Decadent Master (2 page)

“Yes, you’re right. He misled me.” As Wynne bent over and picked up her purse, she felt a new emotion drift to the surface. Her face warmed. Her heart started thumping heavily in her chest. “He lied. For months and months. We had sex. Lots of sex. He acted like he enjoyed it.
Pretended
it was good.”

“And that makes you feel…?”

“Maybe a little mad.”

“A little?” Susan leaned forward. “Wynne, you don’t need permission to feel any emotion. It’s okay.”

Wynne nodded, jerking on her purse’s zipper. “Okay, maybe I’m more than a
little
mad. Maybe I’m very mad, pissed…furious. Absolutely livid. It wasn’t fair for him to let things drag on so long if he wasn’t happy.” Finding a pack of gum, she snatched a piece, unwrapped it, wadded the wrapper up, and stuffed the stick into her mouth. She chewed so hard her jaw snapped. “We were together for three years. We were engaged for one. And none of this came up until a few weeks before our wedding.” She swiped at the hot tears streaming from her eyes, tugging a tissue from the box Susan handed her. “It wasn’t fair to keep such important secrets from me. I mean, maybe John knew I wouldn’t understand that whole whips and chains thing. That could be part of the reason why he kept it quiet. And the gay part…oh God. But still. It’s just wrong, what he did.” She closed her purse and set it on the floor. “Then again, I keep telling myself he probably couldn’t help it. He was probably ashamed. Suffering.”

“What do you mean, ‘couldn’t help it’?”

“I’ve been doing some reading about sex addiction. How people get sucked into depravity, needing harder and harder stimulation. It wasn’t John’s fault, I don’t think. He was…sick. Right? That’s what I have to keep telling myself.” Noticing Susan was staring at her hands, she glanced down. She’d torn the tissue to shreds without realizing it. She raked the ripped bits into a pile and balled them up, stuffing them into her pocket. “It’s the only way I can deal with this without going absolutely crazy. I mean, what else could it be? It has to be a sickness, right? An addiction. Normal sex with a woman simply wasn’t enough anymore.”

Susan didn’t respond for a long time, which drove Wynne absolutely nuts. Finally, she said, “First, from a purely professional standpoint, to say all people who participate in bondage or are gay are ‘sick’ is not a fair—”

Something hot and furious exploded inside her. “Fair? Who the hell cares about fair?” Wynne pulled another tissue from the box and dabbed at her watery eyes. “John didn’t think about what was fair. And his gay fuck partner didn’t either. If they did, we would be married right now, buying our first house together, planning to start a family. Because he told me that was what was going to happen. He’d promised me. Like you said, any emotion I’m feeling is good. Right? So you can’t fault me for hating the culture or lifestyle or whatever you call it that took my John away. My life. My dreams.”

Susan seemed to be trying to hide a frown. “I hear a lot of anger in those words.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. I just don’t get it. Why would any man leave a woman who loves him with all her heart for someone who beats him? Why? Why would he suddenly decide sex with me was so bad that he needed to quit having sex with women forever? If he didn’t go homosexual because of an addiction then I
turned
the man gay. How’d I manage that? Please, please tell me.” She held her breath, waiting, hoping for the words that would make this whole thing make sense. That’s all she wanted, for someone to say the right thing, so that the lightbulb would come on, she would understand, and she’d finally be out of this dark hell.

“I think we’ve got our work cut out for us. For one thing, you need to understand that you did nothing wrong. John didn’t ‘turn’ gay. He was gay all along. And second, you don’t know what bondage is about. Until you do, you’re not going to put this behind you. Do you agree?” At Wynne’s shrug, the therapist added, “I don’t want you to continue to doubt yourself, your sexuality, your ability to trust, to love. Which is why I want to make a suggestion.”

Damn, there’d been no lightbulb moment. “What kind of suggestion?”

“I wonder.” Susan paused for a moment, visibly contemplating something. “Would you consider a little exercise? I think it might help you find the answers you’re looking for.”

“I guess that depends upon the ‘exercise’ you’re suggesting. If it means I’ll finally get over this crap, so I can find a man who can love me and not scare him away with my paranoia, then maybe I’m desperate enough to try just about anything.”

