I sent him back a text to please call me when he returned from his business trip.
For the next week, I waited and waited. I’d almost given up on him when he called.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, Sophie,” he said. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I don’t think we should continue with your training.”
“Why? What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?” As much as I’d seen this coming, now that he actually said the words, I panicked.
“You have demonstrated that you are too distracted to be compliant with your training.”
“What does that mean?”
He sighed wearily. “It means that we have to stop. You’re not happy, and if you’re not happy the training is pointless.”
“But I need you!” I whined, feeling like I was floundering in the midst of a landslide. Everything was crashing down around me. I could see I was headed for a disaster, but I was helpless to stop it.
“You don’t need me. You just think you do. If you decide to continue your journey, I have no doubt you will find a Dom who will enjoy training you as much as I have.”
Something inside me snapped. “That’s right. I let you train me! But for what? To be a slut for who? There’s no one I want except you. I want to be a whore for you, not some unknown stranger. You’ve molded me into the perfect greedy girl for you!”
“The goal was to help you along your journey.”
“Journey to what?” I spat.
He remained quiet, then finally responded with, “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to stop being so freaking withholding. I want you to see me for who I am, what I could be to you.”
“And what is that?”
“A partner. A part of your life, and not just that compartmentalized tiny part that you toss aside. I’m not a doll for you to put on a shelf when you’re tired of playing with me.”
“You knew what you were signing up for. I call it cyber-training because I know my limits.”
“Because why? You’ve been hurt? Who hasn’t?” I didn’t recognize the venomous tone that spewed from my lips.
He sniffed. “I’m sorry you don’t understand. I didn’t mean things to end this way.”
“So you set it up for cyber only, but when I needed more you flew to Houston and met me. You changed the rules, not me. And I thought it went well. I felt like it was the beginning of something, but somehow you’ve decided it was the end. You didn’t even talk to me about it!” My voice grew more and more shrill. “So much for all the trust and communication we built. It makes me wonder if anything between us was real.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie. I can’t give you what you want. I need to go.”
“Well I’m sorry too! ’Cuz you’re a crappy Dom,” I spouted, wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt me.
“It disappoints me that you feel that way. Goodbye, Sophie.”
“Goodbye.” I hung up.
Stunned, I let the tears come.
Damn! I knew the minute I saw him that it was too good to be true. But that wasn’t true… In the back of my mind I hoped that somehow, even though it didn’t seem likely, we’d be able to stay connected and build on that.
Felix must have sensed something was wrong because he ran over to me. I scooped him up into my lap and let him lick the tears off my cheeks. His cute little face made me smile.
With a sigh, I picked up the phone to call Shelby. I was going to need some girl time—the kind with ice cream and possibly a screening of The Notebook in her home theater.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The next evening I went over to Shelby’s. Her house was big enough for an army, but the rooms she spent the most time in had a cozy feel to them. By the time I arrived, she already had popcorn popped, the ingredients to make Coke floats, and three sorrowful breakup movies cued up for us.
I gave her a hug then we plopped a few scoops of ice cream into our glasses, poured Coke over them, and settled into the theater-style seats for some serious girl talk.
“So how’s your dad? I was sorry to hear he was in the hospital.”
“He’s fine.” I launched into the story of my dad’s health scare, told her how Bunny was holding up famously, and even about Spencer’s phone call.
“That sounds awkward.”
“It was, but what’s even more awkward is when the ex-husband you can’t stand is more emotionally available for you than the man you’ve been screwing around with.”
Shelby grimaced. “That is bad. I’m all for casual sex and everything, but the way this thing has been going… I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like you were getting your needs met.”
“Yeah.”
“Sophie, you deserve more than that. This breakup has been coming for a long time.”
I nodded and sipped my drink, hoping to drown at least some of my sorrows with sugar and milkfat.
“I agree, but when we were together things were so great. I totally fell for him.” I did need more; touch not being the least of it. Plus, I needed emotional support. Caring.
Shelby turned on the video and I tried to pay attention to the movie, but my mind kept going back to Quentin.
The idea of men using women for sex wasn’t foreign to me. Neither was compartmentalizing. All the women I knew, moms especially, constantly talked about how women were great multitaskers while men needed to keep things separate, working on one thing at a time.
So it didn’t surprise me that Quentin had found his hobby of dominating women online to be enough. The problem was, it wasn’t enough for me anymore. I had to forget the breathtaking intimacy between us, and the moments I felt closer to him than I’d ever felt to anyone. But as fulfilling as my relationship with Quentin was sexually, there were times when I felt more alone than I ever had before.
He knew me better than Spencer ever had and up until now he had accepted me even with my flaws, but he wasn’t available for me at the end of a crappy day. We’d never go on vacation together and explore a new country. We’d never put together furniture, or have children. Not even pets.
