Shameless (The Therapist #2)

by Ws Greer

  Scott frowns and tilts his head to the side while he weighs my words. “So, you're in a hookup phase? Like, you don't want to be committed to anyone because you just want to be single and bounce between random hookups?”

  “Umm, I'm not sure I’d quite put it that way.”

  “No? How would you put it? Because that’s what it sounds like to me. You want to hook up with a bunch of guys to see what you like, and you came here tonight to hook up with me, right?”

  I start to formulate a response, but Scott cuts me off.

  “Hey, I’m down with that if you are. It’s not every day you meet a woman who’s just cool with a casual hookup. Most women are always looking for a commitment. This is every guy’s fantasy.”

  Feeling torn by how the air in the room has changed to something much less comfortable, I suck in a breath before speaking again. “Every guy’s fantasy? How so?”

  “I mean, I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but all guys think about is sex and how we just want to be able to hookup with a woman without having to say ‘I love you’ and shit like that. We all want that slutty girl who just wants to get nasty and then go back to her place like nothing ever happened. You’re like the perfect woman.”

  “Slutty girl,” I state, putting my fork down.

  “Yeah. Wait, is that the wrong word? Is whore-ish better?”

  “What? Are you kidding right now?”

  “What?” Scott suddenly snips, raising his hands as if he actually doesn’t know how offensive he’s being. “I’m not trying to be rude, but you just said you wanted to be a slut. You want to fuck random guys, including me. Is that not slutty?”

  “No, it’s not slutty. If I was a guy, would you call it slutty?”

  “Umm… Well, I don’t know. Why are you getting so upset? I thought we were on the same page here.”

  “Because I’m not a fucking slut just because I want to like sex,” I bark as I stand up. I get up so fast my chair shoots backwards and falls to the floor. “I’m getting so tired of these double standards. If I was a guy who hooks up with tons of women, I’d be celebrated by other men. But since I’m a woman, I’m ridiculed, even though a man would get points for sleeping with me. You don't see how that’s bullshit?”

  “Okay, I think you're taking this way overboard. I just agreed to do what you wanted. That’s all. If you're looking for random dick, I’m here for you, and I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything like that. Jesus, just calm down. Are you about to get your period or something? You’re way too uptight, because I literally just agreed with you.”

  “Wow. I’m so glad you showed me who you really are before I could make a bad decision.”

  “Who I am? What are you talking about?”

  “Yeah, you're a misogynistic asshole who thinks every woman who enjoys sex the same way men do is open to being slut shamed and called names. To you, women are whores and sluts for doing the same things men do all the time. If I enjoy sex, I’m a whore. If you enjoy sex, you're a player and a ladies man. You can't respect a woman’s right to choose, even if she’s choosing the same things as you. You’re a piece of shit. Thank you for showing me.”

  Scott looks at me like I've suddenly shape-shifted into another person. He furrows his brow, and I can tell he really doesn’t have a clue why I’m so upset. His brain is so hardwired into thinking this way about women that he doesn't even know it’s wrong. He has no idea how disrespectful he is, and the last thing I want is a man who’s that ignorant.

  Without another word, I turn on my heel, grab my purse, and head for the door. Scott can't seem to think fast enough on his feet to say anything else, but when I put my hand on the knob, I turn back to him.

  “Oh, and no, I’m not on my fucking period, asshole. A woman is allowed to have emotions without being on her period,” I snap, as I snatch the door open. “And you can call me a slut if you want, but what does it say about you that I’m so slutty, yet you still couldn’t fuck me? Goodnight. Enjoy jerking off instead of sleeping with me.”

  Leaving Scott with a stunned expression on his face, I walk out, leaving the door wide open so he has to pick his ignorant ass up to come close it. Once I’m in my car, I start it up and drive away, fighting back tears the entire way home.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ~Tessa~

  “Wait. He said what?”

