Sacred Revelations by Harte Roxy Page B

asking him if I really am.
    “You were crying while I was in the shower,” he accuses.
    “How did you know?” I bite my bottom lip.
    “Are you all right now?” he asks, not answering my question. “Are you ready to continue?”
    “Continue?” My voice makes me sound more confused than I am. I know what he means, am I ready for him to Master me and the answer is, I really don’t know. I thought I could do this, I really did. Well, maybe I had doubts, but they were physical doubts. Could I withstand the pain? Not, could I survive the man?
    Holding him in my hand, pumping him, making him come, made him seem so much more human. Not so God-like. I don’t know what I was thinking, but his emotions never came into the picture. I worried about hurting Garrett’s feelings, but the raw emotion I just saw…can I survive if he ever reveals that part of himself?
    “Sophia?”
    I look at him, water sluicing over his shoulders, making him seem once again stone, God-like, all Master.
    No, I’m not ready to continue. I need a time out. I need time to think. I want you to call me Kitten so that I won’t forget who I really belong to. Calling me Sophia has given you an unfair advantage over my heart and that isn’t playing fair. That isn’t playing fair at all.
    “Yes, Lord Fyre, I’m ready to continue.”

Chapter 5
    “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”
    -William Shakespeare, Strange Bedfellows
    Garrett
    I lie in bed, naked, alone, very hung over and, because of my ringing cell phone and a nonstop banging at my front door, awake. I do not answer the phone. I do not answer the door. I do, however, manage to climb out of bed and throw open the heavy foam-backed drapes that trick me into thinking it is the dead of night. From my perch high aboveSan Francisco , it is not at once obvious that it is a big-time party day in the hood—but yes, it is the last Sunday of September, the sun is shining and, even as I rub the sleep out of my eyes, vanilla tourists are arriving in droves to join the downtown leather party.
    Really, I suppose there are worse things than waking up to four-hundred-thousand people in your backyard, but at the moment I can’t thing of any and the last thing I want to do is face the day. Folsom Street Fair is a party and I am in no mood to laugh, play, or check out the local and tourist eye-candy, though there promises to be eye-candy in mass quantity dressed in leather, chains, and brightly colored outrageous costumes. My heart just isn’t up to it. I miss Kitten. I hadn’t really thought what it would be like to share Folsom with her, but then I remembered how much fun I’d had with Tony our last Fair together and it dawned on me fast and cold that I didn’t have anyone to share the fun with…pounding at the door, screaming through the walls at me friends aside.
    For a moment, I wonder where Enrique is and then belatedly realize that, in my drunken stupor, I gave him permission to do Folsom with his boyfriend-of-the-week. My cell phone clangs again and I wonder why on earth I thought I needed to switch it from vibrate for the alarm to wake me. I ignore the ringing phone, ignore the pounding at my door, and head for the shower, making a list in my head of everything that needs doing this morning that didn’t get done last night to ready the Lewd Larry’s Fetish Fantasy booth for the Folsom Street Fair throng.
    It is an annual big deal that we wait all year for and then can’t wait to be over so that we can have our privacy back…or maybe it’s just me.
    With the streets roped off, our booth will be one of many lining the roads—ours offering Lewd Larry’s merchandise, Tshirts, coffee cups, shot glasses, postcards, even members-only membership packages.
    Of course, we will have gilded cages flanking our booth and a nice whipping post for those who wish to be flogged. The majority of the booths will offer kinky toys, kinky food, and everything else the alternative lifestyle