Текст книги "Her Web Master"

Автор книги: Normandie Alleman

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER TWO

On my way to work the next morning I ruminated over the discord between Spencer and me the night before. This morning, no evidence appeared to show that he came home after I fell asleep, so I assumed he stayed out all night. Every day it grew clearer to me that my marriage was a sinking ship.

But even though I knew that was the case, I was floored when I checked my phone during my one free period, while my class had gone to P.E., and I read this text from my husband.

I want a divorce.

I wish I could say I was surprised, or that it made me want to cry, but instead all I thought was, What a jerk! It was bad enough to break up with someone via text, but to end a marriage that way was unconscionable.

Utter douchebaggery.

Spencer in a nutshell.

For me, divorce had never been an option. I was a Davenport, and Davenports did not divorce.

Divorce was admitting failure, and Davenports did not fail.

Oh, there had been times I secretly wished Spencer would hit me, because that would have been grounds for me to leave him. My family would understand that, I thought. But Spencer would have never done that, instead he abused me emotionally with infidelity and neglect.

And now there was his text.

Was it really over? My hand started to shake a little, the result of anxiety mixed with fear and elation.

To say my family would be disappointed would be putting it mildly. My mother would have a field day, listing all my inadequacies, all the steps I could have taken—no, make that should have taken—to save my marriage. Suddenly I felt the urge to vomit, but I sat very still until it passed.

A minute later my class returned from P.E., the grassy, sweaty smell of children who had been outdoors filling the room, and I steadied myself to deliver their math lesson.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur and when the final school bell rang, I slumped into my chair and sent a text to my friend Shelby Carr.

I need a good divorce lawyer.

I had only been home a few minutes when Shelby knocked on my door. I opened the door a crack, but she pushed inside and started giving me the third degree. “What the fuck happened?” Shelby had never been one to mince words, but sometimes she could be a little “much”.

“Nice to see you, too,” I countered. Shelby was an heiress who had recently gone through her second divorce, which was why I contacted her. Her father had been a hotel magnate, and when he died several years ago, she inherited an unknown sum that was rumored to be in the neighborhood of nine figures. If anyone knew how to protect their assets it was Shelby and her legal team.

“Pfft.” She waved me off. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I want to know what happened.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Spencer and I have been on different paths for a while, but today he sent me this.” I showed her the text on my phone.

“That rat bastard. I’ll bet he’s knocked up one of his little whores.” She made herself at home on my couch and tapped her long, crimson fingernails on the chest that served as an end table.

“You think?” I asked, feeling kicked in the gut. That possibility hadn’t even occurred to me.

“Oh yeah. That’s the only reason he’d leave you.”

I stared at her, not comprehending.

“Your name, your family’s money. Spencer is in love with that, Sophie. Face it, if it wasn’t for that you two would have broken up a long time ago.”

Ouch. “Gee, thanks, Shelby. That makes me feel so much better.”

Shelby’s big blue eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be glad to be rid of him. I didn’t know this was a pity party. I thought it was a strategy-planning session.” She bit her lip. “Oops. Didn’t get the memo.”

“It’s okay. I guess a part of me is relieved. But I’m so embarrassed, and I feel like such a loser.”

Shelby rolled her eyes. “Enough. That man is an asshole, and he has been an asshole since the day you married him. This is a blessing. Trust me. You were wasting time on him. Now you can find a real man and get on with your life. But first we have to make sure he doesn’t get anything.”

I nodded. “Want something to drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do. What have you got?”

“Wine.”

“All right.”

I went into the kitchen, poured us both a glass of Prosecco, and handed one to Shelby.

“What if he tries to come back?” I took a sip, enjoying the bubbles fizzing in my throat. “Maybe this is only temporary.”

Shelby shot me a look. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

Shelby crinkled up her patrician nose. “Change the locks, babe. Don’t you let him come back. Soph, I hate for you to keep getting fucked over by that asshole. Why don’t you come out with me tomorrow night? Maybe if you see what’s out there, remember what it’s like to be single, it might make getting a divorce seem more attractive.”

