The Switch Ch. 08

He ended up in the bathroom, sitting in the giant tub, butt naked, having a wank. He took a deep breath, readjusted his position, and lay back, knowing he was about to cum. The porcelain was hard on his back and he could see himself in the bathroom mirror, just another sad, lonely man, having a pull in a hotel room.

It didn't matter how pathetic he was. He still came. He still cried out, clutching at his balls as he shot his load. He still felt the relief, and lack of tension, that came with orgasm. Val leant back against the bath, his face and chest splattered with his seed.

He missed her more than he would have though it possible to miss someone. Worse still, he was terrified she might die.

~~~~~~~~~

'What happened to Aimee?' Samara inquired.

Val looked up from his pizza and shrugged. 'She left me. How did you know?'

Samara took a seat. 'You're sitting outside Dominos eating a pizza on a Saturday night. It's something only a single man would do.'

He mulled that her statement, and realised it was an entirely correct assessment to make. The other men who'd come through the doors were evidently partnered. They came - often with a child or five, or their partner - picked up their pizza, and left. They had places to go. People to be with. Children to look after.

'What are you doing here?' he asked.

'Picking up takeaway for the boy's grandchildren. We're baby-sitting tonight.'

He offered her a slice of pizza, but she demurred. That wasn't entirely surprising; he'd never known her to eat junk food. Nor stoner food. She'd never smoked with him. She'd referred to it as a habit he should have left in high school, a sentiment he noticed a lot of people had. But not Aimee. Aimee had always been happy to settle down and get baked with him.

'So why did you two break up?' Samara inquired.

'She got diagnosed with cervical cancer. She had to have a hysterectomy,' he explained. 'She said she was calling things off so I could find someone fertile.'

Samara's eyes widened. 'Is she okay? Will she be having chemo?'

'I don't think so. I think they're just going to take it all out.'

Samara shook her head in disbelief. She reached into her handbag, retrieved a bottle of water, and removed the cap. 'Why aren't you supporting her?'

'Because she broke up with me. She thought the only reason I was with her was because I wanted a kid.'

'Well, you can see why she'd think that, don't you?' Samara remarked coolly. She took a sip of water. 'You pretty much treated her like she was your virgin bride, refusing to admit to her that you have some left of centre sexual habits.'

Val watched a Maori man wrangle four children out of a Tarago and into Dominos. The man was probably the same age as Val, and he already had a wife and brood of kids. A family car. A night of pizza, fighting and G rated Disney movies ahead of him.

'It wasn't just about wanting a baby,' he said eventually. It was about having a family. People to love. People who loved him. Having a purpose, rather than just mindlessly living each day, waiting for it to be over.

'Really? You could have fooled me. And Miles. And Oliver. And Kyle. We all discussed it, you know.'

'I'm sure you did.'

Samara rolled her eyes. 'You spent how long looking for a woman? A year or so? And I found you someone, I even made the initial contact with her, and you just decided to treat her like a brood mare.'

'I didn't treat her like that.'

'Yes, you did,' Samara corrected. 'You treated us like we were freaks, and her like she was an inexperienced prude. You were lucky with her. She would have played with you if you'd opened up. Instead, you made her think you were only after a gestational carrier, and you pissed off Miles by inferring that the rest of us were childish freaks who needed to grow up.'

'I didn't do that.'

'Oh yes you did,' she argued, her voice rising. 'Did you not tell Miles that you were leaving this 'shit' behind because it was time to grow up?'

Val shut the lid of the pizza box. He was no longer hungry. Truthfully, he hadn't been hungry even when he'd ordered the pizza; he'd just come here to get out of the house.

'She wouldn't have been able to do it,' he argued. 'That's why I was trying to keep her away from you guys. It wasn't a slur against you. I just wanted to make sure she didn't get freaked out.'

'Really? What makes you say that?'

He gestured helplessly. 'You saw her. She looked like a catalogue photo of a vanilla woman. In fact, if I typed that into Google images, I'm pretty sure her image would show up.'

'Bullshit.' She leant across the table. 'You know that first party you took her to? When you were cooking, and you wanted me to look after her? I took her upstairs. Turned off the video surveillance. Gave her a little turn with the boy.'

Val's blood ran cold. 'Why did you do that?'

