by KD Robichaux
“Just have a seat and he should be out at 11:30,” she assures me, and I thank her and go sit in one of the chairs.
Since my class got out at eleven and it only takes a few minutes to get here, I have a little bit of time to wait but not much. And just when I’m getting really into a game of Toon Blast on my phone, the door in front of me opens, and a man walks out, nodding in greeting before walking out the front door. Neil is looking at his cell phone when he strolls up to the open office door, a little frown on his face as he looks up to take hold of the knob to pull the door shut, and that’s when he sees me, and the frown instantly disappears.
He strides toward me just as I stand, and his hand not holding his phone comes up to cup my cheek. “What are you doing here, goddess?” he asks, but I don’t get a chance to answer because his mouth lands on mine.
But the kiss is broken when we hear “He calls her goddess, aww” squealed from behind the window, and I snort into his mouth.
“Sweaty and gross,” I whisper, but my voice is weak when he looks at me like that, with wonder and excitement to see me.
“Everything all right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I just had something weird but cool happen at barre and wanted to tell you but didn’t want to wait until you got home later. And…”
“And?” he prompts when I pause.
I smile at him shyly. “I didn’t want to miss my midday Viking fix,” I admit quietly, but the women still hear me somehow.
“Goddess and Viking? O-M-G,” Nita says dreamily, and Neil shakes his head with a grin.
“Please, Ms. Quill, step into my office,” he tells me, stepping to the side and gesturing toward his open doorway.
“Y’all be quickie about things, Doc. Your 11:45 will be here any minute,” Theresa calls through the now open window, and I see him glare at her playfully before he follows me inside and shuts the door.
I look around his office, which looks very similar to his study at home, only everything is… bigger—the desk, the couch, the wall of bookcases—but it feels just as cozy. Everything about his place of business puts you at ease from the waiting room to the place where you sit and open up about your deepest and darkest secrets… and desires, I suppose, knowing he does all the sessions for prospective members of Club Alias here as well.
“Those two are… fun,” I tell him when he takes my hand and pulls me toward the couch. I expect him to take a seat in his armchair like he had at home, but he tugs me down next to him as he sits on the couch.
“So what’s going on?” he asks, clearly unfazed by the ladies who work for him.
I know we don’t have a lot of time, so I lay it all out. “Well, I got to barre and set up my mat, and I was just hanging out and stretching, waiting for the class to start, and one of the girls who’s been there all three times I’ve been to it, that bitchy one, you know? Anyway, she came up to me and asked what I do for a living. I told her I’m a makeup artist, and she hands me this card and tells me she could get me a job. And then when I was leaving, she said she’d need me to do makeup for like, ten to twenty girls a night. How insane is that? Do you know how much a makeup artist would make in one night doing that many faces? I could beef up my savings for school like crazy!” My voice is excited…
But his face doesn’t look like it should.
In fact, his face has gone dead-serious.
“Do… Do you find it odd that she approached you to see what you do then immediately had a job opportunity for you?” The way he asks and words it, I can tell he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t sound like a downer.
I nod to make him feel better. “I did, but… I don’t know, maybe she’s in my Facebook makeup group and didn’t know for sure if it was actually me or not, since I never wear makeup at the gym or something.” I shrug.
He thinks for a second, his brows furrowed. “Did she approach you and ask if you were Astrid?”
I think back to the conversation, which is a little fuzzy because I was so thrown by her speaking to me in the first place. “Hmm… no, I… nope. She asked what my name was.” I slouch for a moment. And then I perk back up. “But like, ten to twenty faces in one night. That’s… well, I’m not a certified makeup artist, but I did all the girls’ makeup for Twyla’s wedding, and everyone said it looked better than anything they’ve seen before.”
“And I have no doubt you’d make those women look more stunning than they’ve ever been before, but you have to admit, it just seems… odd,” he says, and I pout a little, but I do nod. “May I see the card she gave you?”
