Audrey Exposed (4 page)

Chapter 8

(Graham)

“
Dr. Markson has given us the go ahead to move past the shoulder massage,” I explain to Audrey at our next meeting. I offer her my most comforting smile and direct her across the room to a long, suede-covered bench near the bed. “I prepared this for our session today.”

She struggles and fails to hide a frown.
“What am I supposed to do there?”

“You’ll lie down and I’ll m
assage your back and arms.” I’ve already set the music and lit the candles. Everything about the room should feel soothing; but from the way Audrey’s biting her lip, it’s clear she’s not feeling relaxed.

I raise
an eyebrow, questioning if she’s ready. She exhales deeply, and says, “I can do this.”

“Of course
, you can. Same rules apply. I keep my hands over your clothes. Just your back and arms.”

Audrey kick
s off her shoes and mumbles something under her breath. “Good thing I wore pants today,” she says. She stretches onto her stomach and takes a minute to figure out where to put her arms and hands. After a couple tries, she leaves her elbows bent and her palms flat next to her face. Lines of concentration cross her forehead.

The tiny stuff like this
draws me to Audrey and the complexities of her battle. The way she struggles but fights hard against her anxiety,   proves she’s determined to beat this thing. As I kneel beside her, I can’t help but think about how our personal relationship with the concept of sex is so varied and different. Is it our upbringing? The gynecologist ruled out a biological issue. Dr. Markson is convinced it’s some sort of extreme phobia. At the very least, she struggles with trust.

I’ve worked hard to bridge that gap between us.
Trust is clearly one of her major obstacles. However, we’ve come a long way and now, the minute my hands touch her back, she exhales and relaxes. Her eyes flutter closed and the worry lines that mar her forehead disappear. 

Small s
teps like this confirm she feels comfortable with me. I’ve done everything I can to prove it to her. I stick to the parameters of Dr. Markson’s instructions and I follow Audrey’s lead. It’s not that different from my other clients.

Now that Audrey’s
relaxed, I take my time, massaging every inch of her back, shoulders, and arms. My mind wanders and I recall how I stumbled into escorting women by accident. Dumb luck really. During my junior year of college, I found myself, along with several other students, invited to a party at the Dean’s house. What college student says no to free food and drinks? The party was lame, but the Dean’s wife, Whitney, was gorgeous. Huge breasts, a fine ass, and a tantalizing tongue that kept darting to the thin, red straw in her drink. I wasn’t surprised when she flirted with me. Flirtation is my currency, but she took it a step further, luring me into a tour of her home. With nothing on my mind but her body and my increasingly hardening dick, I followed her through the house, like a puppy dog after a bone.

We fucked in the laundry room. I lifted her
onto the countertop and she spread her legs, revealing her bare pussy, wet and ready. God, she was hot, dirty, too; and when we were finished, she gave me fifty dollars.

I used the money to pay for gas, a loaf of bread
, and a jar of peanut butter. One of the drawbacks to my lifestyle growing up was that my mother had a slew of kids and no real income. The only way out of that tiny Texas town was the scholarship I earned. I needed money and working minimum wage sucked. It felt like divine intervention when Whitney tracked down my number; and a week later, I’d been to her house three more times. I was also two hundred dollars richer. She wasn’t quite a desperate housewife; but she was lonely, horny, and tired of waiting on her husband to notice her. I was more than willing to fill his spot. She was more than willing to share my number with some of her friends.

I’d left college with no debt, a satisfied libido
, and a glowing reference from the Dean to Duke School of Psychology. Whitney referred me to some friends in Durham; and before long, I had a full schedule of clients.

That’s how Dr. Markson found me in the first place. She’d heard word whispered about me through the grapevine and tracked me down
, not for sex, but for the purposes of this study. We had an instant connection over our desire to study sexuality further, particularly, exposure therapy.

“How old were you when you first had sex?” Audrey asks, her voice muffled by the cushioned bench.

“Uh, I was a teenager.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen.” I ran my hands down Audrey’s back, feeling the outline of her shoulder blades and the elastic straps of her bra. I could get that off in a heartbeat and show her real sensuality, but that’s not the point here. Not yet.

“Were you scared?”

“Not really. Excited.”

“What about the girl?”

“She was older. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t her first.”

