Em
When I got home on Friday evening, there was a surprise waiting in my lobby: Abby.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She stood up and followed me to the elevator. “I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d drop by. Are you busy tonight?”
“Yes. I’ve got a date.”
“With Ian?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“You don’t look surprised to see me,” Abby said.
“You’ve been messaging me daily asking how things are going with Ian. I’m shocked you held out this long.”
“Mason said I had to give you guys privacy,” she admitted.
We got up to my place. “I’m kind of pressed for time. Would it be okay if I showered first and then we talked while I get ready?”
Abby kicked off her shoes. “That’s fine. Can I help myself to a snack?”
“Sure. I baked cookies. They’re in the cookie jar,” I said.
I wanted to get completely ready for Ian: cleansed, defoliated, and moisturized, because no part of my body was off limits when it came to sex with Ian.
After my shower, I opened my closet door to find the perfect outfit for tonight. Ian was surprisingly old-fashioned when it came to dating. He would ask me out ahead of time and then make the plans. As a person who liked to organize things, it was a struggle to let go of the reins. Abby once said I needed to be the boss of my relationships. But Ian would rebel against any agendas I set up. He liked to do his own thing. But since we were only temporary, I went along with Ian’s ways.
I chose a blue jersey wrap dress. It had a rippling hem, which would be perfect for dancing.
“You decent?” Abby called out, and then walked in without waiting for an answer. She had a cookie in one hand and a canned Mai Tai in the other.
“Starting the weekend early?” I asked.
“It’s a baby drink,” she said. “Low cal, low alcohol.”
“Not that low alcohol,” I warned her.
“Pffft,” said Abby. “So, how is Ian in bed?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“What? How is this fair? You called me on the morning after I first slept with Mason and wanted all the details.”
I applied my mascara. “I’m trying to be more like Ian. He doesn’t talk about his conquests.”
“Ian doesn’t volunteer information about anything other than Maple Leaf wins,” she said.
“I feel that talking betrays our intimate trust.”
Abby made a loud honking noise to express her opinion of this. Then she peered at me. “You’re all dressed up. Where are you guys going?”
“We’re going dancing.”
“Wow. A guy who likes to dance. You’re so lucky.” She had a sip of Mai Tai. “It’s funny because all the time I’ve known Ian, I’ve never thought too much about what he does on his dates. He always has a girlfriend, but we never double with him or anything. He’s kind of a catch, isn’t he?”
I nodded. “It’s fun going out with him. I know we’re opposites and we could never work out for real, but you were right. This is exactly what I need.”
Just then, the door buzzer sounded. Abby went off to let Ian in. I grabbed my purse and went out to meet him.
“Hey, Abby. Em.” When he smiled at me, I melted a little.
“Hey, you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed me with lips that were warm and slightly chapped. His kiss sent a tingle all the way down to my toes. I pressed myself against him, my body melding against his firm one.
“Well, if I can’t hear about your sex life, at least I can witness it,” said Abby. We broke apart, and I smoothed my hair.
“Looking good, Em,” Ian told me. He watched me zip up my boots. “Oh, don’t forget, bring dancing shoes. The strappy kind.” That seemed weirdly specific. Was this a kink of Ian’s?
“What are you and Mason doing tonight?” I asked Abby.
“We’re meeting his parents for dinner and then going to see a Korean movie. In Korean,” she added, as if there were any other kind. “And before you tell me what a wonderful wife and daughter-in-law I am, I know.” Mason and his parents were into serious Asian films too; it wasn’t going to be some zany k-drama.
“I’m sure it will be a delicious dinner,” I said.
“Yes. But I can’t eat too much because if I fall asleep during the movie, I’ll be in deep doo doo,” she said.
The three of us left together. We offered to drop Abby off at her in-laws condo, but she wanted to walk.
Instead of the downtown club I was expecting, Ian drove to a nondescript building in Ottawa South. “What is this place?” I asked.
“A dance club.”
When we walked in, there were two women in their fifties at a greeting table.
“Ian!” One of the women, a hennaed redhead, jumped up and hugged him. “So good to see you again.”
“Adele. How you doing?”
“Better now that you’re here. You save a dance for me, okay?” She beamed at him.
Ian introduced me, and she greeted me happily. “Em, don’t let go of this one. He’s one in a million. Used to be my next-door neighbour. He took the worst house on the block and made it the nicest.”
“Hope the people that moved in are being good to you,” Ian said, as he bought our tickets.
“They’re fine.” She winked at me. “But nothing beats seeing you doing yard work shirtless.”
Then with a cackle, she moved on to the next people in line.
