Sex Addict

Sex Addict

by Pan

Chapter 1

Saya's heart almost broke when she caught her son crying.

He'd been trying to hide it, but she'd been passing his room and noticed his room was closed. Always a bad sign, when your teenage son has his door closed, and so Saya had acted without thinking, bursting in, prepared to berate Adnan for whatever sinful thing he was doing behind closed doors.

But he wasn't doing pot or smoking cigarettes; he was on his bed, clutching a pillow, tears streaming down his face.

"Mom!" he cried out, turning away, but - ignoring her son's objections - Saya crossed the room and held her son tight. After a moment of resistance, he allowed himself to be hugged and comforted by his mother for the first time since puberty had struck.

His sobs eventually subsided as she stroked his hair, and gently asked: "What happened, sweetie?"

Adnan sniffled quietly. "Nothing."

Saya gripped her son tighter. He was proud, like his father, although he hadn't inherited any of his athleticism. Saya's husband was tall, with a thick beard and a naturally muscular frame. Adnan, meanwhile, had always been a little short and skinny.

If she was being honest, Saya would have admitted that he was more than a little spoiled; she'd never forced him into team sports, and even though he was still a teenager, he'd already developed the beginnings of a belly.

She probed further. "You can tell me, paşam. Is it a girl?"

Adnan didn't say anything, just shook his head. She kissed his forehead, before freezing.

"A... boy?"

Saya was only thirty-five; even in her own high school days, there had been gay students. She'd even been friends with some of them. But none of them had been Turkish, and she knew that if her son was... like that... he had a difficult path ahead of him.

"No," he spat, and Saya felt guilty at how relieved she was.

"What is it, bir tanim? Tell me."

Adnan pulled away, suddenly awkward. "It's Darren..."

Saya's entire body slumped. Of course. She should've known.

Darren was the school bully. He wasn't violent - he never hit anyone - but he had earned a reputation among the mothers of the school for his cutting words. Adnan's best friend was a boy called Jamie, and Saya was close with his mother. Kathryn had confided in her that Darren had tormented her son for a while, though she'd never shared exactly the exact subject of his harassment.

About a month ago, it had stopped, though Saya had never gotten the full story. She made a mental note to ask Kathryn exactly what she'd done to resolve it.

Her son's eyes were red. "I'm sorry..."

The words caught in Saya's throat. "It's not your fault, darling," she said softly. "We're outsiders here, and..."

Adnan threw her a look. "Mom, it's not the 90's. No one cares that my grandma is from Turkiye."

Saya's cheeks went slightly red at the admonishment. "So what is he saying?"

Her son's complexion matched her own. "I don't want to tell you."

With a sigh, she put her hand on Adnan's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "If I'm going to help you with this, I need to know what he's saying."

Adnan tried to shrug off her hand, but Saya refused to budge. She could see the shame in his eyes.

"Paşam, we can fix this. But I need to know everything."

When her son replied, it was in a strangled voice. "It was about you."

Saya's eyes widened, but she held firm. "What did he say?"

"He said... Mom, it's embarrassing."

"I need to know."

Adnan's gaze fell to the side, and his voice was small.

"He said you were a sex addict."

Saya's hand fell to her side. Her son's last two words hit her like a hammer, resonating through her body like an earthquake.

All the air left Saya's lungs; she felt her legs go weak, and it took several moments for the room to stop spinning.

"W-what?" she finally gasped, and her son looked at her, concerned.

"Your face is grey..."

She ignored his concern, grabbing his shoulders, tighter than before.

"What did Darren say about me?"

"I didn't want to tell you," her son replied, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Say it," she insisted, and he looked her in the eyes and said it again.

"He said you were a sex addict."

When Saya's husband got home that night, he was immediately accosted by his wife. She was shorter than him by almost two feet; her hair was long and brown, and she was slight in build, with a narrow nose and bright green eyes. Aside from her (lack of) height, her most prominent feature was her full chest, which she worked hard to hide beneath her clothes.

They'd met during his undergraduate years, when she was still in high-school, and they'd fallen in love quickly. As soon as Saya had graduated, they'd gotten married. They had two children together, and even though her husband was secular, he'd allowed his children to be raised in Islam, assuming - correctly - that it wouldn't stick.

He was a thoroughly Westernised Turk, but both their families had been overjoyed by their union. Her husband had never considered himself Muslim, but after meeting his wife, he'd been happy to compromise, and now went to mosque with the rest of the family, though he didn't pray five times a day or give zakat.

Saya, meanwhile, was still heavily religious. And so her husband was thoroughly surprised by the words that came out of her mouth.

"Sevgilim," she said, eyes wide, brow furrowed. "Do you think I'm a sex addict?"

He rubbed his forehead. "Of course not, my sun."

Saya stared at him, and he stared back.

Finally, she spoke, her voice shaky. "Are you sure?"

"Why would you ask such a thing? It doesn't make sense. You're not a sex addict."

Saya nodded, but something about her expression told him that she wasn't convinced. There was a long pause, and a smile crept across his face. "Is this your way of asking if I want to..."

She'd been lost in thought, but at his words her attention was back on her husband. "Do you want to?"

He cocked his head to the side. "I wouldn't say no. Are the kids home?"

Saya didn't answer, just took her husband's hand and led him the bedroom. It didn't matter if they were home or not. All that mattered was that they could. She could have sex.

She didn't remember ever wanting it so much.

After they were done, Saya's husband rolled to the side and disposed of the condom before pulling his wife in for a cuddle. She was naked, her large tits free and exposed; his hand moved down to cup them comfortably. After almost twenty years of marriage, he'd never gotten tired of his wife's body, and she felt the same way about his.

"Anything else happen today?"

She turned to face him and smiled. "No," she answered without hesitation.

Returning her smile, he pressed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply. He had no way of knowing that despite the fact that he'd just taken her, despite the fact that they'd cum in unison, she still felt empty. Unsatisfied.

That, given the chance, she could have gone again, and again, and again, and again...

Sex addict.

Sex addict.

Sex addict.

Sex addict.

Over the next week, the two words ran through Saya's head again and again.

When she'd gotten married, Saya had been a virgin. Not due to lack of interest; she'd been an early bloomer, and though she'd always dressed modestly, it had taken her some time to learn how to completely hide her breasts. Now, if she stood side-by-side with someone like Kathryn, an observer would assume that her blonde friend had the largest chest - especially since she'd increasingly been dressing to show it off.

