Authors: Roxy Queen
Chap
ter 10
(Audrey
)
“How are things going with Graham?” Dr. Markson asks from her chair across from mine. Her pad of paper is on her lap and a pen poised in her hand.
“Good, I guess. I’m not really sure what to expect.”
“Do you find him comfortable to work with?”
“Yes, he’s been great. Very understanding. He’s an excellent masseuse.” I smile
, thinking about his hands.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it’s going well. You’ve worked through several levels of exposure quickly, which is what I expected from your history. From here
on, though, things will get a little more intense. Do you have any concerns?”
I shift in my seat. “No, I guess not. I mean, I’m a little nervous about what happens from here
going forward. Being undressed and being touched.”
“One thing to remember about the exposure therapy is that
because you and Graham have no romantic or emotional attachment to one another, there’s no judgment on your looks or behavior. You can’t disappoint him. He’s under strict instructions as to how to proceed and everything is part of the experiment. It’s okay for you to be scared or nervous. It’s expected.”
“Should I tell him if I’m scared?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “Would you agree that much of your anxiety comes from a feeling of mistrust?”
The tightening in my stomach reveals my answer. “Yes.
”
She flips through her note pad
and frowns slightly. “Do you know when this started? What originally made you feel unsafe?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve thought about it a million times. I never realized anything was wrong
, until it all just sort of fell apart when I tried to have sex the first time.”
“There had to be a time when your friends became sexually active. How did that make you feel?”
“One of my best friends had sex when we were in the 8
th
grade. I thought she was too young. I also thought her boyfriend was a creep. They broke up afterward and I expected her to be upset; but she said she just wanted to get it over with.” I stare down at my dress and spread the fabric smooth. “I guess losing my virginity seemed like a bigger deal than getting it over with; except when the time came, it wasn’t so easy, even though Max was nice and I think he loved me.”
“What happened with you and your friend after that?”
“Mary and I had been friends since kindergarten. We stayed friends; but after that, everything about her seemed so hyper-sexualized and it felt like all she talked about was sex.”
“Which only increa
sed your anxiety, I would assume?”
“Yeah,” I say, looking down at my lap.
These memories make me uncomfortable and I do my best to avoid them.
“Was she sexually active after that?”
“Yes, she had several boyfriends, one in particular who was terrible. She had several pregnancy scares because of some strange refusal to use birth control.”
“That is strange.”
“I know. I never could figure it out. Everything about it seemed really stressful.”
“What about
other friends?”
“Some had boyfriends and others didn’t. I knew a couple girls that had sex early on in high school
; and they either seemed to regret it or ended up with all kinds of break-up drama.” I make a face at the memory. Everyone was so stupid back then.
Dr. Markson laughs. “You don’t approve of high school drama?”
“No. Not really. Stand by your choices, you know?”
“Teenagers aren’t usually known for making
well-informed decisions, especially when their hormones are involved.”
“Well, they should. It’s not like it’s complicated,” I snap. “Sorry. I just really hate stupid people who make stupid
, emotional decisions. That’s the reason I’m not friends with them anymore.”
“It’s understandable. You watched your friends make mistake after mistake, which of course, is their prerogative. But
it’s scary seeing people you care about have broken hearts or act dangerously. I can see how it would make you want to protect yourself in a way they hadn’t.”
I nod, feeling relief that someone understands what I felt during that
time. I wasn’t judging them. I just worried about them. Several fat tears roll down my cheeks, a physical reminder of the anxiety that has built up inside me. I brush them away.
Dr. Markson
checks her watch and says, “Our time is up for today. I’ll see you in two weeks unless you have an emergency.”
I leave the office after m
aking my follow-up appointment. I’ve just pressed the down button when I hear someone call, “Hold up!”
I stop the elevator and
Graham pops his head in the open door. “Audrey!” he says. He’s out of breath from sprinting down the hall. He frowns when he sees my face and touches my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I say, through a stuffed nose and watery eyes. “Just therapy, you know
?”
He nods and squeezes my arm before releasing it. We enter the elevator and Graham presses the down button.
A tense silence hovers between us, only broken up by my sniffing. The elevator dings and just before the door opens, he says, “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
Graham lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes away the tears on my cheeks. He smiles and says, “That’s better.”
