No Questions Asked Pt. 03

I'm trying to be true to a trope while taking it my own way. Hope you enjoy!

No Questions Asked

Chapter three of three.

The Finale

Bea was simply stunned. Did she hear Dave right? His words echoed in her ears; she most certainly had heard correctly. She also heard the utter pain and defeat in his voice saying them. She closed her eyes, her torture might be at an end. She might be able to throw off this oppressive yolk. Damn her for being weak enough to fall under its spell in the first place, but she may win her inner conflict now. She couldn't fathom how much of himself was Dave willing to give her. He was amazing. She couldn't be more thankful for him. She loved him so dearly!

"Oh God, Dave. Oh my God, Dave! I-I can't tell you what this means. It's been agony. I-I won't abuse it, Dave. I may not have to do that part. But if I do, I promise I'll just stay with it long enough to be sure. Even if I respond to it, I won't take it as a one-night free pass. I wouldn't have done that to you anyway, Dave, never. I-I want to be yours, Dave!"

Bea threw herself at him, wrapping herself around him, trying to give him back all the love he'd just given her, "I know you're hurting over this, Dave; I won't let it be wasted, not one drop. Please, I need to be yours. Please Dave, make me yours tonight."

During their coupling Bea was thrilled to be with Dave. But she saw his response, or lack thereof, for exactly what it was. Dave's heart hardly felt in it. He'd betrayed himself to give her what she needed: the freedom to gain the answers to ensure their future. It was also obvious Dave wasn't sure they had a future. He was scared she was going to unlock some hidden truth and he'd lose her forever. Bea had trouble comprehending that: Dave loved her so much he was willing to lose her for her happiness. She knew he was special; knew he was irreplaceable to her. This was a whole different level. Bea simply didn't have words for how wonderful and unique he was, how devoted to her. He would rip the heart out of his chest and whither if that's what he thought it took for her to be happy. He was doing just that: if the tests showed she preferred women he was willing to walk away to let her have a chance at greater happiness though it would cost him everything he loved. She turned it over in her mind: Dave was willing to give up everything he loved to serve what he loved. No, she couldn't wrap her head around it not now, though her heart seemed to be swelling with each passing minute.

Bea did everything she could to convince him that her ultimate preference was beyond mere gender: she wanted HIM. In the end she knew Dave wasn't convinced, but she'd done her all. She had a big job ahead of her upon her return. Despite her best efforts she'd only accomplished half her mission: she'd procured permission to collect the answers she needed, yet she'd failed terribly on the other half. She'd failed to protect the man she loved, and now she was leaving him behind with only his pain and worry. The seeming contrast of their actions was staggering.

Friday morning.

Bea awoke with the smile still firmly painted on her face she'd slept with all night. She thought she was married to the ultimate man. She was surprised to find she was no longer wrapped around that man; she stirred languorously in her bed reaching out all her limbs expecting them to make contact with her husband so she could wrap herself around him once more before they had to get up for the day. Suddenly her eyes shot open, her man was missing!

She shot downstairs grabbing a T-shirt off a chair as she exited their bedroom. She sailed into the kitchen and stopped dead. There was Dave looking like he'd barely slept a wink. She knew he wasn't extremely enthusiastic in their lovemaking last night. She thought she'd brought more than enough enthusiasm to offset his deficit, if not set a new record. Apparently, she hadn't brought nearly enough to offset his concerns.

Dave looked up with red bloodshot eyes. "How much trouble am I really in, Bea? Be honest."

Bea looked miserable now too. She pulled a chair around their little kitchen table to alongside Dave's. She sat wrapping her arms around his chest, putting her head under his chin.

"I think I'm basically a pretty good girl. But I'm about to describe a period where I had three different partners in less than four months. That's huge for me, especially as I've only had five in my whole life. Those three lovers in college were also ALL of my lovers in college. I took the rest of my college career off from sex because I was still shocked. I was definitely looking for Mr. Right in the aftermath of what I'm about to tell you." She smiled, "It took a while, but I found you."

