Sweet exploration Read online

  All four of us spent our first Saturday as East Coasters—however short-term that was for Drake and I—on the beach, enjoying the end of summer. That night, Malcolm disappeared with my husband out to the porch to grill the meat while Becca and I made the rest of dinner. She took the knife away from me, though, when she saw my hand shaking and told me to stir the garlic and butter in the pan instead of chopping the vegetables.

  I watched Drake through the kitchen window. Wishing he'd turn around and catch me while also wanting to secretly soak in the vision of him. More than once, I found myself rubbing my belly. Fighting back tears as I wondered if the three of us would ever be here in the future, happily visiting Malcolm and Becca.

  I lay awake that night knowing my husband was just down the hall. Despite our agreement to abstain from sex—and the constant reminders in my head of what he'd done—I missed him madly. My submissive side ached for him, wanted to go to him and kneel before him. To accept his apology so we could be together, as if that was the only thing preventing us from being whole again. And surprisingly, a small part of me silently willed him to search me out, to beg again for my forgiveness.

  Neither happened.

  Come Monday morning, he moved into the rental house. Although it was just a few hundred feet across the blacktop, it was as if he was thousands of miles away again. And I felt a strange loneliness creep in. Just like I had the first two weeks I was out here. I'd wanted distance from Drake, yet as soon as I got it, I was miserable. But I knew I would survive.

  August turned into September. Malcolm was teaching at his new job. Becca kept busy writing. Drake managed his project from his laptop for the most part. And I slipped into my old role of housekeeper.

  Cleaning gave me a sense of purpose as well as a way to repay Malcolm and Becca for their hospitality. Becca reminded me not to over do it in my condition. Malcolm said more than once that I was spoiling them and the house had never looked so good. He also said I shouldn't do such a fine job or his wife was going to want to hire a maid after I was gone. It was both a compliment and a reminder that this was not a permanent arrangement. Sooner or later, I would either be back with Drake or off on my own.

  The evenings were mostly spent on the porch taking turns listening to each other. Doctor's orders. Malcolm and Becca gave us our space, but they were always nearby as our silent chaperones.

  Drake and I seemed to talk more than we ever had. We mostly discussed our pasts. He explained his experiences as a Dominant prior to meeting me. I admitted what Jimmy had done both that night at dinner and back when I had been dating him. We'd had a good cry together after that conversation.

  We also shared our hopes for the future. Our dreams. Our baby.

  He admitted more than once that he was scared about being a father. One night, I said that I agreed, I was scared for him, too, which made him chuckle. I'd missed that sound, and I told him as much. His smile warmed me inside as the sun set and a cool breeze blew in off the water. He tucked my hair behind my ear, staring into my eyes. I tried to read in his own expression what he was thinking, but he sat back and changed the topic.

  It was the first intimate—yet non-sexual—moment we'd shared in weeks. A reminder that there was more to us than carnal desire. I saw it as a sign that we were definitely moving in the right direction.

  My morning sickness was completely gone by October. I was also starting to show. Becca thought it was a great opportunity to go shopping. I agreed to buy some maternity clothes, but I put my foot down on getting anything for the baby. The more I bought now, the more I would eventually have to pack up and move later.

  The longer I stayed with Malcolm and Becca, the more I realized I wanted to return home. The problem was, that word seemed foreign to me. I felt displaced. Those who I now considered my family were no longer in Chicago, the place I swore would always be where I would return to no matter where life took me. And I hadn't felt completely comfortable in California.

  So where did I belong? And did I still belong with Drake? Our sessions with the psychologist always went well, and we were making great strides in repairing what I though may have been broken forever. But it was still too soon to tell if we were completely salvageable. Becca said to have faith. I was sticking with keeping my expectations low.

  It was the first week of November when fate intervened again.