“I want you to go to a bondage club.”

Wynne barked out a laugh. Her stomach almost came out with it. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then maybe you’re the one who needs a shrink. Not me. Because that’s just…wrong.”

Susan pursed her lips, shaking her head. “There’s that sarcasm again. Remember, use
feeling
words.”

Argh! “Okay, I
feel
like you’re the one who needs a shrink. That’s the most insane idea I have ever heard.”

“And why do you think it’s crazy?”

“Because you’re sending me into
that
world. With people I don’t understand…What could I possibly gain by going to a bondage club?”

“Honestly, there’s a very good reason why I think paying a visit to a bondage club is a good idea. But I won’t force you. It’s your choice.”

“Then I choose not to.”

“Very well, then. If you aren’t willing to do this for yourself, you wouldn’t have gained any useful insight by going anyway, only ammunition for prejudice and hatred.” Susan looked weary as she glanced at the clock. “Our time is up. We’ll talk again in two weeks. But before you go, I want to give you the phone number of someone I trust very much. In case you change your mind. She can get you into the local bondage club, Twilight. It’s very safe and exclusive.” She scrawled a name on the back of one of her cards and offered it to Wynne.

“All right.” Wynne reluctantly accepted the proffered card and stuffed it into her pocket with the torn-up tissue. She stood, gave Susan-the-crazy-shrink a friendly wave, and headed out of the office. She found her friend Kristy sitting in the waiting room, her head buried in a romance novel. Wynne gave her a tap on the shoulder and headed for the exit.

“I’m guessing you don’t like your new therapist very much?” her intuitive friend asked as they walked to the car.

“You guessed right.”

“What is it this time?” Kristy ducked into the passenger seat before adding, “This is the third counselor you’ve ditched in six months. You know, maybe it’s not them—”

“That woman suggested I go to a bondage club.” Wynne tossed the business card onto the dash, crammed the key into the ignition, and gave it a jerk.

“Why would she do that?” her friend asked, plucking up the card to read it.

“Because she’s cuckoo, that’s why.” Wynne rammed the gear shift into drive and stomped on the gas, sending the car lurching out of the parking space.

Wow, she could see herself overreacting, but she couldn’t stop. Her heart wasn’t just pounding in her chest, it was jack-hammering. Her skin wasn’t just hot, it was blistering. And this awful, overwhelming twitchy rage was rushing through her body, relentless and overpowering.

Kristy thrust her arms forward, grabbing the dash. “Maybe I’d better drive.”

“No.” Wynne took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I won’t drive like an ass. I promise. This isn’t worth killing anyone over.”

Kristy waited a while, several minutes, and finally, after she must have been convinced Wynne had pulled herself together, she asked, “Okay, so why did your new therapist say she wanted you to go to a bondage dungeon?”

“Because she thinks I won’t get over this thing with John until I understand bondage. I think it bothered her a little when I suggested people who do that stuff were abnormal for wanting to be beaten.”

Kristy gaped. “You said that?”

“Yeah. Kind of.” After seeing Kristy’s reaction, Wynne started second-guessing herself. “Um, I said something like they have a sex addiction and can’t help themselves.”

“Your counselor has a point, then. That’s a judgmental thing to say.”

“Yeah, maybe.” When a glance at her friend’s face left her feeling like crap, she added, “I was upset, you know? She kept pushing me to tell her how I felt, so I did. I wasn’t thinking. The words just came out. Even if I don’t believe everyone who goes to bondage dungeons is a sick addict, it doesn’t change anything. I won’t go to one of those places.” She paused. “I…can’t.”

“Why not? What are you afraid of?”

More silence. “Because those places are creepy. And scary…and I just can’t.” There came the tears again. She blinked to keep her vision clear. Damn it, she hated crying. Hated crying almost as much as she hated feeling like this—like her insides were still as raw as they’d been that day in April.

“Oh, honey. I wish there was something I could do or say to help you through this. I…could go with you, if that would make it easier.”

“But I don’t want to go.” Sniffling, she dug in the center console between the seats, looking for another tissue. She found a crumpled McDonald’s napkin. “It’s not going to change anything. John isn’t going to come back to me. So what’s the point?”

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the pathetic sound of Wynne’s sniffling.

