Page 1 of Coming Home

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Emily stared at her thesis proposal in horror. Red marks littered nearly every paragraph in the thirty-page document.

“Was it really that bad?” she asked her advisor and close friend, Tamara Mallincoat.

The older woman laughed and touched her shoulder. “Are you kidding? Darling it’s fucking phenomenal. It just needs to be cleaned up a bit to get past your thesis committee. I’m not the only one you have to impress, remember?”

Emily blew a stray hair out of her face and reached into her messy bun for a pencil to jot down a note. When she did, all of her hair came tumbling into her face, causing the professor to laugh.

“Why don’t we put that away for a bit. You’ve been working on it for weeks.”

“Which is why I’m so horrified by all this red, Tam. I really thought it was ready.”

After graduating from Rice with her BA in Women’s studies, she’d gotten into Berkley for a Master’s degree in the same field. Tamara Mallincoat had gladly returned to her post at the school and become Emily’s thesis adviser.

“How is David? I haven’t gotten him on the phone in months. I always get the runaround from his assistant,” Tamara said, sidestepping Emily’s moaning about her thesis.

Emily smiled at the mention of David Eastman, her husband of nearly two years.

“He’s very busy. After he finished his treatment and was declared cancer-free, he seemed determined to dive back into his role as head of the company. Lydia does her best to keep him from overdoing it, but she can only do so much.”

There was a touch of sadness in Emily’s voice, and she hoped her smile would make up for it. For the last week, hd hadn’t come home until after she fell asleep and was gone again by the time she woke up. It was putting a real damper on their sex life.

“He’s a damn idiot,” Tamara said and muttered a curse under her breath as she plucked Emily’s marked up paper from her hands and tossed it on the desk.

Emily watched with bemusement as the woman leaned down and opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

“It’s barely past noon,” Emily said as Tamara slid a glass in front of her.

“Just drink it. I’ve clearly stressed you out and your husband slash Dom isn’t doing anything to relieve that stress.”

Emily felt her face go red. Despite having been David’s submissive for two-and-a-half years, she still embarrassed easily, even in front of friends in the same lifestyle like Dr. Mallincoat.

But her friend was right, it had been weeks since David had played with her and he rarely enforced the protocols they’d agreed on in their D/s dynamic. Emily still did her best to follow their agreement because she knew that there were ebbs and flows to these kinds of relationships, but she missed her husband.

She tipped the glass to her lips and drank the smooth gold whiskey.

“Now, we’ll talk about your thesis again after you make these corrections. It looks like a lot, but I promise that once you get into it, you’ll see it’s just a bunch of minor things. When we’re in the nit picking stage, you know you’re almost done so don’t look so defeated. For now, regale me with tales of your trip to London.”

Emily grimaced. London had been a bit of a disaster. She’d tagged along with her husband, hoping to spend some quality time with him, but it hadn’t worked out as planned. He’d spent most of his time holed up in an office building working on a major deal but he’d set her up with a private tour guide and access to local university libraries to help her with her thesis because he didn’t want her to be bored.

“We went to a play in the West End,” Emily said with a shrug.

“He didn’t take you to Serendipity?”

Emily frowned and shook her head. “No. What’s that?”

Tamara rolled her eyes. “He really has his head up his ass, doesn’t he? It’s the best private kink club in Europe.”

Emily giggled. “Maybe just a little. But he had a hard fight with cancer. I’m trying to cut him some slack while he gets his footing again. I’m sure we’ll get back to normal soon.”

“You’re sweet. I’m not. I’ll talk to him.”

“Please don’t. We’re fine. It’s not like we’re on the verge of divorce or anything. And honestly, I’ve been pulling some pretty late nights at the library myself. I can’t claim to be blameless in all of this.”

Tamara drained her glass and set it on the desk to pour herself another. When her glass was half full again, she pulled out her phone. She frowned and touched her palm to her forehead as she looked at the screen.

“Damn it. I seem to have spaced a faculty meeting. Probably because I try to put those terrible things out of my mind as often as possible. You should go home and we’ll meet again on Wednesday.”

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