The invigorating sounds of twin violins playing in harmony dragged me reluctantly from a dreamless sleep. I stretched lazily in the bed as the sounds began to swell even more loudly from my phone. Lifting my arms above my head, I felt the muscles in my right shoulder go stiff.

Maybe I had gotten carried away at work yesterday. A hot shower should help loosen my muscles enough to ensure they are ready for my new appointment later on tonight. Fresh meat. I always looked forward to working with new clients and I knew that Lila had me booked with one later on this evening. I rolled my shoulders a couple more times, thinking about the meeting prior to my new client appointment tonight.

As I lay in bed and contemplated the day's schedule, the swell of the violins got louder and more insistent. That was why I'd picked Vivaldi’s Spring for that particular alarm, because I knew that it would only grow more demanding of me to get up and get out of bed. Before the crescendo could get any more adamant, I threw the covers back and reached over to pick up the phone from the bedside table. I quickly turned off the phone and began to check my messages. There was one from Lila, reminding me about my upcoming client for the day.

Appointment today, Samuel! Lila texted.

I remember. See you by noon for our regular meeting? I texted.

Sounds fantastic! She readily agreed.

Her texts were always short and sweet. I supposed having an omega and two children in her life at the same time that she was trying to run a business, would do that to a person.

After scrolling through a few of my mundane social media posts, it became obvious that nothing important was waiting on me. It was the same old barrage of empty and meaningless "anniversary" and "memories" posts that made my empty bed seem even more empty than it already was.

Why did my social media accounts still offer me reminders of "memories" of someone I hadn't followed in two years? My finger hovered lightly over the notification before I swiped it away. There was no point in wondering what might have been about Eric anymore. I was past that. The harsh reality of his absence was going to remain true, even if a silly notification from my online accounts made me have a passing moment of nostalgia.

As I stood and began making the bed, I remembered how Eric used to tease me about my need to have everything in my life be so meticulous. The bed always had to be made before I left the room, without a wrinkle out of place. The throw pillows had to be arranged just so, to take up all of the empty space on my king-sized bed. He would laugh about how obsessive I was with my clothes needing to be folded just right, carefully arranged by color and style. Everything in the place was seamlessly coordinated, from the window treatments to the phone holder. I don’t know why Eric was still heavy on my mind this morning. He was one that walked out on me, never to return again. Maybe he just couldn’t deal with my meticulous ways.

Maybe I needed to re-think the king-sized bed. Ever since Eric left, there was a lot of wasted space. Emptiness that lingered, staring me in the face with each passing day that I woke up alone. I’d just been too stubborn to do anything about it for the last two years and as much as I knew I needed to downsize for a number of reasons, I also knew that I was unlikely to follow through with it.

Once the bed was made perfectly, I undressed, tossing my underwear into the matching hamper that I bought on a whim the very weekend that I realized that Eric wasn’t coming back.

I let my mind wander to consider exactly what Eric would have thought of that hamper. He probably would have laughed and teased me mercilessly about it.

I sighed at my own nostalgia as I turned on the shower and allowed the hot water to awaken me from the reverie of my ex. There was no point to it, and I shouldn't need so many reminders of that fact. but the social media "updates" celebrating milestones from years past didn’t do me any favors in the "how not to be a pathetic sap" department.

As the water came cascading over me, my pale skin began to turn red from the intense heat of the shower spray, the perfect therapy I needed for my shoulder. I didn't feel old at 42, but this morning, my shoulder was definitely disagreeing with me.

The next time I met with Issac in a session, I was going to have to be a bit more careful about the way I swung that paddle. I'd been wrapped up enough in his safety and concern that I had momentarily forgotten my own. It was a rookie mistake and one I should have passed by now.

After a few minutes of letting the hot water do its trick on my shoulder, I washed my hair. Raising my arms above my head didn't cause any strong twinge in my muscles, so the quick shower therapy must have done its job loosening up my earlier stiffness. I was relieved, especially because I had a new client tonight and didn’t want to have to be careful to not further injure my shoulder. I got done in the shower and made sure the towel was folded precisely the way to look as though it had never been touched ever. Looking in the mirror, I took note that I needed to shave. As I trimmed my beard, I noted that the sides were getting a little too thick and dark for my personal comfort. My clients liked a youthful alpha taking control in our sessions, and frankly, I think the darker look aged me too much.

When I was satisfied with my beard, my hair, of course, had to reflect my refined look.. It was at the length now where I had to be careful how much product to put in it. Too much would just weight it down, but if I didn't put enough in, my hair would be hanging limping against my forehead in a pile of sweat by the end of my session today. Scratch that, if I didn't put enough product in my hair to control it, the humidity of Raleigh's August weather might destroy my look entirely.

