The Sex Surrogate

by Gadziala, Jessica

There was a big wooden sign hanging over the door with the name of the establishment hand written poorly across it:

  A Restaurant.

  “So, what does A Restaurant serve?” I asked as he pushed me through the door. Chase let out a low snicker. “I don't trust that laugh,” I said, watching his profile as we were told to 'just plant ourselves anywhere'.

  He picked up two menus, walked us to a table in the back, and handed me mine to look over. As soon as I opened it, I knew what was so funny. “Really?” I asked, looking up over the top of my menu.

  “Really,” he said, smirking.

  Apparently, my choices were : chicken, cow, pig, or green stuff.

  “So is food poisoning a part of the plan or just an added benefit?”

  Chase opened his mouth to answer, when a waitress walked over. She was tall and pretty, thick of thigh but small of waist with huge ice blue eyes, wearing a pair of hot pink leggings and a t-shirt that said 'Fuck Your Beauty Standards'. “What do you want?”

  I smiled again at Chase, shaking my head.

  He shrugged. “Two chickens,” he decided for us, handing her the menus.

  Then, without further conversation, the waitress walked away.

  “Truly a charming little establishment,” I observed, drinking my water.

  “You'll understand when you try the food,” he assured me. “So, Ava,” he said, slipping back into his therapist tone effortlessly and I felt myself tense. “When was the last time you had a date?”

  Oh, fun.

  Let's pick at some old scabs.

  Always a good way to get me in the mood to flirt with strangers.

  “Over a year ago,” I said simply. “Probably closer to two.”

  “How did that go? Where did you meet? Was it just one date?”

  “Online dating site,” I admitted, feeling a blush creep up. Was there anything more embarrassing to admit? “We went for dinner. It was forced and awkward.”

  “And?”

  “And we went back to his place.”

  “Even though it felt forced and awkward?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Because I couldn't bring myself to say no.

  I shrugged. “I figured I would give it another shot.”

  “It didn't go well.”

  It felt like I lost a little piece of myself in his bed. The little piece that was still willing to try.

  “No.”

  “Ava...” he started in that tone. That tone that was half-scolding because I wasn't giving him what he wanted.

  But by some wonderful coincidence, the food arrived, dropped down in front of us loudly. I dug right in, trying to make it clear I wasn't in the talking mood.

  “No more online dating,” he told me, making my head snap up.

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because it's too easy for you. You get to hide behind your computer screen and find the match who is the least threatening. You'll slip right back into your shell. You need to get out and experience things, Ava.”

  “Well,” I said, uncomfortable. I felt like I was getting a lecture, not a lesson. “I am experiencing the best chicken I've ever had in my life,” I said, gesturing toward my plate.

  “Ava...”

  “I don't want a lecture, Chase,” I found myself snapping, surprising myself and Chase, whose brow lifted ever so slightly.

  “I wasn't...”

  “Yes,” I said firmly, “you were. And you were being a condescending ass about it too.”

  “Good for you,” he said, nodding.

  “Good for me, what?”

  “Standing up for yourself. Even if you're wrong,” he said, smirking.

  “I'm not wrong. I don't know what is up with you tonight, but you're kind of being a jerk and it's annoying.”

  “Annoying?”

  “Yes. Annoying. And frustrating.” I lowered my eyes at him. “Why are you smiling?”

  “A couple weeks ago, do you think you would have been able to call me an ass, a jerk, annoying, and frustrating... to my face?”

  Well, shit.

  No.

  “Probably not.”

  “Definitely not,” he corrected.

  “So... what? This was some kind of test?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “So you're just in a foul mood for no good reason?”

  He watched me for a long minute, his eyes intense, then looked down at his good. “I have a good reason, but it is inconsequential. Anyway,” he said, pushing his plate away, all but uneaten, “we are going to Chaos from here.”

  I nodded, thinking about the long lines wrapped around the building and down the street , the thumping music I could hear in my car with rolled up windows as I passed, the endless parade of long legs in short skirts.

  Yeah, I was totally going to fit in.

  Suddenly, the chicken felt like lead inside and I pushed my plate away as well, taking a drink of water, then looking up at Chase. “I'm ready when you are.”

  He nodded, throwing money on the table, and getting up.

  Ten minutes later, we were walking up to Chaos.

  And I mean walking up to it. Passing all the people who had probably been on line for an hour, the girls dancing around and rubbing their bare arms to try to fend off the cold. Chase walked me right up to the doorman, saying something close to his ear, and then we were let in. Just like that.

  The inside was packed. Immediately inside and downward was a dance floor and to both sides of the room were staircases that led up, one open to the public and leading to a bar, one private with a security guard at the bottom.

  I was led to the private one, the security guard inclining his head to Chase and offering me a small smile as I moved past him to climb the steps. The music was thumping so hard, I could feel it through the soles of my feet and upward.

  The area in the private lounge was spacious and, blessedly, not crowded. A few men sat at tables with several attractive (no doubt considering themselves lucky) women accompanying them. Chase led me to the bar, ordering a scotch for himself and a martini for me. Then I was instructed to sit at the bar and wait.

