

She half-smiles and shrugs. "I know, but still... It makes me uncomfortable thinking all these strangers may be... I dunno. Judging me now. Talking to each other about 'that loud slut who couldn't stop screaming'." She makes a reproachful face.

"Hmm. I see." I want to shake her out of it, but know I cannot argue her feelings away. Damn. "So, you're saying we need to find a way to muffle your voice that isn't like a 'gag' that would freak me out."

She nods. "Yes. Please."

'Okay, I'll think about it."

"Thank you, sir." The way she says it, softly and breathily and with total trust in me, is just like I imagine in my fantasies. I feel myself stir.

"You're very welcome, babygirl. Now other than your concern about being overheard, was there anything else that bothered you during your spanking? Anything we need to adjust for next time?"

She smiles wide. "Oh, you sure got me plenty hot and bothered with that spanking, sir!"

I narrow my eyes at her. "Baby, with that attitude you'll get another one sooner than you expect."

She giggles excitedly and I exhale, striving for patience. "Sandra, please. This is important. I'm just learning you, you're just learning me. Not everything will be perfect the first time we do it, and I need to know about it to be able to fix it. Maybe the room was too hot for you. Maybe your back hurt in that position... I can't know these things unless you tell me."

"Argh... Sorry." She mumbles, lowering her eyes. "I didn't mean to be blasé about it. But honestly, it was..." Her eyes meet mine again. "It was perfect. I loved it." And then she adds softly: "Thank you for spanking me, sir.'

I feel my dick swell. God. "The pleasure was entirely mine, baby. Now, I suggest you go take a shower while I start on dinner. You need to eat something before you leave for your shift."

She leans in and kisses me slow and deep, reminding me just how passionate she can be under that practical nurse persona of hers. When she finally withdraws and goes to do as I bid her I am fully hard, and need to adjust myself while watching her beautiful behind swing softly side-to-side until she disappears behind the bathroom door.

Man. I really do love her.

*

*

*

"So, Dan, shall we get started?"

To her credit, Annie manages to keep any animosity she must still be harboring against me out of her voice. It is Tuesday evening, and Jon has taken over their kids' bedtime routine - baths, stories and a lengthy cuddle before tucking them in - so that Annie can help me set up 'online presence', as she calls it, for my new business.

Before the divorce, I used to be here often. Jon and Annie would invite Naomi and me to join them for dinner, usually on Fridays, and then we'd hang out - catch a movie on TV, or just chat and enjoy the company. But then after Naomi and I split, the invites became fewer and farther in-between, and even when they were extended I declined more often than not. Eventually they pretty much gave up on me.

Jon and I still spent time together outside of work, but it was usually away from the Leonidas's residence - playing street basketball with our friends, or going out for the occasional beer. But even those outings weren't nearly as common as they used to be, and in the last few months I'd seen him almost exclusively at our shifts.

And then, Jon shocked me when he brought up the subject of D/s relationships, told me that he'd just learned about Naomi and me, and that he and Annie were curious about it, too. When he asked me to come over for an evening of Q&A, I was hugely flattered. Seeing myself as the experienced Dom, helping a couple of newbies into this world, was a much-needed boost to my otherwise quickly-declining self-esteem.

But that evening ended in disaster when Annie mentioned 'Naomi's new Dom', and I'd gone crazy. It wasn't all that long ago - barely a month had passed - but it feels almost like a different lifetime.

"Dan? You with me?"

Annie looks searchingly at me, and I'm surprised to find real concern in her eyes. I was certain Jon had to twist her arm into offering her assistance, but now... I'm not so sure anymore.

"Why are you doing this, Annie? Why would you help me out?"

Annie purses her lips and looks down at her hands, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with my question, possibly debating internally whether or not to answer it. Finally she looks back at me and admits quietly:

"Because Naomi asked me to."

Her answer floors me. "What?! I mean, w-why?"

Annie shrugs, but her annoyance peeks behind the nonchalant gesture. "She didn't say so in so many words, but I suspect she somehow feels guilty. Or at least, somewhat responsible for you. So she wants to know you're not going to end up jobless and homeless, living on welfare."

I gulp hard. "Does that mean you told her about - "

"We talk every day, Dan. She knows everything. Well, everything that I know, at least. She knows about your suicide attempt, about Jon's beating you up, about your likely being discharged from the Force." Annie's straight gaze holds mine, unflinching, but then she breaks it when she shakes her head, as if frustrated with her friend. "Unfortunately, my saying 'forget about it' and 'it's not your problem' doesn't seem to work. On some level, I think she believes you deserve every misery. On another..."

Annie looks at me. "She told me that while she hates you for what you did, she can't just write off ten happy years of her life." Then to my surprise Annie smiles and adds - "I told her she should try harder. She laughed, and told me to just do this for her." Annie gestures at the laptop sitting open atop the desk in front of us. "So, here we are."

I nod mutely. Yeah. Here we are.

It feels strange - wrong - having Naomi worry about me. Even if I hadn't attacked her, it wouldn't feel right. I struggle with it in my mind while unease churns in the pit of my stomach, when I finally get it: I had failed her so completely that somehow, somewhere in our no-longer-a-relationship, the roles had reversed. Now she feels like it's somehow her responsibility to protect me, to care for me, to make sure that I was okay.

Pathetic loser.

I want to smash something. My head, preferably, against the hard brick wall. But I sit still, breathe deep, and get a grip.

Face it, Dan. Face the consequences. You will never, ever, be the Dom in Naomi's mind again. Whenever she thinks of you, she'd think of this broken man who needs fixing. You hate this, right? Good. Live with it. Learn from it. And make damn sure you don't repeat these mistakes with Sandra.

I rub my palms over my face, inhale sharply, then slowly release the air out of my lungs, putting my hands back down on my knees.

