by Ws Greer
“Yes, I know the rules,” Ava finally says. “But I miss you, and you've been avoiding me, Malcolm. I can tell. I don't like being avoided.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, so I’m taking the time to get myself together—to figure some things out. All right?”
Silence again.
“Stay patient, Ava,” I tell her, although I know this is misleading. Telling Ava to stay patient implies we'll be back to normal soon, but the more I think about it, the less likely that’s true.
“Okay,” Ava responds, but her voice is different. It’s deeper. More alarming.
“Thank you, I’ll talk to you again soon. Have a good night.”
Ava doesn't respond before she ends the call.
As Ava’s former therapist, I know so much about her and her mentality, I can't help but feel nervous about the way she acts sometimes. She’s a gorgeous woman, and I love her sexuality, but I know she needs continuous therapy from a psychologist, not a sex therapist. She needs to talk to someone who can help her with the things that run around in her head, and I can't do that. I’m not qualified to…
My thoughts are interrupted by another text notification on my phone. At first, I’m annoyed that Ava is still texting after I just told her to be patient. However, when I look at the phone, I see that it’s not a text message. It’s a photo—a photo of Ava’s bare pussy.
I gasp at the sight of it, because I’ve been struggling to keep myself away from her, and this is the type of thing that’s only going to make it worse. Before I can figure out how to respond, another photo appears. In this one, Ava has two fingers in her pussy, and I can tell she's wetter in this photo than the last one. She’s masturbating and using it to entice me.
The next thing that comes through is a short video. It’s only thirty seconds long, but it’s of Ava rubbing her clit with two fingers. She moves in small, rigid circles, and I can tell what's about to happen from the way her body is tightened. Her legs are stiff and her eyes are closed. She's biting her lip, and I can hear her breathing starting to peak. Then, she comes hard and loud. Her body shakes so much the video blurs the last five seconds before she turns it off.
By the time the video is finished playing, I’m breathing hard like I just came. Ava knows the type of man I am, and she knows how to use it against me. She has also broken a rule by bringing herself to orgasm, something she knows she’s not allowed to do. She can edge with my permission, but she's not supposed to come. She’s pushing me on purpose, and from how hard my cock is throbbing, it’s working.
I want to call her. I want to fuck her. I want to drag her into the Black House and tie her to the bed while I take my time using every toy at my disposal, until she comes fifty times and passes out from the bliss. I want it more than I can stand, and if I don't do something, I feel like I’m going to crack. So, I take advantage of the fact that Keisha is gone, and slide my hand down my pants.
My cock is as hard as any time I can remember, and although I don't usually masturbate, I’m going to enjoy it tonight. I open my phone and press play on Ava’s video again, stroking my cock while she rubs her pussy. I can't come in thirty seconds, but when I play the video a second time, I end up coming at the same time Ava does in the video.
I get myself cleaned up, taking extra time to inspect the floor and desk to make sure I haven't left any evidence behind. The last thing I need is a patient’s brow furrowing as they notice hardened cum on the floor during a session.
I also don't need Ava knowing that I masturbated to her video, so when I leave, I do it without replying to her. I shove my phone in my pocket, turn off the lights, and walk out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
~ Malcolm ~
Do you ever feel like someone is watching you? You know those moments when you're doing something mundane, something completely normal, then you get that nagging feeling in your gut. You get something that feels like a tug at the bottom of your shirt, something like a warning, like a Spidey Sense. Well, I just got it.
Standing in my living room, I hold three pieces of mail in my hand. Two of them are credit card companies trying to reach out and ruin my good credit. The other is a statement for my mortgage. I still owe six figures on my house. Thanks for the reminder, mortgage people. When I toss the mail onto the coffee table, that’s when I hear it.
