Debbie was still at Stock when I called her. I was standing by my hotel room window overlooking the city, a glass of scotch in one hand. I’d just dropped Sharon off at the apartment she shared with her friend, Lacey, and although I was tired, I needed to talk to someone.

“I gather it didn’t go over well,” Debbie said as soon as she answered, “unless you had an early start and you’re calling to thank me.”

“Contrary to what you may have heard, Debbie, I don’t sleep with every girl on the first date,” I said. “Let’s say that Sharon and I are still in the getting-to-know-you phase.”

“Glad to hear that,” Debbie said. I could almost see the wry expression on her face as she spoke. She could tell something was not quite right. “So, what’s the problem?”

“She’s got baggage who happens to head one of the tenant groups determined to block my latest development. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it’s still baggage I didn’t expect to run into.” I hated mixing business with my personal life, especially when shareholders got a front row seat when my personal life spilled right in front of them a few weeks earlier. Who knew Jonathan Drazen III would actually lose it?

“We all have baggage, Jon. We can’t get away from it no matter how hard we try,” Debbie said. “Sharon’s nice but if she’s not working out for you, I can recommend someone else.”

“No, she’s fine. I just wanted to take it easy tonight.” No, that was a lie. I’d wanted to take her back to my room and fuck her, but like Debbie just said, we all had baggage and I had enough of my own. I could fill the entire Bradley Terminal at LAX with mine and it started with the letter J. “I called to thank you. I had a wonderful time with her tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Debbie said. “Sharon can teach you a thing or two if you’re open to it. She’s a natural…unlike some people we know.”

I knew whom Debbie meant but there was no need to say her name. My lovely ex-wife was far from a natural submissive in the bedroom, not when it came to the things I liked. She even made sure that every single one of our friends knew about my sexual preferences in graphic detail–at least, her version of it. When I spanked her ass, she claimed I beat her. When I held her down as I made love to her, she said I raped her. No, it was best not to say her name out loud.

I said goodbye to Debbie and hung up, finished my scotch and set the glass on the table. Thoughts of Jessica came swirling back to me, of the nights she’d rejected my efforts to dominate her in bed. Knowing she was with someone else now smarted, but realizing I’d become a controlling asshole when I couldn’t get what I wanted from her hurt more.

I hadn’t asked for much, just a connection between us especially when I was away on business, which was often. I wanted Jessica to think of me throughout the day, and so I asked her to touch herself for me or wear something that would remind her of me. Some days, I just wanted to hear her say my name. Yet she refused, treating every little request as an unreasonable demand, and I’d doubted myself ever since.

Was it so wrong to want that connection, a bond that would surpass time and space? That even if we were on the opposite ends of the globe, we were truly together?

I laughed dryly. Did it matter now? Whatever I’d done wrong was in the past. Jessica had moved on and I needed to do the same even if I would never love another woman again. She’d always be the one who’d hold the key to my heart–and all my darkest secrets.

Stop it, Jon. Stop this.

I forced myself to think of something else. The last thing I needed was my night to go any further downhill, pining for a woman who left me for another man.

Sharon. Think of Sharon.

I smiled, remembering how Sharon had addressed me as Sir in the car and how we’d laughed when she apologized–again. Debbie was right; Sharon was a natural. It was there when she waited for me to order for her, and when she asked me to choose which wine would pair best with the food without saying a word. It was there when I wiped the ketchup from the corner of her mouth. All it took was a look and she understood. Her tastes were still simple, still unrefined, but with practice, I could see her blossoming. She was perfect for what I needed.

But she was broken. Just like me.

I gazed at the direction of the Mission District in the ocean of lights below me. A part of me wished I’d brought her up to my hotel room though I also knew I’d made the right decision to drive her back home. She wasn’t ready and neither was I.

Tomorrow, it would begin. Tomorrow, I’d let her show me how it was done.