I remember when I read Left of the Slash. It was over four years ago, and knowing the book was about BDSM is what drove me to picking it up. At the time, I didn’t know anything about Nathan Booker. I didn’t know he could put words together so brilliantly and make me feel like he was speaking directly to me through the pages in my hand. I had no idea how amazing his mind was, but reading that book showed me. Left of the Slash was obviously the author’s introduction into the lifestyle of BDSM, and it was mesmerizing to read his thoughts and feelings as he discovered his need for control. It was like watching him learn who he truly was, and seeing his realization that he’d finally found true happiness made my jaw drop. I couldn’t relate to being a Dom, but it was the first time in my life I thought I could see myself standing in the place of the woman who was kneeling in front of him. That book was an awakening for me just as much as it was for Nas.

If Left of the Slash meant so much to him, what does Right of the Slash mean? Anyone involved with the lifestyle will know that in a D/s relationship, the right of the slash is for the submissive. But Nas obviously isn’t a submissive. So, what the fuck? My interest is certainly piqued, and instead of pressing send on my message to Marquise Hamilton, I close out of Tinder and sit on my couch with the black binder in my lap.

First, I thumb through the entirety of the printed pages, checking to see if this really is what it looks like. Sure enough, page after page of Nas’s words appear all the way to the back. There has to be at least three hundred printed pages here, which means the five-by-eight paperback version of this will be long. There’s a lot of information in here, which makes me wonder how Nas could have written something like this in just a couple of months. Doesn’t it usually take authors a long time to write novels? Most authors don’t even release two books in the same year, and Nas has completed this manuscript while The Patient is still new and at the top of the bestsellers list.

A memory suddenly flashes in my mind of the last time Nas and I went out to dinner together, right before all hell broke loose for us.

“Trust me, I have all the inspiration I need,” he’d said as he reached across the table and squeezed my hand. He’d looked at me with so much love in his eyes. I never could’ve known it was all about to fall apart within forty-eight hours of his warm gaze.