“From there? Did you just hook up and stuff?”

“Kind of. The way I grew up was a little different, I guess. We spoke pretty openly about sex and stuff.”

“So it wasn’t a big deal to the girl?” she asks.

I think back to that night with Sarah. She was into me, but was it a big deal? I’m not sure I ever thought about it before. “I don’t know. We never talked about it.”

“What else do you remember?”

“Uh, well, the first person I told after I had sex was my mom.”

She lifts her head and opens her eyes.
“Seriously?”

I shrug. “Yeah. We’re close and it just wasn’t a big deal.”

“What did she say?” She lies back on her stomach. I press my fingers into the shallow dip of her lower back.

“She handed me a box of condoms and told me
to wrap it up, and not to be a dic—jerk to girls.” I spot a flicker of a smile. I consider that talking about myself may help Audrey relax. “The girls in my community were tough as nails though. We all just rolled with it. It’s different but it worked.”

“I bet,” she laughs.

“What?”

“I’m sure you were adorable. They were probably all over you.”

“Hmm…” She had me there.

“Did you like that? Girls pursuing you?”

“Sometimes.” I think of my first time with the seventeen-year-old. “It made things easier, but there’s something about the thrill of the chase when it comes to something just out of reach.”

“I wonder if guys think that about
me; like seeing my virginity as a challenge, because that would suck. I’d give it away willingly, if I could.”

“I have a feeling guys want to be with you because of you. Didn’t you say your ex wanted to stick around, despite the anxiety?”

Her shoulders tense under my hands. “Yeah, he did.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Audrey.
They want you for you, not some game.”

Her eyes flutter closed once again and her lips form a tight line. She’s done talking but that’s okay.
This isn’t a race. It’s a marathon.

*

We move forward at the next session; now we’ve added Audrey’s legs into the equation. I maintain my distance running my hands along her arms and legs, but stay away from hot zones like her butt, her sides, and the area where her boobs press against the bench. Yes, I’ve noticed. How could I not notice? With each day that passes, I know her body a little bit better. She’s muscular, but not bulky. Her legs are long and lean, a runner’s legs. She’s ticklish, so I try to avoid those spots as it leads to a different type of tension.

I’m good at my
job; it’s why Dr. Markson recruited me. It may sound egotistical, but I have a natural instinct when it comes to what a woman wants and how to cater to her needs.

 
Audrey breathes through her nose and a small smile lingers on her plump, red lips. My mind wanders at times, considering what her skin feels like. It’s pale and creamy, scattered with freckles. A familiar flare erupts in my balls. It’s been weeks since I’ve had sex. Which, for me, is unheard of. Sex equals money. Previously, I barely let a couple days pass without escorting one of my clients. Audrey has become the singular focus in my life, sexually, and I haven’t even touched her skin yet.

 
On Friday, after our session, I see an additional note and read it aloud.
Audrey, for the next phase of therapy,
please wear a tank top and shorts to your next session
—Dr. M.

“So w
e’re moving to skin contact?” she asks, looking a little giddy. The tips of her ears flame red.

“Looks like it. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes. I’m kind of excited.”

I don’t hold back my smile.
“Me, too.”

Chapter 9

(Audrey)

Monday rolls around and I’ve brought clothes to change into. In the bathroom, I remove my work clothes, hanging them on a hook behind the door. I slip a purple tank top over my bra and cotton shorts over my panties. Pausing at the mirror, I take a quick once-over and rake through my hair with my fingers before twisting it up in a knot.

Graham
gives me a wide grin when I enter the living area.

“What?” I ask.

“You look cute.”

I glance down at my clothes and pretend I’m not blushing. “Thanks. I feel a little underdressed, comparably.”

“That’s fair. How about next time I wear something similar?”

“You have a purple tank top?”

He laughs. “No. Pink.”

His comment is silly
, but it makes me consider something I haven’t thought about before. Is Graham gay? Does that make this easier for him? If so, would he be willing to be so intimate with a woman? He did say I looked cute. Not hot, but cute. While he turns on the music and adjusts the lights, I lie on the bench, thinking about it. He has never given me any sort of vibe. But then, what do I know? Ultimately, I figure, it doesn’t matter about his sexual orientation, but it may make things less complicated for us if he is gay.