  For what... I wasn't told.

  So, I sat and waited.

  Listening to the music, ignoring the eye contact some guy at the far end of the bar was trying to give me.

  Then Chase slid in beside me, turning in his seat so his legs blocked me in. “Hi,” he said simply and I felt my brows drawing together.

  “Hi...” I said back, eyeing him.

  “My name's Chase,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Oh.

  So we were doing that.

  Okay.

  I could play along.

  Sort of.

  “I'm Alexandra Feodorovna,” I said, smiling sweetly.

  Chase's eyes flashed for a second, a smile tugging at his lips. Then, without missing a beat, he nodded, “You look damn good for someone who died by firing squad almost a hundred years ago.”

  “I moisturize,” I nodded and he burst out laughing.

  “This isn't going to work if you don't take it seriously,” he said after a minute.

  “Sorry. It just... feels weird.”

  “What does? Flirting with me? Baby, I've been inside you.”

  Oh,

  lord

  Jesus.

  Okay.

  My lady bits needed to give it a rest. One sentence from him and I felt like I was ready to drag him into the bathroom and have my way with him.

  “Sorry,” he smirked, “I didn't mean to get you all hot and bothered.”

  “I'm not,” I insisted, trying to save at least a shred of my pride.

  “Really?” he asked, his hand landing really high up on my thigh. “I could... check that out for you. Just to make sure.”

  I really, really wanted him to check.

  And, damn him, he knew it.

  His fingers
toyed with the hem of my skirt which was indecently high when I was sitting down. One of his fingers slipped upward and almost made contact with my panties.

  I nearly fell off the seat.

  “Okay,” he said, sitting back, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. “Sorry. I'll stop.”

  “I don't want you to stop.”

  Oh, my god.

  I didn't sat that.

  No way.

  His eyes darkened, leaning closer, his mouth by my ear. “Believe me, babe, I don't want to stop either. I want to drag you out of here, throw you into my car, and watch you ride me until you're screaming my name.”

  Okay.

  Wow.

  I pressed my thighs together hard, taking a deep breath.

  “But I can't do that. Tonight, you aren't mine to have.”

  Right.

  I was a public fucking commodity.

  I sat up straight, moving away from him.

  And I was never really his. Not the way I wanted to be.

  Game face on.

  “Okay. So, what now? You're leaving?”

  “No. I'll be here. If you need me, come get me. Or call me. I'll keep an eye on you.”

  So much for my flirt training.

  “If someone is really bothering you...”

  “I got it, Chase.”

  “Ava...”

  I stood up, grabbing my martini. “I said I got it,” I said, walking over to the railing and looking down at the dance floor below, bodies writhing. Women in small circles, dancing sexually to attract the attention of men, whether they would admit it or not. Then men and women, their bodies moving together like an archaic mating ritual. The entire building was oozing sex.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Chase. He had moved to the far end of the bar, swirling his drink, occasionally glancing my way.

  It wasn't long until I felt someone move in beside me, blocking out my view of Chase. I looked upward, taking in the fitted blue suit, the white shirt, the dark blue striped tie, then finally his face. He was good looking. Tall. Towering over me even in my heels. His face was broad of jaw with a strong forehead, with short dirty blonde hair, and kind brown eyes.

  “You with that guy?” he asked, tilting his head in Chase's direction.

  Technically, yes.

  But, at the same time, completely and utterly... no.

  “No,” I said, giving him, what I hoped was, a charming smile.

  “So I can ask you to dance?”

  Oh, god.

  Not dancing.

  Anything but dancing.

  “Sure,” I smiled, taking Shay's advice and touching his hand which was next to mine on the railing. I brought my drink up and drained it, hoping some of the liquid bravery would hit me before we got to the dance floor.

  “I'm Trip, by the way. I know,” he said, smiling easily, “it's a ridiculous name.”

  “I'm Ava,” I supplied, feeling the knot in my belly loosen a little. It wasn't that bad. If that was all there was to flirting, I could totally handle it.

  I ducked my head as I turned, not wanting to make eye contact with Chase for numerous reasons as Trip put a hand on my hip, steering me through the lounge and toward the stairs.

  We pushed through the edge of the crowd until we were somewhere near the center and, unable to help myself, I lifted my head to look back toward the lounge. Just as another woman, blonde, pretty, breasts all but spilling out of her dress, walked up to Chase, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear. Chase turned, tilting his head up toward her, and smiled a megawatt smile I had only gotten to see less than a handful of times.

  So that was the way it was.

  I felt the quick, nauseating stab of pain accompanied by the twisting sensation of jealousy. My eyes dropped, looking up at Tate.

  Well, fuck Chase.

  And fuck his rules.

  I was three drinks in an hour later, inhibitions low, as I pressed my body into Tate's, his arms going around my back. Way too tight. And if I wasn't dealing with a nice buzz making my skin feel tingly and foreign, I would have pushed him away, freaked out and ran, anything other than sink into it.

  “You're so gorgeous,” Tate murmured close to my ear.

  “Thank you,” I said, swaying my hips against him.

  “Ava.”

  Chase.