Only Saya (and her husband) knew that the small Turkish woman was at least two cup sizes larger.

But Saya's family were devoutly religious, and she knew that premarital sex was haram. Also, most of the interest she'd attracted had been from men that she had no interest in - leering older white men, or young Turks who were trying too hard to be cool and edgy.

When she'd finally met her husband, it had all been worth it. She'd been able to offer him her virginity on their wedding night, and they'd had sex often since then.

But now, those feelings of satisfaction she'd felt had been replaced by a deep, dark anxiety.

Was she a sex addict?

She couldn't be. She wasn't promiscuous. She was faithful, and never cheated on her husband. She'd never so much as looked at another man. And while she and her husband had an active sex life, it wasn't... unhealthy.

Was it?

There was something about the words that had felt so incredibly true. As soon as they'd fallen from her son's mouth, they'd resonated... sex addict.

Saya was a sex addict.

She tried to deny it. She tried to cast the words out of her mind, to push them away, to focus on the everyday tasks that came with being a mother and an active member of the local community.

But every time she passed a mirror, she stared at herself. Was she as she seemed, a chaste, respectful, conservatively-clad mother and wife?

Or was she a sex addict in disguise?

Once the idea was in her head, there was no shaking it. Since hearing the words of her son's bully... whenever her husband so much as glanced at her sideways, she all but pounced on him. They had more sex in the space of a week than they had in the previous month.

Her husband was a generous lover. She'd heard tales from other women about their experiences, how their men were quick to finish, wouldn't take care of their wives needs and only cared about their own.

But her husband was different. He ensured that she came, sometimes multiple times. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to please her, how to bring her to climax. Saya had never felt shame about their sex life: she'd waited until marriage, she'd only had sex with her husband, and it wasn't sinful to enjoy sex in the marital bedroom.

But now... now, it felt like her desire for him was wrong. She came so much, surely that wasn't normal. She came so easily.

Surely only sex addicts orgasmed the way she did, clutching the bed sheets as her entire body shook with pleasure. Surely only addicts craved a man's touch the way Saya craved her husband's, and came so intensely whenever he filled her.

Surely, there was something wrong with her.

Especially since once they were done, once she'd been brought to multiple body-quaking climaxes... she still wasn't satisfied.

After her husband came inside her, after her whole body ached from the pleasure he'd brought her, she still wanted more.

More.

By the end of the week, it was the only thing she could think about. When she was awake, when she was asleep. It was like she was possessed.

She was a sex addict. Her urges weren't normal, couldn't be normal. Every part of her body ached for her husband, for a man's touch... for a man's gaze.

That was when she knew something was truly wrong. Saya had always dressed modestly, wearing outfits that were entirely suitable for a devout Muslim woman: loose-fitting and concealing, with no cleavage, and no skin showing except her face, hands and feet.

Now, it felt unnatural. It felt wrong to be covered.

She wanted to show off the gifts that she'd been blessed with. Her husband was the only man who'd ever seen her chest, but while out shopping with Kathryn, she felt a sudden surge of jealousy. The blonde woman was dressed to draw attention: her cleavage was prominent, her top was tight and her jeans were so skinny that they clung to her legs, emphasizing the firmness of her ass... and not only was her behavior acceptable, it was rewarded.

Everywhere they went, heads turned. Men stopped in their tracks, staring at Kathryn's ample breasts. Saya watched their expressions and wished, wished, wished that she could experience what her friend was experiencing. She wanted nothing more than to dress so provocatively, to have every man's gaze turn to her, watch her body in the way they watched Kathryn's.

She'd never craved the attention of another man before, but suddenly it was all she could think about. Her desires weren't natural.

She was a sex addict.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, Saya felt intense guilt. She wanted to be a good wife. A good mother. A good Muslim. She knew that these urges were wrong, that she had to be faithful. To her husband, to her beliefs. Her entire body ached with the urge to show off her form, to dress in something that displayed her generous cleavage to the world, but she knew that she couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She was stronger than this.

That night, when her husband returned, Saya practically tore his clothes off. Their children were out, and the moment Saya saw him she was overcome by a desperate, primal urge.

They didn't even make it to the bedroom.

Her spouse had never been a man to deny her; he took her, right there on the sofa, her clothes pulled aside, her dress pushed up, exposing her. It was so easy to imagine others watching her, other men taking in her body, their gazes lingering on her exposed breasts.

"Saya, you feel incredible," he moaned, and Saya cried out as her body exploded. Her entire world went white, her muscles tensed as her body was rocked by an intense climax. In her mind's eye, she was dressed as Kathryn had been, everyone seeing that the small Muslim woman was even curvier, even bustier...

They all wanted her.

And she wanted them.

It wasn't until after his own orgasm that Saya's husband realized his wife was crying. "Sevgilim," he muttered, drawing her close. "What... what's wrong?"

She didn't have the words to explain. She was so filled with shame, so overwhelmed. There was something wrong with her.

She was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

Her husband's grip was tight, and she clutched at him as she sobbed. "Seni seviyorum," he said, his voice soft. She wanted to tell him what was on her mind, but she knew that he wouldn't understand. He wouldn't understand the wicked thoughts that had been running through her head. He wouldn't understand her sudden urges, the overwhelming need to expose herself. How much she craved sex, every day. All day.

And he especially wouldn't understand that even after their union, even after she'd gotten exactly what she wanted... she still wasn't satisfied.

"It's okay," he whispered, kissing her hair, her face. When his lips found her, she was unable to resist.

"Again," she moaned. He looked concerned at first, but she insisted. "Please," she begged, her voice low with need. "Please, my love, I need you..."

They made love again, and this time Saya was the aggressor, pushing her husband down and taking control. She'd never been so forceful before, never felt the urge, the compulsion, the need, to use her body to pleasure him. She could tell that he was surprised, but he didn't object - he just lay back as she rode him.

She came again and again, riding him until every muscle in her body ached. And when he finished inside her a second time, she just lay next to her husband, her breathing heavy, her body aching.

She felt empty. Even though - for the first time in years - they hadn't used a condom, and she could quite literally feel her husband inside her, she felt empty.

He kissed her gently, and asked her: "What is it, my sun?"

Saya forced a watery smile to her face and turned to him. "It's nothing," she lied, not wanting to explain her troubles. She'd already told him what the problem was, and he'd dismissed it. He would never believe her.