The doors open to the lobby.
He lets me exit first.
“Thank you,
” I say.
“Of course.”
We stand awkwardly for a moment. Are things really different outside the office? Outside our protective bubble? What will it be like when we’ve seen each other naked? “Have a good weekend, Audrey,” he eventually says. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yes, Monday.”
We both walk off in opposite directions, him to whatever life he has outside all of this, and me, into the sun with dry cheeks.
Chapter 11
(Graham)
Sil
ver, with a flash of red, sails through the air. It lands with a solid thud on the corkboard. “Damn.” I shake my head.
Dave gives me a smug grin. “At least
, you hit the inner ring.”
“Not enough to win.”
He sets his stance and weighs his darts. He eyes the target and throws. No thud, no anything. Just perfect. “Bastard.”
“I’ll take a Blue Mo
on,” he says, already claiming his winnings.
“You got it.”
The bar’s crowded, even for a Thursday night. I lean on the edge, keeping an eye on the flat screen mounted to the wall. Baseball season started a week ago. The Braves have two men on base. “Knock it out,” I say to no one in particular, thinking the batter can get at least one home. I feel a soft hand on my arm. I look down into a pair of familiar bright blue eyes.
“Hey
, babe,” Janelle says, the glint unmistakable in her eyes. “How are you?”
I glance around the room.
Janelle’s short; but her blonde hair, tight skirt, and giant tits make her pretty noticeable. Sure enough, two guys at the bar are checking her out. Janelle is one of my clients,
was
one of my clients. Her husband is an anthropologist studying in Egypt for six months; and everyone that knows them, marvel at how they’re a perfect example of the nerdy guy with a hot woman. It all works until the nerd gets too focused on finding ancient artifacts, leaving his wife, desperate and lonely. That’s where I come in. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m doing okay,” she says, b
ut I see the pout forming. “It’s been a long time. I miss seeing you.”
“School
’s taking up a lot of time lately.”
“Just school?” She moves closer, rubbing her leg against mine.
“Graduate program, remember? I told you about it. It’s a bitch.”
She bites her bottom lip and toys with the button between her breasts.
“I miss being your bitch.”
God
, she likes to play dirty and I sort of miss it. My dick, pulsing in my shorts, really misses it. It’s been weeks, and I’ve never gone this long without being with a woman. My hand just isn’t the same.
“Don’t talk like that,” I say, glancing around. No one’s listening. They’re either watching the game or looking at Janelle’s tits.
“It’s your fault, baby, leaving me high and dry like that. I came down here looking for something to help work off a little frustration.”
Working for Dr. Markson has been a total lifestyle change for me.
I met with my clients one by one to tell them I was on a sabbatical until I graduate. Most have been okay with it, and I even had several nice, sexy goodbyes. Margaret’s biding her time until I’m finished; having booked me first thing once the experiment is over. April threw a vase. Janelle? She didn’t buy it then; and from the way she’s rubbing against me, I’m not sure she’s buying it now. To be fair, if I could, I’d drag her to the alley behind the bar. Janelle loves giving head. She’d cure me of these blue balls before the Braves get up to their next bat.
However,
that’s not happening. At least that’s what I remind myself as I say, “Call me in a couple months.” I gesture to the bartender and order two Blue Moons. “My schedule should be clear by then.”
“Summer?”
“It’s nice to see you, Janelle.” I lean down to give her a quick kiss. She wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me closer, pushing her tongue in my mouth. I’m not going to hurt her feelings or offend her, so I let it happen. I may be busy with work now, but I have no interest in losing my hard-earned client list.
“I’ve got that,” she says, pointing to the two beers the bartender just pushed my way.
“Thanks.” I wink and give her my best smile.
I set the beer in front of Dave and he says, “Who was that?”
“That was Janelle.”
He looks over at the bar and checks out the woman I’
ve talked so much about. “Your Tuesday night? She’s the one whose husband is out of town for six months?”
“Yeah
, poor bastard.” I tip the bottle to my lips and wash the taste of her out of my mouth. “And
former
Tuesday night, I’m a one woman guy now.”
Dave shudders. “Don’t talk about Dr. Markson like that.”
