I tried to keep his gaze and failed, looking down at his hands instead. Strong, wide. Capable. Of what, I wasn't sure. “I have issues feeling trapped. So, work can be a problem. Someone else driving me, especially public transportation. Public speaking. And...”
I couldn't even say it. How the hell was this going to even work if I couldn't...
“And sex,” he finished, making my head snap up, eyes a little wide.
I felt a blush creep up into my cheeks. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said, casual. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I read in your chart that you don't ever remember not having a phobia about sex.”
“Right.”
“But you have tried to get more comfortable with it.”
I laughed nervously, shrugging. “Exposure therapy,” I suggested and he surprised me by laughing, a low, rumbling sound that reverberated somewhere deep in my chest and belly.
“With no success though.”
“No.”
“Yet you kept trying.”
I looked down at my hands, pale and thin fingered. “Yeah.” Four times. More than enough to start hating myself a little bit. And not be able to even kiss anyone anymore.
“So, why are you here?”
My head shot up, my brows drawing together. Was he serious? Wasn't it obvious why I was there? I mean, seriously. “I'm... frigid.”
“Are you?” he asked, leaning forward and resting elbows on his knees, way too close. Taking up all my space. “Being frigid implies an absence of interest in sex and a lack of sexual fantasies.”
“Oh,” I breathed the word out.
“Seeing as you are here,” he went on, his lips twitching slightly, but not breaking into a smile. Seemingly always set in a firm line. Which I think I preferred. I wasn't sure I could take him smiling, “I wouldn't call you frigid.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have sexual fantasies, Ava?”
Holy hell.
That question, with my name like a secret on his lips, sent an unexpected ping of desire between my thighs. My eyes focused on the watch on his wrist. “Yes.”
“Do you get turned on?”
You mean like how I was right that second? Nooo. Not at allll. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Ava, can you look at me?”
Um. No. Don't think so. But my eyes moved slowly up anyway.
“There you are,” he said, a smile slightly lifting his lips. “It's good that you get turned on. This process will be much easier. Now, I'm sure you did some looking around on my website, but would you like a bit more in-depth information on how this works.”
“Sure.”
“Today, we talk,” he started automatically. “If all goes well and you are comfortable enough with the situation, we will set up the dates for the next ten sessions. Each session will gradually lead up in intimacy. Provided things go par for the course, sex will likely happen around the sixth session.”
Six. I had six sessions of non-sex. Well, that was good. I swallowed hard. “Okay. What... what will the first five sessions be then?”
He gave me a small, encouraging (I think) smile. “The first session is just getting comfortable with contact. At most, it would be kissing. From there, the next session would include undressing. Learning to get comfortable with your own nudity as well as... someone else's...”
His. His nudity. Oh, geez. Him naked... looking at me... naked.
“Ava,” he broke in, his voice firm. “Don't go there,” he said, reading my mind. His hand moved out, landing on top of my knee, solid, strong. Completely disconcerting, but somehow reassuring at the same time. “Anxiety doesn't exist in the moment. It is only in the past and the future. So, let's not think about those things, alright? Just be in this moment.”
The moment. With his hand on my knee. It still hadn't moved. He was just sitting there, arm all stretched out, no doubt less than comfortable, with his hand on my knee.
“This moment makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?” he asked, his hand squeezing my knee.
“Yes,” I admitted, looking away from his hand and back up toward his face.
“But not enough to push me away,” he observed.
“Not yet,” I said, and he chuckled, taking his hand away, my knee feeling almost strange without the contact.
“The purpose of this is to push you out of your comfort zone. It's important that you don't push me away with the first twinge of anxiety. As I'm sure you learned in your previous therapy sessions, anxiety can really only be treated with exposure to that which makes you anxious.”
“Right.”
“So, if kissing makes you anxious...”
“I have to let you kiss me.”
His eyes darkened for a second, just a quick flash that was just as quickly gone. “Exactly.” He agreed, sitting back in the chair. “Only pull away or push me away if you can't talk yourself down. If you can't take it any more. That being said, I am going to be communicating with you the entire time, trying to work to dispel the fears before they become overwhelming. The point is for you to get to the point where you can enjoy being touched.”
By him.
I was going to be touched by his six foot three, dark haired, blue eyed, ridiculously sexy self. All the while he talked to me in that low, deep, confident way he spoke that was making my skin feel tingly. Which... was good. That was good. But the initial arousal had always been easy for me. As long as he was... arousing me outside of my personal space.
“You're a very beautiful woman,” he said, shocking through my internal stream of thought.
“I'm sorry?” I asked, sure I misheard him.
“I said you are a very beautiful woman.”
Oh, for Christ's sake.
I felt the flutter in my belly, followed immediately by a strange rolling, my eyes dropping to my lap as my cheeks started to blush. I was shit at taking compliments. For as long as I remembered.
“Compliments make you uncomfortable?” he asked and I knew he was watching me. Always freaking watching me.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Now, that was a loaded question. “Because you don't believe them?” he asked, hitting the nail on the head.
