Текст книги "Her Web Master"

Автор книги: Normandie Alleman

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Two days after I returned from Houston, my mother called me. “Sophie, are you sitting down? I need you to sit down.”

I plopped onto the couch in my living room. “What is it, Mother?”

“Your father has had a heart attack, dear,” Bunny said, matter-of-factly.

“What? Is he okay?”

“Yes, the doctor says it was a mild one and they want to keep him here in the hospital for observation, but he’s going to be fine. That is, if he cuts back on the fried foods and takes his cholesterol medicine. I swear, that man…”

I breathed a sigh of relief and inquired about the hospital’s visiting hours.

“He’s sleeping now, but you might stop by this afternoon, dear.”

For all her irritating qualities, I had to hand it to her. Bunny Davenport was good in a crisis.

My relationship with my dad was complicated. He spent the majority of my life at work, so I didn’t know him the way I did my mother. But later that afternoon, when I saw him lying in that hospital bed, looking so small, all the walls we’d built up between us over the years crumbled, and I remembered the dad who used to stand in the pool and coax me to jump to him. I always feared water going up my nose, but he always caught me and showed me I didn’t need to be afraid.

“Hi, Daddy.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Sweetheart.” He smiled up at me with a weakness in his eyes I’d never seen before. “I guess your mother called you.”

I nodded. He reached for my hand and squeezed it tight. “Please do what the doctor says, okay?”

“Sure thing.” But I knew he’d do whatever he damned well pleased.

Still holding his hand, I sank into the chair my mother vacated when she set off for the nurse’s station, certain that they weren’t taking care of her husband properly and determined to set them straight.

“What are you watching?” I wasn’t used to having to carry on a conversation with my father, and this seemed like a safe start.

“Judge Bernice.” He pursed his lips. “She’s pretty good. A tough ole bird. I like that.” He grinned and turned his focus back to the feisty, hulking woman on television in a black robe, who was admonishing a stripper for loaning her unemployed boyfriend her car and five hundred dollars and expecting him to pay it back.

We watched the show until my father fell asleep again. He dropped my hand and I sat back, watching him sleep with the TV droning on in the background. Soon my mother came back, and she and I talked for a while. When our conversation came to a lull, I stood up and hugged her. “Tell Daddy goodbye for me.”

“I will. He’ll be fine. Maybe a scare like this is just what he needs to make him pay attention to his health. You know?”

Patting her on the hand, I nodded in agreement. “Maybe so. Remember to take care of yourself, too.”

Bunny dragged a hand over her perfect hair. “Well, I’ll try. I had to cancel my appointment with Rinaldo this afternoon to be here, but he says he can squeeze me in at the end of the week if I can make it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I made a face at her.

“I know.” She batted her false eyelashes at me.

“Oh, Mother,” I sighed.

“What?” she asked, doing her best impersonation of complete innocence.

I gave her a fake smile. “Nothing. I love you. Call me when you have an update on Daddy.”

“I will,” she said, picking up the remote control from the bed. As I left the room, I heard the television switch from Daddy’s court show to a soap opera.

The walk down the sterile hallway seemed to go on forever.

My parents were old. When had that happened? I wasn’t ready for this new stage in my life. I always thought I’d have kids by the time my parents’ health started to fail. The whole thing made me want to reevaluate my life. What was I doing anyway?

I wanted a family of my own, but I was divorced and not even really on the market. I had some bizarre, albeit hot, relationship with Quentin, but that was more about fun and excitement than long-term commitment. Not exactly the stable base you need to build a relationship.

But I was addicted to him. The man was like a drug, and I would do anything for a fix. Not exactly healthy…

I mulled things over during the drive home. When I got home, I made myself some spaghetti. As I sat down to eat, I realized I’d turned my phone off when I entered the hospital, but had forgotten to turn it back on after I left. On the voicemail, there was a message from Spencer saying how sorry he was to hear about my dad.

Feeling vulnerable and eager for someone to talk with, I called him back.

“You okay, Sophie?” he asked.

“I guess. Thanks for calling.”

“You know I always liked your dad. Great guy. He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes. Mom thinks this may be the wake-up call he needs to take his medicine and eat healthier.”

“That’s good. I hope so.”

Suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn’t told Spencer my dad was ill. “Hey, how did you find out my dad was in the hospital?”

“Your mom called me.”

“She did?” My blood started to boil. What was my mother trying to do?

“Yeah, but don’t be mad at her. She’s just not used to the divorce yet.”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay,” I responded, knowing that my mother didn’t do anything without a reason.