I laugh but leave the joke. Dave’s in my program and knows that I’m working closely with our professor on a long-term project. That’s all he knows other than the fact I’ve cut back on my
dates
to focus. “She’s an inspired professor,” I say. “Very cutting edge.”
“She’d have to be for you to give up the cash cow.” His eyes light up. “Maybe I should fill in for you until you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”
I shoot him a hard look. “No.”
“Why not? I lay pipe as good as anyone else.”
I shake my head. “Being an escort isn’t about laying pipe. Not all the time, at least. It’s not just about having sex. It’s about giving your date what she needs.”
“Which sometimes
a good fuck is exactly what she needs,” Dave says, nodding across the room to where Janelle leans against some guy. His hand cups her ass and something about it makes me uncomfortable.
“Sometimes
, yes, but you wouldn’t believe the number of times I had to listen to her cry about being alone, and how her husband loves his job more than he loves her. Or, Jesus, the women who have all kinds of insecurities or the women who are so tired of being dominated that they just want to dominate someone in return.”
“That can’t be so bad,” he says.
“No,” I laugh. “That’s definitely not bad. But they’ve got all this baggage and you can’t add to it.”
“God, you’re going to be the next Freud or something.”
“That’s the plan.” I finish my beer and see that the dartboard has opened up again. “Another game?”
“Guess you want to get your ass kicked twice tonight.”
“How about this, if you win the next game I’ll introduce you to Janelle.” Dave’s not a bad guy. A knucklehead but he treats women well. I’d rather she go home with him than some random asshole at the bar.
“No shit. Really?”
“Yes, but you treat her like a gentleman. Not like a piece of meat.”
He offers his hand and we shake on it.
Chapter 12
(Audrey)
“Mmmhmmm.”
“That feels good?”
I nod my head lazily. Two weeks have passed and I’ve advanced to lying on my back.
Graham’s straddling the end of the bench with my legs on either side of him. “I went running yesterday and my calves are really sore.”
“Here?” he asks, pressing into the skin.
“Yes. Ouch. Yes. Exactly.”
His fingers inch upward, gently cares
sing the skin on my upper thigh, occasionally dipping to the soft inside flesh. Again, I fight a mixed reaction of part arousal, part fear. Nevertheless, the rules are specific; he’s not allowed to touch any part of my body covered by the fabric of my tank or shorts.
“How often do you run?” he asks. We’ve both realized my blood pressure lowers when I’m distracted. Conversation helps.
“A couple times a week. I’m terrible at it, though.”
His hand trails gently up and down.
“Why do you say that?”
He switches to using his fingertips, gently scraping
his short nails down to my knee.
“I’m slow as molasses. Seriously
, a turtle could out run me.”
He laughs and grabs my heel to extend my leg. My foot swipes against his crotch.
His very hard, very protruding crotch.
Um. Wow.
I guess that answers any questions I had about his sexual orientation.
He doesn’t stop his movements, focusing now on my other leg
. If he can ignore it, so can I. “What kind of workout do you do?” I ask, because it’s become increasingly obvious that he works out. A lot. Two sessions ago, as he promised, he cut back on his own clothing. Each day he meets me at the door in a tight t-shirt and workout shorts. His arms are corded with lean muscles and his broad back and shoulders dip and curve. I’ve noticed his flat stomach and his chest… God, I have to look away from his chest.
“I run a little, too
, and do some weights. Lately, I’ve gotten into parkour.”
“What’s that?”
“Climbing and jumping,” he explains, his voice coming from near my feet. I can’t see his face from my position. “Like where you run, climb a wall, and jump down without killing yourself.”
“I’ve seen that on commercials and stuff. Very cool.”
“It’s not too hard. You just have to have a lot of strength and balance.”
I snort. “Yeah
, two things I’m not blessed with.”
The music stops and
Graham reaches for my hands pulling me to a sitting position. We’re close to one another, face to face, and my hair flows down my shoulders. He takes a handful and says, “You’ve got the prettiest hair.”
“Life as a ginger
, pretty hair, pale skin, I burn like a lobster in the sun.” My eyes dart downward to see if he’s still…interested. Yes. Apparently so.
