"You don't have to do this, you know. You can sit him down and tell him you need things to go back to the way they were. It has to be a two-way street."
I shook my head. "You don't see the look in his eyes when we play. It's like he's a new man. I can't take that away from him. He enjoys it so much."
"But you're not having fun." He looked at me. "Are you?"
I thought about it. "Sometimes," I admitted. I thought about it longer when Tony didn't reply. "I enjoy that he enjoys it. I like that I can make him feel that good. That part I really enjoy."
"It's a powerful feeling, isn't it?" he quietly asked.
I nodded.
"Everyone's in it for their own reason. But being able to make someone feel like that," he said, his voice low but still somehow strong, "is very powerful. To fulfill someone's desires, to give them the feelings they want to experience, to in essence, make their dreams come true."
I snorted. "Fairy fucking godmother."
He laughed, a low, warm sound that stirred something inside me I knew should remain dormant.
He wore no wedding ring and I stupidly realized for the first time I'd flown halfway across the country to meet with a man who was practically a stranger, and no one knew where the hell I'd gone except Delta, American Express, and Avis.
Proving yet again why he was the more experienced Dom, he studied me. "You didn't come here for a play date." It was a statement, not a question.
I shook my head.
"I didn't think so. I'm glad to hear it, because frankly, I couldn't have given you that right now anyway."
I breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled again.
"You're safe. Although I might need to see you to your hotel."
I laughed, feeling the buzz of the rum course through me.
No, I wasn't driving anywhere anytime soon.
I'd put my phone on silent and glanced at it halfway through the meal. The restaurant was open twenty-four hours, and it was now after ten local time.
Was my husband sitting on the couch with the phone in his hand, praying I'd call? Was he waiting on the bed for me, hoping I'd walk through the door any minute?
Had he fallen asleep?
I jumped, startled, as my phone lit up again.
Question answered.
Tony silently held out his hand and I passed my phone to him. He stood. As he walked away from the table, out the front door, he answered the call.
The longest twenty minutes of my life. I was glad Tony had at least finished his meal so it wasn't going cold. Tony returned and handed the phone to me.
I didn't know what or how to ask, so I didn't.
"He's worried," he finally said.
"I kind of guessed that."
He leaned back in his chair. "Don't you want to know what I told him?"
Unable to meet the weight of his gaze, I looked at my phone and shrugged.
He leaned forward so his voice wouldn't carry. "I'm not your Dom," he whispered. "I can't be that for you. Not like this, at least. Not under these circumstances."
"I don't want that from you. I just need..."
What? What did I need?
Tony helped. "Grounding?"
I nodded. Good as word as any.
I took a deep breath and met his eyes again. "I need to learn how not to hurt my husband, even when I really want to."
"I thought you weren't into pain play."
"I'm not," I whispered.
He slowly nodded, understanding. "You're afraid you're losing control."
"I wanted to fucking punch him. I wanted to order him onto the floor and kick the living shit out of him." Tears silently coursed down my cheeks and I wiped them away. "I was so fucking angry. I mean, goddammit, over a pair of fucking Channellocks!" I was hissing by the end of my tirade and I sat back, took a deep breath. "Is it too fucking much to ask to have a husband who knows a pair of Channellocks from a pair of vice grips? Most women don't know a goddamned wrench from a pair of pliers, and here I am having to teach my husband!"
"But you didn't teach him."
My jaw opened, then snapped shut.
Tony's eyes burned into me and I realized how right he was.
I hadn't taught him at all. I never had.
"You know these things," he patiently explained, "but you can't expect him to know something he hasn't been taught."
More fucking guilt. He was absolutely right.
I felt the tears again, close to the surface. I really didn't want to break down sobbing in a strange restaurant in front of a strange man in a strange town two thousand miles from home.
He reached across the table again and gripped my hand. "I told him who I was, and I told him basically where you are and that you're safe and that you'll call him in the morning. I also took the liberty of telling him he didn't do anything wrong, and that you would give him instructions when you call him, but he was to go to sleep and you wanted him to carry out his day tomorrow until he heard from you."
I nodded. And my husband would do just that, knowing him.
He was a good sub.
The bottom line was I felt mad, guilty, put-upon, and cheated out of what other women had.
But what did they have? Husbands who cheated on them, or who were too busy working to pay attention to them?
Husbands who could fix things but who didn't give a damn about their day? Husbands who didn't make their wives the center of their universe as mine so obviously had?
We talked for another hour and I felt guilty I'd pulled Tony away from his life despite his kind reassurances to the contrary. It was nearly midnight by this time and my rum buzz was a thing of the past. Still, he insisted on driving me across the street to the hotel. He waited until I was safely checked in and we agreed to meet for a late brunch downstairs at the hotel restaurant the next day.
I took a long, hot shower. Because I hadn't brought any sleeping clothes, I crawled into bed naked with CNN Headline News playing on the TV to drown out other noises. I felt exhausted to my very core and still couldn't sleep. My husband's hurt eyes haunted me. My guilt that a perfect stranger had to tell him where I was.
What was he thinking? Did he assume I'd flown out here to sleep with Tony?
More guilt.
I'd made no secret about talking with Tony. I had to get my information somewhere, and figured if we were in this together, there was no reason to hide what I was doing from my husband. There was nothing to hide.
There had to be more to their conversation than what Tony told me. Twenty minutes was a long time to say what he told me.
I'd have to ask him in the morning.
Chapter 12
him
I stared at my phone, praying for her to call, hoping I hadn't made her more upset by calling so much.
Crying was the last thing I wanted to do.
But I did it anyway. I thought about the man's voice, how strong he must sound to her compared to mine right now.
The strange man who'd answered my wife's phone.
Oh God, please let her come back to me!
Chapter 13
Her
I felt like shit the next morning. I stared at my reflection.
Puffy, red eyes and a pounding headache. I could not believe I'd done this. I took a shower and dressed. Then I sat on the bed, stared at my phone.
I dialed.
He answered immediately. "Hi."
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. "I'm okay."
"I'm so sorry, babe. Please whatever you want—"
"Shh. It's okay." I took a deep breath. "I'll be home tomorrow evening."
I worried for a moment the call had dropped when he eventually replied, "Okay." His voice sounded soft, hurt.