Risk Your Heart

He put the bags down on my dining room table.

"So," Drew said in an overly casual voice that made me instantly wary. "I have four days' vacation, and we are going to take a trip together, and get out of this heat."

My eyes widened. No, oh no. No, I couldn't handle it, not an overnight trip. Yesterday (or was it the day before?) I just got vulnerable. I can't get vulnerable again. It's too soon, and it's too intimate.

"Little slave, you're coming," he said, in a voice that was low-pitched, but more kind than demanding.

Then he whipped handcuffs out of his back pocket and snapped them on me.

"Aeeeeek!" I yelped.

He raised one eyebrow, and his face had a smug expression that said, 'Ha! Sur-p-rise.'

Drew pulled the handcuffs up, so he was holding my wrists above my head. I imagine this was a pretty interesting sight, as I was still holding my pot of creamy disgustingness.

His eyes went up to look at what I was holding. He tilted his head up and sniffed, and then he wrinkled his nose. "Sexy slave," he said. "Don't you know part of a sub's job is to take care of herself?" He took the pot away from me.

"Like by not going away with strange men?"

"I'm not that strange. You're the one with the penchant for kink."

"Still I don't think—"

"You will come to Vancouver with me, Princess Leia, and you will enjoy it."

Drew pulled me toward him and kissed me. Then he let me go abruptly, turned away and took a few steps toward the door. He tossed the handcuff key over his shoulder. "We leave tomorrow." He turned back around to look at me and smile. He pursed his lips and said in a cartoonish old lady voice, "Don't forget to pack your angry eyes. You won't need them, but don't forget to pack your angry eyes."

That didn't even make sense. "What movie is that from?" I asked.

He slapped his forehead, and looked down like I was hopeless. "Toy Story!"

"Still haven't seen it," I said.

"You should be in handcuffs. That's a crime."

I rolled my eyes.

He raised his eyebrows. "Next time you do that you're going to be punished," he said.

Oh boy.

Drew put his fingers to his lips, blew me a kiss, and let himself out.

I guess that meant I was eating dinner alone. Oh well. More of that Chinese food and delicious ice cream for me.

I bent my wrists trying to fit the little key in the lock. Turns out trying to get yourself out of handcuffs is a lot harder than I thought. Bugger. It's so easy to get oneself into them.

*

It's kind of ironic, or coincidental, or kismet, or some star-crossed super romantic fate that Drew picked Vancouver, because of all the cities in the world, this was the place I've always wanted to go the most. I don't know why. I've always been drawn there.

In the photos Vancouver's sleek buildings always look so cool. Pictures of the Capilano Suspension bridge always look like people created the ideal quaint pathway of nature's most perfect spot. The water always looks so blue and fresh.

I have a folder on my computer where I keep photos of Vancouver taken when the Aurora Borealis is visible over the skyscrapers. Northern Lights, green and eerie, floating like iridescent specters in their wispy gowns, rushing to a party in trendy downtown.

It's both neat and a little pathetic that I keep track of what's going on there, when I figured I would never go. They are making so many TV shows there now, interesting ones, like Fringe, Once Upon A Time, and Arrow. I've had this secret crush on Vancouver for years. I've never told anyone. Hmmmn. That's where Drew plans to take me on vacation.

A song, from a long time ago, way before my time, popped into my head. 'Do You Believe in Magic?' I couldn't remember who sang it. I went to my computer and looked it up. It's by a band called The Lovin' Spoonful, 1965.

Huh.

I thought about how Dr. Jeff said I should volunteer, and then I got lost and parked at a church I don't know, and the only guy there is 'in charge' of volunteers. How my car wouldn't start, so I have to spend time with said guy. How his wife died and my boyfriend died. How connected I felt from the beginning. How he counsels and heals, and I desperately need counseling and healing. How he's silly and I'm serious. He picked Vancouver.

Nope. I don't believe in magic. I don't believe in fate either.

I do believe in choice.

I'm still not going to open my heart. I mean, my heart hurts just thinking about it. I know what I am going to open though, the white cardboard box that holds my new, fancy, black leather corset with steel rings on it. Lingerie, prepare to make your Canadian debut.

*

I didn't expect a limousine to pick me up. When the chauffer opened the limo door, there was Drew. His brown hair was almost falling in his eyes because he needed a haircut. His Spiderman T-shirt was pulled tight against his chest because of his position, leaning forward toward me. He was holding a white Styrofoam to go box.

