Savage Tracker by Maggie Cole

14

Selena

What day is it?

I need to get up. I can't stay in bed any longer.

Why does this still hurt so badly?

How many days has it been?

I slowly rise out of bed and open my blinds. It's an overcast day. The river is rougher than normal, which leads me to believe it's windy outside. Several pedestrians and runners pass my building.

What time is it?

I turn on my phone. It's before six in the morning. Dozens of text messages and missed calls pop up. They're only from one person. I scan through them with my heart beating harder and flutters in my stomach. The last message came only a few minutes ago. I read it, blinking back tears.

Obrecht: I miss you so much, baby girl. Please let me know you're all right. I hate how much I hurt you. I'm really worried. If you don't show your beautiful face soon, I'm going to have to break into your place.

I need to get out of here.

Shower and go for a walk.

Within fifteen minutes, I'm in the lobby. Matvey rises and smiles. "Good morning, Selena."

"Good morning, Matvey. I want to go for a walk."

He nods. "Very good. It'll be nice for me to get out of here."

I wince, realizing my hibernation probably meant he had to stay in the lobby for several days. "Sorry I've not gone anywhere and you've had to stay cooped up."

He chuckles. "No worries." He guides me to the front door, steps out before me and glances both ways, then motions for me to follow. "Where would you like to go?"

I shrug then gaze in both directions. "Let's go on the Riverwalk."

"Very well."

The fresh air feels nice. I take several deep breaths, already feeling better. It's a crisp morning. I only have on a T-shirt and shorts, and the cold air hits my skin, waking me up even more. I don't say anything to Matvey and get lost in my thoughts.

It isn't rational for me to think I can avoid Obrecht forever. I already know I don't want to never see him again, but I don't want to fall into my old situation.

Jack broke my trust.

Obrecht broke my trust.

Is it the same thing?

The debate goes on in my head, followed by more embarrassment over how screwed up I am. If I weren't, Obrecht wouldn't have had a therapist come to his house. A cloud of depression climbs back into my chest. I'm a thirty-year-old woman who doesn't even know who she is or what her purpose is anymore. At least with Jack, I knew my role. Good or bad, there were expectations on me, and I was someone to him. Wife, slave, whatever you want to call me, my life was clear. I was Jack's and there to serve and obey him. Everything I did was for him. Now the divorce is over, and I've escaped him, there's nothing to focus on.

I'm unsure how to act. The other night, I proved I can't even control my own body when I'm away from Jack. The events of the panic attack I had are still fuzzy. All I remember is waking up and wanting Obrecht. It all merges, making me hate myself. At least with Jack, I didn't have these confusing thoughts about what's wrong or right or how to act. For a split second, I wonder if going back to him would be easier. Is having my freedom and all these new problems better? The thought scares me more than anything because part of me considers it.

After I walk an hour, I veer off the Riverwalk and go into a cafe. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries flares in my nostrils. My stomach growls and I realize I haven't eaten much in the last few days. I order a vanilla latte and banana muffin then go to the waiting area. I'm still lost in my thoughts as I wait for my order.

"Selena?"

I glance over at the woman who said my name, and after a few seconds, a feeling of dread grows.

Did she follow me here?

No, she's waiting for her coffee and was here before me.

I relax and take a deep breath to calm my quivering insides as my cheeks burn.

She smiles and holds out her hand. "We didn't get to meet. I'm Carla."

I survey the room to see if Obrecht is with her, but he isn't.

"He's not with me," she says, as if she can read my mind.

"How did you know I was looking for him?" I ask and notice she's still holding out her hand, so I take it and shake it quickly.

"Carla," the barista calls out and sets her drink down.

She shrugs and picks it up then smiles. "He's freaking out. Never seen him this way. Surprised he didn't break down your door at this point."

My heart stammers. "How do you know this?"

"Selena," the barista shouts and puts my latte and pastry on the counter.

Carla's smile grows. "He's texting me every few hours. I keep telling him not to knock it down."

I chew on my lip, not sure how to respond to her comment. Should I feel upset she seems to know so much about Obrecht's and my problems? Part of me is irritated but only a small part. The rest of me wants to know what else she knows.

She hesitates. "I'm here by myself. Do you want to sit with me?"

I hesitate.

"Just two girls having coffee?" she chirps, and a hopeful expression fills her face.

I cave. "Okay."

She chooses a table in the corner. We sit, and my stomach clenches with nerves. I take a sip of coffee and stare out the window.

Why did I agree to sit with her?

"I want to apologize for how we met," she says.

I force myself to look at her.

She continues, "I told Obrecht to ask you before I came over."

"What did he tell you about me?" I blurt out, and my cheeks burn.

She puts her hand on mine. "Not a lot. But enough that I wanted to meet you. Have to admit, I was curious about you. Obrecht doesn't ever associate with his bottoms outside of the club."

I pull my hand away. "We live in the same building."

"So? He still had you in his bed."

My jealousy flares. "And you wanted to meet me because you wanted to be there instead of me?"

She snickers then takes a sip of coffee. "Sorry. I wasn't laughing at you, just the thought. I'm more like Obrecht, except I prefer to administer pain. Unless he wanted to suddenly become a submissive who needs a good paddling, what you're suggesting isn't possible."

I cringe. "Pain?"

She nods. "Only for those who want it. In a controlled situation."

"And you're a therapist?" I shouldn't judge her, but she's nothing like the strait-laced therapist I saw.

Amusement fills her expression. "Yeah. But I only work with those in the BDSM community."

My chest tightens. "Why?"

"I understand their needs, and there aren't a lot of therapists who do."

My knee bounces. "Will you please tell me what Obrecht told you about me?" I'm unsure why I want to know so badly, but I do.

