“I should. I tried to a few times, but he won’t let me.” She shakes her head. “It’s not that I can’t walk away from him, it’s that I don’t want to now that I have gotten to know him better. And the sex…my God the sex is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”
“That good?” I ask the question, but I can already tell by the look on her face, the way her lips part and her breathing grows heavy that it’s mind-shattering sex.
“Yes,” she says, her voice low. “Every time I think I can walk away, we meet up, and I lose all self-control.”
“I wish I would’ve had that with Mike. We were great together in the beginning, but the sex was never something to brag about.” I hold up my pinky and say, “His dick was way too small to satisfy me.”
She laughs. “I don’t have that problem. My man is big. Like porn star huge.”
I laugh, thinking about how a man with a baby dick cheated on me. “Mike’s secretary was mid-suck when I found them in his office. I was forced to stare at the world’s smallest penis lodged inside cockwhore’s mouth. That made the situation even more pathetic.”
“You are not pathetic, Chloe. He’s the loser who needed validation from another woman. His cheating has nothing to do with you. Most of the time, people cheat because they’re insecure. Maybe that person makes them feel wanted or special at the time. I have no idea why they do it, but I can assure you that you are more than enough for Mini Mike.”
Her comment makes me chuckle.
“Think of it this way. You have the chance to start over and find someone worthy of your time. And you get to have sex with anyone you want. No more micro dick.”
We both laugh this time.
Olivia smooths a hand down the front of her dress and sits back in her chair, crossing her legs. “So, what are you planning to do for work?”
“I have a job interview lined up for this afternoon.”
She flashes me a smile and a set of pearly white teeth. “Oh, yeah. Doing what?”
“Nothing special. It’s for a receptionist job. The pay is good, and it’s not like I have a college degree or any real skills.”
“Hey, don’t be like that.” Her tone is firm, serious. “Just because you didn’t finish college doesn’t mean you won’t have opportunities.”
“It leaves a lot less of them is all. I went through every job website I could find before I finally found an opening at a doctor’s office. I have an interview with a snooty woman named Alexa this afternoon. She sounded like a real uptight bitch, so I doubt I will get the job. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it goes well because I really need something to work out for me.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. I have no doubt they will love you. Don’t worry about it. Everything will work out.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” I push my chair out from the table and glance over my shoulder in search of the ladies room. “Hold that thought. I have to pee before we continue this conversation.”
I stand up, grabbing my purse from the chair, and make my way toward the back of the store. Kids are huddled around tables, a cacophony of loud noises carrying through the place. Although it has only been five years, it feels longer since I’d last stepped foot on this campus. So much has changed since my most recent visit to Strickland University. But the one thing that remains the same is the cliques that form throughout the coffee shop, each of them breaking off into their own groups.
On my way to the bathroom, a boy throws a football to his friend, almost knocking me over in the process. He touches my arm, running his hand down my skin, and apologizes. Shaking him off, I continue on my path and press my palms to the wooden door. It’s locked.
Trying once more, I put some hip into it this time, getting nowhere fast. Both my hands and hipbone are now throbbing, and I still have to pee. For a second, I consider using the men’s bathroom, ruling that out once I realize they only have urinals inside. That will not work. I make a fist and bang on the door, my voice growing louder as I yell obscenities to whoever locked the door to open up.
After the person on the other side finally unlatches the door and opens it a crack, I barrel into it, almost knocking them on their ass.
“You people are disgusting,” I hiss, stepping inside the bathroom and slam the door. My gaze travels from a blonde woman who bears a striking resemblance to me with my teeth clenched in anger, before my eyes land on the man next to her. “I have been waiting outside the entire time, ready to pee myself.”
I point my finger at the man, a chunk of hair falling on my face, and that’s when I realize I know the person in front of me. Before I can get out another word, I stop myself, confused and unsure if it’s really Jackson. I never thought I would see him again. After years of wondering what had happened to him after I left, I find him inside the bathroom at Broad Street Beans, of all places. On the campus where we’d first met.
My stomach knots at the sight of him, disheveled and just finishing up with shameless sex in a public bathroom. The Jackson King I knew was not a manwhore, respected women, and he sure as hell would not have a booty call in the middle of the day when he should be teaching class.
“Chloe,” he whispers, looking at me in disbelief.
I throw my hands onto my hips, scanning my face. “Jackson. I…You look so different so…”
Jackson is not the nerdy assistant professor I once knew. He apparently grew out of that phase and along with it hit the gym and put the time into his appearance. To say his transformation surprises me would be an understatement. Jackson was always a good-looking man. Underneath the glasses and cardigans, there was a serious hottie hiding. Even after disgusting bathroom sex, his sweat-matted hair still falls into place nicely and off his face.
He always had bigger and better plans. A man with Jackson’s credentials was wasting his time teaching college psychology. I never thought he would stay here after he finished out the school year. He often spoke about opportunities in California and Washington. I had thought by now he would be long gone.
Was he hoping to see me again?
