Forbidden Fruit

19. Fuck it

NINETEEN

FUCK IT

S unday has come and almost gone and for the first time in weeks, I have the energy to go out, to be around people, to seek pleasure. To relieve myself of the torment of not touching who I desire most.

“Lino, fancy seeing you here,” Jade welcomes me back with a smirk that has me frowning. We know each other, but this familiarity isn’t like her. I greet her with a nod and she serves me a glass of Macallan. I want to drown in it.

Removing the memory of sweet Vanessa grinding against me on her soft sheets has been difficult, to say the least. It’s all I think about. From the moment I wake up, hard and aching, to the moment I go to bed, still feeling the same. I refuse to touch my cock to the idea of my employee, so here I am. At the club. Irritable. Frustrated. Painfully aware of how her dress was riding up her legs as she got on her tiptoes to grab a bowl from the top shelf in the kitchen last week.

Not that I should be aware of that, since I was at work while she was at home with Livia. But once again, I found myself opening the app to watch from afar. Ever since I touched her skin, she has occupied all the limited space in my brain like she’s stuck here.

There have still been moments of nothingness in the past few weeks, but when I think of Vanessa, at least there is something going on instead of the void. When I watch her with Anton and Livia, I could almost catch myself smiling. Anton actually did. The smile he gave back was so bright it lit me up for days. I want that. I want that for him, for Livia. For myself. So I chase the bright woman who makes it possible even as I keep as much distance as I can from her. She doesn’t deserve to be swallowed all by the darkness that surrounds me and if Monica is any indication, that’s what will happen if she gets close.

Every day, my words stay clipped as I ask how the day went, but I soak up every word, half smile and bright eyes shining with pride she gives me, like a sponge.

The weekend passed quicker than usual. When I feel numb, time seems to stand still, as if misery needs to remain. But when I’m lighter, I don’t have enough time to catch up; I don’t have enough seconds and minutes to absorb the giggles of my children, the hugs of my daughter as she falls asleep for her nap, the encouragement of my son as I push him so he can try to bike without the training wheels.

“Need a refill?” Jade asks, pulling me out of my daydream, and I nod.

I scan the room for a potential play partner. Many of the regulars are here, as they usually are on Sunday night. There are people I’ve enjoyed time with before and would do again.

Mandy, a forty-year-old brunette who enjoys being tied up and forced to perform oral but hates penetration, saunters over to where I’m sitting. Mandy’s company always arouses me. She’s clear with her expectations, a submissive who doesn’t like to brat, which I definitely prefer, and communicative with her needs and desires. But tonight, as she hugs me to her body, clad in decadent dark lace on her pale skin, I don’t feel the usual tingle of thrill and lust. Her scent is too strong, too sweet, Oud and almonds. Her touch is too forward, even though that's usually how I like it.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, Lino. How are you?” she asks and I wince. This is the part I hate. The small talk.

I long to tell someone how coming here is an effort, when there are days when the only reason I wake up is to feed my children and make sure they don’t die. Or I don’t.

But I can’t say that. Instead I say, “Busy at work, as usual. How are you, Mandy?”

Her hand lands on my thigh as she talks and I stiffen. She immediately removes it. “I’m sorry, Lino. I should have asked. Can I touch you?” She inches closer again and I take her hand in mine before she can touch me.

“I’m not playing tonight, darling,” I say and kiss the top of her palm. Her eyes widen for a moment and I can see the disappointment and rejection clear on her pretty, freckled face. When she turns her back on me in search of what will suit her needs tonight, I release a sigh and gulp my drink.

Jade’s eyeing me with that annoying smirk again. Of course, she’s been privy to my exchange.

“If you’re not playing, did you come here to facilitate Milo’s workshop?” she asks.

Somehow, the question seems loaded. I did come here with every intention of finding someone to play with. What I just told Mandy came out of nowhere.

Not really, though. I know why I don’t want to join her tonight. It’s because of a certain someone with hazel eyes and the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.

“I didn’t know Milo was doing a workshop tonight,” I tell her truthfully. Her attitude is too strange and my curiosity is piqued as I ask, “What’s the theme?”

“Bondage for beginners. There are thirteen people registered.”

So, someone will have to partner with Milo. Lucky them. He’s a master at the art of Shibari. Before I stopped coming here, I was taking private classes with him. Trained in Japan by the best Shibari masters, his knots are a work of art and I have truly enjoyed what he taught me. The ropes became a way to express the raw emotions in my body that were so rare and far between. When I’m in turmoil, the ropes glaze on the skin of partners like thousands of snakes. When I’m calm, they’re more straightforward and disciplined. I rarely indulged in tying myself because I have a tendency to go too tight, and no one ties me up, except Milo.

Speak of the devil. Milo walks in, dressed in a simple cotton shirt and sweats. When he sees me, his lips tip up and he almost runs to me, pulling me against his muscled body in a familiar hug.

After a few pleasantries, he climbs up the winding staircase to the second floor, where his group awaits on the balcony. My gaze follows.

I blink.

She can’t be here.

Milo says something I can’t hear from down here. I notice most people seem to be in pairs. As if to confirm the gnawing suspicion growing in the pit of my stomach, he thrusts a hand at her. Only at her.

I whirl towards Jade, who suddenly seems preoccupied making cocktails. There aren't even any patrons at the bar but me. She couldn’t be more obvious if she tried.

“You knew she was here?” I ask, accusatorially.

“Who?”

“Jade…”

Jade rolls her eyes. “Yes, I knew she was here. But I didn’t know you ’d be here.”

“And she came alone?”

“Yes. I guess Milo will partner with her.” She shrugs and grabs a dish towel, pretending to dry a glass that’s not even wet. What a human headache.

We both know Milo’s a well-loved member of this community, and we both know what it means to be tied by him.

When I turn back to the balcony, Milo, Vanessa and the group have disappeared.

“Fuck it,” I mutter to no one in particular as I march upstairs.

I have no plan, but all that matters is that I get to her.