Free Deep Surrendering: Episode Nine by Chelsea M. Cameron

“Hi,” I said, my voice coming out as a squeak.
    “Hello, Marisol.” I tried to figure out his mood based on the tone of voice he’d used, but couldn’t. Fin was good at keeping himself in check when he really wanted to.
    “So, um, we talked. She told me about the money.” She told me a lot of other things, too. That he hadn’t seen her since that one time I knew about. That she thought I was good for him.
    “She did.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t seem surprised.
    “Yes. I just don’t understand why you’d do it, and why you’d hide that from me.” I wasn’t angry, just curious. I could imagine all kinds of reasons he hadn’t told me, but I wanted to hear it from him.
    He sighed and I hopped back up on the bed. The headache was still lingering behind my eyeballs, so I dry swallowed two pills as Fin tried to put his words together.
    “I’m not sure if I can answer why I did it. I just . . . did. Maybe it was guilt, maybe I felt sorry for her, maybe a million things. At the time it was mostly in rebellion. My father had paid for her the first time, and I wanted to make up for that and show him that my money had power too. And after a few years it just became a habit. I was also visiting her regularly and she helped me through a lot of dark times. Mostly with her body, but sometimes we’d just talk. I didn’t have anyone in my life like that, so I guess it was almost like therapy. Are you upset with me?”
    “No,” I said immediately. “I’m not. If you’d lied to me and gone to see her, yeah, I sure as hell would be. But not over this. It’s really sweet in a way.”
    Fin scoffed. “If I was really sweet, I wouldn’t have tied her up so many times. But she liked it as much as I did. I used to ask her if she ever wanted to leave the lifestyle, and she always told me that it was where she belonged.”
    She’d said as much to me.
    “But that’s the thing. You didn’t do anything that she didn’t consent to,” I said.
    “I suppose. But I’m not some philanthropist, Marisol. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and even if I gave all my money away and devoted my life to serving others, it still wouldn’t undo that.”
    “Are you talking about Eduardo?” He had to know that wasn’t his fault. None of the “bad” things he’d told me about had been completely his fault. I wished I could make him see that.
    “About him, about a lot of things. I know I keep telling you that I’m not a good person, but I need you to believe me. I can be better, but I can never truly be good. Too much has happened.”
    I didn’t believe that for one second.
    “Well, I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree on that.”
    Fin chuckled. “And that, Marisol, is why you are an eternal optimist.”
    I didn’t really think of myself that way. I tended to think about worst case scenarios a lot more than I should. But maybe Fin was my exception. I just saw something in him that he couldn’t see in himself, and I’d never stop reminding him of it.
    “What else did you talk about?” he asked, and I filled him in on a few more things, but I kept some of it to myself. The talk with Sapphire had felt so intimate. She was the kind of person who could see under facades and through walls to what people were really like. It must come in handy in her line of work.
    “She’s . . . something else,” I said. There really weren’t a whole lot of words to describe Sapphire.
    “She is. She’s one of the only people I might actually call a friend.” As long as it was platonic from here on out, I didn’t have too much of a problem with them being . . . friends. Yes, it made me jealous and uncomfortable, but I could get past that for him. I could.
    “Do you think you’ll see her again? I mean, not see her, see her. Just hang out. With no bondage.”
    He laughed again. “I don’t know. It’s easier to talk to her when we’re in that place. It’s a safe space where you can’t be judged.