The Lessons (5 page)

Ryan

I knew it was wrong. And I did it anyway.

“We’re going to begin with some simple breathing exercises, okay? I want you to put your hands on your stomach and practice breathing in with your nose, and then out through your mouth. You should feel your stomach rise and fall. Now let’s try it.”

I put my hand on hers and gently brought them to rest on her stomach. As I touched her, I couldn’t help but notice how soft she was and that her fingertips were painted a very pale shade of pink. Yeah. Fucking nail polish. This is what I’d been reduced to. I was noticing fucking
nail polish
. Because my new
client
was so fucking hot it was messing with my brain. And there was no way I could
tell
her that.

At least not yet.

Not at all,
my subconscious whispered.

I took a deep breath, frustrated at not feeling the control I usually felt at this stage.

“I’m going to move my hands around, and touch you in different places now, Natalie. I want you to tell me how it feels.”

As I surveyed her, my stomach twisted into an unfamiliar knot. Surrogacy was a means to an end for me— sure, I liked sex, almost every man does, but surrogacy, for me, was a way of paying the bills. I’d sown my wild oats years ago, and this job gave me flexibility to be in school, which was great. The women that walk into my office are clients, nothing more. It’s not just that I’m not attracted to them, it’s that it’s
impossible
to be attracted to them— in a clinical environment, it was always easy for me to divorce myself of any selfish sexual urges. That was, until now.

The memory of last week was still fresh in my mind and makes me cringe. I should have left as soon as I saw her in that office. Something dangerous was lurking there. But no, I’m a greedy bastard, so I stayed there next to her on the couch, and pretended nothing was wrong. Hell, my code of ethics even had a second chance, when I saw her in the hallway. But I let her and her big fuckin’ puppy dog eyes talk me out of it.

So here we were. With me somehow assuming her desperate need to do this work was more important than whatever I thought was going on between us. She was no longer the hot chick from the library—she was my client, on the sofa in my office, gently practicing her breathing exercises. I cupped her hand in mine as I stared down at her pink lips, wondering how they’d taste, knowing I was dancing on a razor-thin line.

Cherries. No, strawberries. Yep, I bet they’d taste like strawberry Chapstick.

What if I just kissed her now? I mean, we’d have to eventually anyway. I mulled over the question as she stilled, the breathing finally doing its job to calm her. She’d been so worked up earlier, it reminded me of a young bull at a rodeo. I knew it was just nerves. It happened to a lot of clients, but with her, it was cute—endearing almost.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked quietly, my own heart feeling like it was going to explode in my chest.

“Mm. Good.” She purred, without a trace of anxiety or anger. Mission accomplished. Her face was calm, and with her eyes closed she wasn’t noticing my staring.

“Good,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Do you feel my hand?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Good. I’m going to take it back now and touch different parts of your body with it, and all I want you to do is tell me good or bad.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important we know what areas of your body might be harboring tension or anxiety.”

“Okay,” she said, releasing her grip on me. I hadn’t even realized she’s been holding my hand as much as I’d been holding hers. I took a deep breath. She smelled like fucking candy.

“I’m going to start with your head.”

“Okay.” Her eyelids fluttered but remained closed.

I took my hands and gently caressed the crown of her head before and lightly moving down. Her chestnut hair was shiny and very, very soft— real girl hair. I fucking
love
girl hair.

“Good or bad?”

“Good.”

I smiled inwardly and moved to her face, brushing her cheek with the back of my hand. Her eyes remained closed but she turned toward me, and her lips parted slightly. I took one finger and ran it over her lower lip. She breathed in sharply.

“Good or bad?” I asked quietly.

“Good,” she whispered.

I entertained the thought of pushing my fingers into her mouth, wanting to see her lips wrap around them, but thankfully my better judgement won that one. Instead, I trailed my hand down her neck, to her collar bone. She shuddered.

“Bad?”

“No.”

I nodded, although I don’t know who I was nodding to— she still had her eyes closed. Maybe I was nodding at myself. But it’s not that I needed encouragement, so much as…permission.

I trailed my fingers down to her chest. It was an uncharacteristically warm June day, and she was wearing a thin white gossamer blouse and cream linen trousers. I was close enough that I could see the outline of her gray bra through her top. I paused, letting my fingers circle deliciously around the plumpness of her tits.

“May I unbutton your top?” I asked. Okay, a little off script. Technically, this wasn’t supposed to happen until next session. But maybe she’d let me. I had to try.

You know, in the name of science. Or therapy. Or something.

