“So what happens now?” I ask much later as we consume our favorite dinner from the nearby Italian takeout place—chicken piccata and Caesar salad. Flynn opens a bottle of chardonnay and pours a glass for each of us. We slept for hours after our life-altering conversation earlier, and woke starving—for food and each other.
It’s dark now, and the wind is howling outside. The delivery guy told Flynn there’s more than eight inches of snow already on the ground and more coming overnight.
“Now,” Flynn says after taking a drink from his glass of wine, “we hammer out a contract.”
“Like a real contract?”
“Yep. Hold that thought.” He gets up and crosses the room to his office.
I watch him go, enjoying the view of him wearing only formfitting boxer briefs and nothing else. He’s magnificent and all mine. Though I’m still reeling from everything that happened earlier, I’m no longer agonizing over what will become of us. We’re in this together, and that’s all that matters.
Flynn returns, a packet of papers in hand. “The contract between you and me is not legal, but it’s a binding agreement for our relationship that outlines our hard and soft limits—in other words, things you absolutely won’t do as well as things that make you nervous but you’d be willing to try. It’s all negotiated in advance so there can be no misunderstandings during a scene.”
“Could I ask a question?”
“Always.”
This one requires some liquid courage, so I take a big sip of wine. “Will this… arrangement… involve other people?”
“No.”
“Just no? No discussion? Haven’t you done that before?”
“Yes,” he says tightly. “I’ve done it, but there’s no fucking way I’m sharing you with anyone. The thought of another man touching you… That’s a hard limit for me.”
“Okay…” I’m moved by his fiercely protective reaction, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in pushing his buttons a little. “What about another woman?”
His eyes widen, and he starts to say something that dies on his lips. “Sorry, I’m just a little startled that you asked that.”
I begin to laugh and can’t seem to stop. “After everything you said to me today, that shocks you?”
“Coming from you, yes.”
“I’m sorry. Have I shattered your illusions about your sweet, innocent wife?”
“I’m discovering my sweet, innocent wife may not be as innocent as I thought she was.”
“Oh, she is, trust me, but I’ve done my research.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh. I’m wondering why all the secrecy surrounding this lifestyle. Why does it matter if people know?”
“Most people keep kinky preferences secret because society, as a whole, doesn’t understand them. Too many equate kinky with perverted, and it’s not perverted if two consenting adults are doing things that were agreed to in advance. The need for secrecy in my case and that of my partners is because that kind of judgment would hurt our careers.”
“That’s kind of sad when you think about it.”
“It’s reality,” he says with a shrug. “People fear what they don’t understand. It’s easier and cleaner to keep it private. Plus it’s none of anyone’s fucking business.”
“True.”
“Another thing that people don’t understand is it’s not all about sex. It’s much more about the emotion. When two people are fully invested in a scene, it can be the most intensely emotional experience you’ll ever have—and that’s before anyone has sex.” He cups my face and slides his thumb over my cheekbone. “That’s magnified a thousand times when you’re in a scene with someone you love.”
It’s hard to imagine our lovemaking more intense than it already is, but I take his word for the fact that there is more—much more. “What else is in that contract of yours?”
“A checklist of possibilities. But first, I want you to look at this and see what you think. Most of the time, these things are hammered out verbally. But because of who we are and what we have to lose, we do paper contracts at Quantum. Everything about this lifestyle and our agreement is based on three core beliefs—safe, sane and consensual. Everything we do will be all three of those things or it doesn’t happen.”
He hands me two pages that outline our Dominant/submissive relationship. The Club Quantum logo sits at the top of both pages.
“Who has access to the clubs?”
“The five principal partners as well as our staff and the members we’ve admitted over the years.”
“How do you keep something like this a secret in your business?”
“We are very selective about who we admit, and it costs a million dollars to join as a regular member. Everyone who’s admitted into the club would have something big to lose if they talked about us or our activities or the club. We have people locked in custody battles, people with huge, prominent jobs outside the entertainment business, people with families who have no idea they’re in the lifestyle.”
“Does your family know?”
“No.”
“Does Addie know?”