Page 28 of Carter

Like a good girl.

I want him so badly.

I want to be home.

Why is he sending me to the hotel to think?

Is he afraid I’ll leave again? That I can’t handle being Bachman?

He has another think coming.

I’m going to be the best damn submissive the Village has ever seen.

I’m just going to need a little help.

9

Sasha

I’m wearing all black—as usual. Tonight, it’s a help to me.

I’m sneaking into the Village.

I was delighted to find my thumb print hadn’t yet been erased from the gates. Otherwise, my plan would be over before it began. I’m tiptoeing along the stone wall. My heart is going crazy against my ribcage. I’m breathing hard and stumbling over the landscaping.

I shouldn’t be here. Carter hasn’t officially invited me back yet. But I have to see Mary. I’m getting closer to her house. I scurry beyond the wall, bending my body behind a tree. I crane my neck around its trunk. I can see her in the window. John won’t be home from work yet—I’ve timed this out perfectly. She’s got her pink flower apron on and she’s stirring her big mixing bowl. She dips her fingers within and takes a taste. Chocolate.

I groan—she’s making her brownies. The ones having me teaching back-to-back classes the day after she bakes them. She holds the bowl up, scraping the sides and pours the batter into the pan. She’s using a red spatula.

The spatula.

I feel my throat tightens and I gulp. She’s told me stories about that particular cooking utensil. Ones that have my already sore butt cheeks clenching, now.

Can I really do this? Can I be a spanked woman?

Remembering my mission, I press forward. I step out from behind my tree and into her back garden. The motion sensing light flickers on. Alerted by the light, she turns, looking into the yard. Her eyes lock on mine. Shock, then delight, covers her face.

The back door swings open, and she’s ushering me in. “Come, come, Sasha. Has anyone seen you?”

She’s pulling me into a warm hug. She smells like vanilla and chocolate and… Mary. A pang hits my heart. Tears prick in my eyes. I’ve missed her.

Her hands move to my shoulders, and she’s holding me at arm’s length, looking me over. Inspecting me for damage. The wounds I have aren’t visible. Tears form in my eyes.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry! We’ve all been missing you so much.” She pulls me into another hug.

She sits me down at her kitchen table and goes to put her kettle on. Mary is always good for a cup of tea when you’re upset. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to contact you—you know how it is. But lord, it just broke my heart every time I thought of you and couldn’t see you, much less shoot you a text!”

“It’s okay, I understand,” I say sheepishly. I know I shouldn’t be here. My visit could Mary get into trouble. “I’m sorry to sneak over here like this, but I need advice.”

She gives me what can only be described as a no-nonsense look. “Of course you do, honey. You’ve pushed your way up against the wall and now you’ve got to turn around and face the music or climb on up and skedaddle over. Not an easy decision.”

My eyes glance over her. She’s the perfect picture of domesticity. “Why was the decision so easy for you to make? Look at you, in your apron, baking for your man. You never had a moment of doubt. Why can’t I be like that? Why do I have to be so damn…”

She smiles. “Sasha-ish?”

I laugh. “Yes, I guess that’s what you could call it. Others call it stubborn. Or worse.”

She says, “Because that’s just who you are, honey. You like to test the limits. As absolutely far as they will go. And, finally, you’ve found them.”