The room was sparse with folding tables and chairs around the perimeter. Most of the people here were Adele’s age or older, but there were a few who were our age. We got drinks and sat down. There was a big dance floor, but nobody was dancing.
“So, Adele told you about this place?” I asked. I was a little nervous. I’d never done ballroom dancing before, and from the looks of the crowd, they were experienced. All the women were wearing similar ankle-strapped shoes.
“Yeah. She kept nagging me to come. But it’s a good time.”
Then a well-dressed couple walked to the front of the room. Sultry Latin music started, and people spilled onto the dance floor.
“What’s going on?” I asked Ian, as he took me by the hand and led me out.
“First hour is a dance lesson. Then it’s open dancing.”
Oh, that was a relief. At least I wouldn’t be a complete newbie.
“Tonight, we’re learning the rhumba. The dance of love,” said the male instructor, René. A flutter went over the crowd.
First, they taught the rhumba step. It was kind of a sliding square and not too difficult. But I could tell that my dancing was not as fluid as the teachers’.
“Next, we add the Cuban motion,” said the female instructor, Kiki. “You have to rrrrrolll your hips.” She demonstrated a move that I worried would dislocate half the backs in the room. But no, even the senior ladies were rolling sexily around the room in no time.
“Relax,” said Ian. He put a hand on my hip and took my hand in the other. And then he moved me around. I forgot about the steps and just concentrated on the loose hip movement.
“Very hot,” Ian told me.
The rhumba was sexy. When I looked into Ian’s eyes and let him lead, it felt like we were one.
“You’re so good at this,” I told him. “You’ve done it before, right?”
“Nope.”
Wow. All he had to do was watch the demonstration, and he could replicate their moves perfectly. “Gosh, what’s it like to be so physically gifted?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Feels good.”
“The dance of love,” I said as we turned to face each other, our hands sliding down each other’s arms. “Doesn’t it feel like vertical foreplay?”
Ian pulled me into him. “With you, everything feels like foreplay.”
I gulped visibly. He spun me out, and the way his hips swivelled in the Cuban motion was liquid sexiness. I already knew how good he was at hip thrusts. Adele gave me a thumbs-up from across the dance floor.
The next time he spun me in, he whispered in my ear, “Got your fantasy list yet?”
“Yes.” I was the kind of student who did assignments right away—even the sex ones.
“Good girl.”
The dancing was so much fun, but there was an undercurrent of what Abby would call “suppressed sexual chemistry.” When our bodies came together, I began to hyperventilate.
Once we got back to my place, he asked for the list. I went to get it and sat beside him on the sectional.
“Here it is.” My hand trembled as I handed him the lilac index card.
He looked it over and snorted.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
He started laughing for real. I took the card from his hand and looked to see what was so humorous.
- Light bondage. (Nothing with chains, handcuffs, or mechanical restraints.) Suggest a silk scarf or tie. And not all my limbs at the same time.
- Blindfolded sex. I don’t mean both of us at the same time, but we could take turns if you want.
- Watch porn together and try something new (new to me). Prefer to use ethically produced, female-friendly porn sites.
It seemed like a reasonable list to me.
“I’m baring my soul here and you’re laughing. Just because you’ve done all these things already doesn’t mean they’re dumb. You’re the one who said to make a list.”
He held a hand up to stop me from telling him off, because he was laughing too hard to respond.
Finally, he spoke, “Jesus, Em, it’s not a magic trick where you hand me this card and we’re transported to a screening room with sex toys, lube, and…” He picked up my list and read, “Ethically produced, female-friendly porn.”
“I know that. I just thought that specificity was important,” I huffed.
Ian shook his head. “We talk. Before, after, and during. Tell me what you’re into and what you don’t like.”
“Okay.” I felt a bit less silly now. But it struck me that Ian was into communication when it came to sex, but less so when it came to personal revelations.
Ian pulled me onto his lap and deftly pulled the fabric belt from my wrap dress, causing it to fall open. He eyed my black lace bra. Or rather, what was inside.
He held up the belt. “Is this made of silk?”
It was actually a viscose/spandex blend, but I nodded. “Close enough.”
My mouth was dry as Ian turned me around and pulled the dress off completely. He held my wrists in one hand and slowly wrapped the belt around them. There was time for me to protest, to say that it was too tight or that I’d changed my mind. But I didn’t say a word. Sex with Ian was like a bungee jump into the unknown. And little risk-averse me was beginning to get addicted.
“Are we ever going to do your fantasies?” I croaked as he knotted the belt then turned me back to face him.
Ian’s smile looked dangerous, or maybe that was only my perception.
“My fantasy has always been to fuck Em Davis.”