Under Control: A BDSM Love Story

Fortunately my social life isn’t as shitty as I let on. I have two friends, both of whom are rarely in the area due to their vocations. Charlotte, who is the same age as I am, works as a personal assistant to a rather wealthy and active archeologist. And when I say personal assistant, I mean personal. If she were working for a less classy person than him, anyone who isn’t Charlotte’s friend would probably call her a common prostitute. Hell, I’m her friend and I even consider it shameless whoring. But she really does care for him, so I can’t really fault her. Plus she gets twice my annual salary, so there’s always that. I met her seven years ago when we both worked in a pizza restaurant in Los Angeles. She was the cute, bubbly blonde cashier / waitress and I was the frumpy, moody brunette in the back, spitting in the food of the customers who got too “hands-on” with the waitress. We’ve made a perfect team since.

Anthony, the attractive and sassy gay friend of the trio, works as a personal hairdresser to some T.V. actor I’ve never heard of. They do a lot of traveling because the actor is constantly getting job offers out of state. Or rather, those are the only ones he can get. I mean, he’s a really shitty actor. But more to the point is the fact that Anthony follows the jerk like a puppy dog because he thinks if he gets friends in the acting business he might be able to someday become Brad Pitt’s hairdresser. I tell him to keep dreaming. He tells me I haven’t changed since high school. In the bad way.

After I came home from quite possibly the worst therapy session of my life (and I’ve been through quite a few), I was surprised to find both Anthony and Charlotte sitting on the loveseat in my den, flipping through channels on my television and chattering like birds on speed. Just like I remember. When they saw me walk into the room, they both stopped what they were doing and stared at me with wide eyes. I just stood there, not knowing what to do.

“What are you two doing here?” I finally asked, even though I knew exactly why there were there.

Anthony was the first to stand up. He put down the Good Housekeeping magazine he had been reading and promptly put his hands in his pocket. “We were… in the neighborhood. You know.”

Charlotte cleared her throat and chimed in. “We thought you might like to come to dinner with us.”

I continued staring blankly. It’s not that I didn’t want them there. In fact, this was the first surprise in a long time that made me feel even some semblance of happiness. It’s just that, through the happiness, I still felt this huge wave of despair and pain. Maybe it was the fact that for months and months I had no true, uncrazy friends to confide in. After a moment of reflection, I could feel myself shudder and in moments I was in pieces, and vaguely I felt the arms of my best friends holding me together like Elmer’s glue for my life.

And of course, I said yes to dinner.



Because both my friends are richer than I am, I didn’t quite refuse when they picked out a really high-class Italian place. Or rather, Charlotte chose it and Anthony bitched about how he was saving his money for a cute sweater he had seen at Bloomingdale’s and that an expensive restaurant was the last place he wanted to go, but he quickly shut up when he saw our waiter Ernesto. Inevitably, after we all ordered, they set to drilling me for answers.

“Why did you do it?” Charlotte asked upfront.

“Too soon,” Anthony whispered at her with an elbow into her ribs.

I shrugged my shoulders. “You would do it too, if your life was as empty as mine.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said curtly, a look of anger and concern on her pretty face. “Because I actually care about you, and I would never do that to you.”

“I’m sure you would have gotten over it if I actually had died,” I said.

“My life would have fallen apart, you selfish bitch,” she growled. I could imagine her hair standing straight on end like an angry cat and somehow I just couldn’t take her seriously because of it. I didn’t laugh, though, because I knew she was telling the truth.

“You have Frank,” I said, grasping straws at this point.

“And you have us.”

Anthony looked back and forth between us during this exchange, obviously wanting to say something but being too tactful to add anything. He and I both knew I was beat. I didn’t say anything more to this.

Fortunately the powers that be saw fit to send Ernesto to our table with some hot garlic rolls, and for a moment all was forgiven.



“So you’re working in data entry now?” said Anthony, picking at his salad. “That sounds interesting.”

“Wait, you hear that?” I said, looking around confused.

“What?” said Anthony, looking around as well.

“Oh wait, sorry about that. My sarcasm detector was going off.”

Charlotte sputtered into her glass of wine, which made Anthony and I burst into laughter.

“What is data entry, anyway?” said Charlotte, wiping the wine off her mouth with her napkin.

“The most interesting job in the world, of course,” I said, pushing pasta around my plate.

“Okay, we get that,” said Anthony, pouring more wine into his own glass. “But what is it.”

“It’s exactly what it says it is,” I replied simply. “It’s not some pretentious title or anything. It’s just… typing shit into a computer. Writing stuff. Editing stuff.”

“And you do this for eight hours a day?” said Charlotte, furrowing her brow in disbelief.

“Sometimes for ten.”

“And you wonder why she wants to die,” murmured Anthony, which actually made me smile.

“Bingo,” I said.

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,” Charlotte said. “There must be other things you can do?”

“Like what?” I said, running my finger around the rim of my wineglass. “I mean, I have no experience in any other field, it pays relatively well, and after my whole accident, everyone’s convinced I’m a psycho. I’m lucky to even still have this job. I doubt anyone else wants to hire a psycho. Unless I go back into the pizza industry.”

“That could work,” said Anthony.

