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CHAPTER FIVE: ARRESTED RESTRAINTS - PART TWO
Sam was already waiting for her outside Café Bien when Pip stepped out of her car. “Hey Sam.” She walked up to her and waved. “You get here all right?”
“Uncle Phil dropped me off.” She pointed toward Cover to Cover, one of Pip’s personal favorite places. “He’s puttering around the bookstore around the corner till we’re done.” Well, there were certainly worse places to while away time at for an hour or two, but Pip wondered why Phil was bothering.
“I could’ve given you a ride,” she pointed out. “It wouldn’t have been a problem.”
“No.” She shrugged. “I know. It’s just…” She shook her head. “He and my mom have been keeping a pretty close watch lately. They’re afraid I’ll,” she said sardonically, “wander off.”
Pip smiled, sure that was part of the reason. She knew that Phil was still a little wary about her talking to his niece. She was a last resort. And an unpredictable one, to boot. She shook her head at the email he’d sent her of all the articles he’d found, warning about the dangers of BDSM, kink, and teenage sex.
And, while many of the articles had rather surprisingly come from sites she’d thought too reputable—psychological journals and news sites—to publish such biased and skewed pieces like that, most of them hadn’t said anything she hadn’t heard before and knew to be complete bullshit. Bad analysis riddled with logical fallacies that preyed on worried parents’ and prudish finger-waggers’ confirmation biases.
After they’d been seated at one of the outdoor patio tables in the back of the café, facing the ocean, they looked at the menu and just exchanged basic small talk. They talked about Sam’s classes and Pip’s latest blog post. They talked about her mother and about Phil. And Pip told Sam a story about how Phil, last month, had tried to run the dishwasher with liquid dish soap rather than the dishwasher soap.
After sharing a good laugh at the image Pip had painted of the office dishwasher angrily gurgling up bubbles, like a rabid dog about to attack, Sam sighed and narrowed her gaze at Pip. “So did my uncle wrangle you into trying to talk me out of seeing Fischer again?”
So it was time to get into it, huh? Pip gave a half-smile. “I think he thinks he did.”
“But you’re not going to?” Sam still sounded suspicious but a little hopeful too.
Pip bit her lip and looked up thoughtfully. “Okay, requisite question time.” Her voice was light but serious. She gave Sam a studying look. “You’re not being forced or coerced into anything, right?”
Sam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she sat back. “Why does everyone just assume that I’m some kind of victim? My mom thinks I’m some naïve kid who’s going to end up just like her. My uncle thinks I’m some kind of abuse victim who needs to be in therapy.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “I’m fine; why doesn’t anyone believe me? I can be healthy and kinky at the same time, you know.”
Pip tilted her head. “Believe me,” she said, arching her eyebrow, “I know. I get it.” She, all too well, understood the sentiment. Of all people, Pip knew that kinky didn’t mean damaged or broken. “Actually, did you know that the latest, most reputable studies are showing that kinksters, on average, are psychologically healthier than our vanilla counterparts.” It was Pip’s current favorite piece of sexy science. “But, if you’re kinky, get used to people poking their nose in your business; you’ll be answering these questions for the rest of your life.”
Pip shook her head as Sam gave a disgusted sigh. “But, as annoying as it is, that’s how it should be.” She gave a resigned smile and nodded when Sam looked up at her, a surprised and more than a little appalled look on Sam’s young face. “Kink has risks. Not done right, people can get hurt. In lots of different ways. We keep each other safe by keeping an eye on each other. By making sure that we’re all doing all right.”
She picked up her drink and sipped. “And anyway, kinky or not, you want people around you who care about whether you’re being safe or not. Who check in on you. Who love you enough to worry.” She smiled at Sam, thinking of the people—Peter, Kat, Hayato, Max, and tons of others—who did that for her in her life. “And that’s the difference, whether it comes from caring—from a desire to know that you’re safe and healthy and happy—or from the automatic and judgmental assumption that what you’re doing is somehow morally wrong.”
Sam took a mindful breath. “Okay,” she said, conceding. “I can see that.” She nodded firmly. “I’m not being forced or coerced,” she recited in an obvious tone, as if by rote, before meeting Pip’s gaze with earnest honesty. “I’m having fun and Fischer is great to me.” Her brow furrowed and she frowned. “I don’t see why no one else can see that. Why they just assume that he’s some How to Catch a Predator creep who I need to be saved from.” She jutted her chin out defiantly. “I don’t need saving from anyone, least of all Fischer.”
