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And that one little statement of assurance struck a chord within her. It touched on every insecurity, every bit of loneliness, every single bit of fear she felt being alone in the world. It was touching to just have her goodness seen and acknowledged. “Thank you, Loren,” she said.
He clasped his hands together and rubbed them. “You ready to do this?”
“Honestly? No.”
He chuckled.
“Let’s meet in the middle and I’ll just pay for two more sessions, regular rate. Deal?” she asked, extending her hand.
He took it and shook it firmly. “Deal. Now let’s get back to work.”
Desdemona led him back into the living area, surprised that the kindness of this stranger motivated her even more to reach her goals.
* * *
Desdemona couldn’t sleep.
She lay in the middle of her bed with her arms open wide and her naked body sandwiched between bright white fifteen-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets that felt like cool hands on every spot of her body. Her six pillows were soft and full—and the only things joining her in bed these last five years. Those and her vibrator.
Am I crazy to be celibate?
Sex was hers; to be had and sold.
Why am I lying here horny?
They were plenty of consorts who were skilled and willing to have her and to please her.
But that’s not what I want. They’re not what I want.
She rolled over to her side, knocking one of the six plush pillows on her bed onto the floor as she opened the bedside nightstand and grabbed a distraction from the rise in her nature. As she rummaged, her hand hit her sex toy and it vibrated to life.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
She picked it up, her hand shaking from the movement. She paused, looking at it as she pressed her thighs together. With a sigh, she turned it off and dropped it back in the drawer to remove the book she had stashed there weeks ago. Setting it on the bed, she pulled her body up to a sitting position and grabbed her reading glasses before opening the book.
On the very first page of chapter one her brows furrowed in frustration. “The . . . hearth and the . . .”
She didn’t know the word. “Sa—sa—sa,” she said, struggling. “Shit.”
Sound it out.
Advice from Loren.
Desdemona pressed her finger beneath the first letter of the word. “Sa-la-man-der,” she said. “Sal-a-mand-er. Salamander.”
Am I right?
She picked up her iPhone from the nightstand and searched for “how to pronounce salamander.” A YouTube video came up first in the search.
“Salamander,” the robotic voice said.
Desdemona smiled. “I was right.”
“Every word in a story is important. Every single word. Nothing should be overlooked or skipped or misunderstood to make sure you comprehend—or understand—the story.”
More Loren in her head.
More and more her young tutor and his teaching were there with her throughout the day, and she was realizing more and more that a lot of what she was learning was already there in her life.