She nodded gently and I saw her swallow. She was clearly still nervous and it reminded me of when I was flirting with her last week in the library. I proceeded slowly, taking my time, my cock stiffening all the while.

Undoing the little pearl buttons was a bit of a challenge. They were tiny and delicate—and I have big thick fingers. I worked methodically, from the top all the way to the bottom, and eventually got my reward as I brushed the shirt off to the sides, exposing her. I observed that her heart rate had picked up, but then again, so had mine.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” I reminded her. She returned to her controlled breaths.

Her breasts were fantastic. Spectacular, in fact—and as she inhaled they pushed the limits of her bra cups. I imagined grabbing them, squeezing them, pulling them out over the cups, and taking them in my mouth. As I circled the plump fullness with my hands, I found myself wondering what kind of nipples she has. Were they short dark knobs, or are they pale and rose colored?

“Good,” she said without prompting. Then I had a momentary lapse of control, and squeezed the breasts gently. I looked up at her face, horrified with myself.

She just smiled.
She liked it.
Thank God.

Seeing her like this, so completely relaxed and available, made my cock throb. My eyes meandered down to her linen pants, and I found myself wondering if she was wet, the erotic thought of my patient torturing my patience.

I took a deep breath and moved my fingers down off her breasts toward her stomach and I felt her hips rock, ever so slightly.

“Good or bad?”

“Good.”

I fanned out to her hips, carefully avoiding her sex. I had to. I just didn’t trust myself right now.

As I trailed my fingers down her thighs, I felt them clench.

“Good or bad?”

“Good.”

I abandoned her legs and moved her arms together in front of her. Her sleeves were short and I noticed a large scar on the underside of her left arm. It was silvery and faded, but quite a gash, nonetheless. I ran my finger along the edge of the mark and she tensed.

“Bad?” I asked.

Her eyes tightened and she shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”

“What’s the scar from?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I caressed the insides of her arms, sliding my thumbs down to her wrists. It really was a rather large scar, and it looked old, which made me curious.

A small smile broke on her lips. “Long story. Let’s just say curling irons and I don’t get along.”

I chuckled. “Okay. Good. Go ahead and open your eyes.”

She slowly peeled one eye open, and then the other. “Already?” she asked groggily, slowly sitting up and buttoning her shirt. I watched with sadness as those spectacular breasts were once again hidden from view. “Well, what’s the verdict? Can you cure me?”

I smiled inwardly at her forthrightness. She sure was one determined woman, that much was evident. Seems that getting her to slow down was going to be the hard part.

“Natalie,” I started gently, “It’s not about curing you. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

She looked at me quizzically.

“Medically, you are fine. You don’t have any glaring issues with physical contact. What we are going to focus on is the full picture of intimacy. First, it’s about building trust, because that’s the first step toward intimacy. That’s what today was about. We need to trust each other.”

She squinted at me. Was she thinking about the library? Our conversation in the bathroom? I tried to play it off.

“Don’t worry, it went really well today, so I think we can move on to the mechanics of sex sooner rather than later.” She looked at me, her brows pinched together. “I know we talked before about how this is going to work.” She nodded. “But I want you to think about our time together as a class. Each day, we’ll do some work, but I don’t want you to leave the experience here. I want you to take it home with you, think about what we do. Masturbate. Get to know your body outside of my office.”

Oh, there she goes again, she’s blushing. She’s so cute when she blushes.

“What we do together will just be lessons. And practice is what makes perfect, right?”

I caught a small glint in her eye, and it told me that what I’d said resonated with her.

“Right. Got it.” She nodded as her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me.

“Okay. Good. That’s enough for today then. We have another meeting scheduled for Friday,” I said, standing up. She followed suit and I walked us both to the door.

“Thanks, err, uh, Ryan? Do I call you Ryan? Or Mr. Andrews? You never did answer me.” She asked, slipping her purse onto her shoulder. I noticed one of her middle buttons was still undone and her breasts were testing the limit of the thin fabric.

“Button.”

“Button?” she asked, bewildered.

“Button,” I said, pointing at her shirt.

“Oh,” she gasped, and shifted her purse so she could use both hands to button her blouse. I shifted too, trying to calm what was now a semi in my pants. “Thank you.”

“Of course. And yes, please call me Ryan,” I said opening the door to the street.

She blushed for the thousandth time that afternoon. It was so cute. “Great. Thank you, Ryan. See you on Friday.”

“See you Friday, Natalie.” I started to close the door. “And don’t forget to do your homework.”

Natalie

I exited the office onto the sidewalk. Outside, the sun was bright and the streets were full of cars and people going about their day. And none of them had any idea of what just happened.