There’s a tap at one of my windows in the living room. It’s not continuous, so I can't follow the sound. It only happens once, just enough to draw my attention. My head snaps up and to the right. My blinds are closed, but there's a tiny sliver of darkness peeking inside from the bottom of the blinds where one of the slats is stuck on the cord. If there's darkness sneaking in, that means someone can see through that spot if they try hard enough. Someone like Ava.
Forgetting about the mail, I dart over to the window, drop to my knees and shove my face into the blinds. Only darkness greets me. There’s no extra people walking around outside. No mysterious cars parked at the end of my driveway. Ava isn't here. I suppose it’s just my imagination.
I lift myself off the floor and try to shake off the fact that I feel like an idiot. Why am I so paranoid? I’ve let my time as Ava’s therapist take control of my mind and start playing tricks on me.
It’s understandable. Ava stalked her most recent boyfriend, and was accused of trying to burn his house down. That kind of thing tends to stick with you, even after the therapy is over and the sex has begun. Nonetheless, I brush it off and try to settle myself in for the night.
I walk over to my fireplace and fire it up. The flames start low and build themselves up like orange bodybuilders right before my eyes, glowing bigger and brighter by the second. As the fire starts to crackle, I hear another tap from behind me. This one from a different window.
Was it a tap at the window, or the crackle of the wooden logs as they burn in the fireplace? Damn it. I’m stressing myself out. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I get up from the fireplace and start walking to the kitchen, where I plan to pour myself a rather strong drink of vodka. However, before I can leave the living room, I hear another tap at the window.
“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself. I’m instantly filled with a combination of anxiety and annoyance, because no one likes feeling afraid. “Fuck this,” I snap, then I walk to the window and yank on the cord, sending the blinds shooting towards the top of the window frame.
“What the fuck!” I scream, as a darkened silhouette of Ava stares back at me.
When she sees me, Ava jumps back, surprised by my opening the window so quickly. Once we both realize what just happened, we stare at each other, our bodies still separated by the window pane. Ava’s mouth slowly curls into a playful smile, while my brow morphs into a deep furrow.
“What the fuck, Ava!” I yell through the glass. Ava’s smile vanishes.
Like an angry teenager, I stomp through the house, making my way to the front door. I grab the knob and snatch it open, where I find Ava sauntering towards me with her arms outstretched like she's asking for a hug. She has on basketball shorts and a white tank top in this cold weather. What the hell?
“Ava, what the fuck are you doing here?” I yell. I’m so pissed off, it takes everything in me to keep my voice low enough not to alert my neighbors.
“I wanted to see you,” Ava replies in a completely normal tone, dropping her arms to her sides and pouting. She acts like her presence here is totally normal and had been planned by both of us.
“So you decided to show up here unannounced and peek into my windows?” I growl.
“I just wanted to make sure you were home before I knocked on the door,” Ava says, still sounding unaffected. “I didn’t mean to startle you, and I can tell I did. Look how mad you are. I’ve never seen you this way before. It’s deep. I kind of like it.”
Without a single care in the world, Ava steps forward and tries to wrap her arms around my neck. I have to physically stop her to keep her from grabbing me.
“Ava, stop it!” I bark. “What
the fuck is wrong with you right now? Do you not realize how you're acting?”
Ava pauses, coming to a complete stop as if she's been frozen in place.
“How am I acting, Malcolm?” she asks, her gaze turning cold.
I let out a sigh and quickly gather my thoughts. I can't say the wrong thing right now, so I shift gears and go into therapist mode.
“I don't mean to say you're acting in any particular way that can be labeled by a specific word,” I say, trying to use my education in my career field to defuse the situation. Maybe I should’ve left my relationship with Ava as therapist and patient after all. I’m not sure we’ll ever be past those roles. “You have to understand and respect boundaries, Ava. That’s all I’m trying to get you to understand.”
“No,” Ava mumbles, taking a step back. “You were going to tell me I’m acting crazy, weren’t you? Is that it, motherfucker? You think I’m crazy?”