Pip shrugged. “Look, I don’t know Fischer;” she admitted, holding up her hands, before pointing out, “I don’t even really know you.” She took a breath and looked at Sam, who really did look so much like her uncle, she could have been his daughter. “It’s not up to me, whether you see him again or not, and it shouldn’t be.” It wasn’t Pip’s call. Sam was of age; it wasn’t really anyone’s business but her own. “All I really want is to make sure that, if you had questions, you got answers. From someone who’s been somewhere near where you are now.”
Sam gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Ever since you joined Infommunity, I’ve read everything you’ve written. I listen to your podcast weekly. And Fischer’s answered a ton of my questions already.”
“And you met him on a Steele’s Edge fansite?” Pip tilted her head suspiciously.
Sam nodded, the excited smile of someone who’d discovered a secret on her face. God, Pip remembered that feeling. “Steele’s Secret,” the young girl said. “It’s just a big community of people who love Elliette Roberts and the book and just want to talk about it and learn more about BDSM and everything.”
“So,” Pip asked, trying not to sound too judgmental while still making her point, “it’s mostly a site made up of people who don’t do BDSM themselves, right?”
“There are some kinksters there.” Sam shrugged, a little more unsure. “Like, Fisher’s been doing it since college.”
Really? Pip’s eyebrow raised. “Is he involved in any of the local communities?”
“You mean outside the Steele’s Secret site?” Sam asked. When Pip nodded, the young girl just shrugged. “Maybe. But not that I know of.”
Pip fought the urge to frown. “It’s just that,” Pip said, “I’ve been an active part of the largest local community for about seven years now.” She shook her head. “And I don’t know him.”
She saw Sam bite her lip. “But it’s not like you know everyone in the community, right?”
Pip conceded. “No, but I’m pretty well-connected,” she said, “even among other communities. And, if Fischer’s been doing this as long as he says he has and I don’t know him…” She let that thought hang. It didn’t automatically make him a liar or a bad guy; it just seemed odd. “Did you get references from past partners? Or has he introduced you to people who can vouch for him?”
“He’s told me about them.” Sam frowned and hedged. “And, like you’ve said, it’s a private world. Wouldn’t giving out references kind of be like outing?”
“Is that what he told you, when you asked for references?” Pip’s brow furrowed as she frowned.
“No,” Sam said, making it sound as if Fischer hadn’t specifically said it, but had probably hinted at it. Hard.
“It’s kind of the nice thing about being part of a community.” Pip smiled. “BDSM is a private world. One that you’ll have to hide and keep secret from most of the people in your life, because they just won’t understand. But, like I said, being part of a community means that you have people who care about each other, people you trust with your secrets and who trust you with theirs.”
A longing look lit in Sam’s gray eyes. “Sounds nice.”
“It is.” Pip nodded. “You ever think about joining one?”
“Can I?” Sam sounded doubtful but intrigued.
“I know the girl who runs CinKY, the local College Kinky Youth program.” Pip pursed her lips thoughtfully. “It’s meant for college students, but I’m sure I could talk to her. It’s not a play group,” she clarified. “It’s meant as an informational meet-up for people who are curious about kink to learn about it—what kind of kink is available out there and how to do it safely, sanely, and consensually.” Which was what Pip thought Sam really needed. “And, once you get involved in that, it’s much easier to get to know and join other groups. To really build your community.”
“That sounds really cool,” Sam said with a smile. “I could be interested in trying out something like that.”
“And,” Pip suggested, “if you wanted to try out a site run and enjoyed by actual kinksters, my friend, Peter, runs a site you might want to join.” She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote out SyncKink’s address. “Again, it’s all about awareness and learning how real people do kink smart.”
Sam grinned as she took the slip of paper, clutching it in her hand like a treasure map. “Thanks.” She stared at it as if she were committing the letters to memory. “I’ll definitely be checking this out.”
“I put my username on the end there.” Pip pointed to the bottom of the page. “You should come find me, check out some of the groups I’ve joined. If you’re a fan of my blog and podcast, you’ll love this site.” Pip pulled out another piece of paper and wrote down her cell number and personal email address. “And, if you ever just want to talk, about anything,” she said as she handed over the second piece of paper, “feel free to contact me. Anytime.”
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