Oddly enough, he’d read the book last year and enjoyed it.
Now he could see she taught as brilliantly as she wrote. Her fresh way of viewing the world captivated her listeners. Even better, she sprinkled her lecture with illustrations from her own life.
Apparently, she’d asked her class about home remedies their mothers had used. Students offered up the usual—chicken soup, mentholated ointment on the chest, 7-Up for nausea.
She laughed. “Now, see, when I suffered from a sore throat, the housekeepers made me drink thyme tea rather than taking a pill. Like here, 7-Up is popular for stomach aches. But if I got an earache…or a backache, olive oil was the go-to. I never did figure out how olive oil could help a backache.”
The class laughed.
Interesting. Her examples were pulled to show the intriguing differences—and down deep, the similarities. The remedy might not be the same, but caring for children was universal.
As Ghost headed back into the hall, he frowned. Wasn’t it a bit odd Valerie hadn’t mentioned either of her parents when she’d spoken of being ill?
He had a feeling there was a lot to learn about her.
On the USF campus, Valerie sat beside Queenie at the umbrella-shaded table.
Rain earlier had left the air sparkling clean with a hint of brine. On the stones underfoot, gulls strutted back and forth, hoping for generous diners to toss a tidbit.
Valerie opened the lunch she’d brought from home.
“Brown-bagging it, girl?” Queenie asked, setting her bag from Subway on the table.
“Mmmhmm. Tuesdays are ham ‘n’ cheese days.” What with deposits for rent and utilities, she’d spent a lot setting up on her own.
“Didn’t you score anything in the divorce?”
Valerie’s laugh was only slightly bitter. “What with raising children, then helping them out with college, we hadn’t saved much.” And Barry had spent what there was on his slaves.
“The house, though?”
“He owned it before we married. Really, I was happy simply to be gone.” At least, he hadn’t been able to touch her 401k.
Her money was now all her own.
Independence didn’t make up for an empty bed. She sighed. “Although we gradually grew distant, and the final year was ugly, our early years were good. I miss those times—and having someone to cuddle up to in the evenings. Sharing laughter over silly things. Even someone to be grumpy with in the early morning before breakfast.”
Somewhere along the line, the man she’d loved had disappeared. Or maybe he’d merely stopped putting any effort into the marriage. Or the sex.
“I feel you. Indeed, I do.” Queenie nodded in sympathy. “I’ve also noticed a decided lack of orgasms, post-divorce.”
There hadn’t been many before the divorce either. Valerie grinned. “Guess we have to do it ourselves, like all the magazines say. They’re all about sex toys and masturbating. Have you ever heard a less appealing word?”
Tapping her chin, Queenie nodded, face serious. “True, true. Men get much more interesting terms. Handjobs and wanking.”
Laughing, Valerie pointed at her. “Exactly. Beating the meat, stroking the salami.”
“Oh, oh, my turn. Yanking the crank.”
“Good one.” Valerie thought for a second. “Burping the worm.”
Queenie sputtered her coke and had to mop the front of her shirt.
Opening her thermos of coffee, Valerie frowned. “Really, the guys not only received better terminology, but their anatomy is a better design. After all, a man’s dick is right there, ready at hand, so to speak.”
“Ah, yes.” Queenie waved her sandwich in agreement. “No fumbling around to find the good stuff.”
“Exactly.” Barry had sure enjoyed sex more than she ever did. Her orgasms had been in short supply, and even then, nothing to write home about. Except for the two after being spanked.
But spanking her hadn’t turned him on, so that was that.
“Really, if life were fair,” she muttered, “I’d find a man skilled in the sack so I could indulge in tons of glorious sex.” And spankings.
“I hate to tell you, my friend, but life isn’t fair.” Queenie opened her sack.
“I know.” Valerie scowled. “Have you noticed every guy past his forties just wants a readymade cook and housekeeper?”
“Well, he has to find someone to replace his wife who probably divorced him for that very reason,” Queenie said cynically.
“Ladies, how are you doing?” Dr. Wang, a Communications professor pulled a chair out. Short and balding, Paul loved working lunches. “Queenie, I brought the schedule you asked for.”
As the two of them started discussing a project timeline, Valerie settled in to enjoy her meal. And to muse about spankings and sex.
The professor at the Shadowlands who’d spanked her said she was a masochist. He’d acted as if being aroused by pain was normal. And said some people were simply wired that way.
If he was right, did it explain why she’d found sex so boring?
The self-knowledge wasn’t useful, however. She sure couldn’t tell some date she’d like sex with a side helping of pain.
Besides, she was still recovering from the damage Barry and his women had inflicted, and from feeling betrayed. It was best for her to avoid the dating scene entirely.
Celibacy was good for a girl, right?
Overhead, a gull flew past, its screech sounding like the word sex.
Valerie rolled her eyes. I’m being mocked by the gods.
Deservedly so since she was lying to herself. It’d be awesome to have good sex.
But nothing more. No relationships. Nope. Never again would a bastard decide she wasn’t enough for him and wring her heart like a dirty washrag. Never, never, never.
Not even if there were spankings involved.
A shiver ran through her as she remembered the previous weekend at the Shadowlands. The skilled hands caressing her bottom, the stinging smack of a hard palm, the pain flowing through her like honey, and rousing every nerve in her body.
She’d never been so excited—not even when Barry had spanked her.
She could go back to the BDSM club. Along with the free guest pass, the application for membership to the Shadowlands was sitting on her table. Staring at her as if it had eyes. She could be a member.
No. Be practical. A membership wasn’t in her budget.
Let alone having to walk into the place all by herself. The BDSM Sampler night was over, which meant she’d have to get a…what was it called…a Top interested in doing a scene with her.
Face it, what were the chances any of them would be interested in her?
Zip. Nada. None.
It wouldn’t be worth putting out all that money to be ignored. Although the professor Dom had been nice.
More than nice.
But tempting potential members into joining was part of his job. He wouldn’t be nearly as interested in her on a regular night.
No, she couldn’t afford the Shadowlands membership—or the potential blows to her already fragile ego.
She bit into her ham and cheese sandwich. It would be best to stay away from the sexy professor, too, whatever his name was.
With a choked-off laugh, she shook her head. She’d let a man whose name she didn’t even know spank and rub her ass.