“What?” I say, shocked by Ava’s sudden display of anger. Before my eyes, the skin on Ava’s neck starts to turn pink. She’s literally heating up with rage. “I’m not saying that, Ava. I would never say that about you.”
“Why? Because I’m crazy and you're afraid of me?” she barks.
Yes.
“Of course not,” I lie. “I know you better than that. I wouldn’t ever call you that.”
“But you're thinking it.”
“That’s not fair. You can't make assumptions on what I’m thinking, and then use those assumptions to get more upset. It’s irrational.”
“Oh, so now I’m irrational?”
Fuck, I stepped right into that one.
“Come one, Ava. You're putting me in lose-lose situations, and I don't like it. We can't work like this. This just won't work.”
As the words flow, the thoughts flow with them. I knew this thing with Ava wouldn’t last forever. It was made out of a situation that never should’ve happened. I was Ava’s therapist, and I never should’ve crossed that line. It’s my fault things are out of sync now. It’s a rule you don't break, a line you don't cross, and I hopped right over it with no regard to how it might affect Ava. It’s on me. And now I have to fix it.
Ava stares at me, glaring at me with an intimidating intensity in her round brown eyes. I know she won't react well to this, but I have to do it, because I can't keep this up. It must be done.
“Ava,” I say after releasing a breath. I stand up straight and exhale again. “We can't keep doing this. We have to end it. I can't keep dragging this out with you, because it’s not fair to either of us.” Ava doesn't move or respond in any way. “I don't mean to hurt you, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it before. I’m sorry, but we have to end this thing between us. It never should’ve started in the first place.”
Suddenly, Ava smiles as if I never said anything. I’m taken aback by her quick change of mood, and I’m downright shocked when she steps forward again and tries to kiss me. I have to put my hand on her chest to hold her back once again.
“Ava, no,” I say, firmly. “This isn’t a game, and it’s not some kind of test. I’m serious. This isn't about the Black House. This isn't about the rules. It’s about me and how I feel, and this has to end. It has to be over.”
“Malcolm,” Ava says in a soft, pleading voice. Almost as if she doesn't believe me. “Come on. We’re in love. There isn't anything we can't work through.”
“No, Ava, we’re not in love. We have fantastic sex, and I’m grateful for that. It was phenomenal while it lasted, but I’m not sure it’s ever been anything more than that, and that’s just not good enough for me anymore. It’s not worth it. So, this has to be it. Let’s not drag it out any further than this moment. Please.”
Ava stands in front of me, frozen again. Her eyes lock onto mine, and she barely blinks.
“I’m sorry, Ava, but it’s over,” I say again, just to make sure she really hears me. I’m not sure if she does, because she doesn't even move. She stands in front of me with a blank expression on her beautiful face as I take a step back and place my hand on the doorknob.
After thirty seconds, I try to snap her out of it. “Ava, are you okay?”
No response.
“Ava, please. I don't want this to be…”
“Fine,” Ava finally says, spitting the word out like she hates its taste. After speaking, she’s back to being frozen.
“Okay,” I reply, waiting for her to leave, but she doesn't. “Well, I’m going to go. Take care of yourself, Ava.”
Instead of adding more time to this awkward situation, I slowly close the door. As it latches, Ava doesn't move a single muscle. I shut the door completely and make sure to lock it before moving over to the window and looking out. Ava stays in front of the door, unmoving, for another sixty seconds. Her eyes stay glued to the outside of my front door, unblinking for an entire minute before finally stepping back. She moves like her feet are stuck in quicksand, but she slowly turns around and walks away.
I watch her walk out of my driveway and turn down the sidewalk. Down the street where I can barely see her from this angle, Ava climbs into her car. She’d parked nearly four houses down, which is why I hadn’t seen her car in the driveway before. She was sneaking up on me on purpose.