  Drake had flown back to California for a big meeting Monday morning to present his findings on the possible expansion, and he would be gone all week. I had a counseling session on Tuesday and was feeling a little lightheaded when I got out of the car back at the house. I was used to my sister-in-law pampering me, so I didn't argue when Becca led me upstairs to my room on the second floor and helped me into bed. She shut the blinds and tucked the blankets around me before closing the door and casting the room into welcoming darkness.

  I dreamt I was floating on a raft in a calm pool. The sun was warm on my face, my fingers dangling in the cool water. Suddenly, Drake was standing beside me. He was smiling down at me, and I felt him trickle water up my leg, giving me goosebumps.

  I held my breath as his hand inched upwards, his wet fingers smoothing over my flat stomach. Brushing the underside of my breast in the bikini top. Reaching up to caress my cheek.

  I turned into his touch. Felt his hand guiding mine beneath the skimpy bottoms of my bathing suit. Between my legs where I was hot and wet.

  The dream faded away, and in a partial daze, I realized I was stroking myself through my shorts. I had touched myself quite frequently since my relocation to the East Coast, usually as a result of a dream. I missed the touch of my husband. The extreme intimacy we'd shared. I didn't think twice about achieving orgasm while we were apart. While we'd agreed Drake and I wouldn't have sex for now, it was never mentioned that we would abstain when we were alone, too. I wondered if Drake thought of me. If he masturbated as well.

  I maneuvered so I could unzip my shorts and slide my hand into my panties. Biting my lower lip to muffle the noises eager to escape, I stroked my fingers through my pussy, trying to remember the dream. Thinking about how turned on I seemed to have gotten this time. My hand felt so wet. There was a slight discomfort in my back, but I adjusted and spread my legs wider, willing myself to reach climax.

  Once the convulsions ceased and my muscles relaxed, I groaned, feeling the need to pee. And clean myself up. I must have squirted. I'd never been able to do that on my own, although Drake was able to coax it out of me at times. I felt I'd reached a milestone. I couldn't wait to tell him this weekend...to find out what he would say when I admitted what I'd been doing in his absence.

  I padded across the shadow-laden room and stepped into the hallway. It was brighter out there, reminding me that it was still daylight. I stumbled a little, not fully recovered from my nap or orgasm.

  I put my right hand out to catch myself against the wall. Then I blinked at the red marks I left behind. I glanced down and saw the dark streak on my leg. I stumbled again and fell to the floor, holding my red-stained fingertips before my face. My vision blurred, my mouth went dry.

  It took several tries before I could hear myself speak. It started very soft, and I was hyperventilating by the time I was screaming Becca's name. Calling out like a child who'd had a nightmare or was sick and was trying to wake her mother in the middle of the night.

  There were footsteps. Then Becca screamed as well. She yelled out to Malcolm. Her hand gripped mine, and I rested my head against her chest, closing my eyes.

  We sat in the hall while I heard Malcolm call an ambulance. I mumbled something about ruining their carpet. Becca just held me until the paramedics arrived, shushing me. Rocking me back and forth. Whispering words of comfort. But they did little to quell the feelings inside that something was horribly wrong. This was way more than the spotting the obstetrician said I may have.

  As I was loaded onto a stretcher, I recalled seeing Becca in that same position almost a year ago after our collaring ceremony. We'd thought she
'd had a heart attack. It had just been anxiety. I tried to convince myself that my situation wasn't as bad as it seemed.

  Becca climbed up to sit beside me in the ambulance. Malcolm was standing with one of the EMTs. I overheard him talking with someone, presumably Drake.

  "You need to get back here. Now. I think Daphne had a miscarriage."

  His words made me cry harder. I wasn't overreacting. This wasn't a panic attack.

  When he ended his call, Malcolm reached into the ambulance and gently squeezed my foot. "You're going to be okay, Daphne. Drake is on his way. Just hang in there."

  The sounds of the sirens as we took off helped drown out the little voice in my head. I knew it must be wrong. But I couldn't help thinking I may have just lost the one thing that was preventing Drake from leaving me forever.