He would never understand.

After kissing her again, Saya's husband pulled her close. She wasn't satisfied, not even close, but she knew she couldn't seduce her husband for a third time without him getting suspicious.

And even if she had been able to, she knew it wouldn't help.

She was a sex addict.

Over the next week, Saya's guilt never left her. The urges were constant, persistent: she was talking to a neighbour, and her mind wandered to the idea of revealing herself to him, to showing off the body that she knew he had no idea she was concealing. She was shopping with her daughter, and her gaze was drawn to a display of lacy underwear. Her mind went to the gutter as she imagined herself in the garments, and what her husband would think if he could see her in them.

But the worst moment was when - for the first time in her marriage - Saya found herself lusting after a man other than her husband.

She was driving past a construction site, and her eyes were drawn to the workers, all shirtless, sweating, muscles glistening. Saya almost lost control of the car, her gaze locked on their exposed chests, the way the sun highlighted their muscles. It was so easy to imagine herself pulling over, marching into the middle of them. She wanted to strip naked and dance in front of them, let them watch her, work them up until their desire overtook them, and they had to have her... not one at a time, not to make love with her as her husband did.

But all at once. For all of the men to use her, to fill her, to take her, again and again, until she was dripping with their cum...

As soon as the thought entered her mind, Saya's blood ran cold.

What was she thinking?

She was a married woman, a mother. She'd never cheated on her husband. The very idea that she'd suddenly want to engage in group sex was sheer insanity.

She was a sex addict.

She didn't want any of this. She just wanted to be a good wife. She just wanted to be a good Muslim.

The urges only increased in strength. Saya had never masturbated in her life; whenever she and her husband were alone, she was all over him, desperate for the kind of release that only he could provide.

But it wasn't enough. Even with her husband taking her every day, even with using his condom-clad erection (after the second time in the living-room, they'd been careful to always use protection) to get off as many times as she could, it wasn't enough.

Saya wanted more. She needed more.

Whenever she was alone, her hand kept straying. First to her breasts, then between her legs. She'd never touched herself before, and the first time she did, the sudden shock of pleasure was too much for her. She couldn't hold back, and she came hard, her fingers working her pussy while her free hand cupped her large breast, fingers playing with her erect nipples.

It was like a dam had been broken; the pleasure was so intense, so satisfying. After that first time, she couldn't stop. Every chance she got, she touched herself. When her husband was at work, when her kids were at school, every time she went to the bathroom... she'd lock the door and slip her hands beneath her modest clothes.

But still it wasn't enough.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how often, she wasn't satisfied. No matter how much she rubbed herself, it wasn't enough.

"I'm an addict," she sobbed, even as she brought herself to her twelfth orgasm of the day. "I'm a sex addict."

She knew her husband suspected something was up, but she didn't know what to say. She felt completely and utterly alone; all she could think about was sex. Every time she touched herself, she pictured a different man, sometimes a woman. Sometimes a man and a woman.

Sometimes she imagined an entire group, taking turns with her, using her.

In her imagination she was completely naked, showing off her body for all of them, watching their expressions as they looked at her. Her breasts which had once filled her with such shame now felt like the best part of her, her best assets. She knew her husband was proud of them, but the thought of showing them off, of making a real man stare at them, made her wet.

She needed it.

She wanted it.

But she knew that she could never, ever have it.

Her urges continued to grow.

The more she touched herself, the more she wanted to touch herself. The more she thought about showing off her body, the harder it was to resist. Every day she desired the gaze of a stranger, she longed for it more and more.

Every day was a battle, a fight against her own body and mind. And she felt - no, she knew that she was losing. That eventually, she'd give into her urges. That no matter how hard she resisted, her addiction would win - she'd lose control in a moment of weakness and show off her body, reveal herself to a stranger, maybe even do more. The idea both scared her and thrilled her.

It would be a release, but she knew it would be her ruin. But what else could she do?

The urges continued to grow, until they were a constant presence, an incessant, unceasing need.

She was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

But just as Saya thought she was going to give in, that she couldn't fight her desires any longer, a solution was presented by an unlikely source.

Chapter 2

Saya was cleaning out her son's backpack when a paper fell out and onto the floor.

She only caught one word before Adnan saw it and snatched it away from her.

"ADDICTION".

"I'm so sorry, mom," her son said, red-faced. "That bastard Darren..."

"Language!" Saya snapped, but her mind was reeling. Addiction. The word that had been plaguing her since that fateful day, the idea that she could barely stand, the idea that she was trying - and completely failing - to push out of her head...

"What was that?" she asked, and her blushing son shook his head.

"He's been putting them in my bag every day," he said, refusing to meet his mother's eyes.

"What is it?"

"He's just a bully," Adnan said. "Please, mom. It's nothing."

Saya didn't often press her son, but she had to know. "Show me, paşam."

"Please, mom. It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, you can show me," she insisted.

"It's a... it's a pamphlet. For... sex addicts. It's just his dumb way of tormenting me. Please, mom. Can we not talk about this?"

Saya stared at her son, and a sudden chill went down her spine.

Sex addicts.

Sex addicts.

Of course. She'd been so preoccupied with her addiction that she hadn't even considered that... she might not be the only one.

There were people, out there, who dealt with this. Who had the same urges. The same desires.

There was a way to get help.

Saya had never considered that there might be groups out there, groups like AA or NA. Why would she have? Until recently, she'd never considered that she could be... that she was...

... an addict.

A sex addict.

Sex addict.

"Show me," she said, her voice low, trying to hide her desperation. At her son's hesitance, Saya shot him a look. "I'm not completely sheltered, you know. I can handle a few words on a flyer."

With a sigh, Adnan pulled the folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. She glanced at it, trying to act as though she wasn't interested, as though this pamphlet didn't represent the only hope she'd had in a week. The only chance she had at salvation, at getting help.

Perhaps there was a cure.

She glanced at it; it was for a meeting the next night, Friday, from seven until eight pm. Saya memorized the details, then rolled her eyes theatrically. "If this is the worst Darren can do," she said, handing the pamphlet back to her son, "then he's pretty pathetic."

Adnan shrugged. "Yeah. I know. I just... I didn't want to upset you, mom. It's just... stupid, you know? You're not a sex addict."

"Of course not," Saya replied, the words turning to ash in her mouth.