It had been years since I’d been out partying with Shelby. I was way too old for that, but I had to admit that curiosity was what made me get on the internet the other night.

“Okay, twist my rubber arm.”

“Yay!” Shelby wiped her hand across her brow in mock relief. “We’ll show that husband of yours, and we’ll have a great time in the process. Show him you know how to have a good time, too. He’s not the only one. I’ll send a car for you at nine.” Shelby downed her drink. “Look, I hate to run, but I’m meeting some people for happy hour. Ciao!” Then she exited as quickly as she had arrived, leaving me all alone and wondering how I’d sunk so low, so fast.

CHAPTER THREE

The next day was Friday, and school dragged on at a snail’s pace. I tried not to think too much about going out with Shelby that night so I wouldn’t get anxious. It had been a while since I’d gone out partying and I was a little intimidated. The fact that Shelby was practically a professional party girl made me feel better because she could show me the ropes, but worse because I knew I’d feel like a dufus next to her. But by the time the day was over, it felt like summer vacation was finally here, even though it was really a couple of weeks away.

I stopped at the dry cleaners on the way home, hoping I had something decent in the pile of clothes I brought them earlier in the week. My clothes wouldn’t be nearly as stylish as what Shelby and her crew wore, but I thought I might look okay, if a bit more on the conservative side. I tried on a few things and finally settled on a black skirt and a sexy V-neck blouse with cutouts where the shoulders should be. It was made of a silky fabric that not only looked lush and sophisticated, but also felt divine to the touch.

Earlier that morning Spencer texted me that he would come by to pick up some of his things while I was at work. I texted back that it was fine. When I arrived home, I noticed the shaving kit and toothbrush he usually kept on the bathroom counter were gone. His closet looked more bare, and I noticed some of his shoes he kept in shoe trees on the floor of his closet were missing. It felt strange, but I didn’t see Spencer much anyway, so it felt more like he was on a business trip. The fact that my marriage might finally be ending was an adjustment for sure, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d been grieving the loss of my marriage from the moment I first found another woman’s panties in our bedsheets, five-and-a-half years ago.

I moved over to my closet and chose a pair of heels higher than I was used to wearing, slipped them on and tottered around, practicing like a little girl playing dress-up.

Shelby’s town car pulled to a stop in front of my house around nine p.m. My hair fell in tight curls, a result of my curling iron, but I wasn’t finished with it yet, so I invited Shelby inside. To my embarrassment, she brought a guy in with her. J.J. was tall with dark hair that fell in his face, and he wore a long-sleeved polo shirt with the sleeves rolled up and navy shorts with boat shoes. He grinned at me sheepishly and seemed totally casual about my hair being half-done. I offered them both a glass of wine and they followed me into my bedroom, chatting with me room-to-room while I finished my hair in the bathroom.

Shelby made a big fuss over Felix as he jumped all over her white Chanel jumpsuit, and I couldn’t help but smile seeing Shelby sitting on the floor playing with my dog.

“Okay, I’m finally ready.” I gave Felix a quick pat, and we headed out the door.

The stocked bar in the town car kept the party going. Shelby gave her driver Sam directions, then turned to check with her guests as an afterthought. “Mexican sound okay to y’all?”

“Always,” I said.

“Fine by me,” J.J. said.

“Y’all want anything to drink?” Shelby asked.

“No, thanks. I’ll wait for a margarita.” I wanted to watch my alcohol intake as much as possible since I’d gotten way out of practice holding my liquor.

“Me too.” J.J. feasted his eyes on Shelby’s cleavage and put his arm around her shoulders. Shelby snuggled closer to him.

“How do you two know each other?” I asked, feeling like a third wheel.

“J.J. plays football for TCU. Wide receiver.” Shelby elbowed J.J. and grinned at me. “I guess he can’t help it, he’s not a Longhorn. But at least he’s local, so that’s a plus.” She giggled and touched her finger to the tip of his nose. “He’s kinda cute. Some of his friends will be meeting us later.”

I held back a groan. Great. Twenty-year-old hunks. Just what I needed. Guys almost ten years younger than me.

