“Yeah.”
She began twisting her hair in her finger again. “Just Google BDSM and start reading all you can. Jesus. Have Luke do the same. Jesus fuck. Google what a safe word is. It’s a word you two agree on, and when you’ve had enough, or you’re uncomfortable, you say it, and whatever is going on, no matter what, stops. It’s to keep you safe and him out of jail.”
I leaned forward and cleared my throat. “Don’t get mad, but what does BDSM stand for. I mean, I kind of know, but I don’t.”
She rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “You’re funny. So, you kind of know and you kind of don’t, huh? It’s okay. BDSM stands for a lot of things. The B and D stand for bondage and discipline. Then, the D and S stand for dominance and submission. And, the S and the M stand for sadism and masochism.”
“Oh, yeah. Luke said he read about himself and he’s a maso-whatever.”
“He’s a masochist?”
I nodded. “That’s what he said.”
She grinned. “Nice. Hope you like being humiliated and you’re into pain.”
“It’s okay. I mean I like so far. But, can I ask you more?”
She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go in about thirty, but sure.”
“We were having sex and he slapped me. Like hard. Really hard. And he choked me really hard. And. Well. I uhhm, I liked it. I mean I really liked it. So, is there something wrong with me? I mean, I wasn’t like abused or anything when I was a kid.”
She laughed a gentle laugh. “No, there’s nothing wrong with you. There’s hundreds of thousands of people just like you and me. Here’s the math.”
She glanced over each shoulder and craned her neck as she peered past me and around the restaurant. “Well, seven out of ten fantasize about it, and four out of ten are into it. In this restaurant right now, there’s twenty people. So, there’s two more in here just like us. And these types of relationships are healthy, as long as you have a safe word.”
“Wow, really? So you know a lot about this Where do you get all your, you know, information?”
She shrugged. “Reading. Munches...”
“What’s a munch?”
“A meeting with other people who are into it. It’s just a gathering. Like when the surfers gather around a bonfire. Only it’s Doms and subs at a hotel banquet room or whatever.”
“Really?”
“Yea, really.”
“Wow. Okay,” I said. “I really appreciate all the help.”
“Luke.” She shook her head and grinned. “Who would have guessed you’d bag Luke fucking Eagan. Wow. You know, I thought you’d just be besties forever.”
“I know, right?”
I wasn’t really embarrassed about it, but I decided not to tell her we were just fuck buddies.
“Okay, I need to get. So, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”
“Uhhm. Safe word.”
She slid out of the booth and stood. “Give me a call anytime. I mean it.”
I gave her a hug and told her goodbye. After a moment of contemplation, I sat down in the booth and decided to stay for a few more minutes. I checked my phone for text messages, and upon seeing I had none, opened my browser and typed “safe word” into Google.
I read what popped up on the phone’s screen and scrolled down to the images. After clicking on a pair of handcuffs and opening all of the Google photos associated with the search, I began to click through the images.
Five minutes later, and I was anxious and horny.
Ten minutes after that, and I typed “how do I know if I’m submissive” into Google. A few minutes and one test later, and the results popped up:
Hello, subbie. You’re 88% submissive.
I stared at the screen and grinned.
I think it’s time Luke and I had another talk.
CHAPTER TEN
LUKE
I stood at the door of the paint booth and admired the contrast between white and orange. I may have been colorblind, but I wasn’t blind to beauty. The board was beautiful.
The door opening diverted my attention from the board to the other side of the shop.
“You Luke?” the man asked.
“Sure am. How can I help you?”
He appeared to be in his early thirties, had shoulder-length sun-bleached hair that resembled a cotton ball, and the skin tone of a man who spent his leisure time in the sun. Dressed in seasonal attire of shorts and a surf tank, he looked at home in the shop.
“I need a board built,” he said.
“If you’re in a hurry, you’ll need to go somewhere else.”
He glanced around the shop. “Waited this long, so a little longer won’t hurt.”
“You a local?”
“El Cajon.”
“Where’s your favorite spot?”
I found that asking people how well they surfed – or to describe their abilities – left far too much up to interpretation. A surfer’s pride in himself often caused responses to be slightly more braggadocio and far less accurate. The location of their favorite spot told me much more information about what types of waves they were able to ride, and how fast or slow the board needed to be.
“Right here,” he said, tossing his head toward the door.
“Good old Mission Beach. Ever hit Oceanside Pier, Scripp’s, Cardiff, or Black’s?”
“I could hit those spots, but I don’t. Well, all but Black’s.” He coughed a laugh. “I’m too young to die. Especially doing something I enjoy as much as surfing.”
His responses provided all the information I needed to hear to agree to make him a board. As always, however, I was curious.
“Why here?”
“Dude. Really? You’re Luke Eagan. I spent a lot of time wondering why you were so much better than everyone else, and after a few years of watching you at Black’s and up at Seal, it just came to me. You know, no disrespect, but everyone says you’re an arrogant prick.”