I assume his comp
liments are an effort to stall a bit. I avert my eyes and mumble, “Thanks.” Then I stand and head for the bathroom.
I change quickly and swipe a brush through my hair.
Graham meets me at the door with an envelope. “Dr. Markson wanted me to give this to you. See you next week.”
“Oh, orders from the doctor. I’m never sure if I should be excited or nervous.”
If he knows what the note says, he doesn’t reveal anything. “Maybe a little of both, have a good weekend.”
“Bye,” I say
, and stuff the letter into my bag. It’s not until later that I’m thankful I opened it in the privacy of my home. Because, holy shit, I think I would have died if Graham had been there.
Why?
Going to a sex shop is not a big deal.
It’s not.
I keep telling myself that after reading for the third time the note Dr. Markson left me. She’s asked me to take a field trip to the local sex boutique, Heaven, and buy a personal device, a dildo, for Christ’s sake.
In what I’m aware is a
classic Audrey moment, I sit in the car willing myself to go inside.
I can do this. It’s a store. That’s all
, I tell myself, as if words will make me grow a pair of balls and complete this task. I peer through my windshield and look into the front window of the store. Sexy lingerie and leather
accessories
stare back at me. Sure, I ordered a slutty outfit online for Valentine’s Day, but I’ve never been in a shop like this. Dr. Markson was specific that I had to actually enter the store and purchase the dildo before our next meeting.
I pick up the phone a
nd call Reese. “I just can’t go in there. Not alone.”
“Well, sweetie, I’d love to shop for a dick with you
, but I can’t. I’m at work.”
“Can’t you play sick?”
“No. I can’t,” she says. “But I’m sending you all my good vibes and positive juju. You’ve got this.”
“Ugh. You suck.”
“Like a ten dollar hooker.”
I hang up and stare out the window again, ducking when a car pulls next to mine. Good grief. I’ve lost my damn mind.
As if anyone going into the sex shop is judging me on going into the sex shop,
I scold myself. Desperate, I pick up the phone again. I’m doing this, but I’m not going alone. I scroll through the phone and stop on the one other person I can call in a situation like this. I press dial and wait.
“Hello?”
“It’s Audrey. I need your help.”
*
My knight in shining armor shows up in an ancient, battered
, green Land Cruiser. He steps out with a smile, takes my hand, and leads me to the doorway of the big, scary store.
My nails dig into his palm
, and he says, “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t think I can go in there.”
“We’re going to go in, pick out something, and leave. That’s all. Why is that such a big deal?” His tone is gentle, yet serious. He really wants to know.
“Everyone in there will think I’m having sex.”
He stares at me. “Yeah, so?”
“But I’m not. I feel like a…fraud.”
“Audrey,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. The motion soothes me. “No one in there cares about you. Do you think about why people are buying certain foods at the grocery store? It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not,” I tell him, but I know I’m being stupid. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
We enter the store and I can feel my eyes pop wide open. Graham glances over and smiles. “You’re a mess,” he laughs.
“What do you even do with that?” I’ve stopped to stare at what looks like a small statue of a baby. “Is that Jesus?”
“Ah,” Graham says, picking up the package. “That appears to be a butt plug baby Jesus.”
“
A what?”
“You know a butt plug, for your um…” He makes a gesture.
“Out of a baby Jesus? Stop it. That is so wrong.”
He shakes his head and replaces the package
. “Well, good thing we’re not here for that. Let’s go check out the wall of dildos.”
“Ugh.”
We pass baskets of lubricant, edible panties, and several blow-up dolls. Toward the back is a huge display of
personal devices
. All shapes, colors and sizes. “Oooh!” I cry, grabbing one with rhinestones covering the sides. “So pretty.”
Graham
takes it from me. “I don’t think that’s quite what you’re looking for.”
I eye the shelves and pretend I’m not about to burst into flames just being in the boutique.
“To be honest? They all look so…big.”
He takes my hand and rubs his thumb over mine.
He’s being very touchy; but then again, so far, our relationship is based on touch and his movements calm me. God, he’s turned me into one of Pavlov’s dogs. One touch and I’m drooling with complacency. “I imagine that it’s overwhelming for you. Let’s just get something very basic. No bumps or ridges or spikey things.”
