Page 53 of The Dark Before Light

“You’re going back to it?” I ask hoarsely. “The lifestyle?”

She hesitates. “Not as a Domme, no.”

My relief is embarrassingly obvious, but the potency of the emotion leaves no room for self-consciousness. “Teaching, then?”

After another pause, she nods. “Part-time. But who knows, maybe it will expand from there. My inbox has been equal parts hate mail and invitations for speaking engagements. There are even two offers for book deals.”

My mouth dries up, my relief flattened between awe and anxiety. It doesn’t surprise me that others can recognize what a brilliant light she is. She’s a comet whose fiery tail shines on me now, but eventually, she’ll fade from my sky and illuminate others’.

I don’t have her, but I feel like I’m losing her.

“Well, I’m not firing you,” I say gruffly.

She smiles. “Thanks. See you Wednesday?”

I nod, and she exits the limo with smooth grace. Sven appears and escorts her to her front door. Even though I know he’ll wait until he hears a lock turn, I twitch as I wonder if she has an alarm system. If she has the means to defend herself if someone breaks in.

I torture myself with fears until Sven joins me in the back, occupying Stirling’s seat. Then I torture myself wondering if he can feel the fading heat of her body.

“You’ve gotta figure this out,” he says as the limo pulls away from the one place I want to be.

My teeth clench. “I offered to find another therapist. She said no.”

He hands me his phone. I stare at the screen, not understanding what I’m reading at first. When it registers, my fingers spasm.

Crossroads is proud to welcome back

Dr. Talia Stirling

aka The Professor

Saturdays 6pm - 8pm

Register here

Once I’ve read it a hundred times and cycled through the same number of emotions, I toss Sven the phone. Crossing my arms over my chest, I slouch in my seat and glare out the window.

A solid minute later, he drawls, “How’s the pouting going?”

Fucker always makes me smile when I don’t want to. Shaking my head, I ask, “Why even show me that?”

“You giving up?”

“Giving up on what?” I’m angry again. “Maybe Stirling’s right. Maybe this… thing I feel doesn’t have anything to do with her as a person. Maybe it’s some weird side effect of the therapy or the illicitness of it—of her. I don’t even know her. Not really.”

“But you want to.”

“You’re fired.”

“Thank God. I can finally take that vacation to Maui.”

Now I’m laughing. When it tapers off, I clear my throat. “Did you…?”

“Take an Uber to her house during the benefit in order to break in and assess her security?”

I nod, ignoring a pinch of guilt.

“Sure did. She has a standard alarm system. It’s functional. I confirmed with her that she sets it every night and suggested she set it during the day as well. All doors, windows, and crawl spaces are secure.”

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