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Beck smiles, that half smile I saw yesterday at the pool. It makes my lower stomach tingle in ways it probably shouldn’t.

“If you remember, during the opening, there was mention of a safe word. Have either of you used a safe word during sex or otherwise before?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Noah says his yes at the exact time I say no.

I snap my head to him and narrow my eyes. “We’ve never used a safe word,” I bite out. Not that I can recall, at least. Our sex, while it’s been great in the past, has never been very kinky. He’s taken me hard and fast at times, there’s been a little hair pulling, but nothing that required a safe word.

Noah’s skin pinkens more than it already has from the heat, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I, um…” For a split second, his eyes shift to Beck. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.

I sit straighter in my chair, and Beck clears his throat. “I should clarify, Noah. Have you and Quinn ever used a safe word together in your relationship?”

“No, we haven’t.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Noah looks ready to sprint from the chair and run to the gym.

“This is a good start,” Beck says. “Honesty can be uncomfortable, but we need it here. Quinn?”

Beck’s eyes are soft. He doesn’t show any signs of breaking his professionalism at Noah’s admission, one that I know means my husband has used a safe word with this man before and not with me.

“Yes?” I ask.

“I understand learning something new about your partner can be a shock. If you ever want more information or clarification when learning something, you can ask Noah.” His gaze shifts to my husband. “Same goes for you.”

Noah nods again, and I do the same in agreement, not sure I can say anything else right now. I’m still processing.

“Good,” Beck continues. “Now, back to the safe word. It can be used any time you want to stop. People often think of this word as something only said during sexual situations, but that’s not true. We have it here if an exercise is becoming too much and you need it to end. I encourage you only to use it if you’ve reached a hard limit, not if you’re just pushing up against something uncomfortable. Only use it if you absolutely need it; otherwise, simply communicate if you need to slow down, if you’re upset, etcetera. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” I answer, waiting for Noah to respond. When his eyes meet mine, I see an apology in them, but I don’t need his apology. We’re here for honesty, and he’s already given me a dose of it. I can’t complain because it’s what I wanted when I came here.

“Does it make sense for you, too, Noah?” Beck asks.

“Yes, it does.”

“Good. A lot of couples use the traffic light system. It’s the easiest to remember, and you can use it to check in throughout exercises. Green means go, yellow means slow down, and red means stop altogether. Or you can use green, yellow, and a word of your choosing. It’s up to you how creative you want to get.”

“Furby,” I say easily.

Noah barks a laugh, and I laugh a bit, too.

“That’s perfect, Sunshine.”

“Inside joke?” Beck asks.

“You could say that.” I grin at Noah, and he grins back. I could tell Beck the story—Noah and I both dislike the weird late-‘90s toy, and I have a collection in a box buried in a closet back home that Noah has built over the years as a funny joke due to a miscommunication early in our relationship where he thought I liked them—but I don’t.

“Okay,” Beck replies. My eyes shift to his, and I see he wants me to say why, but I can’t think of a reason he needs the info. And call it silly, but after learning he and Noah had a safe word, I want to keep it for only us right now.

Another second passes before Beck speaks again. “To reestablish, green and yellow will be used to check in. Furby will only be used as a safe word when one or both of you need to stop.”

“Sounds good,” I say.

“Yep,” Noah adds.

“I’d like to reiterate that consent can be withdrawn at any time. When we get into the more intimate exercises, if you agree and then decide it’s not for you, just let me and your partner know.”