At six fifty pm the next night, Saya was outside the small church hall. She'd been to Christian churches before, of course - weddings, baptisms, funerals... her daughter had even briefly aspired to be a dancer, and the classes were held in a room not unlike this one.

But she'd never been to one at night. And never in a million years would she have guessed that she'd find herself sneaking away from her family to attend a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting in a church.

She was the first one there, but over the next few minutes a few others trickled in. A couple of men, two women. They were all older than her, and - Alhamdulillah - she didn't recognize any of them.

She took a seat towards the back of the room and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. As the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, she started to wonder if this was all a mistake. If anyone recognized her, if any of the attendees told their wives or husbands that a Muslim woman was there, if they described her and word got back to her husband...

... she would never be able to explain it to her husband. To her family.

She'd be just as ruined as if she gave into her wicked urges and showed her body to a man that wasn't her husband.

"Good evening," a voice called, and Saya jumped in her chair. She looked up to see an older woman standing at the front of the hall.

"My name is Carol," the woman said. "And I'm a sex addict."

After a beat, several other members spoke: "Hi, Carol," they said.

Saya stayed silent.

"Welcome, everyone," the leader continued. "Now, I know we have a few new faces here tonight, and we're glad to have you. Would anyone like to start us off?"

The silence was deafening, and Saya shrank back in her chair, afraid to draw attention.

Finally, one of the men raised his hand. "Hello, everyone," he said. "My name is Tom, and I'm a sex addict."

Carol smiled. "Hello, Tom."

"My wife found my stash," he said. "I've been clean for two years, but... I never threw out my collection. I knew I should, but I... I just couldn't."

Saya relaxed as the meeting continued. No one was doing as she did, glancing around at the other attendees. Everyone's attention was on the current speaker - first Tom, then a woman called herself Bethany who admitted that her husband had walked in on her with a stranger, and now the third - whose name was apparently Jean - who was speaking quietly, her gaze was fixed firmly on the floor.

"My husband doesn't know," she was saying. "I don't want him to know."

Saya found herself nodding. Jean was clearly ashamed of her urges, the way Saya was. And, like Saya, she knew that if her husband found out, it would destroy her marriage.

It would destroy her life.

"There's a man who flirts with me," she sobbingly confessed. "And I know - I just know - that... I'm going to give in. I'll have an affair. He's so handsome, and so charming, and my husband is always busy, and..."

"But you haven't cheated," Carol said gently, and Saya's eyes filled with tears at Jean's response.

"Not yet. But... I will."

"It's not too late," Carol insisted. "We can help you, Jean. We're all in this together."

Saya watched the proceedings, enraptured. There was so much shame, but so much understanding as well. She'd been part of the Turkish community and the Muslim community and the community of parents at her son's school... but for the first time in her life, Saya felt like she'd found a group that she truly needed.

A group where she truly belonged.

"Does anyone else have anything they'd like to share?" Carol asked.

For a moment, Saya thought she might raise her hand. She'd been listening to the group speak, and while some were struggling more than others, they were all suffering like she was.

But just as she was summoning up the college, there was a sound behind her. The door opened - not for the first time, there had been several late-comers - and Saya's heart leapt to her throat as she saw who it was.

No, she thought, her entire body tensing. No!

It was Darren.

She'd only seen him a few times before, but she recognized him immediately. He was blond, tall, and more muscular than she remembered. Good looking enough that he probably had the girls at school all over him, despite (or perhaps because) his mouth seeming to stuck in a permanent smirk.

Saya shrank down in her seat, hoping desperately that he wouldn't recognize her.

"Good evening," Carol called. "Take a seat, anywhere you like."

The young man didn't respond, just nodded, before taking a seat in the back row. He was sitting almost as far away from her as possible, but it still felt too close.

She couldn't believe her son's bully, the boy who had started all this, was just a few feet away from her. She felt her fists clench involuntarily.

Saya didn't hear another word of the meeting. Half the room spoke - though not Darren - but all she could think about was the young man sitting a few feet away from her, the boy who didn't even know he had the potential to destroy her life.

"I'd like to thank everyone who came along today," Carol said finally, and as everyone was standing up, Saya ran for the door.

The cool air outside was like a slap to the face. She was breathing hard as though she'd just run a marathon, and it was all she could do to keep herself upright. Her mind was a whirlpool; a thousand thoughts battled to be heard above the rest.

What had she been thinking? Why had she gone to the meeting? The risk of being caught, of being found out, of having her shameful secret exposed... it been far too risky. She was an idiot.

No, not an idiot.

A sex addict.

She'd been so desperate, she'd done something she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't even guarantee that Darren hadn't seen her. If he told her son... if he told any of his teachers... if he told her husband!!

Her life would be ruined. She'd never be able to show her face in the school again. She'd never be able to return to the mosque. She'd be an outcast.

The world was spinning as she made her way to her car, as she shakily unlocked the driver's seat door and collapsed behind the wheel. But just as she was about to start her car, one thought surfaced above the rest.

Why had Darren been there?

She'd been so concerned with her own presence, with her own safety, that she hadn't considered what his presence had meant. Why had her son's bully attended the same Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting she had?

It couldn't have been to catch her out - he would have had no way of knowing she'd be there. Yes, he'd given Adnan the flyer, but he couldn't have seriously thought she would come.

Unless...

Saya's face went white as she realized.

Sex addict.

He was a sex addict too. That... that was how he'd managed to see it in her. He'd told Adnan that his mother was a sex addict: not to bully him, as Adnan had assumed, but to let her know.

Darren had realized before she did.

He'd recognized a fellow addict.

Suddenly all of Saya's shame and self-hatred was gone. Instead, she felt a wave of empathy, of understanding.

The young man was struggling. As everyone in the room had been; he was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

Just like her.

Saya looked up. There wasn't a stream of people coming out of the door, as she'd assumed there would be, and she hazily remembered Carol saying something about donuts and coffee.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she'd left her car and was making her way back inside. Her whole body was shaking as she walked through the door, her heart hammering in her chest.

She was doing the unthinkable. She was walking back into a room filled with strangers who could recognize her, could expose her, could ruin her.

She was walking back into a room filled with people just like her.

It was a risk she was willing to take. She had to take. Because Darren had known, before she did. He'd seen the truth before she had - if he could recognize that in her, if he could identify what she'd had no way of knowing about herself...