I needed the companionship that helps a person cope with the daily ups and downs of life. Sometimes, he seemed so close I could almost touch him, but it was like being suspended by a rope and never being able to touch the thing that I wanted most desperately. I could see it, smell it, almost taste it, but I wasn’t allowed to touch it. He was always just out of reach, and having the sex part without the companionship simply didn’t work for me anymore.
Being with him in Houston had been amazing, but now I wondered if it had been a mistake… and I wondered where would we be if he had denied my request to meet in person? Would we still be playing online, no cameras, lost in the fantasy? Or would I have tired of that too? I wasn’t sure. I just knew that this sort of relationship had a shelf life and for me, it had expired.
It would be next to impossible to fight the urge to send him a message and start things up again. A simple, “Hi, sir” might be all it would take. But that would be setting myself up for more of the same—immediate gratification followed by an intense longing that could never be satisfied. It was more than masochism. It was self-sabotage.
No, I would refrain. When I felt that familiar twinge of need between my legs I’d find a toy, use the techniques he gave me, and think of someone else while I masturbated. Anyone other than the man I so desperately wanted but couldn’t have. The man I was afraid I loved.
Somehow I’d have to find a way to get over him.
School was fast approaching and it was almost time for me to start decorating my room and welcoming my new students. The timing was ideal because it gave me a distraction, something to do besides pine for Quentin. This year I was looking forward to school starting more than usual. I needed something productive to throw myself into, and I truly did love my job.
I spent my evenings cutting out various paper shapes for a themed bulletin board, and my online time was spent visiting various teac
hing websites looking for new ideas. During the day, I shopped at the local teaching supply stores and made worksheets and files for my class.
With all my energy focused on preparing for school, I kept myself too busy to check the email I used with Quentin. Since it was different than the one I used for the rest of my personal life and for teaching—I couldn’t risk there being any form of overlap or accidentally sending someone an email from my slutty alter-ego so I kept them separate.
Then one afternoon while I was knee-deep in creating tissue-paper flowers with each of my new students’ names on them, my cell phone rang. It was the special ring tone I’d given Quentin.
I dropped the pipe cleaner I was about to wrap around the paper blossom in my hand, debating whether or not to answer it. My brain counseled me not to, but my heart fluttered in my chest, telling me to pick it up. Ultimately my curiosity won. I had to know what he wanted.
“Hello.”
“Sophie, is that you? You sound out of breath.”
“Yes, it’s me. I was just working.”
“Working? Is that why you’ve been too busy to answer my emails?”
“I haven’t been checking emails. Sorry. Yes, I’ve been super busy getting ready for the kids to start back to school. I meet my new students in a week, and school starts the week after that.”
“That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Which is why you should check your emails,” he snarled.
“You have no right to get snippy with me,” I said primly.
He cleared his throat. “Fine. I hadn’t wanted to trouble you unless you wanted to talk with me, but it sounds like I’m bothering you, so just check your email please.”
It sounded like he was about to hang up. “No, wait! I’m sorry. It’s just that I really have been busy and I’m trying to focus on work… after things with the training didn’t work out.”
“That’s what I’d like to talk with you about.”
“My training?”
“Yes. I, uh, I bought you a plane ticket.”
“A plane ticket? To where?”
“To Seattle. I wanted to bring you up here, to where I live. For a few days… so we could talk.”
“We can’t talk over the phone?”
His laugh was bitter. “Apparently not. I can’t even get you to return an email. Look, Sophie, if this is a bad time… I mean, with starting school and all. I hoped we’d have a chance to meet again before you started school, but I guess I was being too presumptuous.”
“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just a surprise. I’m not good with surprises.”
“Okay. Well, when you have a chance, please read my emails. Then let me know. Will you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, falling easily back into the rapport, the relationship we’d shared over the past few months. “I’ll do that.”
“That’s all I ask,” he said, and I thought I heard a smile in his voice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I was antsy during the plane ride. Not that flying bothered me, it was the anticipation of seeing Quentin again that had me all undone. I brought a book by my favorite author, but even that couldn’t hold my attention. Next I tried a movie from my tablet, but when that didn’t work either, I gave up and closed my eyes. Scenes from my time in Houston with Quentin played in my head like my own personal movie, and I felt my panties grow damp as I recalled the amazing things he’d done to my body.
Would there be any of that during this visit? One of the things Quentin was so good at as a Dom was being clear about his expectations for me and my behavior, but in this instance he simply said he wanted to see me, to talk to me. When I asked him to clarify further, he was uncharacteristically opaque.
“Let’s see how things go when we talk,” he’d said.
“Do I need to bring any toys?” I asked, hoping for a clue as to his frame of mind.
“No,” he’d said simply, and told me he would pick me up at the airport and that the return portion of the trip was paid for, but with an open return date so I didn’t have to feel pressured to stay any longer than I wanted to.