“Yeah,” added Charlotte. “I mean, at least when we worked there you were happy.”

“When we worked there I had my whole life ahead of me,” I said with a sigh. “Now I’m just… stuck. I’ve got nothing ahead of me except late retirement and a life of spinsterhood.”

“Well, why aren’t you dating?” said Charlotte. “You’re young, attractive, somewhat well-off….”

“And there are plenty of hot guys around here,” said Anthony, gazing over his shoulder at Ernesto.

“Even if those things were true, which they’re not, I just don’t think any guy would want to be with someone like me. I have serious personality issues.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” said Charlotte, giving me a scornful look.

“For one, I don’t even want to live. I’d say that’s a big one.”

“You’ve gotta do better than that, honey,” Anthony said, resting his chin on his palm.

“And for another… I just don’t think I can love anyone. I don’t even love myself.” My voice became very soft and I looked down at my plate, unable to look either of them in the eye. “Who would want to bother with somebody who doesn’t like themselves?”

“Hey,” said Charlotte, placing her hand on mine. “There’s someone out there for everyone. You’ll see.”

“Maybe having someone special in your life is what you need to get you out of this depression,” Anthony offered, patting my arm gently.

“Well I did have you two, before you both left me,” I said with mock contempt.

“You can’t expect us to babysit you for the rest of our lives, you know,” said Charlotte briskly, taking another sip of her wine. “I mean, I have plans.”

“Big plans by the sound of it,” Anthony said suggestively with a raised eyebrow. “Little miss ‘I-think-I’m-ready-for-a-family’.”

I turned to her with my eyes wide. “What’s this about a family?”

Charlotte gave Anthony a look of death before answering. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything because it’s not a real plan yet,” she said with a kick of Anthony’s shin.

Anthony interrupted. “She’s been poking holes in Frank’s condoms.”

I nearly choked. “What?”

Charlotte became defensive. “Well, we’ve been together for three years now. I just thought it was time to get the ball rolling. A child would be perfect incentive to make him marry me, don’t you think?”

“No,” I said, still flabbergasted with the idea of my best friend entrapping a man into marriage. “You really think this is the right way to do it? I mean, if he’s not willing to marry you strictly because of your hotness, then he’s just not the marriage kind of guy.”

“Oh, thanks for the support, Dee,” she said dejectedly.

“You honestly think your friends are gonna support you in your attempts to sabotage your life?” Anthony chuckled.

“Dee thought we were gonna get over her dying, and you just sat there all quiet like an idiot. Some friend you are.”

“Alright,” he said, and drained his glass. “Dee, you’re stupid for thinking that. Char, you’re stupid for thinking you can get a man to marry you by having his child. Happy now? You’re both still stupid.”

“As long as I’m not the only one who’s stupid, that’s fine with me,” said Charlotte, a newfound fervor in her eating.

“You sure you’re not already pregnant?” I asked. “You’re sort of a bitch.”

“No, unfortunately. I’m just a bitch,” she said with a devious grin.

“Check please!” said an old woman the next table over, giving us an angry glower.

We all grinned at each other, proud of ourselves and our crassness.

“Look at what you’ve done now, Charlotte,” said Anthony. “Your bitchiness is driving customers away.”

“Ha ha,” said Charlotte sarcastically, winking at me.

Honestly, even though I still often wish for death, being with friends is a joy that can fuel my will to live. At least for a while.



“We would have stayed here with you, but we didn’t want to invade your space,” said Anthony when we all arrived at the door to my apartment.

“But you’re so good at breaking in, this would have been a perfect place for you to stay,” I said with a smile.

“Hey, it’s not our fault you keep your hide-a-key in an obvious place,” he said handing my spare back to me. “From now on, you shouldn’t keep it under your welcome mat, or someone who isn’t welcome might take up the offer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, placing the key in my pocket and taking note that perhaps if I was lucky, a serial killer might sneak into my apartment. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, though.

“If there’s anything you need,” said Charlotte, “anything at all, call us. You have our numbers. We’ll be at the Sheraton a few blocks away.”

“Okay,” I said, willing myself to smile. “How long will you guys be in the area?”

“Only for tomorrow, then we’re catching the next plane out to Florida,” said Anthony.

“Florida?” I repeated, a sneer on my face. “Why?”

“Vacation,” Charlotte said with a wistful look. “Escaping life. Wanna come? It’ll be really fun,” she added, almost pleading with me.

“I’d love to,” I lied, “but I can’t, I’ve got a lot to do at work, and there’s group therapy and--”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Anthony said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Just please, please keep in touch. We’re always only a phone call away. There’s no excuses.”

“I know,” I said with a smile. “Have fun in Florida.”

“We’ll come to say goodbye tomorrow before we leave, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and Charlotte enveloped me in a tight embrace that almost left me suffocating.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, her eyes welling up. I gave her a nod since there was really nothing I could say.

“Yeah,” added Anthony, hugging me not quite as hard. “You keep out of trouble. We want to see you again in this life. Okay?”

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I said. “That’s a promise.”

They smiled and Charlotte waved at me, and then they were gone.

It was bittersweet. I don’t know why I made such an empty promise. Maybe I am crazy.