Page 191 of True Blue

Walking into the art school was maybe the most terrifying thing I’ve done, walking into that classroom for Intro to Drawing. I was completely expecting to feel out of place amongst the stereotypical artsy types I had in my head.

Instead, I found a hodgepodge of personalities in my classes, and an age range from eighteen to sixty. One of my favorite classes I’ve been taking is Illustration, and I think it’s because of the teacher.

Mr. Monty is in his seventies, used to work in cartoons until everything got computerized, but says he still believes in good old pencil and paper. He wears tie-dye T-shirts and plays Bob Marley every Friday during free-draw time, calling it: “Gnarly Marley Fridays.”

Some other things that have changed over the months include Indie slowly but surely moving Nana’s things into the house—our house. She had to pay a fee to break her lease early, and we argued over who would pay it.

Indie said that since I bought the house and paid for the repairs, she can handle the fee.

I argued that it was my fault she had to break her lease in the first place, and I wanted to pay for it so she could be here with me.

It ended with us making out like teenagers on the kitchen counter and agreeing to split the fee, and both our names would be added to the deed.

We haven’t gone further than making out. We took things a bit slower on the physical side this time around. But we do sleep together. Sleep. And Indie admitted to me that that was most likely why she wasn’t sleeping well—because I wasn’t in the bed with her, snoring like a bear.

But tonight.

We’re ready.

It’s been a slow build of tension over the last few months. These small moments have accumulated into something huge, the way a pile of pebbles can become a mountain.

So when Indie and I were kissing on the couch, her grinding in my lap and allowing me to feel her heat against my cock, I stood abruptly and carried her upstairs. She squealed and laughed, but didn’t pull her lips from mine as I maneuvered us into the bedroom.

When I placed her on the bed, I knelt in front of her and, with her nod, pulled the straps of her pretty black dress down. She lifted her hips to help me pull it off, and then gave me that sexy grin as she leaned back on her elbows.

But instead of diving in, I stood up and stepped back all the way to the door.

“Tell me what to do,” I repeat myself, Indie shaking her head immediately.

“I don't want to be mean to you, Teddy,” she says, her voice quiet.

“I don’t want you to be mean to me either, honey,” I smile at her, knowing that she’s thinking about that night in Greece. “But I want you to tell me what to do. That’s what I liked—pleasing you. You taking control.”

Indie looks torn, eyes darting left and right like she’s thinking. “You want to try this… whatever this is?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes.”

“Then we need a safe word,” Indie says, her voice clinical and firm. “I’ve been reading a little bit about it—mostly studies of abused children and how it shapes their dynamics in the future. I fucked up in Greece—yes, I did, Teddy,” Indie points at me when I go to argue, and the tone in her voice has me snapping my mouth shut, with a smile on my face.

“But, you’ve been in therapy now for a while. You’re more healed than you were. And Dr. Meyer said she thinks you’re ready—yes?”

I nod.

“Okay. I will tell you what to do, if that’s what you want?” she asks me clearly, and I confirm with another nod. She gives me a look, “Out loud, Teddy. Always your words.”

My cock is already hard, and it twitches at that.

The mix of dominance and sweetness in her words almost makes me dizzy.

“Yes, honey…” I rumble. “I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to tell me how to please you—please tell me. I want to make you feel good.”

“Such a sweet bear. Will that make you feel good?” Indie asks, her voice dropping to a low purr, and her back arches on the bed, pushing her breasts out.

I swallow hard and barely suppress a whine.

“Yes, please…”

“The minute—the very second—you’re uncomfortable, you say it and it ends,” she says. “What’s the safe word?”