See no evil, hear no evil…………………….speak no evil.

He was a busy man. Monogamy was one of those words that you never heard him say - he was rather libertine with his affections, despite having made a commitment to her. She (Taylor), for her part, knew of his infidelity, but did her best to ignore it and would even joke with him about the women that would call him. He knew she was more in love with the idea of being able to claim him as her own, but he ignored it. It wasn’t as if he lacked his own list of faults.

Still it continued as most relationships do, when they were together - it was good. He found her to be emotional, but would often just ignore the tears that would roll down her face. She was manipulative, he knew, because she seemed to cry whenever he went neglected or ignored the ’small requests’ that she would make on him. It seemed to work because he felt a certain measure of guilt when she would cry.

She was submissive, which was different for him, his tastes generally favored other dominant women, but she won his attention with her persistent smile and lowered lashes. He knew her tastes didn’t run in his direction, Taylor was sunlight, and he, just the opposite. Oh, she looked good on his arm, just as he looked good on hers, and people would often ask them when they intended to make it permanent. She would look hopefully up at him and he would politely say, ‘When it happens.’

It wasn’t his favorite subject. And so it continued for a while and he found himself spending more and more time with Taylor. The other women just seemed to fade into the shadows as relationships do when no one puts any energy into them. He wasn’t puzzled by their loss, sometimes people just go their own direction.

He wouldn’t marry her, the thought of being tied to her for the rest of his life just didn’t seem right and divorce was not an option. So he did what he could to silence her for the time. He collared her. It was the only time he had ever done such a deed, despite having been close one other time. Perhaps no one outside their world of kink understood, but they both did. They sank deeper into the world of S&M. Her commitment to him, and him to her seemed to spur and drive them both - it was on her that he found the pleasure of needles.

She cried after those sessions. Not in that pretty way where a single tear rolls down her cheek, but the sobbing, hiccupping, snotty way that she did when something went perfectly right or horribly wrong. And while he felt a certain amount of distaste at her emotional excess, it had become such a signature of their sessions, he could only take the time to wing her down, calm her - before they would fuck. She was open to him after such sessions, spilling out even the acts she normally would never have allowed to escape her lips.

He saw one of his former lovers at the bank a few days later. He shared the details of his life, she shared hers, and she asked him to lunch. As they sat down, she just stared at him and then blurted out something he still has trouble processing.

‘I think I should tell you something.’

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. She had that serious look in her eyes that spoke of something else going on.

‘I don’t know if it’s true or not, and I’m sorry if it isn’t…’ she seemed to pause and then said ‘or is…’

‘Yes?’ He asked, raising an eyebrow, she didn’t usually take the long way around an issue.

‘Did Taylor have a miscarriage?’

He felt relief just before his brows knitted together, ‘No. Why would you ask that?’

She looked at him directly, her gaze unwavering, ‘She told me she did. She told me it was because she couldn’t handle your….infidelity. You know, the stress.’

Confusion registered on his face. ‘You must be mistaken.’

‘No, D. She called me about a week after our last date and told me all about it. I backed off. I didn’t think….I mean, I didn’t want to be the cause…’ She cleared her throat and then continued. ‘It was only later, that I thought maybe…you know…that it wasn’t true.’

She covered my hand on the table and I snatched it back. ‘Are you certain about this? If you are lying, so help me God…’

She sat back in her chair and shook her head no. There was a long silence which seemed to stretch for an eternity. He finally reached into his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table.

‘I need to go.’

She nodded her head and gave him one of those cheerless smiles.

He didn’t confront her. He wasn’t really certain what the truth was here and he refused to accuse her without cause. When he got home he pulled out the small black book of numbers he kept in his desk. He only found the new one she had given him to replace it.

It took him a while to track down the numbers of the women he dated. Some numbers, he found, seemed to be programmed into his fingers. He only had the stomach to speak with 3 of them - because they all echoed the same story.

Still, he did nothing. He just couldn’t define a motive. She used to laugh about the women he dated. She knew just how he felt about his independence.

Why…why…why? It kept playing in his head for the weeks that followed.

He woke up about a month and a half later to an empty bed. He was laying in her apartment and staring at the ceiling when the phone rang. He rolled over and answered the call only to have it disconnect. He glanced at the caller ID but didn’t recognize the name.

He thought for a moment as he pulled his jeans on, but dismissed the idea of her cheating. She seemed to have done everything possible to keep them together. He couldn’t find his socks so he pulled open what she had designated his drawer to be and found a pile of stockings. He was about the shut the drawer when he saw the book laying, half buried, under them.

He opened the book and her writing filled the pages. He glanced at the corner of one entry and noticed it dated a few weeks ago.

He only seems to be getting worse. I see now that I was stupid to think that he would stop. My back is covered in welts where he whipped me last night. I don’t think I can stand it anymore. Why can’t he just be normal?

He stared at the page, his hands shaking as he started to realize how much she had hidden from him. He flipped a few pages over and sucked in his breathe at the entry:

I’m in love with a MONSTER!

He dropped the book as if it had burned him and backed away from its open pages. Lies. She had been lying for so long. He felt sweat break over his face as he realized how seamlessly everything fell into place. She never complained, she never said stop, she never said no, she just swallowed everything and vented her rage in the book. She never told him anything. How could she? And he, how did he miss it? Was he so detached that he could have missed something this….this wrong with them?

Why? The question was there again.

He hurried out of the apartment as if the demons of hell were chasing him. Monster. She thought he was a monster. His hands were shaking as he drove away.

Lies. Lies. Lies. The word echoed in his mind until his teeth gritted with rage. The pulse in his head throbbed.

He felt betrayed by his ignorance, her voicelessness. Cold.