“What’d you say?” Shelby asked.

“Nothing.”

“If you say so,” Shelby said breezily.

The car drove into the restaurant parking lot.

“J.J., would you be a dear and go get us a table, please? Sophie and I need just a minute.” Shelby batted her eyelashes at him.

“Sure, babe.” J.J. slid out of the car, and Sam closed the door behind him.

“Okay, now what is your beef? Spill.” Shelby glared at me.

“Shelby, if you want to hang out with guys that young, go for it, but I’m still married. I mean, really. I’m just not comfortable with that. It just makes me feel so Mrs. Robinson-ish.”

“Oh my God, you are old! What are you, like fifty?” Shelby asked.

“Shelby, we’re almost thirty.”

“Yeah, but we’re not dead. Damn!” Shelby scowled at her. “Do you think that Spencer has only been screwing girls his age?”

“Shelby!” I shrieked.

“Look, Sophie, I’m not trying to be mean, I’m really not. I’m not even saying you need to screw anybody.” Shelby reached out and touched my arm. “I’m just saying that maybe you need to loosen up a little bit and have some fun. That’s all.”

All of a sudden the temperature seemed to have gotten at least ten degrees hotter. My armpits stung, and sweat started to run down my sides.

“You’ve been through a rough time, Sophie. I want you to have some fun, but I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” She opened the car door. “Come on. Let’s go get some margaritas.”

“Okay,” I agreed and wobbled behind her on my heels.

Hours later, I sat on a barstool in a club with a tummy full of tacos and tequila. The music in the background pumped so loudly that I felt it more than heard it. Shelby and J.J. danced around me. A couple of young guys came in, fist-bumped J.J, and joined the group. Shelby introduced them to me. The one wearing jeans and a cowboy hat was named Jeff, while the one whose name was Brett wore a button-down shirt and chinos.

I smiled at Jeff. “Hi. Do y’all play football too?”

“No, but we go to TCU,” Jeff said.

“How about you? What do you do?” Brett asked.

“Me? I’m a teacher.”

“What grade?” Jeff asked.

“Kindergarten.” I had to raise my voice to hear myself over the music.

Brett smiled. “Sweet. I fell in love with my kindergarten teacher. Can I buy you a drink?”

I laughed. “Thanks, but I just ordered one.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?” Brett asked.

Surely there was no harm in that. “No, I don’t mind.”

Brett sat, and Jeff wandered off in the direction of a blonde girl wearing red cowboy boots.

“Where are you from?” I asked Brett.

“Right here.” His eyes bored into me. I wasn’t used to a man looking at me so directly, much less a boy.

“You mean Fort Worth?”

He nodded and took a long draw off his drink.

“I like your stockings,” he said.

How did he know I had on stockings? His eyes hadn’t left mine. Nervously I gulped my margarita, thankful it wasn’t frozen or I’d have gotten one helluva brain freeze. “Thanks.”

Brett moved his barstool closer to mine and ordered us another round.

I launched into a litany of questions about where he had gone to school, what he liked to do on weekends, anything I could think of. Brett answered them, but he always found a way to bring the question right back to me. Before I knew it, I’d told him my life story, including the humiliating fact that my cheating husband broke up our marriage via text message.

“He sounds like a fool,” Brett said earnestly, and his hand closed on my leg.

My brain told me it was a bad idea for this young guy to be so close to me, touching me, but the alcohol had rusted the wires from my brain to my body, and I leaned into him. He smelled so good, like a men’s cologne I’d never smelled before. It had been a long time since a man showed interest in me, and I lapped it up like a dying man in the desert.

“Dance with me.” Brett stood and took me by the arm.

“I’m not much for dancing.”

“That’s all right. Just follow me.”

Liquid courage enabled me to follow Brett to the dance floor where he encircled my waist and pulled me around in sensuous circles. Then he turned me around and ground his pelvis against my ass from behind. Damn! Not only could he dance, he had experience in the art of seduction as well.