... maybe he could help.

Darren was inside, talking to the married woman... it took Saya a moment to remember her name.

Jean.

The two of them were laughing, and Saya noticed Jean's eyes darting down to Darren's muscles, before snapping back up. The married woman was blushing slightly, and Saya found herself feeling deeply sorry for the woman. She had spoken about how much she was struggling with fidelity, and having someone like Darren... someone so fit, so masculine... it must have made everything that much harder.

It wasn't the first time Saya had noticed Darren's physique, or how handsome he was. For a moment she wondered how many girls he'd slept with.

Of course, with his... condition... that number wasn't something to celebrate. If he was anything like her - and her revelation in the car had clearly indicated that he was - then he couldn't say no.

He was a sex addict.

Saya plucked up the courage to step forward. "Darren?" she said brightly, and Jean shot her a jealous look as the young man's attention moved from Jean to her.

I'm doing this to help you, she mentally told Jean, and the married woman stepped aside as Darren's eyes scanned up and down the Muslim woman's body.

She felt herself growing warm at the attention. "Uh, hi," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Are you...?"

Saya smiled, though her cheeks were red. "I'm... I'm Adnan's mother."

Darren nodded, reaching out to take her hand in his. Her entire body pulsed at his touch, and she was filled with the familiar urge to tear her clothes off and jump on him, to wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to take her, to pound her, to fill her, to make her his.

"Hi," he said, kissing her hand gently. She expected him to release it, but he didn't, his gaze fixed on hers.

"I just... I wanted to thank you," she stammered, making no attempt to pull her hand away from his. "You... you told Adnan... and the flyer..."

"Of course," he said, his eyes staring into hers. Goosebumps rippled all over her skin.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice breathless. "Thank you for telling me. For... for making me realize."

"Of course," he replied with a grin that made her knees weak.

"I'm sorry about Adnan," she added. "He thinks... he thinks you're bullying him."

Darren's grin grew wider, and Saya felt her whole body tingling. His grip tightened on her hand, and her eyes flicked down to his soft, pink lips. It was so easy to imagine leaning forward and kissing him. Or dropping to her knees and... in front of the entire group...

Saya blinked twice forcing herself to focus. But the knowledge that Darren was like her, that he was as an addict too... that if she offered her body to him, he wouldn't be able to refuse, any more than she would...

It was more than a little distracting.

"Don't worry about it," he said, his voice deep and masculine. "I'm just glad the message... got to you."

Saya found herself nodding. "It did," she said, her voice a breathy sigh. "And I... um..."

Darren glanced around the room. Everyone else was in their own conversation, and only Jean's eyes were lingering on the pair of them.

She suddenly realized she was still holding Darren's hand.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he said quietly. "So we can... talk?"

Saya knew it was a bad idea. She'd taken enough risks coming to the meeting at all. She didn't need to add to ti by doing something reckless, something stupid, like...

"Sure," she said, her voice high and thin.

"Great," Darren said, and Saya's body shivered at his smile. He was so handsome, and now she knew that they had something in common. They were both sex addicts.

Sex addicts.

Darren drove. Saya didn't even think to mention that her car was still parked at the church. It was all she could do not to hyperventilate.

The thought of Darren's cock inside her was overwhelming.

It was like a drug, filling her with pleasure. All she could think about was him. She could feel her heart pounding, could feel the heat between her legs.

He was an addict, just like her. He was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

When they got to his car, he had to release her hand, and Saya felt just as empty as she had when her husband pulled out of her. The thought was wrong, she knew that intellectually - she shouldn't be comparing holding the hand of her son's bully to the sensation of making love with her husband, a man she had known and loved for over twenty years - but she couldn't deny it.

The moment he let go of her, the emptiness was palpable.

It was only a few minutes to Darren's house. Saya didn't think about where they were going, or what would happen once they arrived. All she could do was sit there, staring at Darren, basking in the fact that she had finally met someone like her.

Another sex addict.

The lights were off at his house, and Darren held up one finger. Saya nodded - she didn't want to get caught by Darren's parents. She didn't want anyone to know that she was sneaking into a teenage boy's room at 8:30pm.

They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand what they were doing here.

For the first time since leaving the church, Saya wondered what they were doing here, but the thought was pushed out of her head by the exhilaration of sneaking past the living room, where the TV was playing.

She was a married woman, a mother. A respected member of the community. And even when she'd been a teenager herself, she'd never snuck into a boy's bedroom. She'd been a virgin until her wedding night. Now, twenty years later, she was sneaking into a strange boy's bedroom.

No, not a strange boy. A sex addict. He was going to help her.

He was going to help her overcome her addiction.

When they were alone in his room, Darren locked the door, and Saya relaxed.

"Um..."

"It's okay," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "No one is going to interrupt us."

"Right," she said. She didn't know what else to say. They were standing less than a foot apart. She could feel the heat from his body, the masculinity radiating from him.

Aside from her son, she'd never been alone with a teenage boy before. Especially not one as handsome as this.

And certainly never... a sex addict.

"I'm sure you have questions," he asked, his hand reaching out to brush her cheek. Saya's skin tingled at his touch, and she nodded.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Um... I..."

He cocked his head to the side.

"I... um... I don't even know where to begin," she whispered. "I didn't know... I didn't know I had an... an addiction."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Darren said with a chuckle. His fingers had never left her cheek. It felt so good.

"Yeah," Saya breathed. She knew she should stop him. He was a sex addict. She was a sex addict. They shouldn't be alone. They shouldn't be... touching.

But even though she knew the danger, knew that he wouldn't stop unless she made him (and perhaps not even then!), Saya did nothing.

He was so young, so strong, so handsome... she could feel her nipples hardening within her top. She could feel herself growing wet.

She wanted him. And she knew he wanted her.

"Have you found anything that... helps?" she asked.

"I have," he said. His words were simple, but his voice was so powerful that it filled her entire body with heat. She blushed.

"What?"

He lowered his hand, and again Saya felt that emptiness, that absence. A small part of her remembered that she had to get home, that she'd told her husband she was going to visit her sister and would be back before eleven... but the rest of her was wholly focused on the handsome, muscular boy sitting in front of her.

The boy who said he could help her.

"Do you have sex with your husband?"

Saya nodded.

"More than once a day?"

Again, Saya nodded. Such intimate details, stuff that she would never have told anyone else - not her sister, not her doctor, not her children... Darren got them out of her without ever trying.