For the next few minutes Spencer and I carried on an awkward conversation, caught between the old feelings of belonging together the way married couples do, and the new status quo where, in actuality, we had no real ties to each other. In the world we presently inhabited, there was no reason at all for Spencer to care about my dad or how I was feeling, other than it was his habit to care. A habit that would eventually fade.

I thanked Spencer again for his concern and hung up, wishing I could have the same conversation with Quentin.

A few days later, I was talking to Quentin. We were discussing our incredible sessions in Houston. Thinking we were on the same page, I said, “You know, since we had such a great time, maybe we could do that more often?” My timing might not have been great, but I’d been ruminating about our situation ever since we said goodbye to each other in Houston.

He paused, then said, “Let’s focus on what we can do over the internet.”

“If it’s too much for you to come down here, perhaps I could fly up there. To see you.”

“Now that we’ve met, I’d like to do some cam sessions.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected him to shut down the possibility so rapidly.

My heart sank. I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of doing cam sessions, and it felt like we were going backward instead of forward. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, I just didn’t trust the security of the internet. Sites constantly got hacked by one bunch or another, and I feared I’d lose my job if anything related to my secret life were made public.

“I don’t see that happening,” I said flatly.

“Oh. Well, I hoped that meeting each other would change things.” His voice was sharp, and suddenly I wanted to cry.

“Me too.”

The conversation went downhill from there. I went through the motions, spanking myself like he asked me to, but I couldn’t get in the mood. He must have sensed it because he cut our session short.

When we hung up, a lump started to form in my throat.

What had I thought anyway? That because we had a nice weekend together, he was suddenly going to want to move to Texas and see me every day? As much as I’d tried to keep my expectations under control, they’d run amok. Now that I’d experienced what it was like to be with him, I wanted to be with him more rather than less, which made the distance between us a bigger problem than it had been before.

The next day I sent him an email apologizing for sulking during our session the night before. When I didn’t hear back from him for two days, I started to worry so I sent him a text.

A few hours later he responded tersely that he was fine, saying he was otherwise occupied on a business trip.

Stung, I set down my phone.

He must be really pissed at me. He’d never been short with me in that way. Sure, he abused the heck out of me in other ways, but he’d never been completely unreachable before, or irritated with me for contacting him. That’s how he acted now—annoyed.

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 teaching 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 never 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.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Yes. I had no idea what you would be like, but I told myself that I would dominate you, that I would design a rigorous session for you that would break you. I would have you, and get you out of my system. My plan was to come back home and distance myself from you.”

My eyes narrowed into slits. “Yeah, I know. I remember you doing that.”

“But it didn’t work. I couldn’t follow through with it. After I met you, I realized that I had feelings for you. I realized what we had went further than sex. After I came home, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, all the cute things you do.”

“Like what?” I asked, suspicious of his revelations. Did he just say I did “cute things?”

“The way you rub your eyes with your fists like a five-year-old when you’re sleepy. The way your face turns red when you want to come, but hold yourself back. The way you love crazy weather shows and paint your fingernails with a “mood” nail polish. I don’t know, Sophie—everything. It’s everything about you.”

“I felt the same way, but when we got home and you were so distant I thought it was just me…”

He downed the rest of his drink. “No. You weren’t wrong. What we had was real, but it overwhelmed me, and like a jackass I backed off. You coming here… first of all, it was awfully brave. You’ve been an incredibly brave woman the whole time I’ve known you.”

“What? Brave about what?”

“For starters, trying out BDSM over the internet with a perfect stranger. If that’s not incredibly brave, I don’t know what it.”

“Or incredibly stupid.”

He laughed. “I guess, with the wrong guy it could be. But you were completely new to this, and the way you have blossomed, it’s been beautiful to watch.” He stroked my cheek. “Or should I say listen to…”

I smiled.

“Not long after I fussed at you for not going ahead with the cam sessions, I realized I’d been a dickhead. I’m sorry. I was confused, and I tried to put you out of my mind. But that didn’t work and I was just miserable without you in my life. But by the time I figured out I’d made a mistake, you weren’t returning my messages and I knew I’d fucked everything up. When you agreed to come up here and talk with me, I knew I had a second chance to make things right between us. You don’t often get those in life, and I couldn’t let you go without telling you how important you’ve become to me.”

“So you have feelings for me?”

“Of course I have feelings for you.”

Of all the scenarios I’d run over in my mind, this was beyond any I’d allowed myself to dream. The best I’d hoped for was another session, one that ended with a proper goodbye.

“You really need to work on your communication. I think you need to send me a recap.”

He chuckled, then pulled me into his arms and growled. “Very funny. You do have a great sense of humor, but keep it up and I’m going to wear out that little bottom of yours with my crop.”

“Promises, promises,” I teased.

“Finish that drink so I can get you to the parking lot… I think my little slut needs to be ravished.”