I placed my hands on my hips and grinned.
He ran his hands through his blonde fluff and continued. “When I surf, I try to get in a zone, you know, clear my head of everything else. Doesn’t really work, but it sounds good. But when I watched you for all that time, I realized something. For you, there is nothing else. Ever. You’re not a prick, you’re just focused.”
Many people watched me surf, but I had always been humbled by those who watched me out of desire and not out of interest.
“I appreciate it,” I said.
He brushed the sand from his shorts, and then looked like he was embarrassed for having done so. He glanced up and grinned. “When a man makes something with his hands, a small part of him is transferred to what it is he’s crafted. At least that’s my belief. Not too many making boards by hand anymore.”
Completely satisfied by his response, I stood silently and let it resonate within me.
“So, that’s why I’m here,” he said.
“Why do you surf?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Yeah, why.”
“Kind of hard for me to explain,” he said.
“Give it a try.”
He gazed down at the floor. After a moment, he shifted his eyes up to meet mine. “I don’t know that everyone would agree with me, but I think I’m part of this earth. You know, nature. I mean, I’m not some man-made piece of machinery. For me to embrace life, I need to embrace nature. Become one with the earth. There’s two ways to do that as far as I’m concerned. Floating through the sky or surfing. I’m afraid of heights. So, I surf. Or I try at least.”
I cleared my throat. “You like short, mushy waves?”
He nodded.
“I can make you a fishy little board that’ll be easy to ride, and give you a lot of speed if you want it. I can make the rocker flat enough to go fast, and have enough curve to get the turns you want. Something with a low entry, a little bit low through the center, and then the tail will need to drop out,” I said.
“What are
you? About five nine?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he said.
“I’d recommend about four inches shorter than you are tall. About five-five. Single concave in the center, and into a double at the fins. It’ll be an easy board – but have a lot of maneuverability – and it’ll be fast on low waves. Everybody wants to go fast.”
“How much time are you thinking?” he asked.
I shrugged. “How’s two weeks from Friday sound?”
“Sounds awesome. Depending on what time you get it done, I might get some surfing in. I’m off on Fridays. We’re working four tens right now. By the way, I’m Perry,” he said as he extended his hand.
I shook his hand and grinned. “Luke. And I’ll have it done late on the Thursday night before. So, you can pick it up Friday anytime.”
He reached for his wallet. “Pay for it now?”
“Pay when you take it out of the shop. After you’re sure you want it, I said. “Six hundred sound good?”
“Sounds cheap for a Luke Eagan custom.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “After you pick it up, we’ll go down to the beach and I’ll give you some tips.”
He folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned back as if waiting for the punch line to a joke. “You’re not serious. Are you?”
I clenched my fist, extended my thumb and pinkie finger, and twisted it back and forth. In Hawaii the gesture was called the shaka, in California, we surfers called the hang loose or hang ten. In any culture it was a greeting, a departure and a smile – all in one.
“My girl works till 3:30, so whatever time you get here, we’ll just head down there,” I said.
“Dude. Wow. Yeah. I’ll uhhm. I’ll be here at like. Yeah, what time do you open?”
I chuckled. “I live upstairs. I open when the sun comes up.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. “Right on.”
“Okay. See you two weeks from Friday,” I said. “And it was nice to meet you, Perry.”
He reached toward me with his open hand. “Yeah, same.”
I shook his hand and he walked away, gazing around the shop as he left. All of the surf shops I had ever been in sold boards, leashes, shoes, shirts, trinkets, necklaces, sunglasses, and everything else a person may want for a day at the beach.
Other than the desire, my shop sold everything needed to surf.
Surfboards and fins.
And that was it.
The walls were lined with surfboards, none of which were for sale. Each one held with it a memory. A place in time, an accomplishment, an unavoidable situation, or a turning point.
I glanced at the most recent addition to my collection.
Placed on the wall on the day Liv and I had sex for the first time, the board was one of my personal favorites. A long high-performance step-up with a single concave throughout, it was the board I began riding the day after the previous year’s big storm. I glanced beside it. A high performance short that was flat at the feet and had a slight “V” at the tail was one I had ridden from the time Valerie and I broke up until the day of the storm. Some of the best waves I had caught were on that particular board, and the memories held with it were rich.
I grinned as I turned and admired teach of the boards. The memories they brought with them was better than a photograph or an embellished story that changed as it was told over time.
My life, one board at a time, was on display for all to see.
But, no differently than when a person watched me surf, the observer had no idea what was beyond the surface of what they were seeing.
None at all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LIV
The ocean provided me a level of peace that made it impossible to think about living anywhere that didn’t have access to a beach. After high school, my parents moved to St. Louis. I chose to stay in San Diego and go to college. My father’s job required them to move; but to me, San Diego was my home. By the time I was five I had lived in Chicago and Washington, D.C., but southern California was the only place I really remembered.
