The next morning, Jonathan was gone by the time I awoke. I barely remembered him getting out of bed, too exhausted from the night’s activities. Even after he fucked my mouth by the balcony windows, he didn’t leave me wanting.

He’d helped me to the bathroom and showered with me. He made sure I was alright. He had been rough but I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted him to find his footing without having to worry too much about me. I wanted to help exorcise the demons of his past, of the humiliation he’d felt with someone else. I was no replacement for her, but I was a start.

In the bedroom, Jonathan held my wrists down as he fucked me on the bed, and the memory made my pussy clench. I’d bear his bruises for the next few days, something I could easily hide with wide hammered gold bracelets. I remembered how his hands felt on my body, hitting me on the breasts, my thighs, my cunt. At times, he was like a man possessed, a man making up for lost time and I loved every minute of his becoming. I wanted more, so much more.

My phone rang then and I didn’t need to glance at the display to see who it was. I answered on the second ring.

“You’re awake,” Jonathan said. I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. Had he even slept? “How are you feeling?”

“Happy.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You didn’t say goodbye,” I said, running my fingers on his pillow.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have made my flight,” he said. “Besides, I didn’t want to wake you. Next time I’ll be gentler.”

“You don’t need to be,” I said, pausing. “Aren’t you tired?”

I heard him chuckle. “Not yet.”

“How long’s your flight?”

“About twelve hours, but I plan on sleeping the moment I hang up.”

I wondered if he knew I was still in the apartment. I hated having to rush out, doing my walk of shame so early in the morning. “I’ll be out of the apartment soon. I just need to take a shower and get dressed.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time,” Jonathan said, pausing as I heard someone say something to him in the background, something about a glass of scotch. I heard ice tinkling in a glass. He thanked her before returning to his call. “I left you something on the dining table. But I need you to wait until I hang up before you open it.”

“What if I were to get out of bed right now and check it out?”

“Then I’ll be very displeased with you, Sharon. And not in a good way,” he said in a low, stern voice.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll wait until you hang up.”

“We’re not in a scene right now. You can call me Jonathan.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan,” I said, remembering his rules. We’d have to go over them again–and more formally next time, not when he was fucking my brains out. “Oh, before you go, I want to thank you for everything. I had a wonderful time. A really wonderful time.”

“I did, too.” He was quiet for a few moments. “Sharon, no matter what happens, I want you to remember you’re not alone. I’ll do everything I can to make sure that you’re safe. Do you understand that?”

I wanted so much to believe him, just like I believed every man who claimed to protect me. “Yes, I understand.”

A voice came on the speaker in the background, something about the cruising altitude. “As soon as I hang up, go and check out your surprise. I hope you’ll like it,” Jonathan said.

“Surprise? Why didn’t you say so?” This time, I flung off the covers and swung my legs off the bed. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Actually, I felt more like a blissfully happy woman proudly bearing the signs of her submission to her new Sir.

Jonathan laughed. “Go then. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I found his surprise on the dining table, an envelope resting against a vase of white long-stemmed roses. It contained a handwritten note, a black credit card, and a key.

As I folded his note and slipped it back into the envelope, I couldn't stop myself from smiling. Why did it feel like I’d just received a note from the most popular boy in school asking me to the prom? It was a silly thought but I couldn’t help it.

Debbie was right.

Jonathan Drazen III was not like the others.

He was better.

* * *

I spent the following week moving what little possessions I owned into my new apartment that I almost missed the news about Sebastian. I’d been channel surfing but not really paying attention to what was on TV when I heard his name mentioned on a local news channel. I positioned myself on the floor in front of the TV, waiting for the commercial to finish, wondering if it had been my imagination.

But it wasn’t.

Sebastian’s nonprofit had made it to the top of the list of the worst landlords in the city. They even mentioned his name–twice. The same man who made it his business to shame residential and commercial owners for every sewage leak or busted water pipe had over 400 open building violations himself for two of his properties. As I listened, I lost track of the details, of who owned what and where. What mattered was that even though his advocacy group owned the properties, it was only Sebastian’s name they mentioned and no one else’s. It was him whom they declared was responsible. And he wasn’t available for comment. His representatives claimed he was stepping down until further notice.

As the announcers moved on to the next item, I found myself staring at my phone, feeling the need to talk to Jonathan and ask him if he had anything to do with what just happened. Surely it was a coincidence, had to be. But I couldn’t think clearly. All I could do was feel.

For the first time since I fled my apartment and left everything behind, I felt protected. I felt safe. I texted Jonathan, not knowing what else to say but two words.

– Thank you. –

My thanks could have been for anything–for the two nights I’d spent with him before he left for Asia, for the apartment with a view of the Bay Bridge, for the spending account to replenish the wardrobe I’d left behind when I fled…anything.

Or it could be for getting Sebastian out of San Francisco so I wouldn’t have to be paranoid about showing up for the next photo shoot or look over my shoulder every time. But then, did it really matter what it was for?

Jonathan would know.

Five minutes later, his answer came.

– You’re welcome. –