But what
did
just happen? I blinked a few times and pulled out my sunglasses as I headed back to my apartment, which was a twenty-minute walk away. I took a few more deep, calming breaths, and as I did, I felt my skin prickle. My skin. I was more aware of my skin, my body than I’d ever been. I think that over time I’d learned to disconnect my mental state from my physical state. Yet in that office, it was like I could feel everything. The air as it entered my lungs, Ryan’s pulse as he touched my body—even the little hairs on my arms, as they prickled and responded to the slightest shift of pressure.

How sad
, I frowned.

I guess I needed this help more than I realized.

Once back at my apartment, I headed straight to my bedroom and opened one of my boxes, the one that contained my underwear. Embarrassing as it is, that short session had left me soaked.
Was I really that inexperienced?
I thought to myself as I changed into a fresh pair of white silk panties. My thoughts drifted where they shouldn’t…back to Ryan. I felt a heaviness in my belly as I stood there and looked at my bed.

I sighed.

Well, Reese, you’ve always been an A student
, I said to myself, as I closed the drapes and climbed into bed to do my homework.

I lay under the coverlet and closed my eyes. I hadn’t done this in a while, but I could tell my body was ready for it. I ran my fingers down to my sex, and then along the outside of my panties. The white silk was already starting to soak through, and I felt very… sensitive. I found myself thinking about Ryan. Those hands. That day at the library. Those eyes. That fucking sex-God
hair
. How he’d grabbed me and dragged me to the restroom at Dr. Lerner’s office. Yeah— that was fucking hot.

I tugged on my panties, causing the fabric to tighten around my clit. The pressure was divine and I started to move my hips back and forth, creating a satisfying rhythm.

See, Reese, you aren’t a sexless freak. You know what you enjoy.
I said to myself, and as I did, I could feel myself flush. I started to admonish myself.
Goddammit, why am I blushing? I’m alone here and I’m thirty years old, for Christ sakes.

I furrowed my brow, and tried to concentrate on the feeling. I pulled my panties tighter and rocked my hips, all the while thinking of Ryan. I remembered how he’d run his hands over my tits in his office. It had probably been the single most erotic moment of my life, sitting back, with my eyes closed, as he slowly caressed them. I had felt something deep in me when he did that, and here I was feeling it again now.

I squeezed my thighs together, further intensifying the pressure on that that sweet nub. Moving my hips faster, my breath started to quicken. I tried slowing it with the even, steady breaths that I’d used in the office, but that served to only speed up the orgasm that was now barreling toward me at breakneck speed. I only had to wait a moment more and then I was
there
.

My sex exploded as waves of pleasure pulsed through me, spreading relief all the way down to my toes. I fell back against the bed, trying to recover my breath as my brain tumbled its way through a fog. I was sweaty and hot and my panties were, once again, soaked through. I blinked a few times before giving up and closing my eyes.
Shit.
That was probably the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

And I had Ryan Andrews to thank.

~

This cross-country move was turning out to be much more than just a means to an end. It was actually a blessing in disguise. I was thankful to have my new job as a distraction to fill my time between my appointments. My time at Heaven Sent was kicking into high gear, now that I was into my second week of the job. No more introductions. It was time to get some work done. I was at my desk, silently cursing the mountains of paperwork that I’d managed to accumulate in such a short time. I was normally quite the neat-freak, and the disarray was bothering me.

“Hey Natalie!” Paulina stood at my door, poking her head into my office. I’d met her briefly the day before; she was the PR manager, my counterpoint. A petite bundle of Vietnamese energy, she was exactly how I’d pictured Heaven Sent employees: gorgeous. “What’s up? How’s week two?”

I sighed. “Good, but I can’t find the report Cathy gave me last week. I know I put it right here,” I said, motioning to the top of my desk. “I can’t believe I lost it.”

“Oh, relax, I’m sure it will turn up. Hey, I was thinking about going across the street for lunch, would you want to come?” she asked with a big smile.

I was about to invent an excuse when my subconscious hissed at me.
She’s trying to be nice, Reese, don’t be a bitch.
Of course, my subconscious was right. So what if I’m normally more inclined to take lunch at my desk each day? The West Coast was all about re-inventing yourself, right? And at a new job, I needed every ally I could get.

I pasted on a smile. “Sounds great. Noon?”

“Perfect!” she squealed. “I’ll swing by on my way to the elevator!”

