"Don't call me honey," she finally said, coming to stand in the front hall, which was really nothing more than faux marble tiles separating the kitchen's linoleum from the family room's beige carpet.

"Let me explain."

Her jaw dropped in total disgust. "I don't think you can explain away what I saw."

He had a long face, and it got even longer as he frowned. "You think I was cheating, but I wasn't-"

Natalie cut him off. "That woman was-" She stopped, unable to utter a single word describing the event that had so angered and humiliated her. "I believe what she was doing is considered sex, and therefore you were cheating." She held out her hand. "I want my key back, please." She should have felt an ache, or even tears prodding her eyes. Yet after her punishment in Mr. Masters' office, Natalie didn't feel much of anything for Van except anger.

"It was a therapy session."

Okay. She felt an emotion. Wait, was disbelief an emotion? "Therapy?" Then there was another emotion. Laughter. Oh wait, laughter wasn't an emotion either. How about hysterical laughter? It simply bubbled up her throat. She tried to cover it with her hand, but she couldn't stop, until her belly hurt and moisture trickled from her eyes.

Van's lips thinned and his nostrils flared. Clearly he didn't share her sense of humor. "Mistress Divine is my sex therapist."

Natalie swiped at her streaming eyes, slashes of mascara on her fingers. "Please. I deserve better than that. I'm not an idiot." Except where Mr. Masters' lunch schedule was concerned.

Van's face softened, his blue eyes turning soft. "Please. Sit down. Let me tell you." He tipped his head like a dog begging for a biscuit. "After two years together, you at least have to listen."

Now that made her mad. "I don't owe you anything." Yet, for the sake of the two years they'd had, she entered her family room to sit primly on the edge of the sofa. Once again, she held out her hand. "First, my key, please." She'd shoved his key through his mail slot after she left his apartment.

Van pulled out his set and, with exacting movements, worked her house key off the ring. He laid it in the middle of the glass coffee table.

"All right, explain about your therapist."

He sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of her. His feet were bare, the soles dirty. He was so not for her. She didn't know how she could have thought otherwise, except that she'd loved his carefree spirit. Once upon a time, he'd made her want to be carefree, too. Or maybe all her rationalizations were simply because she wanted to deny how much he'd hurt her, how his infidelity had ripped away her self-esteem.

"I have needs, Natalie."

She snorted. "We all do. I satisfied mine with you." Then, horribly, her face heated. She thought of Mr. Masters and how she'd satisfied her need right there in his office. She was no better than Van. Except that he'd done it first.

"I have darker needs. I was afraid you wouldn't understand about them. Mistress Divine has been helping me work through this."

Of all the gall. "She was using a-" She couldn't even finish the full sentence.

"I know," he said simply.

And they'd been having therapy on the bed in which he'd made love to Natalie. She felt violated. All she could say was "Mistress Divine does not sound like a therapist's name. Does she have a degree?"

"She's a black belt."

That wasn't what she'd meant, and Natalie laughed. After her hysterical bout earlier, it actually hurt her throat. "She's a dominatrix, isn't she?"

"Yes." He put his hands together and bowed his head as if he were praying. "She helps me through my needs so that I don't have to foist them upon you."

"How magnanimous of you." Her blood boiled over, and she was pretty sure her eyes were rage-red. "I've never heard a man explain away his cheating by saying he was saving his girlfriend from himself."

He raised just his eyes. "I never told you because I was afraid you wouldn't understand." There was a look of condescension, too, an I-told-you-so.

She leaned down slightly. "So what you're saying is that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about your darker needs, so you cheated instead."

"I wasn't cheating, Natalie." His voice took on a plaintive quality. "I just never wanted to frighten you. I've been fighting my submissive nature all my life. I've lost girlfriends over it before. I didn't want to lose you."

"Right." She huffed out a sharp breath. He'd never trusted her. "You could have asked me."

"I did."

She snorted. "You did not."

"Don't you remember when I showed you those pictures on the Internet?"

She couldn't believe she was having this conversation. As if she were the one who had to do the justifying. "You were always showing me porn on the Internet. How was I supposed to know that was something you actually wanted?"

"Everything I showed you was something I wanted."

She'd refused to let it hurt her feelings, telling herself some men were just that way, visual, and Internet porn got their motors running. She hadn't wanted to read between the lines either-that would require too much analyzing about the situation-and, dammit, she wanted a man to tell her flat out what he wanted instead of expecting her simply to get what he meant.

You can bend over my desk, lift your skirt, and take the spanking you so richly deserve.