I pull my purse onto my lap and find the card in the pocket I tucked it into, handing it over.
He lifts a brow. “No business name? Address and phone number and referred by Crystal.” He ponders that for a moment. “I just don’t know what to think about it.”
I suddenly gasp as it dawns on me. “Strip club!” He looks at me funny. “Strip club. Where else would there be ten to twenty women a night who’d need their makeup done? And did you see that woman’s body? Her fake bazoobles were so big they could only belong to a stripper. Come on. You know I’m right,” I tell him. “And I have no problem working with a bunch of single moms trying to pay for nursing school. Get dat money, girl,” I add with a snap of my fingers in the air, making him smile.
“Well, I’ll give you that would make sense, but we don’t know for sure. Let me look into the address on the card. It should be easy to check what business is at the location, and if something weird comes up, we happen to have an MIT computer scientist on the payroll,” he offers.
“My lovely brother-in-love?” I smile.
“The one and only—”
“Hey, lovebirds. Your next appointment is here,” Theresa’s voice comes from the phone on the desk.
“Thank you, Theresa,” Neil calls out, and when there isn’t a click, he singsongs, “You can hang up now, Theresa.”
We hear her and Nita’s “Damn!” before the click finally comes, and I laugh.
“I’m going to take this—” I snatch the card out of Neil’s hand. “—so I can see what I can find on the old Google machine while Scout boy and I wait for Daddy to get home.” I boop him on the nose with my fingertip, and he lifts a brow at me. “I don’t know what that was.” I shake my head, but my face says “but I don’t give a fuck.” “It’s these damn endorphins. Weird stuff happening in all’a this.” I make circles in the air with my hand to include from my head to nether regions.
“But good-weird, right?”
I smile as we both stand. “Definitely good-weird.” I stand on my toes and smack a loud kiss to his lips before sashaying my way to the door. “See you at home,” I say when I spin to blow him a kiss.
He’s watching me, walking several steps behind me, and grins as he says, “Text me when—”
“—I get there. Got it.” I snort. “Bye-ee.”
Chapter 14
Doc
When I got home, I found Astrid on the patio in the hot tub with her Kindle, Scout taking a nap in the shade but keeping her company. When I opened the back door, he lifted his head long enough to make sure it was me, and then the asshole just went back to sleep. Apparently, I’ve been disowned and replaced.
But I can’t even blame him.
She smiles at me from her spot and sets her Kindle down on the side, tilting her head. “You hungry? I made dinner. It’s in the oven and will be done in about ten minutes,” she informs, and I shake my head at her but smile all the same.
“You don’t have to—”
“—cook dinner every night, goddess,” she mocks. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Can’t a girl show her man she appreciates all the hard work he does to put such a lovely roof over her head?” She lifts her hand, palm up.
My heart squeezes. “Her man, hm? I like the sound of that. Much better than feeling like you need to earn your keep.”
She nods then glides through the water toward me, standing up slowly and giving me a look that instantly makes my dick har
d. “Oh you like that?” she asks, bending forward and placing her folded arms on the side of the spa and squeezing her tits together.
I literally gulp.
Taking the one stride that separates us, I reach out and stoke the knuckle of my pointer finger down her cheekbone, remembering the last time she was at this height below me, taking my cock down her throat.
I hold in a groan, taking a step back to hide my stuttering breath. Fuck.
Besides kissing and some groping over our clothes, we haven’t furthered our sexual relationship. I’m trying my best to take things slow, after everything else happened so quickly—or so it seemed. I wanted her to get to know me better, to truly know she could trust me before adding sex to the mix, since sex never fails to skew one’s emotions. I wanted her to be able to tell what I felt for her was more than just lust. And I also wanted her emotions for me to grow without the confusion of sex as well, because she hadn’t responded with the sentiment whenever I told her I was in love with her. Which was completely fine and didn’t hurt my feelings or worry me at all. I understand what Astrid is going through. I know she has fears that will take time and lots of work to overcome. And that’s why I’ve only held her in my arms to fall asleep at night. I’ve only petted her hair while we watch TV. I’ve only massaged her sore muscles as a reward for getting out of the house and going to the gym each day. It was all to strengthen the bond and trust between us.
