The e-mail message was terse but expressed a huge range of emotions to him. It read simply:
"He left me!"
The pain of the note from Jane, or Janie as he'd called her in all of their correspondence was palpable, it screamed from the computer screen at him. It had been a long while, since they'd corresponded and it was rather a surprise for him to see in his inbox that there as a message from Jane Warner. He smiled when he saw it and was smiling still up until he read the message.
He sent a note back to her immediately, as though there had been no hiatus at all in their writing to each other.
He'd come into contact with Janie, when she wrote reacting positively to one of his stories posted on storiesonline.net. He answered her note and they struck up a conversation. It turned out, in the process, that she was feeling a bit frustrated with her relationship with her husband and was seeking, what she called 'an online master.' He wasn't sure that he was all that good for such a position but was certainly willing to try. And it had been fun: Calling her at work and ordering her to pull her skirt up to her waist, while she worked and at times, pull her panties down to her knees or play with herself a bit at her desk.
Soon enough his instincts prompted him to 'order' Janie to turn her seething sexuality toward her husband and make overtures and declarations to him about her hidden subservient self, openly.
It apparently worked extremely well and a new basis for the relationship was established. After that, he knew, he was really no longer necessary. The 'online master' gig was finished for them and they lapsed into a friendship but one that naturally seemed to be less and less important to her busy life.
Now some kind of crisis was at hand and he responded:
"Why? When did he leave? Where is her going? Talk to me, Janie."
The note from her came back immediately:
"Oh, Matt, I'm not sure of all of it. He talked about 'room', 'space', settling issues and the like. He said that he was going on an assignment that would have him gone for 6 months and didn't know but didn't think he'd be back in any event. I asked him if there was another woman involved but he didn't answer that one. I suspect that there was, however. Oh, Matt, what am I going to do?"
His next note to her read:
"First of all, you're going to call me. My number is ###." Then he said to her simply, falling rather quickly into a kind of former master-slave/sub kind of dialogue:
"Call me, do it, Janie."
She did. It was hardly fifteen minutes and the phone rang. The voice on the phone was that of a young woman. But he'd been aware of the fact that Janie was a good 20 years younger than he.
"Matt?" the teary voice said into the phone.
"Hi, honey," he said. "How are you doin', sweetie?" he then asked.
"I'm terrible, Matt, just terrible!" she replied.
"I know," he said, "But look, we'll get through this and see it straightened out; I promise you that."
"Do you hear me?" he asked then.
"Yes, sir, Matt, I hear you," she responded, falling into her old method of calling him 'sir'. That part felt good to him but he pushed it away quickly, in his concern for her.
She started to cry again. He let her cry for a few minutes and then spoke to her again:
"Have you made any decisions about what you're going to do?" he asked.
Her crying slowed down then and she said:
"Yes, I'm going away. Just to get away somewhere, where it's new and different, somewhere to think for just a bit."
"Sounds like a good plan, sweet puss," he said.
Then he pressed her, knowing full well that if there were any plans and they weren't completely thought out, they might turn out to be futile plans after all:
"When are you going? Where are you going?"
"I've gotten a leave from work," she said, "They're being very nice about it. So, I have a week or so. And I don't know where I'll go..." then she lapsed into the weeping again.
When her crying slowed down this time, she said to him:
"I have no where to go! I have no where to go where anyone would want me! Ohhhhhh, Matt!"
He broke into her weeping and said to her:
"Janie, listen to me; are you listening?"
"Yes, sir," she said, "I am."
"Good," he responded. "Get you things packed; go to the airport. There will be a ticket waiting for you to Kansas City. I'll meet you at the airport. Is that clear, honey?" he said.
"Yes, sir, clear!" she answered, and then said: "Oh, Matt, can I really come and see you?"
"Of course, Janie," he answered. "The ticket will be for a flight this afternoon. Call me, when you get to the airport and get the ticket."
"I will, I promise," she said. "Matt, Matt, this makes me feel so much better. You're sure this is going to be alright?"