Kristy sighed. “Maybe Susan Smith, Certified Therapist, knows something we don’t. You’ve tried to get over this thing on your own and it hasn’t worked. You’ve tried two other counselors, and they didn’t help either. I say you trust the shrink you’re paying God only knows how much and do what she says. You might come out of this understanding why John lied, why he had to leave you…. It’s been a year,” her friend reminded her gently. “You dated one guy since John left, and that lasted for less than a month. Sweetie, you acted like a clingy leech and scared him off. Since then it seems like you’ve given up. You don’t go out anymore. The funny, friendly, easygoing girl I knew is gone.”

“Maybe I don’t need to be that girl anymore. Maybe she was easygoing because she didn’t have a freaking clue what a mess her life was.” Wynne hit the power button on the radio, putting an end to the conversation. No denying, it was rude, cutting off her friend like that, but she was pushing too hard and Wynne wasn’t in any condition to listen to more psychobabble shit.

Absolutely, she wanted to get out of this hell she’d fallen into. She could step outside of herself, watch herself being a bitch. It was her way of dealing with her pain and anger.

Obviously, despite what all the counselors had said, there was no cure for a broken heart. It would take time. A lot longer than one year. Maybe this girl was a slower-than-average healer.

She just wished someone understood how she felt. Really and truly knew what it felt like to have the one human being on the face of the earth who cared about her turn around and tell her it was all a lie, that he didn’t really love her, had maybe never loved her at all. She had a feeling if she ever did find a person who empathized with that kind of pain, they’d be friends forever. Or better yet, more than friends.

“Pull the car over,” Kristy said abruptly.

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

“No, just do it. Please.”

Wynne looked over her shoulder and eased into the right lane. Then, at the first driveway, an entry to a Burger King, she turned out of traffic and parked.

Kristy cut off the radio. “There’s something I need to tell you, and well, this is just as good a time as any. If I keep waiting for the perfect opportunity, I won’t ever tell you.”

Wynne’s heart stopped. A split second later, it kicked back to life, but at a pace that was at least twice its normal rate. “What’s wrong? Are you pregnant?”

Kristy rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not pregnant. I get the Depo shot every three months, like clockwork. How could I be?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’ve been acting a little moody the past few weeks and the shot isn’t 100 percent reliable….”

“That’s because I’ve been dealing with some things, too. And I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. Especially with how you’ve been feeling lately. But I can’t sit here and pretend any longer.”

“Pretend what? That you’re my friend?”

“No, I’ll always be your friend, at least if you want me to be.” Kristy glanced away, staring down at her hands.

What did that mean? “Oh for Chrissakes! What’s wrong?”

“It’s not really that something’s wrong. It’s just that…well, in the last year or so I’ve come to the realization that…I’m…gay.”

Huh?
“You’re what?”

Kristy nodded. “I am attracted to women. Sexually.”

“I can’t believe this. Are you sure?”

Kristy gave her a mean-eyed glare. “Yes, of course I’m sure.”

“But you were married. To a man. For years. You have had sex with men. Lots of men—”

Kristy smacked her shoulder. “Hey, not that many!”

“And you’re like…in your thirties. How could you be gay all of a sudden?” When Kristy didn’t offer up an answer to that question, Wynne asked, “What is going on? First John decides he’s gay and now you? Why is everyone turning homosexual on me? Let me see that book you were reading….” Wynne snatched the novel off her supposedly gay friend’s lap. The cover boasted a typical romance nekkid man titty. The title:
The Barbarian
. “See? You’re not gay. You’re reading a romance novel….” She flipped the book over and read the blurb. “What is this? It’s about two guys? You’re reading a gay romance?”

Kristy grabbed her book and dropped it into her enormous purse. “I knew you’d have a hard time with this. Listen, we can talk about my choice in reading material later. This is important. I’m trying to tell you that I have been homosexual—or rather, bisexual—for a long time. I just didn’t want to accept it.”

“I don’t want to accept it either. I mean, we live together. We’ve slept together. In the same bed. Before your bedroom set was delivered.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Wynne felt the color draining from her face. “Did you…get aroused?”

“No,” her friend answered sheepishly. “We’re friends. That’s all.”