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feel betrayed. Hell, I’d been betrayed by just about everyone I’d ever allowed inside my walls. All except Trevor. He’d never betrayed me.
    I reached my car and pulled out of the parking lot. Rage bolstered my wits and sobriety until I was safely home. Once inside my familiar four walls, the floodgates burst open like a crumbling dam. Blubbering like a fool, I stumbled to my bedroom and stripped off my fetish wear. Even naked I couldn’t peel off the feeling that I was destined to wear a neon sign flashing “Loser” for the rest of my life.
    Humiliation and rejection laminated my every pore. There was absolutely no way I could ever face Jordon again. I wasn’t even sure I could face Drake again. Humiliation settled in the pit of my stomach.
    I paced my room, thinking about all the years I’d dedicated to the lifestyle and the club, and wondering what the hell I was going to do. Hours upon hours learning, and even more spent teaching new subs, donating my time to greet guests, working behind the bar, and cleaning equipment. Hell, every free moment of my time had been spent trying to make Genesis a comfortable home, not just for me, but for everyone. And now what was I left with besides a heavy cloak of shame and a dark, ugly hollowness scoring my heart? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.
    Feeling numb, I stepped into a hot shower and sat on the floor. The stinging water bit my face while I cried in self-pity, self-loathing, self-destruction.
    It was a long time before the tears stopped. The hot water had long turned cold, but it didn’t matter...I was numb inside and out. Turning off the shower, I stepped out and roughed a towel over my cold flesh, sniffed, and then turned to face the mirror.
    The image staring back at me was stark. Haunted. Lifeless. No light twinkled in my eyes. I was met with a dull, flat reflection. My nose was red and my eyes were swollen. My cheeks were blotched, red, and ugly.
    “Whatever possessed you to think you were a sub?” I sniffed, questioning my own reflection. It was a discussion I’d had with myself numerous times. Needing to know the reason, or at least an excuse for my submissive desires, I stared at myself, waiting for an epiphany...one that never came.
    There was no enlightened recollection of some pivotal moment or Freudian-type trauma in my life that would explain why every fiber of my being ached to please a Dom. There was no defining line around my eyes or lips that could pinpoint the elusive reason.
    As I climbed into bed, hopelessness settled deep in my bones. I was hopeless. Hopelessly jaded and envious as night after night I watched other subs fulfill their dreams. Hopelessly empty, alone, and tired of battling the arresting desires constantly raging within.
    I wanted to be rid of the relentless frustration, exorcise it from my being. There was never going to be a Dominant who would take a chance with me. I was inexperienced and a total embarrassment. Thankfully my night with Jordon was over, but with it went any chance of finding my contentment. I always managed to screw things up, never consciously, but still...I ended up sabotaging every potential opportunity, like tonight.
    I’d overheard Nick, a regular at the club, discussing me with Drake once, but he was quickly ushered away. Was I an embarrassment even to Drake? What if I’d wanted to be used by Nick? He was an incredibly handsome Dominant. Gentle. Patient. But now, after so much time, even Nick had a submissive. I would have loved an opportunity back then to at least try to get to know the Native American man on a submissive level. But Drake didn’t even discuss it with me. And why would he? I’m only the submissive. It’s not like I get to call the shots. He did...err, used to...or might still? Oh, hell...I had no clue where I stood with Drake anymore.
    I had to let it go, stop thinking about it. I was only going in circles, and I was getting nowhere fast. I needed to shut off my brain and go to