Dirty Filthy Fix (Fixed #5.5)

“Why did you get that?” I was eager to learn more about him, even though just a few days ago I’d sworn that off. I couldn’t help it. I needed to know him—he was a drug and I needed another fix.

He chuckled. “For one thing, if it was a normal spider web, people would assume I’d done time. But I like what it stands for. Spiders are amazing. It takes a lot of wisdom to be able to spin a web as strong and useful as they do, and the result is often a genuine work of art. Cultures from the Celtic to Hopi to West African have religious stories featuring spiders and webs as a metaphor for spinning your fate. So it stands for creativity and wisdom, in other words.”

I ran my index finger down each of the six spokes. “And you got it because you wanted to be wise and creative? Or because you are wise and creative?” It was so fascinating why people chose to be imprinted with symbols. I loved tattoos, but I didn’t have any on my own body, because I could never decide what I wanted to be marked with forever. What if I changed my mind? What if the thing I loved today wasn’t the thing I loved tomorrow? Or next week? Or next year?

“I hope I’m wise and creative,” he said, his eyebrows raised, fishing for compliments. “But I got it when I was much younger, when I was about twenty-two or so. And then I wanted to be wise. I didn’t feel like I was back then. I’d made a lot of bad decisions. My parents agreed. I’d blown off college, I was heading nowhere. I loved art but I wasn’t good enough to sell any of my own pieces. And I just wanted something to remind me that I was the master of my own fate. Maybe I could be like a spider, weaving wisely and creatively. I could find my place in the world, the way they do.”

“Those nasty little creatures.” I was teasing him. I actually thought what he had to say was pretty honest and amazing. “So it’s like a Post-it note. A memo to yourself, but on your body? I like that.”

“I like you.” He looked at me like he was memorizing me. Like maybe he was tattooing me on his brain.

I shivered, even though inside I felt warmth rushing to the very core of me. Not just in a sexual way, but to where my heart was, where my lungs were. It was a light feeling, like floating, like being lifted in a helium balloon.

But in my head all I could see were chains and obligations and commitments tying me back to the earth. Were the floating and the tethering inseparable? I didn’t want to be tied down, bound to anything, but I liked him too. And I wanted to enjoy this feeling before acknowledging the sharp tug of the string.

“I’m really glad you stayed here last night,” I said. It was the closest thing I could give him to a return of affection. It was big for me to even give him that.

“I am too,” he said. He moved the nearly empty dish off of his torso and put it on the bed next to him so that he could sit up, and then he kissed me as he ran his hands underneath the T-shirt I’d donned earlier in the day.

One kiss somehow turned into lots of kissing, and soon he rolled me over on my back, and the plate went flying to the floor with a loud clatter. We broke apart abruptly, and Nate looked down to see if the plate had survived.

“It’s not broken. But probably quite a racket for the neighbors.” He brushed a long strand of hair out of my face and traced his thumb along my lower lip.

“The downstairs neighbor is a flight attendant. He’s never home. No worries about next door either. It’s been empty for the last several weeks. It’s on the market. So we can be as noisy as we like.”

Which reminded me.

“Hey, speaking of apartments… What’s with yours?” That probably didn’t come out the right way. I tried again. “I mean, I know you’ve been living here for a while, but it looks like you’ve barely moved in. You hardly have any furniture. It’s not very decorated. Doesn’t look like it’s very much of a home.”

Nate shrugged. “I’ve never been attached to places, I guess. An apartment is a place to sleep. A place to store your things. I work too much to spend very much time there. I don’t even own it, so why bother personalizing a rental?”

I supposed I could understand that way of thinking, but I loved my apartment. It was one of the few things that I truly did own. One of the things that really belonged to me. Maybe because I’d grown up sharing a room, it had become important for me to have a space of my own as an adult, and I’d been eager to do that as soon as I could.

So I did. I bought my apartment as soon as I qualified for a loan.

But I could relate to Nate because his desire to not get tied down to places sounded a lot like my desire to not be tied down to people.

Rental or not, I thought space should always reflect the person in it. And not seeing Nate reflected in his left me with more questions.

“What else are you thinking?” he asked, searching my eyes, apparently reading my hidden thoughts. “Go ahead and ask, whatever it is. I have no secrets.”

“I was wondering about the Open Door. How come you just showed up there for the first time? You’ve obviously got the connections. And I’m pretty sure you’re into the kink scene. So why are you just getting into bed with us now?”

“That’s what you’re wondering about? The Open Door is not the only kink game in town, you know. I just hadn’t met the right people to be invited to yours until recently.” He grinned when he said “yours,” acknowledging the fact that I wasn’t quite the right people either.

“You mean you’ve been attending other kink parties the whole time you’ve been in New York?” I couldn’t decide if I was jealous because there were other kink parties that I didn’t have invitations to, or if I was jealous because other people had played with Nate before I had.

“Yes. I’m not a frequent attendee, though. I’m more of a voyeur, because I don’t like entanglements. I work too much to be bothered with the hassle. But I do like the party scene. There are several that I attend now and then. I’ll take you with me sometime. If you’d like.”

My stomach did a flip-flop. I was as giddy as I was the day I’d been asked to senior prom. “I would genuinely like that.”

And since we were talking kink parties, and since he’d just opened even more doors to me, I decided to do something very out of character.

“Do you, uh, want to go with me tonight? To the Open Door?” I stared at the spider web on his chest while I asked. I couldn’t even look at him. I was nervous about his answer. On one hand, I didn’t want an entanglement either. But on the other, I was having a very hard time imagining a sexy night that didn’t involve Nate in some capacity.

“I wish I could, baby. There’s nothing I’d love more than exploring the scene with you, but I have a thing I have to go to.” He lay back onto the bed next to me with a sigh. “You know, you could go to my thing with me. If you wanted to.”