My mind buzzed with a number of conflicting thoughts, emotions and ideas as to how best to resolve this unfortunate turn of events. Panicked by the ambush, I found myself floundering and desperately trying to maintain the stony faced façade that was my trademark, humiliated at the discovery and appalled at my own stupidity. I made my move.

“How much?” I asked.

I may have spoken Mandarin for the effect it had, serving to break Claire from her reverie and the confusion that etched itself onto her face replaced the anxiety that had previously marked it. She stared at me wordlessly, her mouth in a caricature tableau of surprise and bewilderment.

I sighed deeply.

“How much do you want to make this go away? Forget it?”

Staring at her intensely, I could actually envisage the cogs in her mind slowly but surely turn and grind to process what she had just heard, and when the realisation dawned upon her what I was proposing, the confusion gave way to indignation and horror.

“Jesus, Tony! This isn’t blackmail! I don’t want your damn money!”

Damn. My ace in the hole was now defunct. My face crumpled as I sagged into the chair, my face resting limply in my hands. The world was spinning out of control, an unreal and very unpleasant sense of vertigo overwhelming me. I felt my gorge rise, and my heart rate elevate, sensing the hallmarks of a panic attack I stood up to go to the sink.

My ambitious overture must have drawn the ire of Fate, ironically in my desire to prevent humiliating myself further, I collapsed back into the chair thus securing further shame. Unable to look her in the eye, I summoned as much of my strength as I could. My throat felt raw, and my jaw muscles ached.

“Claire. I am very sorry you were privy to such vile material. I had hoped that that part of my life would remain…closed off, and private. I apologise for any offence caused, and hope that you can in time, forget or forgive it.”

I shakily inhaled to steady my jangled nerves and continued.

“This is a source of constant shame for me. I am not proud of these desires, these interests. They sicken me, and I wish…they’d go away. But please, don’t be afraid of me.”

My voice caught in my throat, and damning tears of both impotent rage and frustration, sprung to my eyes. I heard only the soft rustle of her dress scape against the chair, and found myself enveloped in her arms. Horrified at this act of clemency and compassion, I sobbed into her breast.

She cradled me in her arms, gently rocking me. After a while, I was in a position to actually engage once again.

“Tony, why does it matter what I think?”

I stared mutely at the floor, desperately eager for this hellish nightmare to go away. Maintaining that same, deadpan tone of voice, Claire continued.

“And if I asked you to spank me, what would your reaction be?”

I moaned pitifully, and violently shook my head like some demented mongrel.

She sighed.

"I thought as much. You struggle with it because it seems to be about inflicting pain, and deriving pleasure from that. Ergo, that MUST make you abusive, or a criminal in making or some other damn thing?”

I nodded silently, in awe of her perceptiveness.

“And you are afraid that I will think less of you for these desires?”

Again, I nodded.

She reached forward and gently took my hand, kissing it. Too stunned and fragile, I did not resist.

“You suffer because you want to experience that with me, because you are physically attracted to me. And yet, your outdated and archaic sense of morality, is so strong, you fear that you are betraying me as a woman, as a friend.”

She knew. God help me, she knew. It was like schizophrenia in reverse, a chattering, coldly contemptuous voice urging caution in my dealings with finally and abruptly ended and silenced without a reprieve.
Shame faced, and utterly wretched, I mumbled a feeble apology and asked how she had worked out my feelings for her.

“It was your foot, or more specifically, the limp. I know how sensitive you are about it, but any time you were around me, you always had someone else like Steven or Mark walk to the left of you. Either that or you would slow down considerably, or wear a long coat. Let me guess, to conceal it from me? Using natural camouflage or some obstruction to break the line of sight from the eyes? Tony, I just graduated in medicine. I am not a mind reader, but we do notice these things.”

She continued.

“It wasn’t just that, it tipped me off to the possibility, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I have to admit, you are very formless at the best of times and it can be very difficult trying to pin you down as to where your feelings are, or loyalties lie. It was also the hugs we had and shared. I noticed you always kept a safe distance between us, and you would never put your hands on my back. In psychiatry we call that an inverted formation.”

My world was collapsing around me. All of my carefully constructed defences, surgically and deftly rendered inert with perceptive wisdom and compassionate logic. I was utterly broken, for if words were weapons, Claire had used an entire armoury upon me.

I found myself entirely lost as to how best to step forward, and proceed appropriately. For so long I was trapped in the crystal palace of my own mind, the safe, familiar world where I was firmly able to run away and evade capture by never committing myself one way or another. I exercised the only option left open to me.

“Where do we go from here?”

With an impish smile, Claire sprang from her chair, knelt down in front of me, grasping both my hands in some cruel mockery of a marriage proposal.

“Spank me, Tony. Make me sore and tender and writhing. Let my pain, replace yours.”

She gripped my hand, and led me to her bedroom. As docile as a lamb to slaughter, I followed her, in blissful, euphoric astonishment.