"I am positive," he said, "We'll work this out one way or the other. You just come here."
He did get her phone call early in the afternoon.
"Matt," she said, composed now, "I'm at the airport and I have the ticket. This is so wonderful, Matt, so wonderful! I'm not sure that I can adequately thank you."
"Just get on the plane, Janie, and don't worry about thanks at this point," was his directive before she hung up.
Of course he realized that she knew vaguely what he looked like; she'd seen a photo of him once. But he'd never seen one of her. He simply decided to have a sign with 'Ms. Jane Warner' on it, and he'd described the blue blazer and grey slacks that he'd be wearing, as well as his white beard and hair.
He was a bit nervous about it, not knowing what she looked like, as he stood waiting for her group to de-plane. He had his sign and held it out to the crowd, when an auburn haired young woman in a summer dress smiled at him from the group and nodded. He quickly disposed of the sign and turned to meet Janie. He had the immediate thought that she was lovely, and wondered what the husband must have been thinking about in going off.
He stood and waited for her to come to him, and realized that she was unsure of herself. As she approached, he held out his arms to her and with a great sigh, she went into his arms, sobbing against the front of his coat.
"Oh, Matt," she sighed, "Is this really you?"
"In the flesh," he said, "Welcome to the mid west, sweetheart."
"This is so good," she said, still into his coat, "It's way beyond good. I didn't know what to do at all, just didn't know."
"We'll work that part of this out," he said, "But first let's get your luggage and we're out of here."
Matt lived about a half hour away but first wanted to take her for dinner, since it was already pressing six o'clock. They had a pleasant dinner, and she kept her composure. They were in a secluded kind of table in a lovely Italian place.
She went through the situation again with him, telling him what she knew about it. But it had apparently caught her by surprise. Her husband's six month job, which took him away, had been a total surprise to her. There was a great deal that was left unknown.
"I did find this on the computer that he uses," she said, handing Matt a piece of paper.
It was an e-mail message that simply said: "I can't wait to be with you." It was signed: Sylvia.
"I see," Matt said, guiding Janie out of the restaurant, knowing that showing him the e-mail note would cause her to lose her control. He was right.
They sat in the car, while he let her cry for a while, leaning against his shoulder. She finally stopped and said to him:
"I'm being useless here, all I've done, since I contacted you by e-mail is cry."
"You've had a trauma," he said.
"But you're being so nice, Matt; this ... all this is just so considerate!"
"We're friends," he said. "The first thing is to simply let you settle down and handle the shock of this situation. The change of scene was maybe a good way for you to do that."
"Yes," she said, "Thank you for that; but you always did know what to do and what to have me do, did't you?"
"Well," he said, "I thought that we had you on the right track for you, that's for sure.
"So did I," she said ruefully, then with a snort she reached down and removed the ankle bracelet that she had from her husband. She said nothing; she just put it into her purse.
"We'll go home now," he said.
"Oh, I'm putting you out!" she cried.
"Not at all," he said. "I just want to get you settled and let you get some needed rest. You've had a shock today and will need it."
"Thank you, sir," she said, leaning over and kissing his hand.
She reacted positively to his rather large house. "This is lovely," she said.
"It's big," was his reply, "But I like a big house, and cats."
"Yes," she agreed, "I"m a cat person too." She scratched the head of a little tabby that was rubbing against her ankles as she spoke.
He took her upstairs and showed her to one of the guest rooms and showed her the guest room bathroom, which was between two of the bedrooms.
"You'll be comfortable here," he said. "Get yourself settled, and I'll bring you a glass of sherry. It'll settle you down for bed. You need, first of all, a good night's sleep."
"Yes, sir," she said and put her arms around his neck. "This is so nice, Matt; I can't, can't say that enough. This is so nice of you."
He kissed the top of her head and said: "I'll bring you the sherry."
When he did, he said to her:
"Call me during the night, if you need anything. I'm just down the hall. I need to do a few things but will be ready to turn in, in about a half hour myself."
.... There is more of this story ...