former curious, the latter's, sliding over her nervously.
'We've never really been open with you about the nature of my little emails, as Kyle calls them, or myperversions.'
'Oh, Tracy, that isn't necessary,' Kyle interjected, 'We don't have to share every sordid detail with Dr. Pearson. That isn't what he meant by being honest.'
'Don't interrupt, Kyle,' Tracy shot back at him, maybe for the first time in her life. He shut up and she went on, 'I want to tell him. I want him to know what so horrified and astounded you. Why you think I'm such a sick bitch, to paraphrase.'
'I never said,' Kyle began, appealing to the counselor.
'No, you're right. Your exact words were, let me see, 'sick, twisted, disgusting bitch, slut. Oh, and total cunt. Have I missed anything? I'm sure I've blocked some of it out.'
Kyle sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression saying, 'it's your funeral, have at it.'
The counselor pursed his lips, but said nothing, waiting for Tracy to continue.
'Kyle's horror is over the fact that I'm submissive. My fantasies lean toward bondage and discipline. S amp;M. You know, slave girl in chains, that kind of thing.'
Tracy couldn't believe she was saying this out loud, but like the disenfranchised homosexuals of the fifties and sixties, she felt a certain exhilaration at 'coming out' like this. It was one thing to share it with others of like mind, like Paul and even Guy, but here she was admitting it to a practical stranger, in front of her deeply disapproving husband. If she weren't so nervous, she would have laughed with pleasure at what a release it was.
Dr. Pearson's hands didn't fly to his mouth in horror. He didn't scream or run from the room. He didn't pull out a scarlet letter to attach to her bosom. He just nodded and turned to Kyle. 'You're a psychiatrist?' he asked, his voice neutral.
'I am,' Kyle nodded back, looking self-important.
'And yet you still harbor these beliefs that a particular sexual orientation is morally wrong, evil as it were?'
Kyle looked surprised and spluttered, 'Well, I, that is, yes. I mean, this isn't covered in the standard diagnoses. This is outside the realm of psychiatric treatment. It's just, shit, man, it's sick!'
Dr. Pearson nodded thoughtfully, and turned to Tracy. 'And how does it make you feel, to know he feels this way about your sexual orientation?'
'Lonely,' Tracy whispered, and started to cry.
Tracy called in sick the next day. She wasn't really ill, but she felt sick at heart. Her yearning for Paul was almost physical, and she realized she had to admit to herself at least, that she hadn't closed any doors. Since Kyle had destroyed her computer, Tracy went over to his and logged on.
Anger spurred her on, as she recalled his numerous self-sex marathons, pants around his ankles, cock pumping purple and turgid in his hand, while he typed away to his sex buddies online. But this was ok – this was just masculine release, don't you know.
Typing rapidly, before she changed her mind, Tracy logged on to the Palace and waited impatiently as the letters scrolled across the stick drawing of a palace, indicating she was 'in'. She scrolled slowly through the list of people on the board and her heart sank when the names jumped from SexyGirl to SMKing, with no Sir Stephen in between.
Halfheartedly she scrolled through a few of the newer articles about 'the life' and then suddenly, at the bottom of her screen, the words, 'Sir Stephen invites you to join him in his chat room 102.' Oh god! He was there. And he wanted to talk to her. She longed to call him on the telephone, but didn't have the nerve, after their last heartbreaking call.
Quickly she typed the words to accept his invitation, and entered the room.
'Hi,' she typed.
'Hi,' he typed back.
'What are you doing on here?' she asked. It was, after all, the middle of the workday.
'I could ask you the same thing,' he typed back.
'I'm sick. Took a sick day.'
He didn't respond. She typed another line, her heart in her throat. 'Can I call you?'
'You know the number.'
When he answered Tracy's heart squeezed so tightly, she could barely breathe for a moment.
'Oh, Paul! Oh, Paul, I've missed you so much!'
'Me too, Tracy. Are you ok? I've been so worried about you.'
'God, I'm sorry, Paul.' Softly she began to cry.
'Tracy. Stop that. What is it? Why are you crying? I knew the deal going in. I knew you were married. I knew this could happen, would happen really, if you're to stay married. I was never good at picking women.' He laughed ruefully.
'No, it's not that.' Tracy sniffed loudly and said, 'It's your flowers. You didn't get your flowers. Your birthday.'
'Oh, stop. I'm glad I didn't get flowers. I hate my birthday. No one even knows I have a birthday around here. Good thing you didn't ruin it.' His voice was teasing and kind. Tracy laughed in spite of herself and sniffed back her tears.
'Seriously, Tracy, how's it going?'
'Not so good, Paul. I'm trying, but it just isn't working. Kyle's ashamed of me, basically. He doesn't understand me. I think he's willing to forgive and forget, as long as I forgive and forget his little affair, but he wants me to change. He's willing to love me, he says, in spite of my 'peculiarities', if I can control myself. Frankly, I don't think I can.'
'Do you want to?'
'No.'
It was that simple, wasn't it? She didn't have to think it over, to make a decision; it was already made. She was who she was, and Kyle was never going to accept that. It was too much to face at that precise moment so Tracy changed the subject, saying, 'Wasn't it amazing that we both logged on to the Palace at almost the same time? What are the odds of that?'
'No kidding, that was amazing,' Paul agreed, not telling her that he had been logging on every day, sometimes ten or twenty times in a single day, since she had told him it was over those three weeks ago. Each time he logged on, he would hope against hope to 'see' his 'Beloved', his Tracy there.
Each day he told himself he was being an ass, and today would be the last day to do this, but the next day he would be logging on, over and over, hope springing eternal, even as he cursed himself for his stupidity.
When he'd seen her name in the 'logged on' list he'd actually whooped with joy, sitting there alone in his office. His fingers flew over the keys as he hurried to invite her to a chat room before she disappeared.
And what did it mean now, that she had broken her 'promise' and called him before the two months were up? Would things go on as before? Could they, now that secrets had been split open and bared to the harsh light of 'real life'? The questions hung, unspoken and unanswered, between them.
Tracy and Kyle sat opposite one another in Dr. Pearson office. They had come in separate cars, as he had suggested.
'Why do we need two cars?' Kyle had asked, his tone anxious.
'Because some of the issues we are going to deal with might leave one or both of you feeling, uh, a little