Her face flushed as she heard Mr. Masters' voice in her head. She realized that while making love with Van had been fine, she'd never gotten quite as hot or wet as she had when Mr. Masters ordered her to bare her bottom for him.

God, maybe she was a closet submissive. Not to mention fickle and shallow.

"Van, it doesn't matter why you didn't tell me. It merely shows that you didn't trust in me or our relationship."

He shot her the look of a whipped puppy, which might not be far off considering his submissive predilections. God, did he like to be chained up and beaten? Natalie shuddered.

"Please give me another chance, baby. I promise I'll tell you everything. I'll even introduce you to Mistress Divine, and she can explain it all."

Ewwe. "I do not want to meet your mistress." She was done feeling betrayed. She'd licked her wounds, now it was time to heal. "I don't want-"

He held up his hand, blocking his face from her view. "Don't say it. Please think about it. Over the weekend. I care about you. I don't want to lose you. I know we can make this right between us."

"Van, I-"

He shook his head, holding up both hands this time. "I'm sorry I lied. You're right, I didn't trust you to accept that side of me. But if you give me a chance, we can work this out. Think about it over the weekend, and on Monday if you still want me out of your life, I'll go."

They'd had two years together. She'd walked in on something horrifying. Well, that was an exaggeration. She wasn't a prude. The horror wasn't in the act itself. Under other circumstances-especially since letting Mr. Masters spank her-she might have found the whole thing titillating. No, the pain was in the fact that another woman was doing it to him and that he'd loved it more than anything Natalie had ever done with him. Maybe she had too much pride to consider forgiving him. Whatever. The image had been debilitating.

Natalie gave herself one deep breath. "I'll give you the weekend. But if I still say no on Monday, then I don't want to hear from you again."

She thought he might kiss her feet at the declaration, and there was something oddly powerful in having a man at her feet. She'd been dumped enough times in her life to feel the pleasure of having a man beg for her.

It felt almost as good as Mr. Masters swatting her bottom.

It would have been cleansing to slam the door on Van's butt on the way out, but Natalie didn't. That was just plain petty and beneath her, but the anger did serve a purpose, ridding her of the self-pity she'd been indulging in the past few days.

She'd had a right to expect more from Van. Sex therapist, my foot. She had a right to demand pleasure. The level of pleasure Mr. Masters had given her in his office.

Her skin heated. As if he were a magician snapping his fingers, even from afar, Mr. Masters made her suddenly wet, breathless, and needy.

Closing her eyes, she could feel the stinging swat of his hand. All alone in her empty house, Natalie shivered. His scent was all over her. How could that be when he hadn't even removed his clothes?

Natalie stepped out of her high heels, and entering the bedroom, she undid her skirt, let it fall, and walked right out of the pool of fabric.

Padding barefoot across the carpet, the swish of her silk blouse against her skin felt sexy, decadent, sensuous. She deserved to feel this good. It was her right as a woman. In trying to please Van in all aspects of their relationship, she'd ignored her own needs.

On her last birthday, the girls had surprised her with a vibrator. She'd been mortified, which was their intention, of course. Diana, her roommate before she'd saved enough for a down payment on the house, claimed the longer a woman was in a relationship, the more she needed a vibrator. Natalie felt exactly the opposite, that in a committed relationship, you shouldn't need outside stimulation.

Well, all right, she should have seen the writing on the wall when Van was so fascinated with the Internet. But no, she'd tossed the vibrator in the bottom drawer of the bedside table and forgotten about it.

Hmm, did it have great meaning that she knew exactly where it was? Oh yes, it probably did, something cosmic like Don't throw this out because someday you're going to need it badly to take the edge off what Mr. Masters did to you in his office, you dirty, naughty woman.

What would it feel like now, with her butt still tender, her pussy wet and warm? With fantasies of Mr. Masters running around in her head like proverbial sugar plum faeries?

Oh, she deserved to find out. In a way, it could even be considered payback for what Van had done. He'd needed so-called help from his sex therapist. Natalie was going to get help from her battery-operated BFF, as Diana had called the purple silicon device.

Natalie dropped to her knees by the side of the bed and opened the drawer. The toy was buried beneath a few scarves, her 49ers T-shirt, and her Sharks jersey.

Hah. The batteries still worked. Diana had put them in so Natalie could feel the thrum against her hand. Oh yeah, mortifying then, perfect now. Eight inches long, with a little swan-shaped node in a most strategic place, it had three vibrating speeds and two rotating speeds. Buried beneath the silicon skin were layers of beads designed to caress deep inside as they rotated around the shaft. Who needed a man with all this technology?