"Every time you're alone together?"

"Yes," Saya whispered.

"Is it ever enough?"

"No," she moaned, closing her eyes. She couldn't believe how honest she was being with a stranger. How candid.

But he wasn't a stranger.

He was just like her.

Sex addict.

"How many partners have you had?" Darren asked.

"Only my husband," she admitted, and his eyes went wide.

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, blushing.

"Wow."

"Have... have you been with lots of women?" The question was out before Saya could stop herself.

Darren smirked. "More than a few," he said. She wanted to pry, to learn more... she told herself that it was because she wanted to understand his addiction better, to compare his experience to her own, but she knew that wasn't true.

The idea of this handsome, virile boy having sex with multiple women made her... jealous.

Jealous, and more turned on than she'd ever been in her life.

"So what helps?" she asked, doing nothing to mask the desperation from her voice.

Darren sighed, casting his eyes to the side. "I wish I had something better to tell you," he said. "Something more helpful."

"Anything," Saya said. "Please, Darren."

His name felt sweet on her lips, more than she expected.

"I need something. Anything."

"It isn't easy," he said, and Saya nodded.

"Please," she repeated. "I'm desperate."

Darren looked her straight in the eyes. "You need to stop having sex with your husband," he said. "If you do, maybe you'll have a chance. Maybe you can recover. But if you keep having sex with him, you won't be able to fight it."

Saya felt like she'd been slapped in the face. His words were so strong, so powerful. She was reminded of the time that she'd first heard her identifier, that her son had first said the words - sex addict.

"But..."

"It's hard, I know. But if you're going to beat this, if you're going to get over your addiction, you have to stop. You need to build up your strength, and saying no - resisting temptation - is the first step."

Saya nodded. He was right. Of course he was wright. The more sex she had, the less control she had. If she kept sleeping with her husband, she'd never be able to stop.

She'd never stop being an addict.

She'd never recover.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I'll do it."

Darren nodded, his expression solemn. "I hope it works out for you."

"Thank you," Saya replied. She didn't know why, but she was surprised when he crossed the room and opened his door. Of course, she hadn't expected he would... that they would...

She was a married woman, after all. He was a teenager. It would have been completely inappropriate.

But as he silently led her back down the hallway to the front door, she felt just as empty as she had when he'd first released her hand.

Chapter 3

Saya had thought the previous week was the hardest of her life, but it didn't even come close to what followed.

For the first day or two, her husband didn't make a move. After all, she'd been initiating sex with him every chance she got; Saya assumed that he either expected that to continue, or welcomed the break.

On the third night, though, her resolve was tested.

Her husband came into their bedroom wearing only a towel, and Saya's eyes were immediately drawn to the outline of his cock beneath the flimsy material. Her mouth was dry, and it took everything she had not to leap out of bed and take him into her mouth.

She wanted him.

Wanted him.

Desperately. More than she'd ever wanted him before. More than she'd ever wanted anything before.

Saya had no point of comparison, but her husband's erection had always felt perfect to her. The perfect size, the perfect... well, everything.

Even before realizing she was an addict, she'd found it pleasing. Now, though, it was the only thing she could think about. Even though her eyes were focused on his, the only thing she could see was his erect dick.

Even though he was still across the room, she could feel it in her.

"I'm going to shower," her husband said, his eyes lingering on hers. "Unless you have something in mind?"

Saya had never had a problem saying no to her husband before. If she wasn't in the mood, or was feeling tired or sick, all she had to do was shake her head and he would leave her alone. They both knew that even if sex didn't happen now, there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

But for the first time, Saya found the two letters incredibly difficult to get out.

"No," she choked, and her husband nodded, turning and walking towards the bathroom. She was filled with such longing, such intense desire that it physically hurt.

She watched him go, watched the way his towel barely concealed his ass, his back, his broad shoulders, his muscled arms, the way the towel clung to his skin, the way he walked, the way his cock bobbed beneath the towel...

She wanted to cry. She'd never felt such an ache.

All she could do was imagine throwing herself at him, pulling him into the bathroom, tearing his towel off, pushing him against the wall and impaling herself on his dick.

The moment she heard the shower start, Saya's hand was between her legs, and within seconds she was cumming, biting down on her pillow so hard to muffle her scream that she was afraid it might tear.

But even as the orgasm rocked through her, even as the pleasure exploded throughout her body, it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.

As her hand kept moving, as she brought herself to her third orgasm of the night, she couldn't stop thinking about her husband.

She couldn't stop thinking about his erection.

She couldn't stop imagining herself in the shower with him, feeling the water running down her naked body as she knelt in front of him, taking him into her mouth, his hand in her hair, forcing her forward, pushing her until her nose was pressed against his pubic hair, his cock down her throat, choking her.

She couldn't stop picturing the two of them in the shower together, him bending her over, her hands gripping the bar, the soap falling from her fingers as he thrust himself inside her, his hands grabbing her tits, pinching her nipples, holding her in place as he fucked her.

She couldn't stop fantasizing about being bent over in the shower, her husband's hands on her hips, his dick pounding into her, making her scream, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom, the two of them so lost in their lovemaking that they didn't even care if their children heard, didn't care if they woke up the whole street.

By the time her husband was out of the shower, Saya had made herself cum five times. The moment she heard the water stop, she leapt out of bed and fled the room.

If her husband came back, she knew she wouldn't be able to resist.

It was only the third day, and she was already failing.

She wasn't strong enough. She wasn't powerful enough.

She couldn't fight her urges. She was an addict.

She was a sex addict.

Saya slept on the couch that night.

Well, no. Saya lay on the couch all night, but she didn't sleep. Instead, her hand was between her legs, masturbating, touching herself, fingering herself, bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

It wasn't enough.

Nothing was enough.

It would never be enough.

When the sun rose, her clit ached, her fingers were cramped, and the only thing she could think about was her husband.

His naked body.

His dick.

Taking him inside of her.

Cumming, cumming, cumming as he filled her up.

That day passed in a blur. Saya made lunches for her two children and her husband, and drove Adnan and Fatima to school, then did the housework. She went to the supermarket and bought food before picking her children up from school once more.

But her mind wasn't on any of it. All she could think about was cock.