As the night wore on, I grew more comfortable on the dance floor. I relaxed into the beat and let the music course over me. I gyrated in sync with Brett. He didn’t stray far from me for long, and we were having a good time.

At one a.m. I looked at my watch. I needed to go soon. I had a friend’s child’s birthday party to attend the next morning, and I wanted to get home at a decent hour.

Tapping Brett on the shoulder, I shouted over the music. “I’ve got to go home.”

“Let me take you,” he said in my ear.

“You don’t have to.”

Brett grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. Shelby saw us leaving and waved from the dance floor. Outside in the parking lot, the air was damp and the clouds cloaked the moon from view.

His hands were on my face, and his lips covered mine. My arousal had been building all night and I wanted to be kissed badly, so I surrendered to him. My mouth opened to meet his, eager for his assault. Hungrily, we explored each other, and I wound my hands around his waist.

He released me for a moment and led me by the hand around the side of the building. He pressed my body up against a brick wall. His left hand climbed up my right stocking until he got to my crotch. Even though it was pitch black I sensed his excitement as he caressed me.

Brett licked his lips. “What? You didn’t think I was going to find your pussy?” His right hand reached my crotch after traveling up my other leg. “Surely you know better than that.”

“Oh god,” I moaned. I couldn’t believe how aroused I was. If we were anywhere else, I’d want him to fuck me right now, but not in a parking lot.

“I bet you’re wet, aren’t you?” he asked.

I nodded, my inevitable embarrassment tempered by the alcohol I’d drank.

He brushed his hand across the top of my blouse. “I’ll bet your nipples are hard.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t used to anyone speaking so provocatively to me.

“You’ve got my dick so hard. So hard that I might just break right through those stockings.” He pressed his bulging erection against the inside of my thigh, making me gasp.

“See that white BMW over there?” Brett asked. It was difficult to see in the dark, but a white car shone in the dim light from a faraway streetlamp.

“Y-y-yes.”

“I want you to bend over and put your hands on the front of it,” he commanded.

A slight tremor of fear rocked me, but my pussy creamed and my breasts strained against my blouse. “I-I can’t have sex with you.” My voice trembled. It had been a long time since I’d been in a situation like this.

“That’s all right. What I want to do to you is for your pleasure. You don’t have to give me anything in return. Just do what I say.”

His offer made me skeptical even with the alcohol buzzing my brain, but I wanted him and I was feeling rebellious so I walked with him over to the car.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“But…”

“Close them,” he snarled.

“Okay,” I squeaked.

“I’m going to take care of you, Sophie. I’m going to give you what you need, but you have to trust me. Okay? Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

He pulled up my skirt, and a cool draft of air blew across my ass. I felt my stocking rip, exposing my bare bottom cheeks. Then he tore away my thong, leaving my cunt exposed to the entire and complete world. I whimpered, and my body began to shiver, not from cold, but from the humiliation of it.

“You’re hot, you know that?”

“Uhhhh.” The noise that came out of me sounded so guttural that at first I didn’t think it came from me. But it had. It had come from a deep, dark, primal place I was unfamiliar with.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d take care of you,.”

Then something entered me, something stroked my pussy, my clit. I jumped at first, but it felt so good that I ground my ass back against it. I rocked back, wanting more, my body begging for more.

“Mmhm. See, I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he asked.

The pace quickened and my cunt felt fuller now. I was drunk but I determined he was fucking me with his fingers. I leaned farther over the car, tilting my ass up toward the invisible moon, and he rewarded this wanton behavior by working me harder, fucking me faster while he zeroed in on my clit with another finger, sending me over the edge. My climax was epic, made even more intense by the forbidden location and the fact that I’d let a virtual stranger touch me in such an intimate way. Suddenly, I felt one with the universe, my body shook with little aftershocks, and I clung to the BMW emblem on the front of the car, thanking God no one else was in that parking lot, but not caring as much anymore.

After a few minutes, Brett gave me a cool look as I struggled to pull myself together.

“Hey, would you like to go to a BDSM club together sometime?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“Never mind.” He grinned. “Do you want that ride home now?”

“Uh, no, I have a ride,” she said.