“Yes.”
“Ava,” he said, that same firm, yet pleading sound that I was learning to take for look at me. I sighed, looking up. “I don't feed women compliments for fun. If I tell you something, I mean it. It is an observation. You are a beautiful woman. Case closed.”
“Right,” I said, hoping it sounded like agreement.
His lips quirked up, turning into what I could only call a smirk. “Ava, what do you think the main reason men compliment women is?” He paused, like he was going to let me answer, but I didn't. “To get women into bed,” he finished for me. He leaned forward, that smirk etching wider, almost devilish. “You are here to go to bed with me. Eventually. Do you really think I need to give you compliments?”
He had a point. “I guess not.”
“Exactly. So, you're beautiful. It's a biological fact.” Right. So it didn't really mean anything. Everyone finds different people attractive. For all I knew, he hated blondes. And brown eyes and lack of seen-from-the-front-buttage. “And,” he cut into my little insecure tirade, “I find you incredibly attractive.”
Oh, lord.
Feeling like I needed to find something to say, I mumbled, “Thanks.”
To which, he chuckled.
“Do you find me attractive?”
“I think the entire continental US would find you attractive,” I said, hedging the question. It was a skill I had learned early on, to answer, but not to include myself in the answer.
“That's wonderful,” he said, leaning toward me, “but I wasn't asking the entire continental US, I was asking you.”
Mother fucker.
I averted my eyes slightly, looking at the edge of his ear, “Yes.”
“Good,” he said,
getting up from his chair suddenly, moving away from the alcove and making the air feel a lot thinner, easier to breathe. “So, I will see you... Tuesday for your first session.”
It was a question, but also a statement. Like there was no doubt in his mind I would agree.
And, hell, I was in this deep. I might as well keep going.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he said, opening the door to the waiting room and standing there, waiting for me to pass through. “Seven at night work for you?”
Odd hours. But I guess it wasn't easy to get in the mood to pay a stranger to touch you at eight-forty in the morning.
“Yes,” I agreed, moving into the doorway.
His hand pressed hard into my lower back, guiding me through, then dropping as he walked to stand next to the reception desk.
“See you then, Ava.”
He needed to stop saying my name.
I couldn't freaking think straight.
“Okay,” I said, walking numbly toward the door.
After the Session
Okay. So, maybe I ran to my car. Literally. Ran. In heels. Then threw myself into the seat and turned it over and started my way home. Because, well, I could use something to focus on.
That wasn't what I had expected.
Well, I mean it was. It was sufficiently embarrassing and awkward. But there was also that weird 'I find you attractive, do you find me attractive?' thing. What was that about? If he didn't find me attractive, would that make a difference? I couldn't imagine all of his clients were good looking. Which must make for a lot of time rolling around the highlight reel in his head to get the, ah, juices flowing.
And was he attractive? Seriously? Would any woman answer that with an 'eh, seen better' ? Because I was pretty sure I hadn't. He was like a walking model for a suit catalog. And those eyes...
Alright. Enough of that.
If I concentrated on how good looking he was, it would only make me more nervous. Because, apparently, I only had one more session before I had to get naked with him.
I sighed, unlocking my apartment door and stepping inside.
“Still frigid?”
“What?” I asked, my heart flying up into my throat.
“You left your computer up,” Jake, my pain in the ass roommate said, walking into the living room with an enormous bowl of cereal, wearing nothing but a pair of thick gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. Jake was extremely good looking. And completely aware of it.
He was slightly over six feet with sandy blonde hair, longer on top and pushed back from his forehead, bright green eyes, and tan skin over the body he spent endless hours in the gym working on.
He was also a jerk.
“So, you thought that meant you could just... go through my fucking browser history?” I asked, slamming the door and dropping my keys on the table.
“That wasn't the plan,” he said, dropping down onto the couch and staring at the TV.
“What was the plan then?” I asked, kicking his gym shoes out of the middle of the floor.
“You have that huge screen,” he said, turning to me with a smirk I didn't trust. “I'm tired of watching porn on my phone.”
“Oh, gross.”
“Well, some of us have sexual urges.”
“You're such a fucking asshole,” I growled, grabbing the box of cereal off the kitchen counter and putting it back in the cabinet.
I don't know why I put up with him. He was a slob. Insensitive. He had wild parties in the middle of the week. He brought an endless barrage of women home, leaving early in the morning to hit the gym, and making me to deal with them. God, I can't count how many of those awkward morning talks I've had. The 'he's an asshole, you can do so much better' talks.
Fact of the matter was, it was an expensive freaking city. And my job didn't pay that great. On my salary alone, I'd have to live in one of the shitty areas, worrying myself to ulcers about all the unseemly characters I shared a building with. So, unfortunately, my only other option was to find a roommate to live a better neighborhood.
So, I tolerated Jake. As I had already been doing for two and a half years.