Ava sits in the car another thirty seconds without moving, her face being lit up by the light above her rearview mirror, and I’m absolutely stunned when she explodes into a rage, punching and slapping her steering wheel over and over again. Her mouth twists into a terrifying, inaudible scream as she beats the steering wheel with clenched fists, before slamming her forehead on the wheel two times. She hits her head so hard I’m surprised she doesn't knock herself out. My heart pounds in my chest just watching her.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper to myself, just before Ava comes to a sudden stop. She starts the car, and floors it. The tires screech as the Nissan tears away and zooms past my house.
As she passes in front of me, Ava looks at my house and glares into the window. Although it should be improbable at that speed, I’m certain she looks right at me before she disappears from view.
Takeoff
Chapter Thirty
~ Tessa ~
The sun seems brighter these days. The sky is bluer. The birds sing louder, and it feels like their song is just for me. Even now, as I take my seat at the bar in Applebee’s, the place is nice and quiet, as if everyone in here knew I was in a calm and serene mood, and they all wanted to keep me in my happy place.
I’ve been on quite the rollercoaster lately, but I feel like I’m finally stepping off of the rocky ride and putting my feet on solid ground. My therapy session with Dr. Colson two days ago really solidified everything that was running through my mind.
I successfully climbed out of the basement my mother had me trapped in, and took my time exploring my newfound land of freedom. It was great, and I don't regret a single thing about anything I’ve done. If everything went down the same way, I wouldn’t change a thing about how I reacted to being dumped. I’m better because of it, and I highly doubt Brandon can say the same.
I can't help but wonder how it all turned out for him, though. I haven’t heard anything about him or his band since he left town a few weeks ago, which is a bad sign for a band trying to come up. Maybe I’ll never know, and that’s perfectly fine with me.
The bar is quiet this evening, which is perfect. Missy is on her way, and we’ll enjoy our usual girls night out with a few drinks and laughs. I guess the only thing that’ll be different about tonight is that I won't be on the prowl.
After everything went down with my mother and Will—who I really hope isn't here tonight—something in me changed. Maybe all I needed was for my mother to leave me the hell alone and stop trying to get me to live my life by her outdated rules. That must’ve been it, because after we hugged that evening, everything seemed to slow down for me. I’m still living my life the way I want it, and if I wanted to sleep with somebody tonight I’d do it, but I don't feel the same sense
of urgency. A lot of times, all we’re really looking for is acceptance, and now that I’ve got hers, I’m good to take my time.
Once I’m seated and comfortable, I tell the bartender to hook me up with a vodka cranberry, and I take a big first sip as soon as he places it in front of me. As I’m putting my glass back on top of the napkin, I feel someone brush up against my arm as they sit down beside me. My first thought is that it’s going to be Will looking for an explanation for what went down at the clinic with my mother. However, I’m surprised when I look over and see it’s not Will. I don't remember this guy’s name, but I definitely recognize his face.
He’s a little on the thin side, with beautiful blue eyes, wavy hair, and a strong jaw. Once again, he’s wearing a suit and standing out in the crowd of restaurant-goers. He has stubble on his face, but it looks really good on him, and when he looks at me, he flashes a gorgeous smile.
“Hey, I remember you,” he says, flooring me with that smile. “Tessa, right? Tessa Milton.”
I smile back and reach out to shake the hand that he has offered. “Yeah. I remember you, too, although I’m not sure what your name is.”
“Ouch,” he says with a playful chuckle. “It’s Liam.”
“Oh, right,” I chirp. “Liam Gardner. Hi, it’s nice to see you again.”
It’s really nice to see him again. Good lord, he’s gorgeous.
“Nice to see you, too,” Liam replies, before turning to the bartender and ordering a rum and coke and turning back to me. “So, how have you been?”
“I'm really good, thank you. How about you?”
“Much better than the last time I saw you,” Liam says. “You definitely seem happier than last time, too. You’ve got a perky glow about you tonight. How about me? Am I glowing?”
A giggle escapes my throat. “I think you are.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you to say. Well, I feel like I’m glowing for sure. Wanna know why?”
