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you'll be available. I want to know your work schedule," he stressed, "because it is I who decides the training times and places. Do you understand my instructions?"
    "Yes, I--"
    "I will push your boundaries. I will push your buttons. I will do so because, frankly, it amuses me to do so. You no longer have safe calls, safe words, or any of that nonsense. You will trust me to know when to stop. You have seven days to send me an email if this arrangement isn't comfortable for you."
    "But I--"
    "There is no shame if you send me a withdrawal email. The slave's role is not for everyone, which is why it is so goddamned hard to find a good one."
    She blinked again. "Aren't slaves a dime a dozen?"
    Seth shook his head. "Role-players, yes; worthy slaves, no, and hence our continued frustration and hunt. Remember this always--a master needs you the way you need him. Without our complements, we are both never fully happy. Never underestimate your value in this lifestyle, li'l one. A good slave is priceless." He checked his watch and rose. "It's time for me to leave."
    Wordless, Abby escorted him to the door.
    "If you have any questions," said Seth, as he pulled on his jacket, "never hesitate to ask. I'll email you my phone number if I get your commitment email. If I don't get the email, then I won't." He shrugged. "You won't need it."
    With that, he opened the door and exited her home. Abby stood on the porch watching the rain slew down from the west, a hard spring rain that rattled across the cars and her porch awning. The puddles carried flecks of starlight. The streetlights wore halos. He stopped beside this car and fished out his keys.
    "Seth?" she called.
    He paused, looking back at her. Water darkened his night-black hair and clothing, but he did not flinch from the wind-driven drops.
    "I'm no one's doormat," she warned. "I'll test you."
    "What would be the point if you didn't?"

 

Chapter 5
     
    "You fucked Seth?"
    Liz's outraged squawk echoed across the bistro. Abby hunched deeper into in her seat, burying her nose in her coffee cup. She hissed a plea for privacy.
    "Don't hush me," Liz bit back, although she did lower her voice. "I told you to never--ever--play on the first date. It's such bad mojo; so very unsafe."
    "Apparently, he didn't get the memo."
    From the table beside her, two college-aged youths smirked and winked. Abby glared back until they resumed their own conversation with shrugs of their narrow shoulders.
    "Don't blame Seth for your choices. 'No excuses,'" Liz quoted from somewhere, while stirring shaved cinnamon into her coffee with a great deal of huffiness.
    Seth's own similar warning echoed in Abby's mind. She shook rainbow-colored sprinkles onto the whipped cream floating atop her caramel latte before taking another sip. Rain tap-danced along the stone walkway outside. Tourists milled about, struggling with shopping bags, umbrellas, and a cold western wind. Portland's light rail train wheezed away from Pioneer Square. It was just like every other spring she'd lived through in the Northwest, but then again it was not. Her world had changed.
    "I'd wondered why you hadn't called me over the past two days." Liz sipped her coffee. "Now I know. Guilt."
    Abby straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I'm not guilty about having sex with Seth. Truth is I didn't want to tell him no, not after two years of celibacy." There was also the fact it had been a most amazing, sensuously exciting, and breathtaking experience she'd ever had. No, guilty was not how she felt regarding sex with Seth.
    Liz's gazed at her for a moment, looking deep in thought, before leaning closer to Abby with an impish sparkle in her eye. "So? How was he? Did you enjoy fucking him?"
    Abby fiddled with her mug. Enjoy? How could such a lukewarm word describe such a life-altering experience? The vaults of heaven had opened up and she'd found her soul mate. It had been a long and lonely road searching. "Technically, he fucked me."
    "And how