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There was a sign on the front door, ‘Minimum age eighteen. ID will be required for all appearing to be less than thirty.’I would have happily died when we went through the door and there were customers everywhere, couples and singles, probably twenty or more people; short skirts, pants, even one young girl in a negligee. That helped, I didn’t feel quite so out of place.We began wandering around, nearly every person we passed turned their head for a peek at the new woman, barely dressed.“What are we looking for in here?” Robert whispered in my ear.I looked at him, “You suggested it, thought you knew – handcuffs, maybe?”Okay, that seemed to give us a goal, at least. I’d never been to a place like this. Well, not true, exactly, but it was the first time I could see anything. Robert stopped to look at a shelf of dildos and picked up a big glass one, “Think you’d enjoy this?” he asked me with a smirk on his face, holding what looked to be at least nine inches long, curved, deep spiral ribs. My life was easy in comparison to most… up until the summer I have described in the previous volume of my tale. Easy isn’t even the right word for it. Blessed is a better one. By the end of that summer I thought I knew true pain. The loss of Sasha. The loss of my child. The loss of my path. These losses brought me pain the likes of which I had never known existed, let alone felt. All that pain provided me with a new respect for fear. As with everyone, I had felt fear in the past. But this new fear, brought on by actual loss, actual pain… this was fear on steroids. I let it consume me for a time. I almost let it take me. My fear of death palled in comparison to the looming shadow of my fear of living. Aoife saved me that night on my knees, next to the bed Sasha and I had shared. She pressed an unseen pause button, which allowed me the opportunity to get a glimpse of my fear from a different perspective. It allowed me the opportunity to face, understand and finally make peace with my.
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