  His voice was the equivalent of having a bucket of ice water dropped on me. Sober. I was suddenly so incredibly sober it was ridiculous.

  I felt myself stiffen, moving to put space between me and Tate.

  “She said she ain't with you, bud,” Tate said over my shoulder, looking like he was ready to defend my honor if he needed to. Which was sweet. I would have realized how sweet it was if Chase wasn't right behind me, no doubt completely disapproving of my behavior and giving me one of those looks of his.

  “She was mistaken,” Chase said, his voice cool. “Ava... it's time to go.”

  I felt my spine straighten. “No, I think I'm good here, Chase. Thanks for your concern. You may leave without me,” I said, not turning around.

  “Ava...”

  “I said go, Chase.”

  And then he did.

  I entertained the idea of Tate for a while, trying to push past the growing knot of anxiety inside. But soon his arms felt like a prison, his cologne smelled overpowering, the collective energy of the crowd felt stifling. And I couldn't breathe.

  “You alright?” Tate asked, watching as my hand went to my throat, as my eyes got wide and panicked.

  “I... I have to go...” I said, turning.

  His arm closed around my arm, pulling me back, making a rush of panic rise hysterically in my throat. “Wait. How can I get in touch with you?”

  I swallowed hard against the knot in my stomach as he pulled out his phone, trying to pull away gently, but his hand was like a vice. I mumbled off the number of Shay's disloyal best friend, which made him smile, wretched my arm away, and ran.

  I burst out of the front doors what felt like forever later, having to push through the crushing throngs of people inside to get to the exit.

  The air outside hit me, cold and comforting as I stumbled in the opposite direction of the line of people waiting to get inside.

  “Ava...”

  My head snapped up, looking around and finding Chase leaning against the wall of the club, looking tired. His eyes fell on my face, softening immediately. “Hey... babe...”

  Why did he have to be so fucking nice?

  I mean, even after being a jerk.

  It wasn't right.

  It was causing all kinds of conflicting feelings inside.

  And I wasn't in any condition to fight them.

  So they surfaced. Through the panic. Tears blurred my eyes and I turned away again, walking in the other direction, away from him.

  His arm wrapped around my hips before I had even taken two steps, turning me, steering me away from the crowd. “It's alright,” he murmured, close to my ear as I blindly followed him as he moved me around the building. “Take a breath, Ava,” he instructed and I tried, but it got caught in my throat. “Hey,” he said, stopping, grabbing my face and pressing me against the back of the club, “look at me.” My eyes slid up slowly. “Breathe.” I sucked in a shaky breath, feeling like sulfur, burning my nose and throat. “You're okay,” he said, his eyes willing me to believe him. “I'm right here.”

  The tears slipped over and I leaned forward, resting my head against my spot, taking another breath, breathing him in. His arms went slowly around me, hesitant to trap me. But the effect was like a tranquilizer to my system. Like a warm blanket over my brain.

  I blinked the tears furiously away, more angry at myself than I had been in a long time. Giving myself a panic attack because I was trying to be spiteful was so incredibly immature. And the plan backfired in the worst way possible, not only did I freak out and run away, but I broke down in front of Chase.
Again. I clung to Chase. Again. I let Chase fix me. Again.

  I needed to learn to fix myself.

  He wasn't going to be around.

  I couldn't run to him anymore.

  I needed to stop leaning on him.

  I straightened, pulling away, wiping my cheeks before I looked up.

  “You alright, baby?”

  “Yeah, I … it was too crowded and loud and hot. I... couldn't fight it anymore.”

  “You should have left with me.”

  I took a breath, dropping my eyes to his collar because I couldn't lie to his face. “I was having a good time.”

  I saw the muscle in his jaw start to tick again. “What did you say to your... friend?”

  “I gave him a fake number and just... ran.”

  “A fake number, huh?” he asked, sounding almost amused. “I'm assuming that way Shay's idea.”

  “Yeah. It's the number of someone she hates.”

  Chase snorted, reaching up and slipping out of his jacket, placing it around my shoulders. “She's got a good head on her shoulders.”

  “Yeah, except she's sleeping with Jake,” I said, shocking myself.

  “They'll probably be good together,” he said, putting a hand at my hip and leading me back toward his car.

  “They're not together. They're just sleeping together.”

  “Sure about that?” he asked, giving me a knowing smirk. “Those two will be dating in under a week, mark my words.”

  “I thought you were a sexologist, not a love expert,” I said, cursing myself when his eyes got guarded. I always said the wrong thing.

  “True,” he said in a clipped tone, opening my door for me then sliding into the driver's seat. Then we drove in silence again until we pulled up next to my car in the garage. “We have our final session on Monday.”

  “I know,” I said, looking at my hands.

  “Seven.”

  “As always,” I said, getting out of the car.

  As always, but for the last time.

  After the Session

  I cried. A lot. Then hated myself for it even more. It was a fun weekend.

  Tenth Session

  We never discussed what our final session would be. And I had spent my weekend debating my options. I could pick any one of our sessions: kissing and holding each other, chaste naked touching, mutual masturbation, fingering and hand jobs, oral sex, sex, toys, anal sex.