Going Too Far (The Curvy Submissive) Read Online Free Page B

were two pictures on one shelf - one of him as his father, and
one of him, me, and Brian at my 21st birthday party. Josh had closed down for
the night and invited only my closest friends. He hired a band and catered in
dozens of different kinds of cupcakes in all shapes and sizes and colors. I’d
eaten so many of them I felt sick at the very smell of buttercream for months.
    In the picture I sat in his lap, arms around his neck, absolutely
covered in glitter and adoring him to death. He was smiling, blue eyes as big
as the sky, dark hair messed from me playing with it moments before the picture
was snapped. Brian stood behind us, one arm around our shoulders and he was
actually smiling too, dimples the size of the sun.
    Our father got sick a few months later, and stayed that way
for a long time before finally succumbing to his illness. During those months
we spent night after night at the hospital, wandering hallways together,
talking - not talking - about everything. We hid in the radiology waiting room
late at night in the dark sharing headphones while our father slept.
    When it became apparent that nothing was going to fix our
dad, he began turning his life over to Brian. Suddenly, one day, he wasn’t
Brian anymore. He was a young man with our father’s frown and he didn’t want to
talk anymore. He didn’t want to listen to music or draw inappropriate cartoons
on the hallway white boards. He called me a little girl, accused me of not
taking our father’s illness seriously, ordered me to grow up. One day, he just
stopped being Brian.
    The dimples had been the first things to go.
     
     
     
4
    ____________
    Kat
     
     
    “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
    The road spilled through the woods, moonlight escaping
between the silhouettes of trees on either side. My best friend, Julie Lyons,
carved her way through the dark, winding roads towards the super-secret party I
was super crazy for having agreed to attend. Brian’s accusations, the warning
letter he’d received, even Josh had clung to my thoughts all day, leaving me
feeling anxious and tense. Despite my nerves and reservations, I knew I badly
needed an excuse to be someone else for a night.
    Julie smiled and pressed the gas. “Don’t chicken out on me
now.”
    The party belonged to Kelli Arcona. We met her last summer
when she took over as a bartender at the South River when Julie was waitressing
between semesters. She was amazing, beautiful, and sassy. We’d become fast
friends, which I had needed when my father was in the hospital.
    Kelli, as it turned out, also had a few secrets that took
the entire summer and a lot of Vodka to get her to divulge. She wore her
sexuality on her sleeve, never stayed with anyone for very long, and enjoyed a
sexual appetite that left most men unable to keep up.
    One night when Josh had a rare date and left Kelli to close
down and lock up, the three of us stayed up doing shots and dancing to Billy
Idol in our socks until four in the morning. That’s when she told us about a
private club she worked at where people came to explore the world of bondage
and submission and sex like we’d never imagined it before.
    I hadn’t even known there were such places. Had never
dreamed. It seemed so Hollywood, so fake, so fictional.
    Domination. Submission. Power play. Those words had sounded
frightening at the time, but the more she talked about it, the more often she shared
little secrets, the fear turned into a nervous, hungry curiosity. What privilege
were we missing out on?
    Over shots, Kelli described what it felt like to be tied up
and taken care of, the power exchange and deep, soul satisfying pleasure of
playing out your fantasies in a safe, consensual, honest atmosphere. She confessed
costumes, adoration, affection, tenderness. She described playing pretend and
giving in and exploration. Trust as pleasure. Make believe as longing.
    A child’s curiosity matched to an adult’s ability to
consent.
    When she described the other