Copyright © 2007 Emily Ryan-Davis
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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"Do you love him?" Elizabeth pressed. "Do you want to be with him?"
Amy nodded.
"Want him to stop sleeping on the couch?"
Failure threatened to suffocate her. Elizabeth emptied their shared bottle of cabernet into Amy's glass.
"Drink that," she instructed. "You look like you're going to pass out. The maitre d' is giving us concerned glances."
The first gulp of wine stung her throat, which was raw from fighting sobs. She slowed to steady sips and set a rhythm: sip, breathe, sip, breathe. Gradually the glass emptied. Alcohol warmed her ears. Elizabeth motioned for another bottle of wine.
"He loves you," she said. "From what you've told me, he probably feels like you're shutting him out. You know him--he doesn't force himself anywhere. He's giving you the space he thinks you want."
"I don't feel well." Amy lowered the empty glass to the table. Her hand shook.
"That feeling is awareness that you're being a coward. It's self-shame. It's not going to win you a 'go home sick' note."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Tell him you want to give him control. You need his strength to support you." The waiter arrived with a new bottle of wine. Elizabeth paused, waiting for him to clear away the empty bottle, and said, "Tell him the same thing you've told me."
"You don't understand! We almost didn't get married because of this. He asked our officiate to change the ceremony, getting rid of submission and obedience. The reverend refused. He called off the wedding until his mother promised him that a civil ceremony wouldn't disgrace him." Amy poured herself another glass of cabernet, downed it in two swallows, and said, "He didn't even want me to give myself to him in the ceremonial sense. He certainly won't put a collar on me and let me call him 'sir.'"
Elizabeth snorted. "You know the submissive/dominant relationship is more than that."
"I do, but Mac doesn't. He is equality through and through. Equal obligations, equal responsibilities--even equal turns for being on top." She'd asked her husband, once, if he'd tie her up while they made love and he withdrew completely. They weren't intimate for three weeks afterward. "I just need to learn to deal with it on my own," she said, dejected.
"Or you could be honest with him."
Amy shook her head. "He'll leave."
"He's on the verge of leaving now." Impatience sharpened Elizabeth's tone. Amy winced.
"There must be a way to let him know without confronting him. Writing a letter seems weak."
"In this situation, it is weak."
"I don't want to trick him." Trickery and deceit would sever the fragile bond they still shared. She didn't want to put their marriage vows on the line.
Elizabeth's smile caught Amy's attention. She narrowed her eyes. "What are you thinking?"
"Seduction isn't trickery. Figure out a way to introduce him to what you'd like, using your physical relationship as a doorway to your emotional relationship."
"I don't want 'kinky sex,'" Amy whispered, glancing to her left to make sure the nearest dining couple wasn't listening. She hesitated, and added, "Not just that."
"I know. My point is that some people are more comfortable with physical stimulus than verbal, emotional, or mental stimulus. Maybe Mac isn't thrilled with the idea of discussing your submission. That doesn't mean he can't be excited by it. Introduce him to it by touch, and investigate the possibilities later, if he's more agreeable."
"Should I use some sort of toy?" Amy ventured, uncertain. "I don't even have a vibrator."
Elizabeth eyed her askance. "You're thirty-two years old. You've been having sex with the same man for far too long."
She blushed. Sixteen years had passed since the first time she and Mac were together, on his parents' living room couch while they were away for a wedding. They'd both been teenagers. Sex had been the same ever since--intense, hot and fantastic, but not adventurous at all.