He went shopping for hardware. He found brass strap hinges and a hasp
and a lock that were well-matched. He would inlay the hinges--a pain in
the neck--but the brass would be fine with the walnut.
Oliver made progress on the box. He was pleased that evening as he
described it to Jacky. She listened quietly and waited for him to
finish. They were sitting on the couch in her living room. She was
wearing a black silk blouse that fell loosely over white jeans. She
stretched her legs, wiggled her toes in leather huaraches, and looked
at him closely.
Oliver felt the moment approach. He had been in a different world all
week; it was time to return. Jacky's face was firm and concentrated,
her eyebrows raised slightly. He looked into her eyes and felt again
the thrill of surrendering. He was hers. He wanted to be hers. He gave
himself to her utterly.
That evening and the ones that followed, once or twice a week,
continued the pattern. She beat him and humiliated him, bound him to
her pleasure, taught him how to massage her after a hot shower and how
she wanted oral sex. It was an alternate universe that existed only in
her house and only for a few intense hours at a time.
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