He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Come in, little slave," he said.

I got in, and the chauffer closed the door behind me.

Drew opened the to go box to reveal a perfectly made omelet and a small stack of pancakes with a smiley face drawn on top.

"I had to make sure I had something worthy of luring you out of bed and to the airport," Drew said.

How did he know I planned on spending the next few years in bed?

He cut a perfectly square piece of pancake, speared it on a fork, and held it out in front of my mouth.

"Open, baby," Drew drawled.

I did, and he waited patiently while I chewed. It was the best pancake I ever tasted.

He stabbed another piece onto the fork, but he didn't lift it directly toward my face. He made a circle in the air with it. I thought he was being playful, like a parent making an airplane motion with a kid. It took me a second to realize he had drawn a loop around my heart.

"Open," he said again before bringing the sweet pancake up to my mouth.

I closed my eyes, but good little sub that I am, I followed orders. With my mouth anyway.

Drew fed me the rest of the breakfast before feeding himself. The whole ride was quintessential Drew. Surprise romance and super class of a limo. Juxtaposed with silliness of Spiderman. Casualness of a breakfast to go with plastic silverware. Hidden message without being pushy.

I shook my head. A Dom and a nice guy. It was in total contrast to everything I had ever believed about the cruelty of reality. It was hard to take in. Yet, it was the most natural thing in the world.

Even the normal hassle of the airport seemed okay with him.

Drew took the lead in Vancouver. Without me telling him, he picked every hot spot I had dreamed about. He made a point of picking restaurants with Canada in the name, as if he could make a theme of how many places we could get great food, hear the Canadian anthem, and hear people say 'eh?' over and over.

The hotel suite was as big as my apartment. I was tired after playing tourist all day, but the prospect of making love to him in a romantic hotel room gave me a shot of adrenaline that woke me right up. There were candles everywhere, and Drew went about lighting them, giving me a somewhat bashful smile over his shoulder as he did.

I wandered toward the big bed. There was a silver ice bucket with a bottle of champagne on ice in it, and a box of chocolate-tipped strawberries, each strawberry looking extraordinarily red and vaguely carnal.

I shivered.

Drew came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

"It's too nice," I said. My heart was in my throat. I focused on two thick, white column candles in front of a mirror on the dresser. They flickered, their flames dancing hypnotically, creating the illusion that the candles were trying to get closer to one another, an amorous pair.

"Nah..." Drew said. "Besides, you deserve some nice," Drew said.

Oh God.

"You definitely deserve some nice, eh?"

I laughed at his Canadian imitation.

I will not fall in love with this guy.

"How about some romantic music?" Drew asked.

Oh no. Oh no. Ohno. No no no no.

Drew let go of me and went to a stereo player located near the TV.

I turned away from him and buried my face in my hands. It was too much.

Pitbull came roaring out of the speakers. 'Shake, shake, shake, Señora. Shake it left and right. Work, work, work it, Señora, right into my ride'.

I looked at Drew. He was bent over, facing away from me, shaking his ass and singing at the top of his lungs along with Pitbull. "My girl got a big ol' booty. Your girl's got little ol' booty." Drew was holding his hands two feet wide and then two inches wide to go with the lyrics. "My girl got a big ol' booty. Your girl's got little ol' booty."

Drew turned around, put my hands on his shoulders, and then moved my hips back and forth in a way that reminded me of a conga line. "Jump in the line. Shake your body on mine." Then Drew switched to falsetto, with a vaguely Hispanic Caribbean accent. "Let me see ya'. Jump in the line, shake your body on mine."

I tried to hold in the laughter, but I felt it bubbling up, like when someone puts regular dish soap into a dishwasher and suds multiply and spill out and flood the entire kitchen.

"Classy," I drawled. "Real romantic."

"Only the best for my baby," Drew said. He had a silly grin on his face. He also had an expression that I thought said, 'I realized you were tense, and I fixed it'.

Drew walked back to the stereo and changed the music.

An old tune that it took me a minute to recognize flooded the room. The words were slow and lovely.

'Wise men say...'

Drew held has hand out to me, palm up.

"Dance with me, baby?"

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, like I was in a trance, I took the few steps that separated us, and then I was in his arms.

"Only fools, rush, in," Drew sang softly with the track. His voice was a rich, deep baritone, warm and velvety. He swayed us back in forth, in time with the music.