Before we landed, I made a trip to the restroom to comb my hair and apply some lipstick. I wanted to look my best for him. When the plane taxied down the runway my foot began tapping with excitement. As I traipsed up the jetway into the airport concourse, a gate agent waved to me. “Sophie Davenport?” she asked and I nodded, already checking my pocketbook to be sure I hadn’t left my phone or my tablet on the airplane.
“A gentleman left this for you.” She gave me a folded note. I opened it to see the words “Meet me in the bar” scrawled across the ivory card in a hand I didn’t recognize.
I swallowed hard and scanned the airport for the nearest bar. Considering the current security precautions, it would have to be outside the government checkpoint. Good. I’d have a moment to get my bearings before seeing him. What would he say? What could be so important that he couldn’t say it over the phone or via Skype?
The thing that mattered most was whether or not he wanted me to be his sub during this visit. I thought that I’d wanted to cut ties with him, to be done with him and the limits he imposed on our relationship, but now, when I was about to see him, all I wanted was to kneel at his feet, feel his fingers in my hair, and hear him call me his “good girl.”
As I passed by the area where the TSA screened passengers waiting to enter the terminal, I noticed a yellow and blue neon sign that said, “BAR.” Peering around the corner, I saw him before he saw me. Though he was dressed casually in a long-sleeved green Henley shirt and jeans, I wondered for the hundredth time how I could have fallen for a man so good-looking, his looks not even playing a role in that attraction.
At least not initially, but I’d be lying if I said the way he looked didn’t make my panties wet.
I entered the bar, and as if he sensed my presence, he swiveled his barstool toward me as I approached.
“Sophie.” His voice washed over me, that velvet baritone I’d stroked myself to for weeks burrowing into my ears like a familiar tune, one consisting of love and lust all tangled together to form the sweetest melody.
“Quentin.”
He held his arms out to me and I crossed to him, letting him enfold me in them as if we were long-time friends rather than a kinky couple who mostly masturbated together over the internet.
I took the opportunity to inhale his scent. Damn, that was one of the things I missed over the internet—the way he smelled of pine and balsa wood, with a hint of shaving cream or deodorant. Sadly, I hadn’t been around him enough to know which one it was. I only knew it made my pussy drip, and I’d do anything to have a shirt of his that smelled like him snuggled under my nose every night.
After a moment, he stepped back and motioned for me to take a seat at the bar next to him.
“Sophie, I am afraid that I have ruined things between us, and I’d like to start over.”
This wasn’t what I’d expected. “What do you mean?”
“I’d like to begin our relationship again, if that’s possible.” He extended a hand to me, which I took tentatively.
“Hi, my name is Quentin.”
I frowned. “I’m Sophie, but you already know that. What the hell? I don’t understand, Quentin. What’s this all about? What, now you just want to be friends? Just meet in an airport bar and hang out? I’m afraid we are way past that!”
He blinked a few times. “I’m sorry, Sophie. You’re right. Can I get you a drink, and I’ll try to do a better job of explaining?” He was already working on a drink himself, so I nodded.
“Bourbon?” he asked.
“Yes.” I took a seat, trying to keep my head, though I wanted to fall back into his arms and kiss those strong yet luscious lips of his.
The bartender set down my drink, and I sipped it slowly.
“I’ve dabbled in BDSM for a long time, Sophie. I’ve had subs in the past, but nev
er anyone where the relationship grew personal, at least not for me.”
I sighed disgustedly. “Really? You don’t think that’s personal? What could be more personal than the things you ask me to do?” I hissed.
“Okay, so it is personal, and you’re right. Very personal, but in the past, I’ve only had these kinds of relationships for the sex. I’m addicted to the thrill of it. Some days I couldn’t get enough, so I started expanding my play time to the internet. And it worked. It worked great. Women would agree to it, we’d have sessions on cam, and everybody was happy.”
“Except for the ones that weren’t.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I should have realized that when that girl grew too attached. I didn’t share her feelings. I guess I should have stopped then, but I told myself that both parties knew what they were getting into… And there was the fact that it had worked with so many other women.”
“So, basically, you’re a schmuck. That’s what you’re trying to say. I got too attached and now you’re ending things with me? That’s pretty much where we were when I was in Fort Worth. I’m not sure why I had to fly all the way up here to hear this.” I started to pick up my bag and leave, but he held my forearm.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Sit down.”
The moment he commanded it my bottom dropped back onto the stool, and I sat silent.
“Dammit, Sophie, I’m so into you that it scares the crap out of me!” His voice had grown louder and he looked around to see if the other patrons of the bar had noticed. They hadn’t.
“What?”
“It didn’t start out that way. It started the usual way, the excitement being about the control, the games, dominating a woman. But the longer it went on, the more obsessed I became with you.”
“You’re kidding. You don’t seem obsessed…”
“But I am. Maybe it started because you refused to do sessions on cam, that you held that back from me. I don’t know, but I couldn’t get enough of you. You were innocent in so many ways, so trusting. I became absolutely enchanted by you. That’s why, when you asked me to meet with you for a live session, I had to do it.”
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