back. I didn’t understand what she said, but I felt the vibrations flow from her chest to mine. I pulled the hair back from her face, nestled my mouth against the back of her neck and gave her a kiss. “Good night.”
In the morning, we slipped out of bed quietly, before she woke, and we were gone.
I saw Alexa again later that week—the last time I’d probably see her before we were shipped out. My relationship with Gwen had really brought us closer. I had so much I knew I could learn from Alexa and her experiences. I had many questions for her, but mostly I just knew that I should listen. I knew enough to know that I didn’t know much.
We went for dinner on the pier and then we took a walk along the beach. It was a cool enough evening that there weren’t many people out, but it wasn’t cold enough to be uncomfortable. Alexa didn’t see it that way. She shivered, and I gave her my jacket.
She got me up to date on what was going on with Mom and Dad. I had very little contact with Mom and much less with Dad. Alexa encouraged me to reach out to them. “Mom worries about you,” she said. “It would mean so much to her if you reached out before you left.”
I put my arm around her and we walked along the beach in silence. I knew she was right. But I doubted I would act on her encouragement; I had my own worries to deal with, and those of Gwen. Besides, what could I say to them? I couldn’t tell them about Gwen, and she was the most important thing in my life now. I couldn’t tell them about the deployment, that would only make them worry.
Without anything to say to them, it made it difficult for me to reach out. We’d never been close, really. And these last few years we’d become even less so.
“I don’t have anything to say to them,” I said. “We’re strangers.”
“They’re your parents, and they love you.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“I hope so.”
When we walked back to her car, I mustered up the courage to ask her the question that had been burning in me for some time now.
“Alexa?”
“Axel.”
“There’s this thing I wanted to ask you about.”
“Ask away.”
“It’s this thing; it’s like a game we play,” I started timidly.
“You and the squad?”
“And Gwen.” I cleared my throat. “We treat her like she’s our property.”
Alexa slowed down and looked at me with wide eyes.
“We don’t treat her like she’s our property,” I said defensively. “It’s more like the way we talk; it’s like a game.”
Alexa didn’t say anything, so I continued.
“I don’t know, at first it was fun; it was funny.” I rubbed my chin. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say. I knew, though, that I was uncomfortable and that I had a hard time finding the words to express why. “But I know she’s not my property. I respect her. I care about her. But—”
“But?”
I kicked at the sand in frustration. “You know, I think she gets off on it. Does that make sense?”
Alexa cocked her head to the side then straightened. “Well, I don’t know Gwen. But, it’s not unheard of that some women like that sort of thing; they like to be dominated; they like to feel that the man is in control, in control of them.”
I kicked more sand and rubbed my chin again. “I want to give her what she wants. If she wants to be dominated, I’ll dominate her. But, if I’m being honest, treating her like property, even if it’s just a game, that doesn’t feel right to me.”
“Have you talked to her about this?”
“How can I?”
“Just like you’re doing now with me.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
“Explain.”
“If I admit I don’t feel comfortable with it, well, she’s very easy-going and accommodating. She’ll agree that we should change this perspective. But she’ll say that, she’ll do that because she wants me to be comfortable.”
“And?”
“And I want her to be happy. I want to give her what she wants. To hell with my comfort.”
Alexa chuckled.
“Also, if I tell her I don’t feel comfortable dominating her and she wants to be dominated, that would just make me look weak when she wants me to appear strong. Do you see my dilemma?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think I get it. It’s interesting to hear from a guy’s perspective.”
“Being a guy isn’t easy.”
She smirked. “Please! Don’t even