Dave didn't look any happier. Bea drew the conclusion, "Let me guess. You have a nice good-girl wife who's completely yours. Then she hits you with wanting a weekend away with no questions asked and hints she might have sex with someone else while she's gone. Now she's talking about her past lovers." She shook her head, "I'm sounding more and more like a slut instead of a wife.

Bea sighed, "Baby, maybe it would help if I said I had two partners in high school and only two in college with the addition of a repeat from high school. You are number five, and last, in case you hadn't figured that out."

Bea immediately regretted it. Dave was down precisely because number six was waiting in Houston. She would've cursed herself but didn't for fear of drawing more attention to her massive faux pas.

Dave didn't say anything, nothing negative and nothing positive. Bea saw he was simply trying to absorb and deal.

"You know the basics of my sexual history. There was a guy I was great friends with growing up. We really enjoyed each other. As we got older we realized what we had always done together could now be considered dates. We ended up taking each other's virginity because it seemed like what we should do. Afterwards we both knew there was no special spark. We stopped dating to preserve our friendship. He was always respectful and protective of me. I think we were both disappointed that we didn't feel more for each other, but that's the way it was.

"My second, er, partner was my first "serious" boyfriend. We stayed together longer. We were good for each other but neither of us thought we were forever. We were a good team. We worked well together, socially, scholastically, and yes physically. We were great together for then -- but not for always. We amicably drifted apart near the end of senior year.

"Dave, in college I met a boy who I thought was the one. I never mentioned I thought of him that way because I didn't get the chance. Events proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he wasn't. In fact, I was never with him again. He wasn't interested, he'd had all of me he wanted.

"There's no point to go into all the details, you just wouldn't leave someone that fast if you cared for them. I was devastated. Thinking my instincts were highly faulty I turned away from guys completely for a while. There was a person who read the signals I was giving off and used them to perfection. I let her inside my shields because she was a girl. Only girls were allowed in my clubhouse then. Only girls were safe.

"What I thought was commiseration became a strong friendship. I thought she'd been mistreated by a guy too, that's what she told me. She could read my mind, complete my thoughts about the pain and hurt inflicted by my ex. She stirred up negative emotions about him which she deftly altered into men in general. She played up my insecurity and told me we girls had to look out for each other, driving another wedge between me and guys, as well as setting herself up as my protector. She got me drinking more. I wasn't partying so much as driving away the pain. We'd get polluted, at least I thought we both were.

After I was soused, she'd get me back to her room pouring my heart out to her, making me vulnerable, and her my confidant. Then she'd hold me. I got used to it. One night while holding each other our lips met by accident. That was the beginning of a strange time for me. I see it much differently now than I did then. She led me around more than we were friends: she manipulated me. I spent a couple of months under her spell. At first, I had trouble believing we were becoming a couple. I had to really tie one on before we made out because I couldn't if I was sober. That should have told me something, except she found a way to break down my every barrier."

Blushing furiously but with a mask of anger Bea added quietly, "I'll give you all the details you want later, but I'd like to push through that part for now."

Bea saw Dave's pain: he feared she was using this as a context to tell him she preferred women. Damn, he was still wounded. The best Bea could do now was finish her explanation, "My... girlfriend didn't want me to go home for Christmas break. I needed home, I needed it bad. When she couldn't convince me, she became determined to go home with me. I finally put my foot down.

"It was obvious to me I'd changed a lot and my parents had absolutely no clue. I planned to start laying clues for them now and tell them outright next summer. If my girlfriend came with me, they'd know right away, and they didn't deserve that." Bea came to a crashing halt. She was telling Dave this story after making him endure far worse than what she was describing protecting her parents from. She forced herself to continue, "My paramour was frustrated. She was desperate and thwarted now that I'd finally stood up for myself. Though I didn't get that at the time.

"I went home and ran into old friends. It was like my folks and friends refilled me with what I'd been missing since my catastrophic break up. I found myself talking to some of them about that, which was strange because I'd moved on, right? I also noted that I never mentioned my girlfriend. I had something internal to figure out.

