Say It Louder

The first rule was that nothing cruel was allowed to be accidentally cruel.

Maya had written that sentence herself.

At thirty-three she knew the difference between humiliation that made her feel small in the wrong way and humiliation that sent an electric thrill through her body. The difference was trust, precision and the fact she could stop the game with one word.

Lewis understood that better than anyone she had dated.

Which was why she was standing in his living room on Friday night holding a sheet of paper she already regretted writing.

“Read it,” he said.

Maya stared at him.

“You've read it.”

“I know.”

“Then this is redundant.”

“Maya.”

That tone.

Not loud. Never loud. Lewis could turn her name into an instruction simply by removing every unnecessary emotion from it.

She looked at the paper.

At the top she had written: THINGS I PRETEND I DON'T WANT.

Underneath were seven sentences.

“This was easier when I was alone,” she muttered.

“That was the assignment.”

“You're enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

Maya felt herself smile despite the heat in her face.

She read the first sentence too quickly.

Lewis shook his head.

“Again.”

“You heard me.”

“I did. The neighbours didn't.”

Maya looked toward the wall.

“The neighbours are seventy.”

“Then give them something to discuss at breakfast.”

She laughed, which ruined the effect and somehow made the embarrassment worse.

The list became harder as she moved down it. Not because the words were obscene. Most were surprisingly ordinary. She liked being watched. She liked being told what to wear. She liked admitting when jealousy turned her on. She liked being made to ask for attention instead of receiving it automatically.

Each confession sounded far more dangerous aloud than it had looked on the page.

Lewis sat opposite her, saying almost nothing.

That silence was merciless.

“Number five,” he said.

Maya swallowed.

“I like…”

“Louder.”

She glared at him.

Lewis waited.

Maya repeated the sentence with enough volume that she immediately looked toward the window.

“Better.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“Currently undecided.”

He stood.

The change in distance altered everything. Lewis took the paper and placed it on the table.

“Tell me the last one without reading it.”

Maya knew exactly what it said.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because writing it was bad enough.”

Lewis stepped closer.

“That isn't a no to the game.”

Maya breathed out.

He was right. They had a word for stopping. She had not used it.

“You really want me to say it?”

“I want you to decide whether you want to.”

That was what made him dangerous to her. He never stole the choice. He handed it back until she had nowhere to hide from the fact that the choice was hers.

Maya lifted her chin and said the final sentence.

Lewis's expression changed.

Only slightly.

Enough.

“Again.”

This time she did not argue.

The second version came out stronger. The third made her laugh from sheer embarrassment. Lewis caught her around the waist before she could retreat and kissed her.

The humiliation turned instantly into heat.

Maya grabbed his shirt. Lewis kissed her harder, then stopped just when she leaned into him.

“What?” she demanded.

“You missed something.”

“There are seven things on the list.”

“Eight now.”

He picked up the pen.

Maya watched him add a line at the bottom.

She read it.

“Absolutely not.”

Lewis handed her the page.

“Then cross it out.”

She looked at him.

Then at the sentence.

She did not cross it out.

“Thought so,” he said.

Maya kissed him before he could look any more pleased with himself.

The paper ended up on the floor. The game moved away from words and into something hotter, closer and much less tidy. Whatever dignity Maya had been protecting at the beginning of the evening became progressively less important.

Later she found the list beneath the coffee table.

Lewis was in the kitchen.

Maya picked up the pen and added a ninth line herself.

When Lewis returned, she handed it to him.

He read it and looked up.

“Really?”

Maya's face was already burning.

“Don't make me say it.”

Lewis smiled.

“Oh, Maya.”

She groaned.

“I walked directly into that, didn't I?”

“Completely.”

He handed the paper back.

“Say it louder.”

The following afternoon Maya found a photograph of the list on her phone.

Lewis had taken it before she left.

Underneath he had written: Homework.

Maya called him immediately.

“You are absolutely not turning this into homework.”

“You answered quickly.”

“Because you're infuriating.”

“Read number nine.”

She went silent.

Lewis waited.

“You're on speaker,” she lied.

“No, I'm not.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you wouldn't risk it.”

Maya hated that he was right. She also hated the rush of heat that came with being known that precisely.

“Tonight,” Lewis said.

“Bossy.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Maya looked at the photograph again.

The ninth line had been her own addition. Nobody had forced it onto the page. That made it worse. Or better. She was no longer sure the distinction mattered.

“Seven-thirty,” she said.

“Bring the list.”

“I hate the list.”

“Bring it anyway.”

At seven twenty-nine Maya was outside his door with the folded page in her handbag.

Lewis opened it.

“Early.”

“Don't start.”

He looked at the handbag.

“You brought it.”

Maya stepped past him.

“I brought a pen too.”

Lewis shut the door.

“Planning ahead?”

Maya turned and kissed him before he could make her blush again.

It worked for perhaps ten seconds.

Then Lewis found the list.

“Number nine,” he said.

Maya closed her eyes.

“You really are a bastard.”

“Louder.”

Lewis moved closer, but this time Maya held up one finger.

“My turn.”

He stopped.

She took the page from him, added a tenth line and held it against her chest so he could not read it.

“What does it say?”

“You'll find out when I decide.”

For the first time that evening, Lewis looked impatient.

Maya enjoyed that far more than she should have.

“Interesting,” he said.

“Very.”

She kissed him, folded the list and slipped it back into her bag.

Some games, she decided, became hotter when both people learned how to make the other wait.