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“The past is not dead. In fact, it's not even past.”
— William Faulkner
After his clients were gone, André reflected how complex the mind could be. For the sake of sanity, people needed to talk about serious problems, yet they rarely wish to discuss them. Perhaps they feared that others would see them as weak. Or they don’t want to upset their families. Maybe they worried people would think they are asking for sympathy. Wanting to be strong, they don’t ask for help.
No one wants to revisit bad memories. Filled with regrets, people blame themselves. They feel ashamed. Millions of years of evolution influence behavior, causing humans to seek pleasure and avoid suffering.
Checking his phone, he discovered two messages. One, a confused, disjointed communication from the handsome gentleman from the bar, which made him smile. The other from Tina Kirkland—currently undercover as Tina Buckley—which puzzled him. He phoned Tina first.
“Hello, André,” she said. “Thank you for returning my call.”
“It is nothing. Excusez-moi, excuse me, what is the difficulty? I am not certain I comprehend the message you left.”
“I don’t trust Max O’Neal. I think he’s a player.”
“A player?”
“You know, the kinda guy who nails as many different women as possible, as often as he can?”
“Max O’Neal?” André laughed, a rich, joyful sound. “Mon Dieu, je ne le crois pas!” My God, I don’t believe it. “Ma Belle, in the contract he has promised to be faithful, and he will be. He is not a liar, nor is he disloyal. I fear your observation says more about you than Monsieur O’Neal.”
“You think I’m a player?
“Non, je ne crois pas.” No, I do not believe so. “More than one man has betrayed you, yes? Now when you look at men, you only see deceit and treachery.”
“But he was hugging another woman!”
“I am persuaded there is a reason for his actions. A good reason. Do you trust me?”
“Of course, I trust you! It’s the mechanic I have my doubts about!”
André chuckled. “Max O’Neal will not be with another while he is your Dom, je le jure.” I swear it. “In fact, I would stake my life on his fidelity.”
“I see.” She paused, considering his passion and vehemence. “That’s a pretty serious bet.”
“It is.”
“Huh.” Tina paused, then said, “Since you’re so sure he isn’t a cheater, I know exactly how I’ll proceed.”
“Oh? Alors tu veux faire quoi?” So what do you want to do?
“Well, O’Neal hired me, which was the first part of our plan. The second part was keeping the position for a couple weeks while getting to know O’Neal as a person—not only as a Dom, right?”
“Bien sûr.” Of course.
“Well, I’m thinking of changing our strategy. You see, I like working here, and it’s fun being homely. There is a secret joy in being recognized and liked as me instead of a good-looking body.”
“Mm?” André encouraged.
“I’m trying to figure him out. Why did he hire and hug that young woman for a job that wasn’t even advertised? Why is he so deliciously dominant in the bedroom, but incredibly soft-hearted and tolerant outside of it?”
“Soft-hearted?”
“Heh. I’m not sure if that’s the right word for a man who gets off giving pain. The thing is, I was overbearing and annoying in my interview, and my behavior amused him. I expected him to get in my face for being a pain in the ass.”
“I see.”
“I know it’s a double standard. I want to be accepted as myself, yet thanks to O’Neal’s size, I can’t stop seeing him as a big, clumsy, uncultured brute. But he isn’t a brute, and there is nothing clumsy about him. As an employer he has no bossy male swagger, nor does he give authoritative, ‘I-have-a-big-dick’ commands. His voice is soft, his manners appealing. I’ve never known a man like him.”
“I am delighted!”
“The thing is, I want to keep up my little charade longer than we originally planned.”
“Oh?” he asked, the word an inquisitive lilt. “You do not intend to reveal your identity, but to what purpose? He has achieved the conditions we agreed upon. He ignored your unsightly persona and treated you well. Further, you and Monsieur O’Neal are sexually compatible. What else is there?”
“I’ve decided to set the bar higher.”
“Oh?”
Tina hesitated. “I want to discover if Max O’Neal can be attracted to me. You know, the real me despite my appearance? It might be fun to test him, push him, and tease him. You know, to see if he’ll take it? Hell, maybe I can even get him to open up and say more than two syllables at a time.”
André laughed, a joyous burst of happiness. It was a brief and musical sound.
Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “What’re the chances Mr. Beefcake falls in love with a determined but ugly girl?” Hand to my mouth, I snicker. “Not butt ugly.” I snort. “I meant a strongminded, unattractive girl. Someone who gives as good as she gets.”
Profound silence filled the phone as the idea of tormenting the sadist seeped into both their thoughts. Waving a red flag to a bull came to mind. The idea was preposterous.
It was also exciting.
Then suddenly and simultaneously, André and Tina burst out laughing.
