Off Limits(89)
My new device set up and checked out, I gave Rita a call. “Hello?”
“Hello Rita, it’s Alix Nova. Uhm, I know it’s the middle of the morning and you’re probably at work, but I was kind of hoping that you might be able to find time to talk.”
“Sure,” Rita said, and I could hear real surprise as well as happiness in her voice. “I work from home, actually. I’ll text you the address. When can I expect you?”
“How about an hour? Unless you live out in Ventura County or something.”
Rita chuckled. “Nope, I live in Torrance, actually. You should be familiar with the neighborhood, right? It’s the fashion district and all for Los Angeles, I think.”
“I sure am. I’ll be there,” I said, hanging up after she’d given me the address. The drive to Torrance was easy, and I parked in front of the little fourplex that Rita lived in. I went up to the second floor, looking for apartment 2B.
Rita answered me only a few seconds after I knocked, looking vastly different than she had the night before. First of all, her hair was black. Secondly, she was wearing the ridiculous combination of a business suit top and basketball shorts. “Hey, good to see you,” she said, inviting me in. “Guess you’re wondering where the blonde hair went.”
“That and jealous of you for having a hair stylist that can do such a great dye job on short notice,” I said. “Seriously, whether you’re a natural blonde who went black or the other way around, that is impressive. But your sense of style can be called . . . original I guess.”
“Why thank you,” Rita said with a chuckle before reaching up and pulling the long black wig off her head, “but I can’t take credit for it. I wear it for work only, and I’m on lunch break right now.”
“Whoa,” I said, “that is even more impressive. I wouldn’t have guessed at all. How’d you pull that off?”
“Lots and lots of practice,” she replied, leading me into her living room. She unbuttoned her suit coat top and shrugged it off, leaving just a sleeveless blouse that, while still jarring with the pink shorts, was less so than the black jacket. She took a seat on a comfortable looking, bubbly styled chair, offering me one on the other side of the room. I saw an impressive computer setup in the corner, which she nodded to. “I do freelance work for various companies in Asia, and it helps to look the part, so I wear the suit top for video conferences along with the wig, and sometimes I even do my makeup to accentuate the Asian-ness of my features. Say what you want, most of the old men who run those companies are racist as all hell, and they barely trust me as it is with my American passport. If I didn’t have the wig, I’d lose at least a quarter of my business.”
“What about your name?” I asked.
Rita chuckled. “I have another, in fact. I’m half-Korean, although the math is weird. Both Mom and Dad were half Korean too, so I’m not sure how the DNA works out, but I have a Korean name, Kim Areum. The Chinese and Korean groups I work for go with that, and for the Japanese I go with Rita. They hate the Koreans more than they distrust Americans I think. But you didn’t come by for my insight on the racial politics of East Asia. Relax and let me tell you what I can, or at least answer what questions you’re ready for.”
“Ready for?” I said. “Okay, I guess we can start there. What do you mean?”
Rita lounged back, and I realized that the confident look that she had worn in the hallway as she sashayed away the day before was really her and not an act. She was powerful and strong, compelling in her own way. “Just asking that tells me you have a long way to go. First off, the world of BDSM is deep. There are a lot of couples—I’d say most couples, most likely—who have played around with it a bit. A bit of light spanking, stuff like that. Then on the other end are people who are not happy unless they’re dominating or submitting to the point of stuff that would make most people nauseous. And so many people have a misconception of what it is anyway. Fifty Shades and such. Tell me, from what you know, who’s in charge in a BDSM relationship?”
Rita filled me in with all the details, about the exchange of power and the use of safe words if I ever wanted to end the experience.
I thought deeply. “If I do this, what sort of things can I expect? I mean, what do you two do?”
Rita leaned back and laughed again, and I felt both shy and drawn to her. Despite the fact we were talking about Kade and their sexual history, I thought I’d like to get to know Rita better, make her a friend, even. “Kiss and tell, huh? Listen, he’s not going to yank your hair or arm lock you, and he’s definitely not into erotic asphyxiation. For him, it’s more about the control than the pain, although he’s pushed my pain buttons a few times, but only when I’ve asked him to.”
“You . . . you ask for the pain?” I said, astounded.
“To test my limits, to see if I can take it, of course. It’s an endorphin rush, like the guy who decided it would be fun to do Ironman triathlons, or the first weightlifter who said it might be a good idea to put half a ton of iron on their back and see if they could stand up with it or if it would break them in half. There are times, and Kade knows that line better than any person I sub for, that I’m quivering on the edge, pain and pleasure and everything mixing, and it’s powerful, more powerful than any drug you can think of. I’m like this far from saying our safe word, and then he rides that line right up until the point that my body explodes in the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had. I guess that isn’t quite what you want to hear, but I think you deserve honesty. But you’ll have the power, and he has his control. If you’re strong enough, you’ll see what I mean. I will tell you one thing, though.”