'She wanted to. She asked me what you were like. I'd promised not to tell her, so I thought it would be easier to show her what a submissive man looked like.'

'But I'm not like Kyle.'

'No, that's true. I warned her not to put you in her lingerie unless she was rewarding you. I told her you got irrationally grumpy when your orgasm was ruined.'

'Samara, for fuck's sake...' He buried his head in his hands. 'Why?'

'Because we were trying to help you.'

He laughed despite himself. It was ironic, in a way, that the night he'd decide she wasn't ever going to be able to join their little community, was the same night that Samara had shown him exactly what they got up to.

'So she knows all my dirty secrets?' he asked.

'No.' Samara reached over the table and took his hand. 'We never told her the details. We just... pointed her in the right direction. She might have figured it out, had you not decided to hightail it off Fetlife, but you got the lot removed before she had a chance to learn all your secrets.'

He snorted. 'And she wasn't disgusted?'

'No. I have no idea why you'd think she was. She tried so hard to understand you. I hope you realise how lucky you were. The boy tried, in his earlier years, to get vanilla women to play with him. If you think it went down even half as well as it did with Aimee, you've got another think coming.'

'I really didn't want to push her away, you know?' he remarked. 'I really liked her, right from the very first time I met her. She was just so... she was really good company. I liked being around her. I enjoyed the sex. I saw a future with her, and I was just really, really keen not to do anything that might mess with that.'

'Would you have seen that same future if you'd known she was unable to have any more children?'

'Yes.' He paused and tried to collect his thoughts. 'Let me put it this way; I've always wanted a wife and kids. Always. But if you ask me to mentally imagine myself having a kid, versus imagining myself with someone who I truly loved, it's easier to picture the kid. I sort of see that as a more achievable goal. It's harder to imagine someone actually loving me back.'

'What?'

'I talked about having a kid because I wanted another one, and I thought that was a realistic goal. I didn't talk to her about love, because I didn't think she felt the way about me that I felt about her.'

Samara shook her head. 'For goodness sake, Val.'

He shrugged defensively. 'It doesn't really matter, does it? She's dumped me. It's time to move on.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Thanks Aimee, I really appreciate you staying,' Oliver said.

She shrugged. 'It's not a worry. You can't help it.'

Oliver's temporary custody agreement had been in place for a month, and it worked well - except when he had to work weekends, night shifts, or overtime. In short, it wasn't working so well for him. In desperation, he'd asked Aimee if she could baby-sit for him when the need arose. She had no issues helping out. She knew all too well what it was like to be a single parent.

Oliver opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of cordial and a bottle of cold water. They were at his house. Hers was far too small to entertain her now nine-year old son, and Oliver's two young children and besides which, it was easier to put his kids down to sleep in their own beds. Ben would nap just about anywhere.

'Want a drink?' he asked.

The thought of drinking fruit cup at eleven at night wasn't even slightly appealing. Aimee shook her head. 'No thanks,' she said. 'I'll have to wake Ben up in a minute and take him home.'

'Oh, leave him here,' Oliver offered. 'I'll drop him off tomorrow for you.'

She frowned. 'I don't know.'

'Have a drink and think about it,' he suggested. He gestured to the contents of the fridge. 'What do you want?'

'Water's fine, thanks.'

He poured a glass of water for her, and cordial for himself, and sat down at the kitchen table with her. He was always very polite with her. He was polite with everyone, in fact. Perhaps it came with being a cop.

'So how are you going?' he asked. 'Health wise.'

'All good. They got the cancer, so I should just be able to carry on with life without much issue,' she said.

'That's good.'

She nodded. 'Yeah, it is.'

'Have you heard from Val recently?'

'No,' Aimee shook her head. 'We didn't keep in touch after we broke up. How is he?'

'Morose. Pathetic, really. He's still moping around about you. I thought he might have put in some effort to contact you.'

'No.' She laughed. 'I don't think it was me that he loved. He was just after someone to have a baby with. I'm sure he'll find someone. He's a nice guy, and his family are lovely. I miss the food. Well, some of it. Not all the pickled vegetables and fish; that was pretty hard going, but the dumplings and breads... that was good.'

It had been three months since that fateful day where she'd told Val she had cancer. Getting over him had been hard. She'd loved him so strongly and deeply it had seemed impossible they'd known each other for only a few months. But something changed while she was in hospital. She understood, now, what people meant by life affirming moments. She'd faced death, and she'd realised she was fallible. She was determined to enjoy her remaining years, irrespective of how many or few of them she had left.