Her face falls, and she glances behind us, then lowers her voice. "Sure. He said your ex-husband made you be his slave, and you never consented to that type of relationship. He also said your ex abused you, and you had a panic attack."

"What else?"

"He wanted to help you, was topping you, and you had gone to two sessions with Cascade but then stopped."

My gut drops. More embarrassment annihilates me. I'm unsure why I admit to her, "I never told Obrecht about Cascade."

She raises her eyebrows. "Yes. He told me. It made me want to meet you more."

Once again, like the majority of my life lately, I'm confused. "Why?"

She drinks more coffee and replies, "I've known Obrecht for a long time. He only digs if he's interested. Not sure if that makes it better for you or not."

"What do you mean?"

She taps her coffee cup. "Obrecht has a one-track mind. He's either interested or not. He keeps his circle tight, mostly his family. He goes to the club, gets what he needs, and leaves. He has a few bottoms he plays with and doesn't stray too far. None of them see him outside of their sessions. That makes you special."

My heart skips a beat.

Her brown eyes twinkle. "I'm glad you're making him pay for his actions."

My chest tightens. "Sorry...what? I'm not trying to hurt him."

She shakes her head. "No, I didn't mean for it to come across that way. I apologize. I meant it's good for him to see he needs to talk to you and not assume things before making decisions on your behalf. A little space for him to think hard about his actions isn't a bad thing. Plus, it reiterates you hold the power."

Again, I'm confused. Obrecht said it to me before, but I didn't understand what he meant then, and I don't understand what she means. I feel anything but like I'm in control where Obrecht is concerned or even in my life.

"Your expression tells me you don't believe me?" she asks.

I focus on my banana muffin and tear a small piece off. "No, I don't." I pop the food in my mouth and chew it slowly.

She leans closer. "You're a submissive?"

"I-I guess." More heat flies to my face, and I avoid looking at her. I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed or not, but something about wanting to submit when she knows Jack made me his slave makes me feel shame. With Obrecht, I could fall into my role, and it seemed okay, but I barely know this woman.

She smiles, as if I said something amazing. "In some ways, I wish I were a sub."

I glance up, surprised. "Why would you say that?"

She sits back in her seat. "Like I said, you hold all the power. You create all the boundaries. Us Doms are the ones who have to figure out how to give you what you need without going past your limit."

"Sounds tedious," I nervously tease.

She laughs. "It can be. But when you know your sub's needs and can give it to them, it's magical for both people."

I chew on my lip. She's so confident and knowledgeable about subs and Doms, and I barely know anything. "If you want to be a sub, why don't you just do it?"

She takes hand lotion out of her purse, adds a dab, and puts it on the table in front of me. She rubs her hands together. "Help yourself. And I'm not a sub because it's not who I am. You're either a sub, Dom, or a switch. I'm as Dom as they come."

"Switch?"

"Someone who can fall into both roles."

"More terms," I mutter under my breath then pick up the lotion and rub some into my hands.

"It can be confusing at first, especially since there is no right or wrong, and so much is subjective. The important thing is the two people coming together are clear on what they both need and want." She puts her oversized blue bag on the table and riffles through it. "Ah, here it is. You can keep this." She hands me a small booklet titled BDSM Basics. Her name is on it.

"You wrote this?"

"Yes. I got tired of my clients feeling ashamed and confused over the urges they felt."

I lock eyes with her and take a deep breath. "Urges?"

She gives me another kind smile and nods. "The world around us doesn't understand the BDSM lifestyle. There's a lot of misconceptions about it. We all have a desire to submit or dominate in most parts of life. Sexually, it can be confusing." She hesitates then adds, "Especially after someone submitted due to force but then finds themselves craving it."

Emotions overwhelm me, and I blink hard. I turn to the window to pull myself together.

She puts her hand on mine. "Can I make an assumption?"

I take a deep breath and nod but don't take my eyes off the building across the street.

"Based on the other women and men I've worked with who were in a Master-slave relationship that wasn't by consent and involved abuse, I'm assuming you experience a lot of confusion and maybe even shame and guilt around your urge to submit."

My lips tremble. Against my will, tears slide down my cheeks. I wipe my face and nod, still not looking at her.

"Nothing you feel is abnormal. I know this is hard to believe right now, but over time, if you embrace your urges in a healthy way and work through things, all those bad feelings will go away."

I finally turn back to her. "How?"

Her face doesn't display pity or judgment like the other therapist I went to. There's a confidence that makes me want to believe her without question. "Time. Education. Experimentation. And you should know, everyone in the BDSM community is on a journey. No one's path or experience is the same. There are no right or wrongs, except non-consent."

There's a shrill ring, and she groans, then pulls her phone out of her purse. She swipes the screen. "I'm sorry, Selena. That's my alarm to get my booty to the office. I need to go, but it was really nice having coffee with you."

"Umm, you, too."

She rises and points to the booklet she gave me. "If you ever want to talk or text, my cell is on there."

"Thanks. Ah..." My heart hammers harder.

"Please ask whatever you want."

"What do I do about Obrecht?"

Her face lights up. "Whatever you want. Remember, you hold the cards. I hope to see you soon." She winks, picks up her coffee, and leaves.

I stay for a long time, staring out the window, watching all the people pass by the cafe in their own worlds. They all make life look so easy. I wonder if I'll ever feel like I have it together. When I leave, I still don't know what to do about Obrecht, but I pull out my phone and text Carla when I get back to my condo.

Me: It's Selena. Do you think I could schedule a session with you?

Then I text Obrecht.

Me: I'm okay. I'm trying to figure some things out. Can you give me some more time? I'm not ready to talk yet.

Obrecht: Whatever you need, baby girl. I really do miss you.

Me: I miss you, too.