Cathy and I had a check-in scheduled for that morning, so after an unfruitful thirty minutes of searching for that damned report, I made my way down the hallway toward her office. As luck would have it, Brad was in there with her, working on her computer. He was leaning over her shoulder as he used her mouse, and both of them looked rather excited by whatever was on the screen. He really was rather attractive, his striped button down rolled up to the elbows, and his khaki pants just tight enough so I couldn’t help but take in the outline of his backside. I paused there for a moment, enjoying the view until I grew perplexed by how close they were. I mean, they were thisclose. That was weird, right?

“This is so great, Brad. God, I love technology,” Cathy said, and it was obvious they hadn’t noticed me standing in the doorway.

“Ahem,” I said, clearing my throat.

Cathy and Brad whipped their eyes over, but barely budged.

“Natalie, come in. Brad was just showing me the most wonderful thing. We’re going to be able to save thousands of dollars by hosting our demo site internally before the launch.”

I sat down in one of the leather chairs on the opposite side of her desk and leaned in to see her screen. “Really? That is awesome. Good thinking, Brad.”

He stood up from behind Cathy and shrugged. “We aim to please,” he shrugged before checking something on his iPhone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls. I believe Kent has managed to lock himself out of the online database.”

“Isn’t that the second time this week?” Cathy asked.

“Third,” he smiled. “Ladies.” He nodded to us both, and as he passed me, he winked.

And suddenly my stomach was all flutters, roses, and lollipops.

Fuck.

“So Natalie, now that you’re more settled in,” Cathy started as I desperately tried to refocus, “I wanted to talk to you about taking over the audience development project.”

I pulled out my pad of paper and started to take notes. As she spoke, I got more and more excited; the project sounded huge, and had a lot of potential to influence the direction of Heaven Sent.

“Now, one last thing you should know—” she paused and considered her words before continuing. “Paulina was the project lead on this before we hired you, but she is overloaded and Marketing really should be taking the lead on this work anyway, so you’ll be taking over for her. She can give you all the notes on the project up to this point, but I really want you to be the one carrying it forward.”

“Sure Cathy, does she already know that the transfer is happening?” The last thing I wanted to do was have someone think I was hijacking her work. It was not my goal to make enemies my first month on the job.

“Oh, yes, of course. We talked about it last week. She’s been prepped. You’re good to go.”

“Great. This sounds really good. I can’t wait to get started.”

“Excellent. That’s what I was hoping to hear. Natalie, this is a major project and it’s a critical time for Heaven Sent. I can’t officially make any promises, but if you do well on this, it’s going to be a great feather in your cap.”

I smiled. “Thanks Cathy.”

Once the lunch hour rolled around, Paulina and I settled into chips and sandwiches at a deli down the street. We spent about fifteen minutes talking about the project transition before Paulina held up her hands.

“Okay, stop, enough work talk. It’s lunchtime. Let’s talk about you. How are you acclimating to life at Heaven Sent? Not as racy as one might think, right?” She grinned as she popped a chip into her mouth.

I chuckled as I chewed a bite of my sandwich. So far, the job had been anything but racy, that was for sure. For the most part, it was all about ad campaigns and ROI and audience studies. “It’s fine. I like the work. But yeah, it’s not quite super-glam, I guess.”

Paulina sat forward in her chair. “I know, right?” she glanced to her left and right before leaning in more. “Want a piece of advice?”

I furrowed my eyebrows and cocked my head at her. “Sure, always.”

“Whatever you do, don’t tell any guys you date that you work at a lingerie company.”

This made me laugh out loud. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that.” Now it was Paulina’s turn to look quizzical.

“What? Are you married?” she asked, looking at my left hand. “I didn’t think—“

“No, oh, no, no, no,” I said, taking a sip of water. “Far from it. I just don’t date much, actually. Too busy.” This was my tried and true well-rehearsed fall back answer. I had employed it a lot back in New York, including every fucking Thanksgiving and Christmas when people asked about holiday plans.

Paulina studied me for a minute before responding. “But you aren’t opposed to the idea, right? I mean, philosophically.” Her mouth was twitching up at the corners, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

I took another bite of my sandwich, trying to buy time as I analyzed her reaction. What was I supposed to say to that? Why did I get the feeling she was about to set me up? Ugh. Blind dates are the worst. I’d only been on one, back in New York, but it was horrible. The guy smelled like cheese and insisted we go to one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, only to realize he’d forgotten his credit card. I was not eager to repeat that experience. I shuddered at the horrible memory, but before I had a chance to respond, Paulina cut in.

“Because someone likes you,” she sang, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Oh?” I said dryly, trying to feign disinterest. Maybe I could still shake her off, maybe it wasn’t too late.

“And you know him.”