  “Yeah. He really asked if I was on my period,” I tell Missy, as the two of us sit side by side at the bar in Applebee’s in Dover. The place is fairly quiet tonight, which is great, because the only person I really want to be around is Missy. After all the drama with men, hers is the only presence that isn't annoying at the moment.

  “Damn. Why do men have to be so fucked up?” Missy asks, just before tossing her red hair behind her shoulder and lifting her glass of Crown and Coke to her lips.

  “I was hoping you could tell me since you live with one,” I answer behind a giggle. “I had my hopes set on learning something of value in all of this. Instead, all I’ve learned is how disappointing men can be.”

  I guess I could’ve warned you about that,” Missy admits with a shrug. “If there's one thing men can always be counted on to do, it’s being disappointing.”

  “I think it might have something to do with their egos. I’m starting to think that maybe their egos are far more fragile than we know. Putting us down seems to make them feel better about their own flaws and inadequacies.”

  “Plus their tiny dicks and premature ejaculation.”

  Both of us explode into laughter, which feels really good right now. It’s been a horrible week. Work is work, and that always has the dark shadow of my mother lingering above it. Brandon is still off with his bullshit band, probably getting his dick sucked by white trash groupies who’ll fuck anybody in a band, and now my own sex life is stalling out before it even has a chance to get off the ground. The level of stress I’m feeling can't really be stripped away by alcohol, but it’s worth a shot. No pun intended.

  “In all seriousness, Tessa,” Missy says after we’re able to compose ourselves. “Even though it’s shitty so far, I think you’re doing the right thing. You’re taking your time to play the field and learn about what makes you happy. I don’t think a lot of women do that. People have a tendency to settle, and that shit sucks in the long run. Either that, or they get locked down before they even know what they really want. When it comes to sex, I had no idea the kind of shit I’d be into by the time I reached this age. Hubby and I were lucky enough to both be open-minded and learn together.”

  “Yeah? You guys learned together?”

  “Well, when I say we learned together, I mean I had to show him quite a bit.”

  “Oh, I see,” I say with a giggle. “But see, that means that you knew what you liked already. I’m not even there yet.”

  “You're probably closer to it than you think,” Missy disagrees. “Women usually want most of the same things. You want good sex that always has orgasms in it for you. You want a man who cares more about pleasing you than he does about getting himself off. That’s pretty standard. The only difference between us is how we get to the orgasms. Some of us like it rough, some of us like it a little softer until it’s time to come, but the end result is mostly the same. It’s not complicated. When it comes to sex, we want orgasms. The more the better.”

  I pick up my drink—a whiskey sour this time—and sip it before nodding in agreement.

  “I guess you're right. It’s not like I’m an alien that requires some sort of special love and sex that doesn't exist here on earth. My clit isn't on Mars. I want someone to touch me gently when I’m in that mood, and to fuck me like I’ve pissed him off when I’m in that mood. But, I also want someone who’s smart enough to understand that women can be on the same level as men sexually. If I want sex, I don’t want to be judged for it. I don't want to be called slutty, or whore-ish, or any other dumb shit men come up with.”

  “It’s something you should talk to your hot therapist abo
ut. He’s a man—a really fucking gorgeous man—so maybe he can tell you why men are the way they are.”

  “I don’t think that fits into Dr. Colson’s job description.”

  “Of course it does. He’ll answer any question you have for him. Personally, I think you should get very, very personal with Dr. Gorgeous. I’d bet my entire life savings that he knows exactly how to treat a woman.”

  I roll my eyes as I take another sip. “Missy, there isn't even the slightest chance Dr. Colson is single and waiting for me to swoop into his life with my sexually neurotic behavior and never-ending confusion about what I want. Plus, when I went for our last session, I’m pretty sure he’d just finished doing something freaky with the woman who came strutting out of his office before my appointment. The room definitely had a hint of sex in the air.”

  Missy gasps and brings her hand to her chest, clutching invisible pearls. “Oh my god. I wish I could get a whiff of that. What’d the woman look like, besides one lucky bitch?”

