In “What Henry Wants for Christmas,” set near the end of Chapter 11 of Playing the Game, Henry reflects on his wishes for his lovers as he crafts a Christmas card for his stubbornly independent Alice.
A full day now since Jay had gone, and the door remained unknocked-upon. The phone unrung. Even the infernal chirp of a text would be welcome, were it to come from his sweet, standoffish, determined-to-remain-unbowed submissive.
Alice.
Henry murmured her name to his studio’s four walls. She represented a delightful challenge, though at times watching her struggle pained him. In their nights together, she accepted his love without question. Likely because she hadn’t yet recognized it well enough to put a name to the emotion. Always rationalizing, his girl. Overanalyzing.
How he relished those moments when she became a creature of restless instinct and pure feeling under his command. When his voice, his touch, soothed the endless questing need in her. Brought softness into the depths of ever-changing hazel eyes and the sweet curve of a smile to her lips.
The structure of their contract provided pretext for her to partake. Identified and codified their relationship in sexual terms only. A prelude to deeper understanding and acceptance, one hoped.
“Will you allow me to pamper you as you deserve, sweet girl? Your place is waiting for you. You need only step forward and claim it.”
The door to his studio stood open, a concession to ensure he’d hear her knock should she surprise him with a midday visit. Unlikely, but every possibility merited consideration. His phone lay on the low table alongside his chaise, ordered to direct all calls to voicemail with three exceptions: his mother, his dear boy, and his sweet girl.
A full year he’d waited to be certain of her. Gathering the moments when she’d shown shades of submission toward him. Her deference and her defiance proved as intoxicating as Jay’s devotion. They’d grown into beautiful balance under his tutelage.
She would be ready for more soon. To witness Jay’s full submission. To try handling him herself, perhaps. He longed to share that joy. A mistress for Jay and a partner for himself. She straddled the line with perfection. Tender and maternal, playful and teasing with his boy. Utterly undone, submissive as if born to it with him.
He hummed as he sketched, his right hand in unceasing motion over the Bristol board as the image took shape. A heavy weight, medium tooth, lay beneath his hand. Soft graphite he clutched within. Allowing his mood to guide his decisions had resulted in an image unsuitable for Alice’s Christmas card.
Perhaps she would come to him tonight. He’d plotted contingencies for whatever her mood when she arrived, but first and foremost she would deserve praise. Depending on him was not a weakness but a strength. One to be celebrated.
Just as well he’d prepared a safe card first. An innocuous statement of affection and good wishes to make her smile. That note, with its simple strokes forming a lush evergreen, would go on her door. Perhaps the card would be enough to tempt her to his bed tonight, but he thought not.
She might yet see this need as a weakness. Or a theft—seeking his company with Jay out of town might increase her discomfort. She didn’t yet understand how Jay would not begrudge her that, how he would miss them both but be glad they had each other’s companionship in his absence. If he were an exceptionally lucky man, she’d give him the time to teach her that.
But this image, her sleeping deeply in his bed, sharing a pillow with their boy, she would never see. It whispered too loudly of love. Well. Not never, perhaps. Next year, she might be ready. A bit of fixative and some time to settle, and his newest image would join its companions.
He would tuck the sketch into his folder on her, his collected thoughts on her needs and desires and responses to him. Her file would stretch until its heft matched Jay’s. His notes for future plans, his detailed analysis of her enjoyment of various toys, the odd sketch or four…
He laid the sheet aside and reached for another. Shifting heightened the tug of the added weight on his cock and balls. Lacking Jay to share the morning with, he’d selected the loose-fitting steel ring set to cultivate a low-grade arousal all day. No masturbation, not today. If his sweet girl brought her needs to him, she deserved the full measure of his attention.
Rocking his hips, he worked himself semierect with nothing more than the cock ring’s warm weight and the smooth slide of his silk slacks. His girl appreciated a bit of rough haste. Edging would encourage him to reward her tonight with a hard, fast fuck before he enjoyed her at his leisure.
He reclaimed the pencil and set to work once more. Pure indulgence. Shapes and lines taking form. The steep descent of Jay’s nose. The sweetheart curve of Alice’s lips.
They had months of work ahead before Alice would be capable of receiving the pleasure he intended to show her. The three of them as one body moving in concert, her softness the cushion between Jay’s angular hips and his own. Their next night together would be soon enough to plant the idea.
Going forward, her responses would dictate his speed. He’d yet to introduce anal pleasure to her experience in any form; her contract answers had suggested a hint of squeamishness and fear discouraged her desire. Common enough. Easy to overcome with the proper introduction.
Taking Jay in front of her would gauge her interest. She’d responded well to witnessing Jay sucking his cock. If she’d felt jealous, she had mastered herself enough to find beauty in their love. Jay, certainly, would be enthusiastic. His eagerness and joy might serve to make Alice see the beauty in offering herself similarly.
Slowing his fingers, Henry sketched faces with more care. Soft, light strokes. Faces he could almost see in his sleep, a tender merging, shifting and reforming in unpredictable ways.
Alice was the woman he’d waited for. The perfect complement for himself and his boy. The piece they needed to be whole. With gentleness and caution, he would ensnare her until she no longer felt the need to run. Until she understood what they offered her.
Love. Forever. Home and family.
To see her round with their children. To see them riding on Jay’s shoulders, laughing with delight. To tuck them into their beds and kiss them goodnight before sliding into his own with his lovers. The dream of Christmas future.
Lifting his hand, he studied the image captured in the paper grain. Much too soon for Alice to see. Years, perhaps. Her eyes gazed at him with love. Her hands cradled an infant against her body. Jay smirked beside her, a wriggly toddler secure in his grip.
“Merry Christmas, my dear ones. May we spend the next one as a family.”