I waited a year for Astrid, with her living under my roof. I’d wait a hundred more if that’s what it took to build something between us that would last forever.
But fuck my life is she making it hard… literally.
I growl, spinning around to head back into the house, calling over my shoulder, “Gonna change into my swim trunks. Want to eat dinner outside?”
When she doesn’t answer by the time I hit the door, I glance back at her, seeing the hurt in her eyes for only a second before it’s gone. She blinks then looks up and me, giving me a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds fun,” she replies, but her smile doesn’t reach those beautiful blue eyes, and I know in that moment I’d do anything to take away all her pain, including do something against my better therapist judgment.
By the time I changed and got back downstairs, Astrid was pulling the baked chicken out of the oven and already had our plates set out on the island. I helped her divvy up the sautéed veggies and rice, and then we ate dinner at the patio set in the back before sinking into the bubbling water. We didn’t converse much, but she did read me the rest of the chapter she was on in the book on her Kindle while I massaged her legs beneath the water, her voice catching when I hit a particularly sore or good spot. And then we went upstairs, showered, and got into bed, Astrid with her Kindle, and me with one of my small leather-bound books from my study.
Her legs shift beneath the covers every so often, and at first, I think it’s because she’s uncomfortable, sore from her barre class. Having taken that first one with her, I know how many fucking squats she did this morning. But as I listen closely, the room completely silent, not even the air conditioner blowing at the moment, I can hear every minute sound she makes. Every time she swallows, every time her feet twitch under the sheet… and I can tell she’s trying to control her breathing but is failing.
Her legs shift again, and as I look at where her knees are beneath the covers, turning only my eyes so she doesn’t know I’m watching, I see she rubs her thighs together, and her breath catches just slightly.
She’s trying to hide that she’s turned on as she continues to read from her little white Kindle, and God how I want to rip it out of her hand and make love to her, to show her she doesn’t need to hide anything from me, to not feel any sort of shame for the emotions and physical reactions she feels. But at the same time, I don’t know if she’s ready. Even if she has dropped hint after hint over the past few days that she wants me, I’m trying to be strong for the both of us.
But I don’t know if even I’m strong enough to withstand my sweet goddess, lying so close to me, growing wetter and more aroused the longer she reads.
She startles me out of my thoughts when suddenly she slams her Kindle on the mattress between us. Before I can ask her what’s wrong, she twists away from me, reaching for something on her side table.
No, not on it.
In it.
As she pulls open the drawer and takes out a makeup bag.
Oh fuck.
I hear her voice inside my mind, picturing her as she sat on the couch in my study, telling me all her secrets. “I got myself a little vibrator, the one I now keep in a makeup bag in my nightstand drawer.”
Fuck.
She pulls out the silver bullet, the clear cord wrapped around and around the attached remote neatly.
She tosses the bag onto the nightstand, unwraps the bullet, and refuses to look at me, even when I shut my book and place it on my own side table along with her Kindle. She clicks the button on the black remote, and the silver bullet comes to life on the end of the cord, my cock instantly going rigid at the sound, immediately recalling the mental snapshot I took the last time I heard it.
Still purposefully ignoring me next to her, she reaches both arms beneath the sheets, and her knees come up and spread, and my heart picks up its pace, because I know what it looks like right now under those covers. I know, because I saw her in this exact position, only on top of her comforter in the guest room.
But she’s not alone in her guest room any longer. She’s right next to me, in my bed, her body hidden, but all I’d have to do is reach over and I’d feel what she’s doing.