When her hand gripped the vacuum cleaner, she imagined it was a thick erection that she was pumping, skillfully bringing it to climax. When she entered the grocery store, it was all Saya could do not to strip naked and beg the other customers - men and women alike - to take her, to use her, to let her get them off...

And when she left pick her children up from school, she couldn't keep her hands away from her pussy. Sitting in the driver's seat, surrounded by traffic, her hand slipped beneath her modest clothing, and despite the soreness, despite her exhaustion... within minutes, she was cumming.

It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

"Mother, are you okay?" Fatima asked, a look of worry on her face. Saya couldn't even imagine what she looked like - sleep-deprived, eyes glazed, sweaty, her hair a mess.

"I'm fine," she managed, forcing a smile to her face. "Why?"

"You're very flushed," her daughter said.

"I might be coming down with something," Saya replied, her hand straying to her cheek. She could feel her heartbeat through her fingers.

She could remember what Darren's hand had felt like, resting lightly on her skin.

"Do you want me to drive?" Adnan asked, and Saya shook her head. If she didn't have the distraction of the road, she didn't know if she'd be able to resist slipping her hands beneath her garments again and getting off... even with her two children in the car.

"Tell me about your day," she prompted, and the two kids muttered a perfunctory response before returning their attention to their phones.

The three of them drove home in silence, and Saya thought about cock for every minute of the journey.

Saya's husband didn't say anything when she slipped into bed that night. The advantage of Turkish men, she thought to herself. Some of her friends sometimes spoke about the way they and their husbands would discuss their feelings, dissect every argument and conversation - even talk about sex.

It was unthinkable to Saya, and she was grateful that her husband wasn't the type.

He didn't make a move on her that night, and Saya silently gave a prayer of thanks when he drifted off to sleep early. She didn't know she'd have been able to resist him again, not with how her urges had been building all day.

Instead, Saya lay awake, staring at the ceiling. And as soon as her husband began snoring softly next to her, she slipped her fingers between her legs once more and did all she could to remain completely silent as she came.

It wasn't like she had a choice.

She was a sex addict.

The rest of the week was much like that day; any opportunity Saya got, she was masturbating. It was like an itch she couldn't scratch; the harder she tried to ignore it, the more her need grew. But when she didn't ignore it, when she gave into her urges, it merely served to stoke the fire.

By Wednesday, her clit ached for relief... but she couldn't stop. Every second of the day, her fingers were between her legs, or her thoughts were on the idea of being naked, of being taken. Of fucking her husband... or any man she passed over the course of the day.

Or any woman.

Finally, on Wednesday night, she decided to be proactive. For the first time in her life, Saya stopped at a sex store - one that she'd passed a thousand times before. Without saying a word, she picked up the first dildo she saw.

The woman behind the counter didn't even blink.

Saya took her purchase and all but ran from the store. She knew what she was buying was sinful, and could only hope that her God could forgive her. That he would understand that she was just doing what she could to deal with her urges, with the burden she'd been given.

She was a sex addict, and this was the only way she could manage.

After parking a few streets away, Saya opened the box and pulled the dildo out, shocked by its size. It was at least two inches larger than her husband, and substantially thicker.

Saya slept on the couch again that night. Not just to avoid any risk of her husband's advances, but also to give her a chance to explore her new toy.

It was 9pm when she finally got a chance to try it. Her clit was so sensitive, and she could could only pray that this toy would give her an alternative way to get her fix.

Her pussy was slick with juices, and her fingers were wet as they ran over her labia. Her eyes were fixed on the dildo, her whole body filled with need.

It was time.

With a shaking hand, she lifted the massive toy and moved it between her legs. It was so big, so intimidating.

She couldn't imagine what her Imam would say if he saw her now.

She couldn't imagine what anyone would say if they saw her now.

Except Darren. She knew that he'd understand.

He was just like her.

Saya took a deep breath and pushed the dildo inside her. Her lips parted, her mouth opening wide, and she let out a long, involuntary moan as the massive toy stretched her open.

It was the single most intense sensation she'd ever experienced, and her entire body shook as her pussy clenched around the intruder.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't move.

She could only lie there, her whole body throbbing, pulsing, and stare down at the massive object penetrating her. She'd been so much louder than she intended - her husband and children could have run out to find her, and she wouldn't have been able to move. She would've just sat there, stunned, as their judgmental gazes took in the sight of the huge toy splitting her in half.

The thought made her even wetter, and Saya's eyes grew even wider as the dildo slipped in deeper. She'd never had a problem taking her husband's cock, but this was different. This was bigger, thicker, longer, and she didn't know how much more she could take.

But her urges had never been stronger. She needed this, more than she needed to eat, or drink. She needed this more than she'd ever needed anything in her life.

She needed this more than she needed to breathe.

With a gasp, she shoved the dildo in further, and the massive toy slid into her, all the way to the base.

Saya bit down on her knuckle to stop herself from screaming.

Her body was alive, her skin tingling, her nipples hard. She'd never felt so filled, so complete, and the only thing she could think about was moving her hand.

She needed more.

Her eyes fixed on the base of the dildo, and she slowly began to slide it in and out of her, her hand trembling as her body screamed at her to push it in deeper.

Faster.

Harder.

The sensations were unlike anything Saya had experienced before, and her moans and cries were loud, even with her best efforts to muffle them. She knew she should be quiet, knew she should try to stay silent, but her body was overwhelmed by the sensations, and her hips were thrusting upwards, matching the rhythm of her hand.

As the pleasure built within her, any discomfort faded, and all Saya could think about was how good the toy felt. The soreness of her clit was forgotten as she fucked herself, as the dildo's ridges massaged her inner walls.

She needed this. She needed it so badly.

And finally, with a loud groan, Saya came, the pleasure flooding her senses. She had no idea what time it was, or where her husband or her children were, but the sound of her ecstacy could've woken them all.

She didn't care.

She came and she came and she came, and as she did, a feeling of elation filled her body.

Surely this would do it. Surely this was satiate her needs.

She was a sex addict... but maybe this was what she needed. Maybe now... she was cured.

Her pussy was quivering as the aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her. She felt amazing. It was the best she'd felt in weeks; pure euphoria...

But as she came down from her orgasm, it returned.

The emptiness.

The urges.

The need.

Even though the toy was completely filling her up, even after her intense orgasm... she still wanted more.

She needed more.

More...

Saya returned to the adult store the next night. This time, there was a man working, but she didn't care.

She needed more.

