Playing Knotty by Elia Winters Read Free Book Online Page A

flu?” Ian couldn’t help sinking down his couch at the sound of the voice on the other line saying the words no one wanted to hear from a bondage model two days before a workshop.
    Lizzy sounded like hell, too: groggy, hoarse, throaty in a way that was by no means sexy. “Yeah, you heard me.” She coughed wetly, and Ian held the phone away from his ear with a grimace by reflex. “Sorry. I know it’s in two days.”
    â€œBut we’re booked.” Ian ran a hand over his face, despair settling into his stomach. “We’ve got the space and a bunch of confirmations.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Ian. You know I’d do it if I could.” Another fit of coughing ensued. “But you needed to find someone new anyway, right? I told you this was going to be my last class now that I’ve got the bartending gig.”
    Ian closed his eyes and leaned back. He’d been putting off finding another model, hoping to convince Lizzy to stay on, and now he was screwed. How was he supposed to run a workshop on bondage without someone to tie up? “It’s fine, Lizzy,” he lied. “I’ll call the Boston group. Maybe someone will be available.”
    â€œI hope you find somebody.” She sounded sincere, and he knew she was.
    When they hung up the phone, Ian pulled his laptop over and called up the site for his local FetLife group. Trying not to sound too desperate, he typed up his request and sent it out into the ether. Maybe someone would be checking email and reply. Otherwise, he would have to cancel, most likely. And shit, he did not want to cancel.
    Or he could call Emma. The voice in the back of his head put forth the suggestion as if it were normal, as if he could just call up the woman who hadn’t even wanted to go to his workshop and yet who clearly had been a bundle of arousal when last they’d spoken. He had heard the breathy hitches in her speech, the way her voice had trembled when she was trying to answer. He may not be able to read her body language, but he knew those sounds, and damn if it wasn’t hotter than he had imagined. He wanted to see how she responded to him in person, wanted to wrap the rope around her wrists and see her eyes go wide, wanted her to understand how erotic bondage could be.
    His cock twitched at the thought, and he pressed his palm to it through his jeans. She’d gone to the website. Several times over the two weeks since he’d last spoken to her, he’d gotten himself off with thoughts of her browsing those pictures, imagining it was her in the ropes. And now, with Lizzy canceling, he didn’t know what he really wanted. It would be better for him to work with someone experienced, someone from the group. That way, there were no errant feelings involved, nothing sexual. His workshops were always lighthearted and fun, relaxed. How could he keep that demeanor if it were Emma he was demonstrating on?
    And yet another part of him hoped no one would reply, that he’d have to call her and ask. There was a good chance she’d say no. But if she said yes? He was already half-hard thinking about it. Surely it was a terrible idea for that reason alone. Ultimately, though, as a professional, he could distance himself from the task at hand. He’d tied up many women, beautiful women, and had always been able to remain neutral. Sometimes they’d approached him afterward and he’d taken them to bed, bound them hand and foot like they’d asked, and then fucked them into blissful oblivion. During the event, though, he could will his body into passive detachment.
    He was an instructor. He was a professional. This should be easy for him.
    Or maybe all of it would be moot. Maybe someone from the group would reply, and he’d use that person as a model, the most sensible course of action.
    By nine o’clock that night, no one had replied except with regrets, and he sat with his phone in his lap and