I certainly wouldn't pay for an alpha to be my master for a session if they couldn't even manage to arrive to their studio without destroying their hair.

If I wanted to look the part, I had to dress the part as well. I had discovered that my clients liked their alphas to wear bold colors, but nothing too dark. I'd been told that all dark colors made me look too intimidating. So I typically layered my clothes with something light on the bottom layer and something dark on top. That gave me a more approachable vibe, which worked especially well with new clients who had never been to KinKee Sensation Studio. So while the pants, blazer, and shoes were all chocolate-colored, I chose a blue dress shirt that would have matched a cloudless Raleigh summer sky to complete the look.

Glancing quickly at my phone, I noted that I had plenty of time to put my kit together. There were no additional notes from Lila about my client's preferences, so I decided to put together a variety of potential toys to get us started. The box I kept in my closet was far too big to carry back and forth to work with me, so instead I carried a duffle bag.

In that bag, I place several lengths of cotton rope, in a variety of colors. But while many newcomers want to be restrained, not all of them were fans of being tied with rope, so I also included satin ties and silken ribbons, in case the newcomer wants the sensation of being tied up without the harsher feeling that the ropes could inspire. I also threw in a couple of padded cuffs - one in dark blue and one in light pink. Some omegas liked the "feminization" of the pink cuffs, while others found it to be an affront to their dignity. Some found it an affront to their dignity and want to experience it. I liked to be prepared for all of the options. Just in case my newcomer wasn’t quite as "new" or timid as I expected him to be, I’ll put in a few harsh twine bindings. I didn't have all of the colors I’d liked, and would have to restock, but I had enough to do for the afternoon. The newcomer was a quicker addition than we normally planned when making our schedules.

Rummaging around in my supplies, I considered the options for the omega if he was into sensation play. For the first session, I didn't want to have to spend to go too roughly on him. If that was something he was into, we could build up to that, after the trust had been established. But I packed a couple of feather teasers and a pinwheel.

Of course the paddle was must, but I hesitated including a riding crop. Pain play was also something I didn't want to get too heavily invested in during the first session. But then, I decided to add a ruler at the last minute. More than one omega had a teacher fetish, and if they showed up wanting that, no riding crop or paddle would be an acceptable substitute.

I was pretty sure I had included everything I needed to keep a new client coming back for more. I gave it all one last look over and zipped the bag shut, pocketed my phone, and slung the duffle bag over my shoulder.

My footsteps echoed into the void as I made my way to the kitchen where solitary greeted me. I checked my phone again to occupy my thoughts. I had a few messages from social media reminding me that my mother had made an update to her most recent story, and a couple of posts from Lila showing pictures of her happy family at the breakfast table. Setting the duffle bag down on the floor beside the counter, I made sure to like her selfies. Lila was a good egg, and a great boss. After all, she took me in after the bigot at my last job had fired me. That earned several her several free likes in my book, even if looking at the photos made me go cold all over on the inside for a reason I was scared to attach a name to.

The kitchen was resoundingly empty on this particular morning, but it wasn't an emptiness that was new. As I heated the water for my breakfast of herbal tea and oatmeal, I checked the daily newspaper on my phone as well. Flipping through the Raleigh Daily Times, I noticed that there was in fact a local family show at the theater. That wasn't exactly my sort of thing. In order to go to a "family event," one typically needed an actual family.

I let the tea steep while I continued to browse the local news reports. Several mentions of local MMA fights came across the local news section, and I had to fight down the wave of nostalgia that continued to tempt me to indulge, despite my resolve. I shook my head at myself, trying to physically will my thoughts away, and turned off my phone before slipping it into my pocket.

I sat down and ate my breakfast of just plain oatmeal and a banana. Along with the tea, it was certainly a healthy and delicious breakfast, one fit for champions.

But it was a lonely one, without anyone to share it with, and despite my determination to quit thinking about a relationship that shouldn't still sting, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if Eric was still here. He hated oatmeal, and was always determined to have nothing less than a plate full of protein in the morning.

I thought about that as I scraped the last remains of my oatmeal onto my spoon. I tried to tell myself that it was one of the reasons that the two of us hadn't been compatible. The signs had been there, hadn't they? I had just chosen not to listen to them. As a result, I'd been left with a broken heart when the man I'd planned to marry had run off without so much as a goodbye.

Taking my bowl and cup to the dishwasher, I deposited both before picking my duffle bag back up. Popping a mint out of my back pocket, I bit down on it roughly.

I didn’t have any more time nor patience to continue wandering down memory lane. It was time to get to work.