On New Year's there was a big party with a lot of kids home from our old high school. Ah, Dave, this isn't going to make me look good either. My serious boyfriend from high school was there. We were a great team, we'd gone out for months while knowing there was no future in it. But in High School you don't really think much of the future, the future is a hazy thing swirling around waiting for you to enter it in a few years. Well, this guy was good looking and very masculine. I didn't know why I pursued him that night, though I was sure I needed to. We, ah, rang in the New Year with enthusiasm. I'm sorry, Dave.

"Dammit, this won't sound good either. It wasn't him as much as much as his body - his male body; I-I loved! Yet I had a girlfriend waiting for me back at college. I'd thrown over men for women. Except I craved the masculine. I had a lot of soul searching to do." Bea looked up apologetically, "Baby, I didn't go on another date with the guy; I had my answer." She cringed and went on.

"I called college and was able to change my Jan term elective. If I couldn't I was going to stay at home. My original choice was a class with my girlfriend, which no longer seemed like a good idea. When I got back, I sought her out immediately. Her presence didn't fill me with joy, frankly I was wary. She saw the change. She tried a couple of things: her old tricks didn't work. When I mentioned I'd gone through my class counselor to seek psychiatric help she knew the gig was up. We were done. She didn't bid me a fond farewell; she wasn't crushed either. I'd been a trophy or chattel.

"My psychiatrist told me what I was going through was actually pretty common. She made sure nothing she said was a slap in my face and let me see more and more as I was ready. In effect I'd chosen a smooth jerk for a boyfriend. I didn't have much experience with boys and the ones I'd been around previously were never out to merely use me; we'd grown up together and there was a base level of friendly respect. Not this guy, I was prime stock for him to get his hooks into," Bea blushed. "I went out with a user and then fell into the sphere of a predator. Apparently, they make those in both genders.

"My counselor was kind, and I learned a ton. Her conclusion was that my preference was guys. She wasn't sure how open I was to girls; she said most women this happens to get pulled in emotionally, which seemed to be the case for me. She said my lesbian seduction was virtually textbook. She told me there were probably a dozen other gals on campus in the same boat that very moment.

"Her solid conclusion was written in stone when I met you. You didn't just get through my shields; you tore through them. Or perhaps I ripped them open to get you inside, then closed them behind you keeping you in here with me. That was a further proof that college guy was not "the one". I've only thought of the fact of him, not really about him since. He was a lesson to be learned. Same with the woman who manipulated me. There was one lingering issue, though it didn't seem that important.

"I'd never been turned on by women before. I mean, an attractive person puts steam in my stride like it does for most people. I admit thinking some women are intoxicatingly beautiful." She blushed, "It didn't hurt that the gal who got ... who got me, was pretty much the type I find most attractive. I still do." She blushed again. "For me to still like that look after what I'd been through, it must be a look that works for me, right?" Bea couldn't hold Dave's gaze.

She stumbled back into her tale, "It's a popular look in Hollywood. There are some standouts in movies. I told myself that maybe I fell into my little lesbian experiment because I was bi all along. Afterall, I find women so attractive. And that classic blonde Grace Kelly look makes me go weak at the knees. My shrink said I find attractive people attractive. She thought I was seduced by a predator and was groomed for it by being crushed emotionally by another predator. Though she made a point that changing the gender of who you date is a pretty big swing. She said if I was a lesbian or even bi, I would've noticed a sexual pull toward women before. She concluded I just think some women and men are breathtaking. She explained that isn't even necessarily lust. She said most likely the guy I fell for kicked my heart so bad it made my head spin.

"Because I reacted so positively to the guy I saw at Christmas break, I knew I preferred guys, but I thought I might be a little more interested in gals than regular women. However, it was a simple choice to stop dating everyone after being with three different people over a three-month span. So mere sexual attraction to either gender can't be that strong a compulsion. Which became a moot point once you came along. You walk by and I float along after you. I'm still smitten with you on an entirely different level than anything I've ever felt."