I watch as she closes her eyes, and I can tell the moment the vibrator hits her clit, because her lips part and her head presses roughly into the pillow. Her delicate brows furrow, and soon, her face is pinched in concentration, and I know that desperation and frustration will quickly follow.
“Alexa, turn master light off and lamp two on,” I order, and the little double-ding sounds as the lighting in the room dims thanks to my smart-plugs connected to my voice-activated system. I pull up my side of the covers and slide to my left, closer to her, turning on my side to face her and sitting up on my left elbow. Lifting my right hand, I trace my middle fingertip oh-so-gently from the middle of her forehead, over her puckered brow, down over the bridge of her straight nose, past her lips as I pull the bottom one down, watching it snap back into place as I glide along her jawline.
Her face starts to relax as I continue to just gently run my fingertip along her perfectly feminine features, and I whisper, “That’s a good girl, goddess. Just relax. If you go into pleasuring yourself with the immediate thought that it’s not going to work, then it’s not.”
She swallows and nods, her eyes still closed as her body twitches this way and that. I run my palm down her arm and follow it beneath the covers and into her shorts, and she gasps as my hand covers the one holding the bullet.
“This is too much for you, goddess. Too stimulating. That’s why you can’t enjoy it when your mind finally allows your orgasm to come.” I follow the cord to where the remote has fallen next to her hip, and I click the button, shutting it off.
She opens her eyes, but she doesn’t complain that I’ve stopped her. No, her eyes aren’t angry or even filled with that haughtiness I love. Her eyes are pleading, begging me to give her relief. But I’m not going to do that. At least not yet.
I look her straight in the eyes and say low and clear, “There is nothing in this world I look forward to more than the moment I finally get to make love to you.” She must hear the “but” in my tone, because the tiny bit of hope I saw in her face disappears. “But first, right now, you feel helpless in finding your own pleasure. You were ashamed of the fact that you’re twenty-seven and know nothing about your own body. But you never want to be dependent on another person again, even if it’s for something like finding release, climaxing. If I were to make love to you right now, that’s what would happen, and you’d never learn to do it yourself. And givin
g yourself pleasure and making yourself come is one skill everyone should know.”
She nods, shallow and quick, her chin wobbling. “Okay.” She pulls in a stuttered breath. “Will you please teach me?”
I scoot even closer so I can look down into her beautiful, hopeful face, and she holds my eyes with hers, looking at me like I’m her savior, like I could be the one to fight all her demons and save her from her misery. But what she doesn’t realize, is she’s about to learn to do all that herself. And then she won’t need me, but she’ll want me, which is so fucking much better.
“I’d be honored, goddess.” I lean down and kiss her when the look of relief takes over everything else on her face, and pride swells in my chest that she doesn’t even second-guess if I’ll be able to or not. In her mind, she just believes. And that above everything else is what gives me hope that I can heal her heart enough that she could fall in love with me.
I whisper against her lips, “First and foremost, you need to understand that a woman’s orgasm starts in her mind. It takes a lot more for a female to orgasm, because biologically speaking, a woman doesn’t have to orgasm for us to be able to procreate. That’s why it’s so much easier for a male to get off, because without his ejaculation, our species dies off.” I pull back the comforter and sheets still covering her body, and her muscles immediately go taut. “As soon as you grabbed your vibrator and pressed it you, your face instantly contorted with concentration, with focus, and everything in your features grew tense. There wasn’t a single moment of actual pleasure to be felt. You put too much pressure on yourself to orgasm, which defeats the purpose of masturbation when you don’t make it feel good.”
She nods, closing her eyes and visibly trying to relax.
“And for future reference, that goes for sex as well. You, as a woman, can’t go into making love focusing solely on the reward at the end. That’s why they call it making love, because it’s the actual journey before the destination that’s the best part.” Her lips lift in a little smile, and I know she’s enjoying the tone of my voice, so I continue to speak soothingly to her, putting her at ease when she was so obviously stressed about this before.