“If you say so.”

I pulled my skirt down and stood up tall. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Brett leaned in and kissed me hard on the mouth. “You are one sexy girl, you know that?” He winked at me. “See you around.” With that he turned and walked back into the club.

All of a sudden I felt stupid. Alone and strange. Tears began to well up in my eyes. You’ve had way too much to drink, I scolded myself and walked to the front of the club where I knew I’d find Sam parked.

Sure enough, Sam was sitting in the car, waiting. He probably spends most of his life waiting.

“Hey, Sophie, do you need a ride home?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Sam, that would be wonderful, if Shelby doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll go check in with Shelby, make sure she doesn’t need me. She said to give you a ride though. Be right back. You just hop in, and I’ll be back in a few.” Sam opened the back door to the plush leather interior. I sank into the comfortable bench seat.

I was counting my blessings that Sam could drive me home in my inebriated state when he knocked on the window. I lowered it. “Shelby is still going strong. I’ve got plenty of time to take you home and come back for her. No problem at all, Sophie,” Sam said.

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” I lay my head down on the armrest and before I knew it I was home. I thanked Sam again, went inside, and let Felix out for a quick bathroom trip before falling asleep fully dressed on my bed.

CHAPTER FOUR

The sound of my phone ringing roused me the next morning.

“Hello,” I mumbled sleepily into it.

“Good morning, darling, we have to talk.” The chipper voice on the other end of the line belonging to none other than Shelby Carr.

“Shelby?” I sat up in bed and grimaced when I noticed I still had on my clothes from the previous night.

“Yes.”

“I’m just surprised. What are you doing up? What time is it anyway?” I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

“It’s eight o’clock, sleepyhead. I’m on my way to your house. We need to talk. I’m picking up kolaches. What kind do you want? Do you need coffee?”

“Sausage, and yes to coffee. But why do we need to talk? Is J.J. with you?”

“We’ll talk when I get there, and no, I’m by myself. See you in twenty.” She hung up.

I got out of bed and took Felix outside then brushed my teeth, stripped down, and put on a comfy robe.

This whole new “Shelby as a best friend” thing might take some getting used to. We hadn’t spent much time together over the past several years, but I did have a long history with her. We had known each other since childhood, and there had been patches on and off during which we’d been good friends all our lives.

Over all that time, we looked out for each other. It wasn’t until I married Spencer, and she married a European art dealer, that we truly went our separate ways. I chose to settle down and become a kindergarten teacher and while Shelby might have gotten married, I don’t think settling down was ever a consideration for her.

We had been in each other’s weddings. At least, I was in Shelby’s first one. She eloped the second time. But after I married Spencer, I hardly saw her. Actually, I only saw a handful of my old friends regularly. Those friends knew Spencer cheated on me, so I avoided them to keep from feeling like a fool. Instead, I created a happy life for myself through my job. It was kinda sad that my life revolved around other people’s children, and only lasted nine months out of the year, but there it was.

The doorbell rang and I ambled to the front door to let Shelby in. She waltzed into the living room and set a bag of Czech pastries filled with sausage on the table along with two large cups of coffee, and plopped onto the couch.

“Okay, you have to tell me what happened with Brett last night.” Shelby stared at me.

I could feel myself wither under her gaze. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Shelby insisted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sophie, I’m sorry. I should never have let you be alone with him. God, I am the worst friend! I will never forgive myself. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m a little hungover, but I’m okay. Why? What do you mean?”

“Sophie, Brett is, well, how should I say this? Brett is, he is, well, he plays in a different league, and I should have warned you about that.”

My heart sank. “What do you mean he plays in a different league? You don’t think I’m good enough for him? I told you I was too old for those stupid boys, Shelby!”

Shelby stifled a chuckle. “No, Sophie, it’s not that! In fact, Brett likes older women. It’s just that he likes lots of women. He has a lot of experience with a lot of older women. I just don’t think it’s your scene, honey.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you really have to trust me on this. He’s just a guy who’s fun to hang out and have a drink with, but you don’t want to get mixed up with him. The stuff he’s into, it’s kinda seedy. That’s all.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Truly I don’t know much. Why? What happened between you two?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “But he asked me if I wanted to go to a BDSM club with him sometime. Do you know what that is?”