  “She was cute, I suppose. Had sort of a cockiness to her, but also this air of ownership over Dr. Colson. She sort of glared at me as she was walking out of his office. She looked like one of those kinds of girls who’s a little crazier than the rest of us.”

  “I bet. Dr. Colson could drive me crazy all he wants.”

  “Okay, I’m definitely telling Danny about your crush on my therapist.”

  Missy and I share another laugh and finish off our drinks. I order another one, because I don’t feel the effects of the first one yet, but Missy says she has to go home. She pays the bartender and stands up, grabbing her purse and setting herself up to leave.

  “You’ll figure it all out, sweetie, I know it,” Missy tells me, before leaning over to speak directly into my ear. “And just so you know, there's a very handsome, dark-haired man sitting across the bar. He’s been staring at you since you got here, and now that I’m leaving, I think it’s a great time to go over there and give learning what you like another shot.”

  My eyes wander to the far side of the bar, scanning for a handsome man with dark hair, and after skipping a few not-so-handsome men, I spot him. He’s got a black T-shirt on, a full beard that actually looks like he grooms it, and a sultry mysteriousness about him. Sure enough, he’s staring right at me.

  “Oh, yeah I see him,” I whisper to Missy, who smiles from ear to ear.

  “Yeah you do,” she says with a giggle. “I’ll be looking forward to hearing all about it at work tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ~ Tessa ~

  A few minutes after Missy leaves the restaurant, I manage to drum up enough confidence and liquid courage to make my way over to the handsome man in the black T-shirt. The entire walk feels like it takes an hour, as opposed to just a few steps from my side of the bar to his. When I sit down, I smell a sexy cologne climbing off of his shirt. Its strong, masculine scent makes my heart flutter as our shoulders brush together upon me sitting down.

  At first, neither of us says anything. I just sit next to him, rubbing the sweat off my half-empty tumbler. I glance down at his hand and don’t see a wedding band, and I start to assume he has a girlfriend he's in love with but thought I was attractive enough to stare at from across the room. Now that I’m close to him, he doesn’t seem interested. I’m about to finish off my drink and decide between calling an Uber or a taxi, but then he speaks.

  “Bartender,” he says, raising a finger and grabbing my attention. His voice is like silk over gravel, smooth but deep and strong. “Can she get another whiskey sour, please? I’ll take one for me, too. It looks good.”

  I furrow my brow and glance over at him. From here, I can see just how good looking he actually is. His skin is flawless and his beard is thick and full. He has a decent physique beneath that T-shirt, too.

  “What if I didn’t want another drink?” I ask, half joking. My tongue feels different than usual. It’s looser or something. I think I’m tipsy already, so another drink might put me over the top.

  “Oh, you don’t have to drink it,” the man says. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take care of it for you. I feel like catching a very strong buzz after the day I’ve had.”

  The bartender comes over and places the two drinks down on the counter, one in front of me, one in front of the man in black. He watches me while I glance at the drink and back at him. When I finally reach up and take the frosty tumbler, he smiles.

  “So, you're staying then?” he asks, taking his own drink and immediately pulling it to his lips.

  “I suppose I am,” I reply, dragging the drink closer to me. “I’m Tessa.”

  I extend my hand, and he takes it. “Will.”

  “Thanks for the drink, Will.”

  “My pleasure. It’s the least I can do for staring at you and making you uncomfortable.”

  “Who said you made me uncomfortable? Maybe I liked the attention.”

  “Yeah? Well all right then. What do you say we have a toast?”

  “Sure,” I agree. I knock back the rest of the drink I already had, and pick up the freshly poured whiskey sour. “What are we toasting to?”

  Will lifts his glass in the air and lets it hover in front of me. “Oh, I don’t know. Let’s toast to taking a break.” I frown, so Will explains. “My girlfriend just told me she wants to take a break from us. That’s why I’m here drinking my sorrows away.”

  Images of Brandon standing in my living room dumping me flash across my memory.