"But I, can't, help, fall-ing in love, with you."

Oh shit.

Drew moved us around in tight circles, shifting our weight from one foot to the other as we danced. My head fit snugly on his shoulder. He had a great voice, and it cast a spell on me, making a small part of me believe that it was all right to let go, just a little bit, for now.

I told myself that it would be okay if Vancouver was sort of an aberration of loveliness, a little refuge, a mirage of romance that I could let myself believe, take part in, whether or not it was totally real. That thought helped me deal with the overwhelming feeling, the one that wanted to make me run out of the room screaming.

I let myself melt further and further into Drew. Into his strength. Into the hard line of his chest, and the safe embrace of his arms. I let myself melt into how good he felt. I let myself sink into that wonderful smell; it suddenly reminded me of forests.

Even though I braced myself, and kept part of myself apart, locked away, safe, I let myself fall deeper into the part of us that felt so connected, and felt even more connected with each laugh, with each caress, with each time Elvis and Drew sang, 'Can't help falling in love.'

I was glad when the song was over.

Really, how much can one heart take?

Drew smiled at me; it was a tender and bittersweet smile, as if he knew what I was thinking. He brushed his knuckles lightly against my cheek.

Then he went to change the music again.

'Endless Love,' by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie.

Really?

Aarrrgggghhh.

Something must have shown in my face because he said, "You don't like this song?"

I didn't answer.

"It's supposed to be the greatest love song of all time," Drew said.

I shrugged.

"I could play Alvin and the Chipmunks if you prefer."

I tried to suppress a smile.

"It's been a long day," was all I said.

"And it's not over yet." Drew came to me and bit a quick playful chomp on my neck. "I plan to feed you strawberries... and then inaugurate the bed."

*

We got an early start the next morning. The Vancouver air was cool and crisp, a distinct change from the being boiled in oil feeling I'd had all summer at home. Our first stop after breakfast was to a film location, where we got to see part of a new movie being shot. The movie was called Deadpool. I had to give Drew serious props. He was man enough he didn't seem to mind that I was watching Ryan Reynolds, sleeveless, swing a sword around looking totally hot.

I tried not to drool.

Drew and I spent the afternoon walking around downtown, taking advantage of the great weather. I took way too many photos, not caring that I looked like a tourist. Drew mugged for the camera occasionally. When we asked a passerby to take a photo of the two of us, and she said, 'You and your husband make such a lovely couple'. I felt a pang in my heart that made me want to break into tears.

I was ready to go home after that. Or at least back to the hotel.

We ordered room service. How decadent is that! But I couldn't read the menu. It was in French. Ack. La salade, that must be salad, right? Maybe I'd just stick with salad. I realized I was sticking my tongue out I was concentrating so hard.

"My sweet," Drew said.

"Mmmnnn?"

He flipped the menu over. English. Phew.

"Unless you're fluent in French?" Drew asked.

"Not in this lifetime. I'm fluent in yum though. Oh, bacon. Wow, they have a maple-coated bacon, and a bacon-on-bacon ice cream sundae. Ack. That makes me feel fat just reading it, maybe I better stick with the salad."

"Oh," Drew said. "You're being so good. Such a good girl. Are you going to be a bad girl for me later?"

YIKES.

"No comment." I wiped my forehead.

"You have to try french fries with white vinegar," Drew said.

"What?"

"French fries. With white vinegar on top."

"Who puts vinegar on french fries?" I asked.

"Canadians," Drew said.

Weird.

There were a ton of choices. Oh...there was a filet minion with lobster.

"I know what I want," Drew said, slamming his menu closed. "Do you know what you want?"

"Ahhhh...yeah."

"Okay," Drew got up and called room service. "Yes, I'd like..." he looked over at me.

"A Cesar salad with grilled chicken," I said.

"A Cesar salad with grilled chicken," Drew said into the phone. "French fries with white vinegar, the lobster tail, and..." Drew paused dramatically. "Some beaver tail."

I bit my lip.

When he hung up I burst out laughing. "You want a little bit of tail? Craving some beaver?"

He blushed slightly.

"I give up," I said. "What's beaver tail?"

"I have no idea. But it is on the menu and I am not going to miss the opportunity to say I was able to order some tail and have it sent up to my hotel room."

I smiled at him.

I am not going to fall in love with this guy. But he is pretty damn likeable. Damn funny people, always trying to get under your defenses.

