“What drew you to psychology in the first place? Or was it television?”
She chuckled. “No, not television. It was a myriad of things. Mostly my upbringing, I think.”
The waiter returned with more wine. Jamie paused while he filled the glasses. After a soft, “thank you,” she continued. “When my parents died, it was rough on all of us. Zeke was sixteen and I was only six. The loss was enormous.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did they die?”
“Drunk driver.” She took another sip of wine. “They went out to celebrate their seventeenth anniversary. Never came home.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She offered a warm smile. “Thank you. Anyway. My grandparents took my brother and me in without question, but they were getting up there in age, so my brother took care of me most of the time. I don’t remember a lot about it, but I do remember it took a significant amount of time for us to get to a new sense of normal.”
“I can understand that.”
“I remember, as I got older, watching people to see how they reacted to the events that affected their lives. Especially my brother. Some people believe his Sadist routine is an act. It’s not. And while I know he’s different with me, I still see it in his interactions, saw the changes in him as I got older. When I was talking to my high school career counselor, the subject of psychology came up. She mentioned it might be suitable for my inquisitive nature. I looked more into it, found it to be an interesting prospect. But I didn’t make a firm decision to pursue it until I learned about my brother and his … needs.”
“His needs?”
Jamie smiled, took another sip of her wine, leaned forward. “I know what it means to be a Sadist. Someone who takes great pleasure in inflicting pain. And I know it’s not only sexual in nature. And it’s not only for the purpose of sexual pleasure between partners.”
“Serial killers?” I asked.
“Yes. And though I’ve recently found a fascination in the psychological makeup of that, I’ve been more interested in the aspect from my brother’s perspective. I’ve also researched masochism, trying to wrap my head around the idea of someone needing the pain in order to find release.”
“It’s not as simple as it sounds, huh?”
She seemed genuinely pleased that I hadn’t made any assumptions there.
“Not at all. When most people learn about Zeke’s dark desires, their immediate reaction is disdain, as though he’s some sort of serial killer, a man hell-bent on hurting others. That couldn’t be more wrong. And while I’m fascinated with the human mind and how we process things, I find most of my interest lies in the realm of human sexuality. More specifically, BDSM. A lot of people want to box it up, make it into something that can be defined as sexual gratification performed mostly as recreational leisure. And perhaps that’s partially true, but they’re wrong to think it’s all based on physical release.”
The woman waylaid me with her perception. For being so young, she had a much older perspective on things. Perhaps that was due to the tragedy she’d experienced early in life. “I agree, it’s certainly not all physical. But how do you make the jump from human sexuality to FBI profiling?”
“I don’t know that I can, but that doesn’t mean I won’t look more into it, see if it’s what I want. For now, I’m sticking with my first choice. Ultimately, underneath it all, I think we’re all driven by the same needs. It’s how we exert those desires that separates one from another.”
“A serial killer versus a Sadist.”
Jamie took a sip of wine. “Yes.” She sighed. “Okay, enough about serial killers. I’m more interested right now in understanding who has more power in the relationship, a Dominant or a submissive.”
“Who do you believe does?”
“The submissive,” she said easily, as if it was a no-brainer. “But that’s merely an assumption based on what little knowledge I have. There are times when I question it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Like tonight,” she added with a grin.
“What about tonight?”
She leaned in, her words barely above a whisper. “The fact that I’m not wearing panties.”
I smiled, took a sip of wine, waiting for her to continue.
“You issued the command, which gave you the power. Since you haven’t touched me, and you haven’t asked me to prove it, there’s no way for you to know whether or not I followed your order. I can only assume it’s also tied to mental stimulation.”
I considered that. “But for whom?”
Jamie laughed and sat up straight once more. “That’s a good question. I can’t seem to take my mind off of it.”
“Neither can I,” I assured her.
“So, the question is, did you do it to maintain the control?” Jamie asked. “Or more to test my limits?”