  “Ah, I see. Well, I can relate to that. I was dumped recently, too,” I say. I have to fight off the wave of sadness that threatens to wash over me. I refuse to be drowned by it.

  “Well, here’s to being cut loose,” Will says, touching his glass to mine.

  “So, what do you plan to do with your break from your girlfriend?” I ask, sipping my drink.

  “I don’t know,” Will answers. He turns and faces forward, but keeps talking to me. “I wasn’t expecting to have things slow down. She said for me not to call her, so it feels like it’s completely over. I don’t know. What did you do when your guy broke up with you?”

  “Whatever I wanted, and I guess that’s what I’m still doing,” I answer honestly. “We’d been together for two years, and the ending felt like a giant cement block was being lifted off my chest. Once I realized I was free from the weight of it, I decided to just do whatever I wanted. Judgement be damned. It’s liberating, actually.”

  “So, you’ve been partying it up since you got dumped?”

  I let out a painful laugh. “Not exactly. The single life isn't all it’s cracked up to be. I’m pretty sure all I’ve felt since I started putting myself out there is disappointment. Between how lame guys are and my shitty job, things haven’t exactly improved.”

  “Yeah, we are pretty lame,” Will says behind a chuckle. He sips his drink again before placing it back on the table. “Where do you work?”

  “Milton Animal Clinic. My father owns it, and my mother works there, too.”

  “Ah, family business. Is that really as shitty as it’s cracked up to be?”

  “Probably worse,” I reply. I suddenly feel a strong desire to laugh, but I don’t know why. “Working there feels like someone has taken my worst nightmare and forced me to live it as punishment for my sins.”

  Will laughs. “Oh come on, it can't be that bad.”

  “Yes it is,” I snip. “You don’t even know, Will.” I emphasize his name and it comes out slurred. Yep, I’m getting drunk.

  Will raises his eyebrows and chuckles. I think he’s a little drunk, too. His gorgeous face is flushed red, and his eyes have a weird tint over them. If I had to guess, he’s definitely a little faded, but goddamn if he isn't beautiful.

  “Okay, okay,” Will says, raising his hands in surrender. “I believe you. Don’t like working with family, huh?”

  “Oh, it’s not just that my mom is a judgemental, pinched faced bitch,” I snip, feeling much more aggression than I should. “The whole p
lace is annoying to even stand in. I hate it there, and of course I hate my mother. Maybe it’s her fault that the entire place feels like a giant courtroom that’s filled with the smell of dog shit. I don’t know. All I know is that the place is definitely a giant courtroom filled with the smell of dog shit. And fuck Brandon.”

  I start to think I should slow down on the whiskey sour in front of me, but have you even ever had a whiskey sour? They’re so delicious.

  “Wow. And I thought I was having a bad day. Who’s Brandon?” Will asks. He seems genuinely amused at this point, but the alcohol coursing through me won't let up, and I continue to ramble.

  “The monster that dumped me and left to go be a failure with his band, American Armpits. Can you believe that? That’s their name. American Armpits. He left me because he said I wasn’t driven enough, but at least I’m not dumb enough to tether my dreams to a group called American Armpits. There’s no chance that shit works out. What a joke. God, I hate him. Fuck, I think I’m talking too much. Am I talking too much?”

  When I turn to face Will, he’s looking at me with a cute little smile pulling at his lips. He’s so freaking cute. If he would just make me stop talking and ask for my number, I’d practically throw it at him at this point. With the luck I’ve had lately, he’ll probably just end up being terrible in bed anyway. Probably a premature ejaculator. Fuck my life right now.

  “I like it,” Will answers. I can see him fighting back a bigger smile, but I find it so adorable I don’t even get offended. “It’s a nice distraction from my own shit. But is it really all that bad, though?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, I just assume you’d quit a place that’s as bad as you described it.”

  “I can't just quit. Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s not that easy when you’ve worked there with your parents since before you were old enough to even have a job. I’m stuck in the ugliest, shittiest smelling place in the universe.”