"You're just jealous," Drew said. "If you'd seen it on the menu, you would have ordered it too."

"Damn straight. Abso-fuckin'-lutely."

Drew pounced, locking his hands onto the arms of my chair, caging me in. He let out a comic roar followed by a fake growl.

"All this talk of tail is making me hungry."

Me too.

I licked my lips.

"Oh baby, don't do that," Drew said. "They said this room service would be up here lickety split." He paused at how that sounded and smiled.

The food was scrumptious. I had to stop myself from moaning at every mouthful. Apparently the Canadians know what they are talking about with the white vinegar thing.

"It's like you," Drew said.

"Huh?"

"It's incredible. Surprising." His voice lowered. "Delicious." He smiled again. "And it's got a bite."

I laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"One of my many charms."

Beaver tail is a dessert. Go figure. It was a sort of pastry thing with really cold fruit inside, which was nice after the warm day we had. It had chocolate syrup over it, and was decorated with a red, candy maple leaf on top.

I put my hands over my belly. "It's a good thing I like to wear these yoga pants with the elastic waist," I said.

"Yeah," Drew said. "Not only are they convenient for making room for dessert, they're easier to get you out of quickly. Handy. So to speak."

I just shook my head.

"Come on, Lee. I've got a treat for you."

"Is it beaver?" I asked.

"You perv." Drew took a disk out of his suitcase. "It's a movie."

Huh. Movie on disk. Old school. Drew put it in the DVD player. He pressed play.

A gray desk lamp hopped across the screen.

Pixar.

"Toy Story," Drew said.

"Ahhhhh," I said.

"Come on, little sub. Come sit on the bed with me and enjoy one of the greatest animated films ever made."

Drew took a flying leap onto the bed, settled against the headboard, and patted the space next to him. He looked so joyous.

We had an amazing day. Now there was a wonderful guy, a big bed, a movie playing on the screen behind me. It was perfect, so perfect it started to freak me out.

I pulled on my bottom lip.

Drew looked at me. Every line in his face radiated concern.

He patted the space on the bed next to him, softer this time. "Come on, Leah. Let me take care of us."

Music came out of the TV speakers behind me, and a male cartoonish voice said, "Nobody move, this is a stick up!"

I started to gasp, short little breaths in through my nose that sounded like what I imagined a fish might sound like, drowning in air. A huge vise clamped down on my heart, the pieces closing in and exerting a crushing pressure.

It came out of nowhere. I was being squashed under a steamroller. I was tied to anchor and dropping in the ocean. Thousands of pounds of water pressure was squeezing the life out of me.

I expected Drew to jump up and run to me, crowding me, but he didn't. Instead, he made his facial expression super relaxed, almost doped out. He crossed his legs at the ankles, spread one arm out, and let his head loll back a little.

The edges of the room browned out and sounds fuzzed away to silence, maybe from the pressure that was stopping me from breathing.

If at all possible, Drew's body language got even more relaxed. Drew made a smooth, sort of sweeping gesture toward the chair farthest away from him, and closest to the door. The movement sort of said, 'Hey, I'm so chill, I'm whatever, but if you want to sit you can plop yourself down waaaayyyy over there.'

The vise loosened its hold.

Time had stopped for a second while a hundred horses were galloping over me, but watching how over-the-top Drew's calm was made them go away as quickly as they had barreled in.

I hadn't realized it, but when I started to panic I lost my hearing.

Then I heard Tom Hanks' voice from the TV. "Hands up! Reach for the sky!"

Then the first cartoony voice I had heard. "Oh no! It's Sheriff Woody."

I went and sat next to Drew on the bed.

His super stoned casualness disappeared. He put his arm around me. "Welcome back," he said.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem," he said. Drew pointed toward the screen.

I snuggled in to him.

I couldn't focus right away. If it was because things were so great that caused the panic attack, then the thought that he was so amazing while I was having one might make me have another attack. Best not to think at all.

I turned my attention to the movie. I didn't think I'd like it. I was drawn in, rooting for all the characters, enjoying the vibrant colors, and laughing and smiling. Before I knew it, the theme song 'You've Got a Friend in Me' was playing and the closing credits were rolling.

"Wow," I said.

Drew smiled. "Now, you're an adult," Drew said. "Yeah, sure Dom/sub kink is nice, but you haven't really passed a milestone into true adulthood until you've heard Buzz Lightyear say, 'To infinity and beyond!'"