“Oh Lord, Sophie, that’s some of that kinky stuff, like bondage, whips, and chains. S & M and junk like that. Like, he might parade you in there on all fours, wearing nothing but a collar and a leash or something crazy like that. What did you say?” Shelby’s eyes looked like they might bulge out of her head.

“I told him no, of course.”

“Yeah, that would go over real big at your divorce hearing.”

“I hadn’t thought of that!”

“Well, I’ve been through it twice so I thought of it. I’d better give you the name of my divorce lawyer. You know my mother got me the best one in Tarrant County.”

I nodded. “I’m not sure if I really want a divorce…”

Shelby shot me a look.

“Okay, I do. It just seems so final.”

Shelby patted my hand and looked me in the eye. “I know, honey, I do. But that’s the point.”

As soon as Shelby left, I took my laptop into the bedroom, piled up on the bed with Felix, and began to research BDSM.

I hadn’t intended to cheat on my husband, but I had gotten swept up in the moment, and I had mixed feelings about my encounter with Brett.

On one hand, I told myself that I hadn’t had sex with Brett so I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. On the other, that felt as dishonest as when politicians say they smoked but didn’t inhale. What I’d done was certainly sexual, even if it wasn’t intercourse.

Whatever sort of sex it was, the dynamics of it made me feel ashamed. But it was that very shamefulness that made it so hot and made me want to replay the incident over and over again in my mind.

How did he know how wet I would be? How was he so confident that my body would respond in that way? That confidence he showed made me quiver under his touch. Made me swoon.

When he ordered me to place my hands on the car in a public parking lot so he could strip me down and have his way with me… Why had I gone along with his wishes? It had to be more than the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, because what followed had been one of the most erotic experiences of my entire life. Completely surrendering like that for him to pleasure me, to control me, had been an amazing experience unlike anything else.

Brett’s words rang in my ears. I’m going to take care of you. I know what you need.

He played my body perfectly and made me climax like my husband of six years never had, though I had only known him for a couple of hours. The memory left me breathless. At the same time, it was confusing. Brett didn’t know me as a person, it was only sex. Not a relationship. And that was the part I didn’t like. It made me uncomfortable to be that vulnerable with someone I didn’t have a bond with.

My stuffy Protestant upbringing and religious beliefs had me feeling guilty about what I’d done. But then I remembered all the times Spencer came home smelling of another woman’s perfume, and my guilt morphed back into defiance and anger. Why the hell wasn’t I entitled to an orgasm? The notion that I now had my own secret to keep from Spencer made me feel better. Like, I too could play that little game of adultery.

Then, interrupting my self-analysis, I found a seriously kinky website and clicked “enter.”

This was a site where people were into things that were wilder than I’d ever dreamed of. My eyeballs were glued to the screen as I clicked and scrolled through it, experiencing illicit thrills as I read some of the passages on the site. Some of it sickened me, but some of it turned out to be downright arousing. And after looking around for a while, I realized I was intrigued by the idea of being submissive to a man.

Though my husband Spencer required a variety of partners, his taste in sex was relatively tame. He occasionally switched positions in bed, but other than that he was fairly straightforward in his lovemaking. I had never had a partner dominate me the way the people on the website described. The closest I’d come to that was the way Brett treated me. In my daily life, I tried to be an assertive woman, though I had to admit I could probably do a better job standing up to Spencer. I’d been brought up to believe that women were equal to men. I even had friends who had taken the “obey” portion out of their wedding vows.

So it confused me to be aroused by a man dominating me. Regardless, I became addicted to the website. I spent the entire weekend reading it and making “friends.” I joined the forums and checked the discussion boards several times a day to read other people’s thoughts. I relished hearing about others’ experiences with the Dominant/submissive lifestyle. I didn’t dare comment myself. Instead, I lurked along the sidelines, living vicariously through the other group members’ experiences.

Until I saw his post.