I gulp. “Spikey things?”
“How about this one,” he says; pointing to a slim, pink, rocket shaped one. He grins. “Bonus, it vibrates.”
“Whatever. Let’s just get out of here.” I snatch the package off the shelf. The guy working behind the counter has large circular gauges in his ears and dark
, swirling tattoos creeping up his neck.
“Is this all?” he asks, and I’m sure I can
hear the judgment in his voice at how pathetic my vibrating dildo is. Not freaky enough, not sexy enough, just awkward and lame. Basically, the description of me in sexual terms. Lame. I can’t even do a sex store right.
Graham
nudges me with his elbow, and I say, “Yes. That’s all.”
The clerk rings me up and I pay. He hands me a black bag
, and I clutch it like an old lady and her purse on the way out the door. Graham fights a wide grin, unable to hide his deep-set dimples. When we reach the car I ask, “What is that smile about?”
“I’m proud of you.”
“For what? Buying a hot pink, vibrating dildo? It looks like it’s for a sixteen-year-old’s slumber party.”
“It’s perfect. You’ve conquered another fear and I’m happy for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Doesn’t take much to impress you, does it?”
He squeezes my hand and opens his car door. “See you in a couple days.”
“Bye.” I wave as he drives off and I get in my car. The black bag sits in the driver’s seat, the package peeking out of the top. The sight of it makes me feel queasy. I catch a glimpse of my face in the rearview mirror. My cheeks are bright pink and my eyes are big as saucers. I may have accomplished a challenge today, but there’s something else making me nervous.
Dr. Markson wants me to have a dildo. But what does she expect to do with it?
*
“So, how was your assignment?”
“A success
, I guess. I had to call Graham to help me.” Dr. Markson has on a flower print, blue and lavender dress with matching Birkenstock sandals. A tiny, butterfly tattoo, in red and blue, is inked on the inside of her ankle.
“Asking for help isn’t a sign of failure.”
“Then it was a success,” I say definitively, hoping we can move past this topic. She pushes her glasses into her hair; and I can tell by the inquisitive expression on her face that she’s nowhere near finished.
“Have you experimented with it yet?”
“Um…no. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with it.” Dr. Markson quirks an eyebrow, and I say, “I know what to do, just not what my assignment was exactly. From you. What you wanted me to do,” I sigh. “Sorry. I’m feeling a little nervous.”
“Is something different today?”
“I don’t know. Things are going well with Graham and our meetings; but I know we’ll be increasing our contact, and I guess I’m not sure what the, uh, dildo has to do with all that.”
“You’re worried I’ll have you introduce the device in your sessions with
Graham.”
My fingers wrap around the edge of the chair cushion. “Yes.”
“Don’t worry; that device is for your personal use. I’d like you to start using it at home, so you can get a little more familiar with your body in a setting you have absolute control over.”
“So what exactly should I do?”
“Explore yourself. Find out what arouses you when you aren’t in a defensive situation. Have you used a vibrator or other device before?”
My cheeks flare with heat. “No. Not really. I’ve had orgasms before
, manually stimulated by my boyfriends. But I don’t know, masturbation just seems so…”
“So what?” she probes.
“Weird? Lame? Lonely? I don’t know. I’ve never seen the appeal.”
She smiles at my confession. “Well, despite all of those reasons, I’d like you to practice several times a week at home. Get comfortable with your body. Work through any negative self-talk.”
“Okay,” I say, but I can’t see myself doing it.
Dr. Markson checks her watch. “We have a couple more minutes. How are things going with
Graham?”
“Good, I think. I’m not exactly sure how they’re supposed to go
, but I think we’ve made progress.”
“He thinks so
, too,” she says. “He’s very impressed with your willingness to participate and how open you are about your fears.” Her comment clarifies that he talks to her after our sessions. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“He’s great. Very patient.”
“How do you feel when he’s massaging your body?”
“Good.” I shrug, feeling a little awkward talking about it. “He’s very thorough
, but he always follows the guidelines you leave, so I trust him.”
“Any other feelings? Like physical ones?”
“Sometimes it tickles,” I laugh, thinking about the first time Graham found the spot inside my knee that sends me into a quivering mass of giggles.
“Anything else?”