Saya was a sex addict, and the only way she was going to resist her husband's advances, the only way she was going to get better was if she could satisfy her needs.

So, ignoring the man's judgmental gaze, Saya filled her basket with anything that caught her eye. Nipple clamps. An anal vibrator. Even a ball gag.

She paid for her purchases in cash and ran out of the store before the man could make her feel any more ashamed than she already did.

That night, she slept with a butt-plug in - the first time she'd ever had anything more than her husband's fingers inside her rear hole - and when the urges woke her in the middle of the night, Saya used her other toys until she passed out from exhaustion. Her children had no way of knowing that she had a clamp on each nipple and a vibrating dildo in her ass as she dropped them to school that morning.

She spent the entire day either fingering herself or fucking herself... it wasn't enough to satisfy her, but it gave her the strength to deny her husband when he suggested that the two of them "have a little fun".

"Not tonight, baby," she whispered. "I'm tired."

He smiled and nodded, and though Saya slept beside him that night, she felt more alone than ever.

By Friday, she knew that she needed help. The SA meeting was only once per month... but she knew where Darren lived. She was sure that he'd help her, if she asked.

He was a sex addict, just like her.

She was incredibly relieved when Darren answered the door himself - had one of his parents done so, she had a story planned about talking to Darren regarding her son's bullying, but Saya wasn't a natural liar.

"How have you been?" he asked as the two of them ascended the staircase. It was all Saya could do not to reach out and take his hand.

"I'm struggling," she admitted.

Darren's room was exactly how she remembered it, and he gestured for her to take a seat. She did, and Darren closed the door before sitting down next to her.

"But have you..."

"No," she said softly, and a proud - almost gloating - look appeared in Darren's eyes.

"Say it," he insisted, and Saya did as she was told.

"I haven't had sex with my husband all week."

"Good girl," he said, and a thrill ran up Saya's spine at his words. She had no idea why they made her feel so... good, but she didn't have the energy or inclination to examine her emotions right then.

"That must have been hard."

Saya nodded. "I went to a... store," she admitted, her voice no louder than a whisper. "I felt so awful, but..."

"It's okay," Darren said, his hand reaching out to cover hers. "You're a sex addict."

She'd never heard him say the words before - like her, he hadn't introduced himself at the meeting last week - and she could feel them resonate deep into her soul.

She was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

Saya found herself sobbing, and for the first time since she'd properly met him, Darren briefly looked uncomfortable. He didn't hesitate, though, immediately putting his arm around her.

"Shh," he said, gently stroking her hair. "It's okay."

Saya couldn't respond, couldn't speak, could barely breathe. His touch felt so good, but everything else felt so bad.

"It's okay," he repeated, pulling her closer, and Saya sobbed into his chest, her tears staining his shirt.

"It's okay."

She felt so safe.

She was a sex addict.

He was a sex addict.

They were in this together.

Together.

Darren was stroking her back, his arms strong and comforting, and she could smell him. She'd never realized how much she loved the scent of men, of their sweat, their cologne. A week without sex had been a long time even before she'd realized... what she was... but now that Saya knew she was a sex addict, it was almost unbearable.

But Darren's presence made everything feel better.

"I'm sorry," she said, lifting her head and wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to cry."

"That's okay," Darren said gently, his hand moving from her hair to her cheek. His thumb wiped away her tears.

She'd never felt such a strong connection with anyone before.

She was a sex addict.

Sex addicts craved intimacy, didn't they? That was the whole problem. Yes, it was in the form of sex, but this... just this... being in a boy's room, his hand on her cheek, his body pressed against hers...

... it was intimate.

But she wanted more.

"How... how do you cope?" she asked, a hint of a sob still in her voice. "Do you..."

She trailed off, not even sure what she was asking. She just wanted him to share some of himself with her, as she had with him.

She wanted intimacy. She wanted to connect with someone who was just like her.

A sex addict.

Darren shrugged. "I've got my ways," he said with a nonchalant air. "Some work, some don't."

"What... what are they?"

His blue eyes bore into hers, and a soft smile appeared on his face as he shook his head.

"Not yet," he said, and Saya's forehead crinkled. She was still pressed up against him, he still had his hand on her cheek... but there it was again.

The emptiness.

She wanted to ask more, but she knew that she couldn't. She knew that she'd rather die than open herself up to further rejection.

"In the meantime," Darren continued, his hand leaving her cheek, and Saya felt the absence of his touch like a knife to the gut. "You did so well with your husband."

A little of the warmth returned at his compliments.

"You're a good girl," he said, and goosebumps covered her skin. "But if you're serious about quitting..."

"I am," Saya insisted, and Darren smiled. Saya felt warm, like his smile was the sun.

"You can't have sex with your husband," he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. Saya nodded. Of course not. She was... she was a sex addict. Having sex was the worst possible thing she could do.

Obviously.

"And for the next week," he continued, "... you can't masturbate."

Saya's eyes went wide. It felt like she was in a sinking ship and he'd just taken away her lifeboat.

"But... that's the only thing I can do," she protested. "That's the only way I can do it."

"No," Darren replied. "You can't. You can't touch yourself, you can't cum, and you can't use any toys. If you're going to beat this, you need to build up your resistance. You need to do as I say."

Saya opened her mouth to protest, but stopped. Darren knew better than she what he was talking about. He'd been dealing with this longer than she had... he'd identified her condition before she even had a clue. Before she'd even begun feeling the cravings.

She had to do as he said. And it was clear from the look on his face, he wasn't going to change his mind.

"It's not going to be easy," he continued, smirking as he spoke. "I'm not going to lie to you. But if you're serious, and you're determined, and you listen to me, I think you'll be okay."

Saya was nodding as he spoke. She felt nothing but dread in the pit of her stomach... but she trusted Darren. She couldn't help herself.

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it."

"Good girl," Darren replied, and again a little of her strength returned. He was so handsome, so powerful, so confident, so in control... for a moment, Saya couldn't help but compare him to her husband, and her husband undeniably came up short. When she'd shared her problem with her spouse, he hadn't offered support - he hadn't even believed her!

And here was Darren, not only trusting her, but supporting her, offering advice and guidance...

"Are you going to be okay?" Darren asked, and Saya blinked twice.

"Yes," she said, a sudden confidence in her voice. "I'm going to do it." "I know you are," Darren said, and Saya swelled with pride at his belief in her.