Page 11 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

There is, because apparently Dom Dot Com has anticipated people like me. I read through it, then keep going. Praise. Rules and rewards. Body worship. Aftercare. Some of it makes sense immediately. The rest requires a glossary, which tells me everything I need to know about the current state of my sex life.

Not that this is my sex life.

This is Tess's phone.

In a wine bar.

For research purposes.

I'm still reading when Tess says, "I thought you might like him."

I look up. "Based on what?"

"The taking-care-of-you part."

My thumb stills against the screen. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. That's not what I meant." The teasing fades from her voice as she takes the phone back and sets it between us. "You spend all day fixing things for everyone else. Your mom calls, you handle it. Bree gets herself into trouble, you handle it. Richard forgets his own anniversary or needs someone to pick up his pants, somehow that becomes your problem too. I'm not saying you can't do all of that. Clearly you can."

I turn my wineglass slowly between my fingers. "There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?"

"There was supposed to be." Tess smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I just think it might be nice for you to have a couple of hours where none of it is your problem."

I look down at Soren's profile again.

"That's what this is?" I ask. "A couple of hours of not having problems?"

"I have no idea. I've never booked one." She takes a sip of wine. "But according to his profile, you tell him what you want, what you don't want, and what you need. Then, assuming you both agree, he takes over for the session."

Something about that makes my stomach tighten in a way I don't particularly want to examine.

"I don't need a Dom, Tess."

"I didn't say you did." She reaches across the table and rests her hand over mine. "I'm just suggesting one consultation. If you hate the idea, don't do it. If you book it and change your mind, cancel. I just want you to think about doing something because you might enjoy it, not because somebody else needs you to."

I try to think of the last time someone did something for me simply because they wanted to.

My ex, Daniel, used to make me coffee on Sunday mornings. He always added too much milk, but sometimes I'd wake up and find a mug waiting on my nightstand before I'd even asked.

That was two years ago.

I try to think of something more recent and come up blank.

Tess gives my hand a squeeze before letting go. "That's all I wanted to say. You don't have to do anything with it."

"I'm still not booking a dragon, even if he is hot as fuck."

"I know." She takes her phone back and slips it into her bag, and just like that, the subject is closed. "Now, tell me Richard managed to learn your name today."

A groan escapes me before I can stop it. "Don't be ridiculous, he called me Margie eight times before lunch."

Tess's expression turns murderous on my behalf, and the conversation moves on to several creative suggestions for correcting him that would almost certainly get me fired.

She doesn't mention Dom Dot Com again.

By the time we leave, I've had enough wine that driving home isn't an option, so my car is staying exactly where it is. Tess gets me into a cab, ignores my insistence that I'm perfectly capable of taking the bus, and tells me she'll drive me back for the car tomorrow.

It's almost eleven when I get home. The apartment is cold and dark, but for once there's nothing waiting for me that absolutely has to be done tonight. I kick off my shoes, change into an old T-shirt, and curl up on the couch with my phone, intending to find something mindless to watch until I'm tired enough to go to bed.