With my heels pressed against my butt and my knees tight to my chest, I gazed out at the horizon. As far as I could see, there was nothing but water. Gentle waves washed up to the shore, bringing with them the bits and pieces of life too weak to resist the strength of the current.
“If I was going to compare you to something out there,” I said, tossing my head toward the horizon. “It’d be a shark.”
Luke raised his head from the towel and turned to the side. “A shark?”
“Uh huh.”
“Sharks are assholes. I’m not a shark. They’re predators. I’d say I’d have to be…” he paused and lowered his head.
“A starfish,” he said as he glanced up. “They can recover from their wounds – even vicious ones. They can regenerate even if they’re cut in two, and some species can grow an entire new starfish from the severed leg of another.”
“I wanna be a starfish,” I said.
“You can be a clownfish. They’re beautiful and playful. Hell, everyone loves a clownfish.”
“I hate clowns,” I said. “And I don’t want to be a fish that looks like one. We can both be starfish.”
He chuckled. “Okay. And remind me when Halloween comes. I need to dress up like a clown.”
“Last year you were a pimp,” I said. “With a purple fur coat.”
“And you were my hooker.”
“That was a good party,” I said.
The previous Halloween, my boss invited me to his costume party. He lived in an upscale neighborhood in La Jolla, and had invited most of the people from the office to attend. Luke and I went together, which wasn’t uncommon, but the party was. Amongst some of the city’s richest residents, we had an absolute blast, playing the part of the hooker and the pimp.
Neither of us were as drunk as everyone else at the party. Partially because our sober state, but more so due to Luke’s fabulous dance moves, we won late-night dance contest. All in all, the party was a great time, and the memories of it were still fresh on my mind.
It seemed I pushed some memories out of my mind completely to make room for the precious ones I wanted to keep. The Halloween party was a keeper.
“No,” he said. “It was a great party. Good times. Really good times.”
He rolled onto his back and brushed the sand from his chest and stomach. His mid-summer tan was deep and dark, and the top layer of his hair had become a light brown. Each time he swiped his hand across his stomach, the muscles on his upper arm flared. At times, for me at least, it was easy to get lost in admiring Luke.
This was one of those times.
Resting on his elbows with his shoulders elevated from the towel, he gazed out at the ocean. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I responded.
I turned to face him. “Could you live without surfing?”
He continued to silently stare for some time before responding. “I suppose so. I wouldn’t like it, but I could.”
“Without the ocean?”
“Wow. I don’t like thinking about it, but yeah. I could.”
“The two things you love the most,” I said. “And you could do without ‘em. Not me. I can’t imagine not having the ocean. That’s what I’ve been thinking about.”
“If you grew up in fucking Denver or whatever – no, let’s say Omaha. If you grew up in fucking Omaha, Nebraska or something. Yeah, let’s say Omaha, and your parents moved to St. Louis after high school. Would you have gone?” he asked.
“Are you in Omaha with me?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No, Liv. I’m right here. Kicking it at the beach in SD.”
“Probably,” I responded. “There wouldn’t have been any reason for me to stay.”
“So did you stay here for the beach or for me?” he asked.
I gazed out across the endless ocean. “A little of both.”
He continued to sit and silen
tly stare toward the horizon. After a moment, I cleared my throat and began a new line of questioning. “What are you not willing to give up? You said you could lose surfing and the ocean and live through it. But what would crush you?”
“What would crush me if I lost it? That’s an easy one,” he responded.
He tilted his head toward me. “You. I can’t imagine not having you. Cant, and wont.”
My throat constricted and my mouth went dry. I swallowed hard and grinned. “That’s sweet. Thank you.”
“It’s true. No need to thank me.” He rolled from the towel, pushed himself up to his knees, and stood.
I tried to hide my excitement from hearing him say he couldn’t live without me, but I doubt I did a good job. I’d never been good at hiding much of anything, and my feelings were no exception.
He loomed over me, seeming much taller than he actually was. “What are you thinking about?”
I scrunched my nose and acted like I was searching for an answer, but I didn’t have to. I was thinking of him. Being with him on a bigger scale. For real. In a relationship. A real relationship.
“You,” I said.
There, I said it.
“What about me?”
“Everything.”
He laughed. “You’re thinking about everything about me?”
“Don’t be difficult. No, not everything. Just, I don’t know. Thinking.”
“That’s what I’m asking, Liv. About what? You’ve been staring out at the waves for the last hour and a half. What’s on your mind?”
I knew better than to tell him the truth. We’d talked about it too many times, and he made himself crystal clear. Luke was scared to death of losing me, and even though I knew there was nothing he could do to cause me to leave him, convincing him of that was impossible. He felt whatever caused his relationship with Valerie to end was something that naturally occurred as a result of him being who he was.
Although I didn’t know exactly what it was that caused the breakup, I also knew it didn’t matter, at least not for now. I actually had everything I needed with our current arrangement. I had Luke, I spent as much time with him as I would if we were married, and we were having sex.
“I was just thinking how grateful I am to have you in my life,” I said.