'Are you seeing anyone else?' he asked.

'No. I've been on a couple of dates... all of them were shit. How about you?'

He shrugged. 'I stick to the BDSM community. It means women know what they're in for with me, but on the other hand, it's a small group. No one's really struck my fancy, and vice versa. Maybe that'll change in time. People come and go.'

'Did Val return to it?' she asked curiously.

'He has, sort of. I see him around now and then, online and at Miles' house.'

'So, now that he and I aren't together, would you mind spilling the beans on him?' she asked. 'I was always so curious, but he hid everything from me.'

'I suppose he was worried about scaring you.'

Aimee sipped her water. 'He scared me because he didn't tell me. I was walking around blind, trying to figure out what everyone else already knew. It's actually one of my few regrets. I'd have liked to have had that experience; to try out something new.'

'Well, I guess there's no harm in telling you,' Oliver replied. 'Though keep in mind I only paid cursory attention to what he was doing.'

'I can appreciate that,' she said. 'Go ahead.'

Oliver shrugged. 'He's a switch. He'll take whatever role the situation calls. I'd say he's more often submissive than dominant, but when he's in the mood for it, he knows how to take control.'

She'd guessed as much, but it was good to have it confirmed. Why good? Because it had bothered her for so long. She'd tried so hard to find out. Finally having the answer felt like closure.

'Is he straight?' she asked.

Oliver gave her an odd look. 'Why do you ask that?'

'We had afternoon tea with my mother once, and she rang me that night and asked me. I hadn't really thought about it before then.'

'I'd say he's straight but flexible. I've seen him give Kyle, Samara's boy, a blow job. He also cross dresses. Did you know that?'

'You're kidding?' she said, laughing. 'I love drag queens. You're telling me I was actually dating one?'

Oliver laughed with her. 'I can see why he wouldn't have told you that. There's a difference between admiring drag queens and wanting to date one.'

Aimee didn't see much of a difference. It seemed such a ballsy thing to do, moreso because Val was, if not straight, mostly straight. Oliver was bemused by her reaction, and fished around online for a photo or two of Val in a dress.

What he showed her was not what she expected.

'Oh God, he keeps his beard,' she laughed.

'He enjoys poking fun at himself, and the world,' Oliver said with a smile. 'He always makes me laugh because in day-to-day life he's so hyper masculine. He's really one of the boys. Get a few drinks into him, and put him around people who aren't uptight, and you get this whole other side. He switches from dominant to submissive, male to mock female.'

'I wish I knew why he kept me out of that part of his life.'

Oliver shrugged and swilled his cordial around in the glass. 'He was looking to settle down. He didn't want just anyone, though, he wanted someone to love him, as well have the two point four kids he was after. When he met you, he realised he wanted you to be that woman, the one he'd marry, the one who'd have his babies. My suspicion is that he didn't want to risk what he had with you.'

She wondered if that was true. Maybe. Maybe it was just a polite way of saying 'he saw you as too stupid and inadequate to participate'.

'What's it like?' she asked suddenly.

Oliver was confused. 'What's what like?'

'Kinky sex. What's it like?'

'Oh.' He laughed. 'Whatever the people involved agree it to be like. You normally negotiate these things before actually starting anything.'

'Do you think I could come along to one of Miles' parties and see what actually goes on? Maybe find someone who's willing to, uh...' she trailed off, biting a fingernail and blushing. She may have had a fresh outlook on life, but some habits still died hard. Talking about any desire for sex was still right up there.

Oliver just replied very matter-of-factly that she was more than welcome. In fact, if she was happy to outline what she was after, he or Samara could rummage up an obliging male.

The offer was both terrifying and exciting. She chewed on her fingernail and considered whether or not to take him up on it.

'If you're not interested in doing it with a stranger, you could just call Val,' Oliver suggested. 'How long has it been since you two spoke?'

'Three months.'

'Aimee, let me just say that I have never - ever - dated a woman for a few months, and still been thinking about her months after we split. You're still talking about Val. He's still talking about you. Why not get in touch?'

She shook her head. 'No.'

