Page 41 of A Taste like Sin
was a different breed. He wasn’t interested in my body, I don’t think. Just my psyche. My sanity. My
soul. But as far as the psychological trauma scale goes, we can check off daddy issues, trust issues,
and post-traumatic stress disorder.”
Is he relieved by that information? I can’t tell. He sits like stone, his head tilted toward me, conveying
that I have his full attention.
And yet…
I can’t shake the sense that he’s hiding something. Or perhaps avoiding.
“You’re uncomfortable with the notion of sex,” he points out. “Though not sexuality. You seem to have
no problem relishing in your mastery on that front.”
My cheeks burn as I remember all of the many ways he’s gotten to experience me relishing in said
sexuality.
“In fact, if I may be so bold…”
I swallow hard and scan the table in search of wine. There is none. I have to fight this battle of wits
with no armor to hide behind.
“Yes?” I croak when the passing seconds make it clear that he needs an answer. “You can be bold.”
“I’m curious if you are partial to exhibition.”
I nearly choke. By the grace of God, I spit out a reply instead. “Like what takes place at your little
club?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Like what takes place at my little club. Women, comfortable in their sex,
empowered enough to bare it all for the rich, closeted clients willing to pay through the teeth to
watch. It’s the clients who pretend as though they have the upper hand—the dignity in the situation,
you see—but no.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “The woman they sneer down at. Scorn. Ogle. She
knows who has the real power. They all wish they could be so free.”
“Free…” I eye the elegant, polished table setting and flick my thumb along the edge of a silver fork.
“And if Iwasinto exhibition?”
I don’t dare look at his face, but the sound he makes… Part startled grunt, part amused laugh. I
squirrel it away in some far recess of my brain to parse over later.
“In some ways, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he admits, startling me. “A woman such as yourself, always
in the public eye, always watched and whispered about. How did you put it?‘I want to give them
something to stare at.’”
