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.