Oliver shrugged. 'Well, let me know if you want me to find someone submissive or dominant to play with. The choice is yours.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His mother was busy talking about Aimee and Ben. Val was busy rolling his eyes and trying to change the topic of conversation.

'She was so nice,' his mother sighed. 'You'll never find another woman like her.'

'Val appreciate the fact that you're effectively telling him he's a loser who can't pull a woman,' Roza told their mother, giving her brother a conspiratorial glance.

Val grinned. 'My self esteem nosedives every time I return home,' he said.

'It doesn't,' his mother argued. 'You should come and live here. There's no point living on your own.'

Oh yes there was. There was the freedom to watch porn, smoke weed, come and go as he wanted, and walk around naked. He masturbated in every single room of the house and, on occasion, in the backyard at night.

'I think I'll be right at home,' Val said. 'Speaking of which, I've got to be off. I've got to catch up on some work before Monday.'

He ignored her protests and headed home to his pink house, six cats and privacy. He was nearly home when an unmarked police car behind him put on the siren that indicated he was in trouble. Shit. He'd thought it was just a regular white Commodore behind him.

Val pulled over and wound down the window. He knew he'd been speeding, and he knew a ticket was coming his way. He reached for his license and waited for the officer to approach.

'You were doing seventy-six in a sixty zone,' Oliver remarked dryly. 'Any excuse?'

'You!' Val exclaimed. 'You are going to give me a ticket?'

'You were speeding.'

Val stared at him in disbelief. It was on the tip of his tongue to point out to Oliver that this was why people got the shits with him.

'I'll cut you a favour and book you as travelling at seventy,' Oliver said. 'You'll only lose one point that way. Where's your license?'

Val handed it over as Oliver wrote up his ticket. Jesus fucking Christ, he thought to himself. The little prick. The sanctimonious, stuck-up, little prick.

'Here you go,' Oliver remarked, handing over a slip of paper. 'Watch your speedo.'

Val accepted the ticket and license with a glare. 'Thank-you, Officer. I'll do that.'

Oliver just shrugged as if to suggest he'd had no choice. Val didn't care. For fuck's sake, they were supposed to be friends. Val threw the ticket and his license onto the front passenger seat, and indicated very carefully before driving off.

It had been three months since Aimee left him. He'd slept with a random pick-up the other week, but she'd done nothing for him. She was more into mimicking a porn star than actually trying to get him off, and she'd faked an orgasm, which annoyed him. He hated faked orgasms.

The people who lived across the road were waiting for him when he arrived home. The woman had in her hands a small cardboard box, and both she and her husband wore sombre expressions.

'Can I help?' Val asked.

The woman opened the box and shoved it in his face. 'Your cats have been killing birds again.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' he said politely. 'I'm trying to keep them inside.'

'You always say that,' the husband argued. 'And yet you continue to let them run wild, killing and maiming wildlife. You need to have some respect for the Australian way of life. I don't care how you did things wherever it is you come from...'

'...Moscow,' Valery interrupted helpfully.

The man glared. 'Keep the goddamn animals inside. We've already called council countless times.'

'Then call them again, if that's what you're threatening,' Val said, locking his car. 'I'll keep the cats inside.'

As if on cue, Mister Jim appeared. The man's face turned red.

'That's not even the one that kills things,' the man shouted. 'Keep your damn animals inside, Vladimir.'

'Valery.'

The man raised his hand, ready to strike. Valery had no interest in fighting. He knew that if he laid a hand on the man, the police would be called, and he knew Oliver wouldn't cut him any slack if he was accused of assault. Val therefore settled for grabbing the man, securing him, and carting him across the road back to his house.

The wife followed, yelling. Valery ignored her. He didn't hit women, not even in bed, when he was kinky and prone to get wild.

'If you set foot on my property again, I'm going to fucking kill you,' Val told the man, in Chechen, as he dumped him on his doorstep. He hoped he sounded intimidating. He could do without any more arguments over the dead birds.

The man was quiet, but his wife was still yelling, as Valery made his way back over to his house. Valery opened his front door, went inside, and breathed in the unmistakeable smell of a home that housed six cats. Fucking stupid animals.

He cleaned their litterbox, grabbed himself a beer and settled down to work. Goddamn he was glad he'd asked for more money than they'd originally offered. Working as the store manager wasn't quite as simple as he'd assumed.