Something is wrong.
The first couple days of my business trip, Lia is her usual, incredible self when I call her at night or between meetings. Her voice is soft and inviting in my ear, she tells me she misses me, asks if I’m taking stress breaks. Late at night, she sends me mirror selfies from our hotel suite wearing nothing but a scrap of yellow material that vaguely resembles panties—and purrs to me over the speakerphone while I jack myself raw in the bathroom.
But at some point, her tone loses its usual brightness. She sounds almost sad? Although she won’t tell me why so I can fix it. No amount of gifts sent to her doorstep seems to help. Finally, she stops answering my calls altogether. I can’t concentrate on a single thing. I can’t think about anything but her, replaying our last te