"Okay."

Annie looks at me, her head tilted to one side, appraising me silently. I grin tentatively at her. "Let's make some good news to report back to Naomi. I think we both agree she should worry about her own life rather than about her whacko ex making a living, right?"

Annie nods, hesitates, and then leans in to give me a quick hug and a kiss on my cheek, which she then wipes gently off with her thumb, to erase the small traces of pale lip-gloss from my blushing skin.

"Let's do this, then." She turns to the screen, but then swings back to look at me, her green eyes suspiciously moist. "It's good to have you back, you know."

I swallow the lump in my throat and cough before I can answer. "Yeah. I... Thank you. For everything."

She smiles, and thankfully turns back to the screen, sitting up straight as she shifts her attention to the task at hand, giving me another moment to compose myself before I, too, focus on the work we're here to do together.

It's really good to be back.

*

*

*

By the end of the week I have my business page up online. It waited a few days until I got clearance from my bosses at the Force, seeing as I was still, technically, a paid cop. But as soon as I got the green light Annie pressed the magic button and - ta-dah! - it went live, along with a small advertising campaign that put my listing next to Google's results for people searching for a handyman in town.

A couple of days after the official launch of my website I get my first phone call from a potential customer, and by the end of that second week I have already done three paid gigs, and have a handful more scheduled for the following few days.

I also keep my twice-a-week volunteer work at the women's shelter. A part of me feels like a fraud, imagining how they'd be cowering away had they known that I was, in fact, one of those abusive bastards they were all hiding from. But at the same time, I love going there. The younger kids all cheer in delight when I come in the door, shouting 'Dan the Handyman!' Dan's here!' and then congregating around me to look on with interest as I fix a broken door handle, hang a framed picture, or fix a rickety chair. Their older siblings hover in the background, keeping their cool, but already a couple had approached me and asked if they could help, and maybe learn how to do these things. The look of damn-near hero worship in their eyes is like balm to my soul.

It feels good. I feel good.

*

Dr. Pappas seems satisfied with my progress, too.

Seated across from him at his little clinic, I tell him about my conversation with Annie, and how much I hated being reduced to 'that mentally-unstable ex who may not be able to support himself' in Naomi's eyes. The older man nods in understanding.

"Yes, I imagine that could feel quite emasculating." He comments lightly.

I make a face at his harsh - and astute - observation. "Yes. Quite."

"So, how are you handling it?"

"You mean, the blow to my ego?"

Dr. Pappas rests his lips on his tented fingers, considering me thoughtfully before answering.

"Well, we both know it goes deeper than that, Dan."

At my silence, the older man tilts his head, waiting. Truth is, I'm uneasy - heck, I'm scared - to follow this line of thought. I keep my mouth firmly shut. Dr. Pappas raises an eyebrow, but even this open dare doesn't work. So he decides to spell it out for me.

"Dan, remember that your mental breakup happened when you learned that Naomi had moved on to a new Dom. At that moment, a big chunk of your self-identity - the part you had been clinging to as your last hope for happiness - had basically been shot down. Your violent reaction was the result of what, in your mind, was perceived as real threat to your very existence. 'Who you were', the very core of your worth as a man, was being invalidated, and you felt like you had to do something - anything - to stop that from happening."

He stops and looks at me pointedly over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. At my cautious, muted nod of agreement, he continues.

"And now it seems not only that this hope of returning to be Naomi's Dom had died, but that even the memory of 'Dan, Naomi's Good Dom' had been destroyed. You no longer live in her mind as the man she once loved and respected. Instead, you're her mentally-unstable, jobless, loser ex. It's almost like a second death... Isn't it?"

I look down at my hands, fingers laced tightly together, knuckles white - the only outward expression of the inner turmoil set forth by Dr. Pappas's blunt words. And yet, strangely, thankfully, I feel no rage. There's no anger boiling inside, just waiting to spill over, like there was before.

Instead, there is grief. A deep sadness swells inside my chest, and settles as a hard lump in my throat, followed closely by the gut-wrenching acceptance of things that could never, ever be.

The wave of emotion almost knocks me over. I choke on my attempt to answer Dr. Pappas, and get into a fit of coughs. After a moment, I feel a hand at my shoulder, and then a paper cup filled with cold water is offered. I take the cup, drink shakily, and place it back on the table, clearing my throat.

"Better?"

I nod.

"Talk to me, then."

Resolutely, I nod and look up at him, and finally manage to answer. "I guess... yes. It does feel like... that part of me just died again. And that just makes me... sad. I mean, I know it's done and buried and there's not a damn thing I can do to change it. I just... I wish I could erase the last couple of years from her memory. I wish she'd just remember the good times, the good husband, the good Dom that I'd been to her before." I take another shaky sip from the water. "It's not about wanting to get back with her. We've both moved on. But still..."

My voice trails off. Dr. Pappas considers my words, that seem to still swirl and echo in the air between us, with an unhurried, deeply thoughtful expression, until finally he leans forward, looks me in the eye, and asks in that soft, calm, precise manner of his:

"Why is it important that Naomi remembers how good you were before?"

His question catches me unprepared. I slump back in my chair, my bottled-up breath leaving my chest in a whoosh of air, staring up at the ceiling. "Pffff... I think..." I inhale deeply, then sit up once more, and meet Dr. Pappas's intent, pale-blue gaze. "I think if I knew she remembered, then I'd know it really was for real, before. So I could hope to be that again, in the future." With Sandra.

"Hmm." Dr. Pappas looks at me shrewdly, and then asks with a hint of challenge in his voice: "What if only you remembered? What if nobody else but you knew how good a man, a husband, a Dom, you once were? Would that mean it never happened?"

"I -"