I dismiss the thought immediately. We had something special between us, but it never amounted to anything other than a few kisses between classes. I was hot for my teacher. But all he cared about was his career.
We stand there, a beat passing between us before his sex date clears her throat. “Do you two know each other?”
“Yes,” I say, my tone firm and sharp. “We…”
I don’t finish the thought.
“You should go,” Jackson tells the girl he just fucked, except I am the one who answers.
“No, I think you both should go. This is the woman’s restroom not some flop house for you to bring your dates for an afternoon delight.”
He laughs like an idiot.
“I’ll see you later, Jackson,” mystery girl says, placing emphasis on his name.
Dismissing the girl with the wave of his hand, his focus remains on me. I shoot daggers in his direction, unsure if I want to murder him for turning into such a jerk. Part of me, a tiny part, would like to kiss him until I forget about this entire encounter. He looks so delicious I want to take a bite. But the idea is ridiculous, especially given the situation.
“You really should go, Jackson. I have to use the restroom, and I don’t need an audience when I do it.”
“Right,” he says, lowering his head in shame. And he should be embarrassed. “I’ll leave you to it. Nice to see you, Chloe.”
I wish I could say the same though I’m not sure how I feel. Conflicted, I guess. Seeing Jackson with that girl, sort of hurts, and I have no idea why. I’m the one who ran away from him, not the other way around.
“Bye, Jackson.” I brush past him and enter the last stall, hoping the tears will wait until after he leaves.
“Bye, Chloe.” His voice is so low, almost a whisper. Then, he exits the bathroom without another word, leaving me to sort through my feelings.
I was already a mess over Mike br
eaking off our engagement. Jackson only added a complication I was not expecting. I wonder if he still teaches the same class. Olivia would know.
Despite my curiosity, I cannot let it get the best of me. Jackson wasn’t ready to see if there was something more between us five years ago, and after witnessing one of the most appalling things since I found Mike getting head at his desk, I have no desire to know.
Chapter Six
Jackson
The entire way back to my office my heart was beating out of my chest, ready to explode. I waited years for that moment with Chloe, only to ruin it because I cannot keep my dick in my pants. My hands are shaking again, but this time, it has nothing to do with my cravings. Nervous energy shoots through my body, sending shockwaves down my spine. I haven’t been able to sit still since I left Broad Street Beans.
Either I need to fuck the tension from my body or medicate myself with the secret stash I keep locked in my desk drawer. I look worse than normal, like an actual junkie needing a fix and not the sex-crazed hunger I usually can keep at bay. Chloe has me so off my game my head is spinning.
My patient sits across from me on the couch, fiddling with the tension ball in his hands. He’s driving me fucking crazy. Watching him makes me more anxious than I was before our session. I’m doing everything in my power not to take the ball and shove it up his ass or jam it down his throat. I wasn’t cut out to become a therapist. Dealing with problems is not one of my strong suits.
In all honesty, I have no idea why I sought out this profession. My colleagues show love and care to their patients, have a certain amount of understanding and empathy for their situations, while I could give two fucks about any of them. The more they whine and complain I want to open the window of my office and leap from the skyscraper. I have a fucking problem. A big one. And now that Chloe is back in town, I have an even bigger one.
Sitting in a leather chair across from Drew, I doodle on my notepad, trying not to think about my patient from hell. Every week he shows up ten minutes early, demanding to see me before our time slot until he wears down my secretary and finally irritates me to the point I want to get this over. I have gone through three assistants since taking on Drew as a patient. Drew is on his last leg, about to get the boot from this office for good if he doesn’t stop with his bullshit.
On rare occasions, I want to be more sympathetic to Drew and his broken dick and the plethora of problems that comes along with it. I would love to be able to fix every marriage in shambles, except most of their issues stem from sex-deprived men with wandering eyes.
Some shit you cannot fix. If the people want to suffer through a loveless marriage or jerk off to porn for the rest of their lives instead of talking to a woman, I have few options available to help them. Words at that point mean nothing.
“Drew,” I say, my voice firm, as I look up from my paper. “Have you listened to a single thing I have told you in our sessions?”
He stops yapping about his latest Internet porn searches and quits playing with the ball in his hands. Our eyes lock for a second. We both know we have a problem. Only he thinks I have my shit together when in reality, I am far from having my issues figured out. At least I can get it up to a woman in real life. Not like that makes me the winner of this weird fucked up game, but it sure as hell feels like it.
Part of me enjoys working with broken people because it makes me feel better. For every hour I spend each week with Drew, my need to fuck every woman in sight seems better in comparison. I still flip through my fair share of porn on the web, search for something new to masturbate to, but at least I don’t have stage fright when it comes to women. At least I have that to be thankful.
“Drew, you’ve been coming here for months, yet you haven’t taken any of my advice. You need to find someone you can experiment with.”
He gives me a blank stare. “Like an actual girl? You know I can’t…” His voice trails off as he goes back to squeezing the ball between his fingers.
