The First Bad Man. Миранда Джулай

      She became very still. “He is married. He has a wife and family in Amsterdam.”

      “But your relationship with him is . . . ?”

      “Three days a year I take on a submissive role. It’s a game we like to play, an immensely satisfying adult game.” She kept her eyes on the ceiling, waiting for my next question.

      “How did you meet?”

      “He was my patient. And then, many years later, long after he had stopped analysis with me, we met again in a rebirthing class and he told me he was looking for an office, so I suggested this arrangement. That was about eight years ago.”

      “You suggested just the part about the office or the whole thing?”

      “I’m a mature woman, Cheryl—I ask for what I want, and if the desire isn’t mutual, well, at least I haven’t wasted any time thinking about it.”

      I came out from behind the screen and sat down again, carefully placing the takeout container next to my purse.

      “Is it sexual?”

      “Making love is something he can do with his wife. Our relationship is much more powerful and moving to me if we don’t compact our energy into our genitals.”