Take that, Van.

She removed her thong, undid the front clasp of her bra, but left her blouse buttoned. She liked the feel of silk and lace caressing her nipples. Pulling her hair loose from its bun, she let it float down over her shoulders.

Okay, how did one do this? Flat on your back and let it take you missionary?

She imagined Mr. Masters telling her what to do and she had the most absolutely thrilling idea. It was probably scandalous, maybe even perverted, but no one need ever know. This was just for her.

She crawled across the carpet to the full-length mirrored closet door.

"On your knees, Miss Beaumonde"-she imitated Mr. Masters' deep tones-"and spread your legs so I can see everything."

Oh my, she was bad. But saying the words aloud made her so wet.

"My dear Miss Beaumonde, you have the prettiest pussy." She giggled. Yes, he'd say things like that. She dropped her voice and whispered in his dark mysterious pitch. "Now I want to watch you fuck yourself, Miss Beaumonde."

Lord. She wished Mr. Masters was hearing, watching, saying it all, driving her mad the way he had in her office.

"Do it, Miss Beaumonde."

Natalie eased the vibrator inside as if it were a cock she was about to ride.

She opened her eyes, needing to see what Mr. Masters would see. "Oh, Miss Beaumonde, that is so hot," she murmured deeply. "Take it all."

She slid down slowly, gasping as the toy filled her. The sight in the mirror was sexy and sensual, her nipples beaded against the blouse, her trimmed pussy pink, her clitoris budding.

"Oh, Mr. Masters, you would love this, wouldn't you?"

She flipped the switch to high speed for both vibrate and rotate and sucked a breath deep into her lungs, exhaling in a sigh.

Holding the base, her hand tingled with the vibrations, but inside, oh my. Liquid heat shot out to her fingers and toes and shuddered up her torso to the tips of her breasts.

"Fuck it, Miss Beaumonde, fuck it now for me."

She'd never have said things like that. But mimicking his voice, watching herself in the mirror, it made it all so real. This sexy, hot woman was the one Mr. Masters would see.

Leaning back on one hand, she rocked, penetrating deep, biting down on her lip. Her cheeks flushed, and the silk of her blouse stroked her like a human touch. The little swan swept over her clitoris with each bounce of her body. She rode faster, sliding over a spot inside that grew harder and more sensitive with each thrust and rumble of the vibrator. She'd never come from the inside. She hadn't been sure she had a G-spot, but, oh God, yes, it was definitely there, along with the insistent rub of the swan on her clitoris. Amazing. Incendiary. Cataclysmic.

"Oh, Mr. Masters." Her breath puffed, her thighs strained, and watching herself in the mirror was the hottest thing she'd ever done except letting Mr. Masters spank her.

"That's it, Miss Beaumonde, I'm fucking you. It's my cock in you." She needed his voice, needed his words, just the way he'd talked to her in his office. Dirty, naughty, commanding.

The orgasm built deep, shooting out in short bursts, growing, consuming, turning her mindless, until she could almost believe Mr. Masters was right there in the room with her.

Climax hit so hard, so intensely, burning her before exploding. And Natalie screamed. Tears leaked from her eyes. Yet she couldn't stop until the last tremors shuddered away.

She lay at an awkward angle, her legs still bent at the knees, the vibrator humming inside her.

When she rose to look at herself in the mirror, she found her hair a big, frothy mess around her face and shoulders. Her skin was pink, her eyes wide, cheeks red, nipples starkly outlined beneath the white blouse, the vibrator nestled against the folds of her sex.

She looked thoroughly wanton.

"Perfect," she whispered in Mr. Masters' voice.

And take that, Van.

Chapter Three.

The next morning, looking sexy in his crisp white shirt and red tie, Mr. Masters passed her desk on the way to the eleven o'clock audit meeting. "Please have the Montgomery file on my desk when I return. I've got a conference call with them at twelve-fifteen. You'll find the individuals participating in my calendar."

"Yes, sir." Natalie had truly been unable to look him in the eye all morning. Every time she tried, her skin flushed. Especially after what she'd done with the vibrator, mimicking his voice to make herself hotter and wetter.

She experienced the naughtiest dreams last night, from spanking to toys to threesomes to foursomes. Sexually, she was a very vanilla person. This wasn't like her, but between Mr. Masters and Van, her dreams had been one sexcapade after another. By morning, Natalie hadn't made up her mind about Van. The dreams and her vibrator episode just made it all more confusing.

The warmth of her face deepened as she watched Mr. Masters leave. What would it be like to do those things with him?

The man was the stuff of fantasies.