A pair of plain, thin, black hoops made of some inert metal - I think he called it niobium - sits on the table in front of me, next to a box of rubbing alcohol pads and a type of slightly curved needle I've never seen before, although given how I avoid needles for anything but the usual basic sewing and mending, it's not surprising that I've never seen anything like them before. Maybe they're extremely common and I just don't know it. The needle glints in the afternoon sunlight. I assume it's a piercing needle. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that there might be special needles manufactured for that specific purpose. I fidget in the kitchen chair as he washes his hands. When he comes up to wipe my left earlobe with an alcohol pad, I shiver.

"Nervous?"

"There's a reason why I never got my ears pierced when I was growing up."

"It shouldn't hurt too much; earlobes have almost no nerve endings. I'll be quick about it." He picks up a fine pointed felt tip marker and marks a dot on each earlobe. "There. That looks even. You'll need to hold still. Jerking could have unfortunate consequences."

I nod miserably and try to think about pretty jewelry made with opals and garnets, rather than about unfortunate consequences.

He stands beside me for a minute; then he changes his mind and pulls up another kitchen chair and sits across from me, so that his face is more or less level with mine. I feel the blood drain from my face as he tugs gently on my earlobe with one hand and picks the needle up with the other.

"My eromene, I had no idea this would be such an ordeal for you. Would you rather I not do this?"

I think of the earrings he gave me for a Yuletide present. Every time I wear them, I will be reminded of him.

"No. Keep going."

"If I could hold your hand, I would, but I don't have enough extra hands for that." He thinks for a moment, and then slides one of his legs over my left thigh, pinning me down. His warmth, and the weight of his leg, are like a heavy blanket. "Does that help?" he asks. "It's the best I can manage, under the circumstances."

I nod.

"All right. This will probably feel like a pinch or a slight sting, depending on the angle of entry, but that's all. Here comes the first one."

I whimper when the needle goes through my earlobe, but it's through me quickly enough, and he's right - this didn't hurt nearly as much as I'd feared. I try to not think about the needle that's still resting in my earlobe.

"There you go," he murmurs, and strokes my head. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Then he pauses, and his face gets a stricken look for a fleeting moment before he quickly composes himself again. "Now, I think the easiest way to go about finishing off this ear would be to press the hole down just a little to allow me to thread the hoop through, then remove the needle. I'll use the piercing needle the proper way on your other ear and thread the hoop onto it first. I'm so sorry."

"Wait. You've never done this before?"

"This is the first time I've ever installed permanent jewelry. I've seen rings and studs placed before, at play parties, and of course I know my way around using needles on people, or I wouldn't have offered to pierce your ears for you, but this is the first time I've ever placed hoops, myself."

Now he tells me.

"Nervous?" I snap, before I think better of it.

"A little. I do want the end result to look good, since it's going to be permanent. There, that's one ear done." He gets up, has me stand, switches chairs with me, and drapes his leg over my other thigh, and then reaches for another alcohol pad to use on my right earlobe. And sighs and marks it carefully with the pen again.

"What's a play party?"

"Pretty much what it sounds like: a bunch of perverts getting together and doing creative things to each other. Not really my cup of tea - I've found that I'm too much of a private person to enjoy myself in group settings as much as I otherwise might - but when I was young, I was curious, and they were a part of the scene - still are - so I went to a few. Maybe more than a few. It seemed," he says with a grin, "a reasonably good way to learn the ropes. Now. I'm going to put the needle through your other ear; here it comes." His mouth curves into a wry half-smile. "And yes. This time I remembered to thread the hoop onto the needle it was designed for. I can't believe I ditzed like that."

I grit my teeth, close my eyes, and focus my attention elsewhere. I think about his leg draped over mine, and how it stands in for his arms now that his arms and hands are otherwise occupied. He busies himself with the other hoop for a couple of seconds, and then it's done and he's holding my face between his hands, inspecting his work.

"Oh, good. It's perfectly even. You'll need to clean the holes and rotate the hoops twice a day for a few weeks until the skin heals," he says. "I don't know how soon you can take the hoops out and wear your Christmas present. If those were studs in your ears, I'd say give it a couple of months, maybe, but the wire hoops are a little finer, and I'm told that makes a difference. I'd give your ears a good four months before you try out other earrings. April, maybe May." He kisses me lightly on the lips, then on my cheek, and on my forehead, and on my lips again, this time lingering a little bit longer. "You did very well. I presume you aren't about to kill me for that first ear?"

I smile. "No. Not immediately, anyway. I'm glad it was you, and not some stranger in a mall kiosk holding a piercing gun." Not that I'd ever have gone to a piercing kiosk in a mall of my own volition, anyway. "Much less scary. Certainly, more romantic. I like you better than a store clerk I'd be paying to punch holes in my earlobes."

"Happy?"

"Yes. Very happy."

"Good. I'll put the rest of the sharps away, then. I won't be using them on you, after all; you turned out to be much more frightened of needles than I had expected."

"The rest of the sharps? I take it you mean needles. You mean there's more?"

"Yes, of course, there's more. I have a bit of a collection. Needles, a few other useful things. You can take a look if you're curious." His eyes flick over my shoulder to the rolling kitchen island he sometimes uses for food preparation.

Holy Mother of God.

There's a tray on the island; somehow it had escaped my notice. Having needles pushed through my earlobes might possibly have been something of a distraction. "What is that?" I rasp. "A supply kit for a correspondence school's brain surgery course?"

"There would be a cranial saw included if that was the case," he replies. "It's just various kinds of needles, plus a few other basics. A box of disposable lancets. A box of safety razors. Scalpels. Knives. Several types of tourniquets. My first aid kit, which of course you've already seen."

A squeak escapes from behind my mouth.

"Far less painful to make shallow cuts or jabs with something extremely sharp, that's been designed for the purpose of cutting skin, than with something dull, such as an Exacto blade or a kitchen knife."

I had to ask. I just had to ask, didn't I? Ask, and you shall receive. Imagine, and you shall regret. "Um. You just said this was the first time you. Um. My ears." I want to get my voice to stop cracking, but it won't obey me. Stupid voice. It keeps making noises. High-pitched, incoherent noises.

"It wasn't just a case of nerves when I was doing your ears, was it? You have a phobia."

I nod.

"I didn't say I'd never used piercing needles," he says softly, "merely that I'd never installed jewelry. Also, when I brought in my supplies, I had no idea you were that scared of needles. Most people get a little nervous, some people get very frightened indeed, and I'd had a tentative idea for playing with fear, and seeing what came of it, but I wasn't expecting you to have a full-blown phobia - especially since you consented to let me pierce your ears. It's a common enough phobia, as far as phobias go, though, and I should have asked first. I'm sorry."

My teeth are chattering.

"I'll put my sharps away and make a mental note that this is one of the activities I need to add to your list of things you absolutely do not want me to do to you."

"No," I say in a strangled voice. "Go on with it."

He stares at me incredulously.

"How could I possibly do this to someone else, later in life, when my education is complete, without ever having endured it? As far as I am capable of submitting, I must. If I am to be a guide in the darkness, I need to go into the shadows myself. I have to. It's who I am. Besides, I don't want fear to be my master. I want you to be my master."

It's out. I can't un-say it. Today is quite the day for sharp things.