“Yes, like an actual girl. A living, breathing human. Your problem with intimacy is your lack of intimacy. If you spent more time around women, you would be less nervous about approaching them. I can’t help you get the courage to hit on women in bars, but you could give online dating a try.”
“I created a profile like you told me to last month.” He bites the inside of his cheek, mulling it over as he stares out the windows that overlook the city.
“Did you meet any women? Did you engage with any of them? Maybe send them a message or say hello?”
Every week we have the same conversation. I am getting sick of the repetition with some of my patients. They do not want help. All they want is someone to listen to their complaints. And, since their health insurance covers these dreadful appointments, they still show up like clockwork.
“Well…no.” He shrugs. “I tried it.”
“No, you didn’t.” My anger with Drew radiates off me in waves. “Making a page is not enough. You have to follow through, post a picture, tell them about yourself, and then send them a message. We have gone over this, Drew.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Look at you.” He points his index finger in my direction. “I’m sure you have no problem getting a date, yet you’re not married. So, who are you to dish it out when you don’t even practice what you preach?”
“Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean a thing.” My teeth clench along with my fists. I have had all I can take of Drew and his nonsense. “I am unmarried by choice. Unlike you, I have no problem with women or getting it up. So, you see, your logic is flawed. Worry about yourself and your own problems. We’re not here to discuss my love life. We are here to discuss your lack of.”
“No, let’s talk about you, Doc.” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table to get comfortable, staring me down with a devious look.
Fuck this shit.
“This isn’t the movie Good Will Hunting. We’re not having a discussion about my life when you are here to talk about yourself and why you can’t have sex with a woman unless she’s on a screen.” I come to a standing and walk over to my desk to drop my notepad. “I think it’s about time you see another doctor. I have a few therapists I can refer you to in the city. We are not a good fit. You don’t take my advice, and the treatment is not working because of your lack of intent.”
“But you’re a doctor. You’re supposed to sit here and listen to my problems. That’s what I pay you for.”
With the pen in my hand, I scribble a few names of doctors here in downtown Philly onto my stationary and rip the page from the pad with a loud tear. “That is where you are wrong, Drew. I see no reason why you can’t find a girl to have sex with in person other than your lack of desire to find one. You are perfectly content with getting off to a porn star because you are too afraid to speak to a woman, and there is no medical diagnosis for that. Grow a pair, and your problem will go away. It’s that simple. If you are looking for someone to talk to every week, then I think you are better suited to one of the psychologists on this paper.”
I hand him the list, and he accepts it, keeping his eyes pointed down at the ground. He’s ashamed, and he should be. The fucker wasted both of our times for far too long. I have had enough.
A knock on the door is a welcome relief from the awkwardness in the room. Alexa, my secretary, steps into the room, leaving the door ajar. She’s planning to quit at the end of the week. Too bad because Alexa’s hot as hell and that Southern accent makes my dick hard when she speaks. She ignores all my advances, pretends I am joking. I guess you could say I sexually harass her, but she’s unfazed by it all.
“Dr. King, your next appointment is here,” she says in that Southern twang I love.
When I interviewed Alexa, I got excited about the promise of bending her over my desk. Even though I knew her stay in the city was not permanent, I hired her on the spot. Too bad no amount of convincing worked on her. She showed zero interest in me from the start, despite all my attempts. I should have hired
someone else, knowing she was only here for a few months, but secretaries come and go in this office.
Drew gets up from the couch and blows past Alexa in a huff, his cheeks puffed out in anger. He doesn’t say another word, which suits us just fine.
“Got rid of another one, I see,” Alexa says with a wicked smile.
I shrug. “You hated Drew.”
“Hate is a strong word. But I am glad to see Drew go. He was wasting your time.”
I sit down at my desk, and Alexa follows me, standing over me. Her breasts are spilling out from a tight black top that is not helping me when all I can think of is bending her over my knee to spank her ass. Only a few more days until she’s gone, out of my sight, and done taunting me.
I turn away from her, pretending to shuffle through the notes on my desk that are just random crap I forgot to add to patient’s files. “Who’s my next appointment with?”
“It’s not a patient. You said you wanted to interview my replacement.”
I wave her off. “You should do it. I trust your judgment.”
She leans over me, the scent of her flowery perfume trapped in my nostrils. “No, I think you should at least meet this one before I take her out for a test drive. The last three you didn’t like from the start. What if you have the same issues with this girl?”
Glancing up from my notes, I do my best not to stare at her cleavage. Her tits are hard to miss, so my eyes fall there first out of habit. I will miss her perky tits when she’s gone. Alexa’s chest has given me a lot to jerk off to over the last few months.
“It’s comments like these that I will miss when you are gone.”
“Stop speaking to chest my chest, Dr. King.” She lifts my chin with her index finger until our eyes meet. “My eyes are up here.”
I sit back and slide my chair away from her to give us some distance. We need it. Before she leaves this office for good, I need to fuck her on my desk and give her a farewell present she will never forget. If only she would submit to me just once. She has dangled the bait in front of me for too long. Alexa owes me a severance fuck.
Sex Therapy Page 4