Bea collected herself, stroking Dave's hair and arm, "Don't worry, there's not much left." She took a long moment to simply gaze at him. "Last year there was a new starlet that captivated me. As they often must when getting established, she did some nude scenes followed by love scenes. A couple were pretty graphic. You saw them with me. I loved watching them, I mean really loved it. Which spurred a shadow of a doubt, and it kept growing.

"It grew until I was scared there was some part of me that really did want women. I soon feared I'd only buried a section of me when I came out of that experience, not actually fixed what went wrong. From there I began to rip myself apart. Dave, I have a real and deep fixation that I haven't given all of myself to you. Honest, that's the driver to all of this. That grew into a fear that there's a horrible hidden part of myself that may cheat you.

"That's when I contacted my former psychiatrist. She told me just from talking to me that I was completely devoted to you but that I was psyching myself out to the max, and that obviously I hadn't completely dealt with what happened to me in college. She said her old notes mentioned that I have a proclivity towards overthinking. She said all I really had to do was progress beyond that small shadow of a doubt."

Bea shook her head vigorously.

"Oh honey, that's easier said than done. I've taken test after test online. I've spoken to her and her colleagues and done all I can without actually going there. But I'm still having my self-doubt." Bea emitted a low sorrowful sigh as her eyes became heavy with water once more. "In fact, I caught myself masturbating in the shower thinking about that starlet. My counselor thinks I'm displacing the guilt of not being honest with you about the time I was in a lesbian relationship into the belief I'm not giving myself completely to you. But I can tell you Dave, that idea is very real to me!

"My counselor finally told me there were a few more tests that they could do in person and that if they failed to convince me, that they worked with professional sex therapists. She assured me they weren't escorts or hookers. That was very important to me. I'm not happy that I was with four people before you, even though two of them were once and done. I'm disgusted by the idea of STDs and petrified that you would ever have to go without because I was having a flare up. My doctor assured me that the sex therapists worked in a very controlled way and were regularly tested to keep them disease free. My psychiatrist said that if all else failed she'd have me spend an evening with one of their professional sex therapists and see how I reacted.

"I fought the idea except we were stuck making no progress. My counselor hit me with my situation right between the eyes. I remember her words, "When you focus on yourself to the point of doing what you know will be wrong for the person you should put first, you can safely presume you've wrapped yourself around the axle to the extent that no action can be taken except unwrapping yourself, then starting over." So, yeah, I was already doing you harm, and the only way to stop seemed to do you more harm. I'm praying you let me start over. I've pinned all my hopes on it." Bea looked at her husband both heartbroken and hopeful.

"Honey, we've shifted into real treatment mode now. My doctor asks me all the time how my doubts make me feel. I tell her various things: like a failure, like a cheat, like there's something wrong with me, and I still have the doubt. They ask me what sort of women turn me on the most. She found it interesting that my past... lover... was the same description as the actress I like. I still react to that description. My psychiatrist is sure that was a huge advantage for my predator, and believes I respond to that look, but not specifically to my former ... girlfriend. That feels right to me, so they have alleviated some of my fears already.

"In the end I reluctantly said I would go to Houston where she would set up the other woman in case she was needed. She's kept asking me how I felt about being with another woman. I've told her it feels awful but I thought I may need it. In short, I don't want to do it, but I have to know what I am at my core. I've considered being with the therapist because cheating on you once in a professional setting seems better than cheating on you emotionally all our lives, even if I never have another partner. I'm morose over not treating you right."

Bea had gone pale, "Here's where it gets really ugly. My psychiatrist believes it's my sense of duty towards you and guilt over not telling you my past that's propelling me to go to Houston and "take the final test", not any desire to be with a woman." Bea ground her teeth in disgust explaining, "I feel like I'm already cheating on you by finding some women highly desirable. My counselor says none of my tests show any real desire for women. She also said my apoplectic attitude towards being with another person should tell the tale, except my guilt and devotion towards you are still driving me for certainty. I don't want to do it, but feel I owe it to you."