“Hey,” he said, coming up behind me unexpectedly, putting his soggy cereal down on the counter next to me.
“What?” I snapped, staring out the window over the sink, bracing myself for the next unfeeling thing bound to come out of his mouth.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Surprised, I turned, brows drawing together. “What?”
“Why didn't you tell me that you have like... issues with that?”
“Why would I?”
“Aw, love, that hurts,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “I thought we were pretty close. I buy you fucking tampons for god's sake.”
“It's not something I like to talk about,” I said, shrugging a shoulder. Though I had to admit, it was sort of nice that someone knew. Someone saw the whole picture.
It was getting beyond irritating to go to family dinners and be teased relentlessly about my always being single. About how much my mother wanted grand babies. My coworkers getting annoyed at me when they discuss their sexcapades and I never had anything to pitch in.
“Christ, I feel like a dick, Ava,” he said, backing up and leaning against the kitchen island. “How many times did I pick at you about needing to get laid? If I had known you have like... problems...”
“You still would have teased me,” I said, smiling slightly. He might have felt like a heel, but the fact of the matter was... that was just his personality. He was always saying shit that got him in trouble. Hitting on women in front of their men. Telling the meatheads at the gym that they must be compensating for something. He seemed to have an innate ability to know just what buttons to press... and then push the fuck out of them.
“Yeah, maybe,” he smiled, boyish, charming, “but I would have felt bad about it after.”
“You're a prince,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“So, how did it go?” he asked, putting his hands at the edge of the counter behind him, completely comfortable with his half-nakedness. He always had been. For which, I couldn't blame him. He looked like he was sculpted out of clay.
“Are we really going to talk about this?” I asked, shaking my head at the cereal bowl he was totally going to let sit there on the counter to fester.
“Only if you don't want me constantly pestering you about it.”
“Fine,” I said, turning to strain the milk down the drain and drop the globs of cereal into the garbage. “It was weird. Uncomfortable.”
“Well, I mean... you're going to be fucking the dude. So... yeah.” He stayed silent as I washed the bowl and spoon, placing them in the drying rack. “Was he halfway decent looking? Please don't tell me you're fucking a gross fat old guy.”
“He's probably the best looking guy I've ever seen,” I admitted.
“Hey,” Jake objected, eyes squinted at me.
“Aside from you,” I laughed.
“That's better,” he smiled, and I could see why so many women blindly followed him home. “So, he got your panties all wet, huh?”
“What? No!” I screeched, too loud, too fast. A blush crept up into my cheeks and Jake threw his head back and laughed.
“You're cute when you're all turned on by your new sex doctor.”
“Oh, my god. Shut up,” I said, brushing past him.
His arm swung out, grabbing my bicep and holding me in place until I looked at him. “I'm just playing,” he said, shrugging. “I'm glad you're getting help. And if you need to talk about the sex stuff, well,” he said, smiling his devilish smile again, “I am an expert too.”
I laughed. “Oh, yeah? What credentials do you have?”
“Baby, I graduated at the top of my class in Pussyology at Fucking U.”
I giggled, shaking my head. “You're such a tool.”
“For serious though,” he said, letting my arm go, “
if you have any questions or want to talk about it... I know you don't have anyone else to talk to.”
“I don't need a sympathy ear,” I said, spine straightening.
“It's not sympathy. It's interest. Hell, maybe I should get a job working as a sexual surrogate...”
“It's good money,” I said, starting toward my room.
“How much money?” he asked, pushing my door open as I went to my closet.
“Three grand for ten, well, technically eleven, sessions.”
“You're paying this fucker three K to teach you how to have sex?”
“Not exactly,” I grumbled, reaching for a pair of huge, baggy sweatpants and a big t-shirt.
“Ava, I'll fuck ya for half that,” he laughed.
“That's charming,” I snorted, grabbing my towel off the back of my door.
“I have references,” he said, following me to the bathroom.
“I've met all your so-called references,” I laughed over my shoulder at him, putting my clothes on top of the closed hamper.
“Yeah, so you know,” he laughed. I went to push the door closed, but he grabbed it with his hand and held it open. “Seriously though, if you can't go through it with him, I am here if you need someone you know and trust to... experiment with.”
“Who says I trust you?” I smirked, cocking an eyebrow, trying to push the door shut.
“Ouch,” he said, still smiling. “Just... keep it in mind,” he said, suddenly letting go of the door and send me falling into it as it slammed closed.
Okay.
Weird day.
I stripped out of my clothes, running the water on hot, and stepping in. I had already showered, but sometimes I just needed the water to calm down, clear my head, get my thoughts in the right order, have imaginary conversations for hypothetical situations that will probably never take place. You know, normal stuff.
So, not only did I have stuff with Dr. Chase to think about, I have whatever the fuck just happened with Jake to consider to. I mean... what the hell was that? Never once had he ever even come close to insinuating he would sleep with me. If he had, he probably would have been out on his ass a long time ago. It was my name on the lease, after all.
The Sex Surrogate Page 2