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huge
windows. She hadn’t switched on the lights, her need for inky
solitude paramount at the moment. Her skin burned from various
sensations. Need. Bitter longing.
    She walked to the desk and picked up the
little frame placed next to her computer. She couldn’t see the
picture in the dark, but she didn’t need to. Jeff’s face was
forever burned into her soul. She couldn’t escape the force of her
memories. The hurt they still brought after all those years. She
felt her chest constrict, felt the choking sensation in her
throat.
    She had cried until she’d been empty
after the funeral. Now, only dry sobs would come, leaving her cold
and spent as if she’d been throwing up for hours. The muscles of
her stomach ached.
    Eyes closed, she tried to summon the
moisture into her eyes that would give her a short release from her
anguish.
    Aaron Harte had rattled her cage, and he’d
rattled it good. She hadn’t realized how soothing it felt to keep
her distance from all the subs she played with. She couldn’t allow
them to creep behind her defenses, and so far, she never
had.
    She knew that she scared some of them,
just by the way she looked at them, her gaze skinning them alive,
stripping them of everything they wanted to keep secret. Most of
the subs didn’t get the chance to find out that she had no interest
in cruelty. Mistress Tara wasn’t a sadist. She craved something
that was hard to give: a blast that would thaw out her frozen
heart.
    She’d never believed in love at
first sight, but damn if she didn’t feel the ice around her heart
melting during this evening’s meeting. They had looked at each
other and it had been there, the spark of something unspeakable, an
instant connection she’d never felt before . The frozen armor she hid behind had
cracked, and that she couldn’t allow.
    Love had almost delivered the
final blow once, and she had raged and screamed and suffered until
she’d felt slashed inside. She couldn’t love again- ever.
    Aaron Harte was dangerous. With
his sweet smile, angelic beauty , and perfect obedience. He was dangerous because
she knew she had to steel her soul. And at the same time knew she
most likely couldn’t.
    Her nipples were stiff from the cold and
from emotions she had long ago buried inside her past. She wondered
what his nipples would look like. Would he moan if she bit them?
She bet he would. He was as perfect as something made of marzipan.
The softness of his skin irresistible. His lips so full and pale,
screaming for her kiss, the nip of her teeth.
    She put the frame down and averted her
gaze in the darkness.
    “ Forgive me, my sweet”, she
whispered.
    She knew she just imagined the faint mist
around her; imagined she lived in a house haunted by
ghosts.

    Aaron took his time to choose
the right clothes to wear to the club , just in case. He had no idea if she
would see him dressed, but better safe than sorry.
    He spent almost half an hour in
intimate exchange with his suitcase and finally picked an elegant
black suit with a dark grey vest. Of course, an immaculate white
shirt was mandatory.
    He showered carefully, skipped the shave
today (a slight stubble made him look a little rougher, which
appealed to most women) and applied just a whiff of Eau de Cologne.
He had administered his nightly enema yesterday, but could hardly
resist the urge to repeat the procedure after his morning shower.
He forced himself not to do it. He was spotlessly clean down there,
dammit! No need to become compulsive. Everything would be
alright.
    He watched his face in the
mirror. He could read the strange longing in his eyes, a gleam that
hadn’t been there before. What had she woken in him? He was almost
afraid to get his hopes up, to enjoy all this far too much. She was
only his temporary Domme. She would leave him in the end. He couldn’t afford to
be even lonelier after the public scene than he’d been before. He
sighed.
    He would be a good boy.
    He straightened his clothes. He’d
chosen