Graham
kneels beside me and says, “Today, I’ll massage your arms and legs. I’ll also massage your neck and covered lower back and butt.”

I push up on my elbows and look at him. “My butt?”

“Yes, it’s time to move forward; and exposing your sensitive, more sexual areas is necessary.”

I try to figure out how I feel about this. Pounding heart? Yes.
Anxious stomach? Definitely. Slightly turned on? Ugh. I admit it. Graham’s just very good with his hands; he makes me feel things, things that lead to things that cause absolute anxiety. I lie back down and say in my most convincing voice, “I’m ready.”

Graham
starts his massage at the center of my back, slowly working from the covered part of my back out to the exposed areas. My skin itches in anticipation. It’s been weeks now of taunting and teasing; and as he runs his hands over my back, I find myself more excited than scared. The instant his hands graze over my skin, I inhale sharply. Electricity rolls across my body; and it feels so good, as though I’ve been depriving myself of this for too long.

I breathe in and out, enjoying the moment. No anxiety. No stress. Maybe the whole experiment will be this easy. I just needed to go a little slower
, baby steps. Turning my head, I peek up at Graham and catch his eye. He smiles. I smile back.

Then
, he gropes my ass.

My eyes pop wide
open and I jump on the bench, yelping in surprise. He doesn’t alter his position, though. Instead, he continues to squeeze and knead the softer flesh on my butt. His hands run up and down the sides of my hips, brushing against my calves, and drifting toward the sides of my boobs. My heart is pounding and my brain starts spinning. Everything he does feels good. Too good.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod in return. My easy breaths have stopped and my hands clench into small fists. Graham attempts to smooth them out, taking each finger into his hands and rubbing them gently. The minute he’s finished, I ball them up again.

“Use your voice, Audrey. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say. “I am. Really. Just adapting.”

“Good.”

The massage continues for a while longer; but unlike the other times, I can’t fully relax. A man, I don’t really know and that I plan to be intimate with  is touching my ass and has come really, really close to my boob. The music ends and that’s when I finally take a full breath. I sit up and that’s when I notice how hard my nipples are, poking against the thin material of my shirt. I cross my arms and look away.

G
raham sits on the floor in front of me, and I peek over, seeing the line of worry creased between his eyes.

“What happened?”

“It’s just weird, I guess.”

“Weird?”

“You. Touching my…butt. Ass. You got really near my boob, too.”

He nods. “And that was weird for you?
”

“Yes.” I look over his shoulder, away from his eyes. “It just makes me uncomfortable. Sex makes me uncomfortable. The idea of it. Talking about it. Thinking about it. Failure looms ahead at all times.”

“But you haven’t been failing. You’ve been very successful with the exposure so far.”

I roll my eyes. “We haven’t
really done anything; and the moment you get near my ass, I freak out.”

“You didn’t run away or anything.”

“No. But inside I was crumbling.”

His eyes light up. “Okay
, tell me why.”

“
If I let you touch my ass, then you’ll want to really touch my boobs. Then you’ll want to see me naked. Then you’ll want to be naked, and then,” I point between his legs with a shaky finger. “That thing will come out after me, my vagina will have a panic attack, and we’ll be back at square one, which is that I’m an absolute fucking failure.”

Using the bottom of my shirt
, I wipe my eyes and nose. Graham moves closer. Kneeling before me, he takes my hand. “We’re going to beat this anxiety, Audrey. I promise you.”

“You can’t promise that. It’s my problem
, not yours. Trust me; you’re going to get tired of how long this takes. Every other guy has.”

“Fair enough. What I can promise you is that I will always take care of you. I will be gentle and kind. I will follow your lead and remain patient until we figure this out.”

“What if it takes longer than Dr. Markson anticipates?”

He shrugs. “Unlike one of your boyfriends
, this is my job. I’m here for you, not myself.”

I’d never thought of it like that. Or about how this is a job for
Graham. I’m his client as much as I’m Dr. Markson’s. They both work for me and I’m the one in control. The idea makes me feel better and I offer him a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I stand to go to the bathroom and change. “You know I’m going to do this more and more as we go forward.”

“What? Freak out?” he laughs.

“Freak out. Cry. Panic. Second guess.”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” he says, looking completely
unfazed. “And no matter what, I’ll be here.”