Audrey Exposed

by Queen, Roxy

  On Friday, after our session, I see an additional note and read it aloud. Audrey, for the next phase of therapy, please wear a tank top and shorts to your next session—Dr. M.

  “So we’re moving to skin contact?” she asks, looking a little giddy. The tips of her ears flame red.

  “Looks like it. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes. I’m kind of excited.”

  I don’t hold back my smile. “Me, too.”

  Chapter 9

  (Audrey)

  Monday rolls around and I’ve brought clothes to change into. In the bathroom, I remove my work clothes, hanging them on a hook behind the door. I slip a purple tank top over my bra and cotton shorts over my panties. Pausing at the mirror, I take a quick once-over and rake through my hair with my fingers before twisting it up in a knot.

  Graham gives me a wide grin when I enter the living area.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You look cute.”

  I glance down at my clothes and pretend I’m not blushing. “Thanks. I feel a little underdressed, comparably.”

  “That’s fair. How about next time I wear something similar?”

  “You have a purple tank top?”

  He laughs. “No. Pink.”

  His comment is silly, but it makes me consider something I haven’t thought about before. Is Graham gay? Does that make this easier for him? If so, would he be willing to be so intimate with a woman? He did say I looked cute. Not hot, but cute. While he turns on the music and adjusts the lights, I lie on the bench, thinking about it. He has never given me any sort of vibe. But then, what do I know? Ultimately, I figure, it doesn’t matter about his sexual orientation, but it may make things less complicated for us if he is gay.

  Graham kneels beside me and says, “Today, I’ll massage your arms and legs. I’ll also massage your neck and covered lower back and butt.”

  I push up on my elbows and look at him. “My butt?”

  “Yes, it’s time to move forward; and exposing your sensitive, more sexual areas is necessary.”

  I try to figure out how I feel about this. Pounding heart? Yes. Anxious stomach? Definitely. Slightly turned on? Ugh. I admit it. Graham’s just very good with his hands; he makes me feel things, things that lead to things that cause absolute anxiety. I lie back down and say in my most convincing voice, “I’m ready.”

  Graham starts his massage at the center of my back, slowly working from the covered part of my back out to the exposed areas. My skin itches in anticipation. It’s been weeks now of taunting and teasing; and as he runs his hands over my back, I find myself more excited than scared. The instant his hands graze over my skin, I inhale sharply. Electricity rolls across my body; and it feels so good, as though I’ve been depriving myself of this for too long.

  I breathe in and out, enjoying the moment. No anxiety. No stress. Maybe the whole experiment will be this easy. I just needed to go a little slower, baby steps. Turning my head, I peek up at Graham and catch his eye. He smiles. I smile back.

  Then, he gropes my ass.

  My eyes pop wide open and I jump on the bench, yelping in surprise. He doesn’t alter his position, though. Instead, he continues to squeeze and knead the softer flesh on my butt. His hands run up and down the sides of my hips, brushing against my calves, and drifting toward the sides of my boobs. My heart is pounding and my brain starts spinning. Everything he does feels good. Too good.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I nod in return. My easy breaths have stopped and my hands clench into small fists. Graham attempts to smooth them out, taking each finger into his hands and rubbing them gently. The minute he’s finished, I ball them up again.

  “Use your voice, Audrey. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I am. Really. Just adapting.”

  “Good.”

  The massage continues for a while longer; but unlike the other times, I can’t fully relax. A man, I don’t really know and that I plan to be intimate with is touching my ass and has come really, really close to my boob. The music ends and that’s when I finally take a full breath. I sit up and that’s when I notice how hard my nipples are, poking against the thin material of my shirt. I cross my arms and look away.

  Graham sits on the floor in front of me, and I peek over, seeing the line of worry creased between his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s just weird, I guess.”

  “Weird?”

  “You. Touching my…butt. Ass. You got really near my boob, too.”

  He nods. “And that was weird for you?”

  “Yes.” I look over his shoulder, away from his eyes. “It just makes me uncomfortable. Sex makes me uncomfortable. The idea of it. Talking about it. Thinking about it. Failure looms ahead at all times.”

  “But you haven’t been failing. You’ve been very successful with the exposure so far.”

  I roll my eyes. “We haven’t really done anything; and the moment you get near my ass, I freak out.”

  “You didn’t run away or anything.”

  “No. But inside I was crumbling.”

  His eyes light up. “Okay, tell me why.”

  “If I let you touch my ass, then you’ll want to really touch my boobs. Then you’ll want to see me naked. Then you’ll want to be naked, and then,” I point between his legs with a shaky finger. “That thing will come out after me, my vagina will have a panic attack, and we’ll be back at square one, which is that I’m an absolute fucking failure.”

  Using the bottom of my shirt, I wipe my eyes and nose. Graham moves closer. Kneeling before me, he takes my hand. “We’re going to beat this anxiety, Audrey. I promise you.”

  “You can’t promise that. It’s my problem, not yours. Trust me; you’re going to get tired of how long this takes. Every other guy has.”

  “Fair enough. What I can promise you is that I will always take care of you. I will be gentle and kind. I will follow your lead and remain patient until we figure this out.”

  “What if it takes longer than Dr. Markson anticipates?”

  He shrugs. “Unlike one of your boyfriends, this is my job. I’m here for you, not myself.”

  I’d never thought of it like that. Or about how this is a job for Graham. I’m his client as much as I’m Dr. Markson’s. They both work for me and I’m the one in control. The idea makes me feel better and I offer him a smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I stand to go to the bathroom and change. “You know I’m going to do this more and more as we go forward.”

  “What? Freak out?” he laughs.

  “Freak out. Cry. Panic. Second guess.”

  “We’ll take it one step at a time,” he says, looking completely unfazed. “And no matter what, I’ll be here.”

  Chapter 10

  (Audrey)

  “How are things going with Graham?” Dr. Markson asks from her chair across from mine. Her pad of paper is on her lap and a pen poised in her hand.

  “Good, I guess. I’m not really sure what to expect.”

  “Do you find him comfortable to work with?”

  “Yes, he’s been great. Very understanding. He’s an excellent masseuse.” I smile, thinking about his hands.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it’s going well. You’ve worked through several levels of exposure quickly, which is what I expected from your history. From here on, though, things will get a little more intense. Do you have any concerns?”

  I shift in my seat. “No, I guess not. I mean, I’m a little nervous about what happens from here going forward. Being undressed and being touched.”

  “One thing to remember about the exposure therapy is that because you and Graham have no romantic or emotional attachment to one another, there’s no judgment on your looks or behavior. You can’t disappoint him. He’s under strict instructions as to how to proceed and everything is part of the experiment. It’s okay for you to be scared or nervous. It’s expected.”

  “Should I
tell him if I’m scared?”

  “Absolutely,” she says. “Would you agree that much of your anxiety comes from a feeling of mistrust?”

  The tightening in my stomach reveals my answer. “Yes.”

  She flips through her note pad and frowns slightly. “Do you know when this started? What originally made you feel unsafe?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’ve thought about it a million times. I never realized anything was wrong, until it all just sort of fell apart when I tried to have sex the first time.”

  “There had to be a time when your friends became sexually active. How did that make you feel?”

  “One of my best friends had sex when we were in the 8th grade. I thought she was too young. I also thought her boyfriend was a creep. They broke up afterward and I expected her to be upset; but she said she just wanted to get it over with.” I stare down at my dress and spread the fabric smooth. “I guess losing my virginity seemed like a bigger deal than getting it over with; except when the time came, it wasn’t so easy, even though Max was nice and I think he loved me.”

  “What happened with you and your friend after that?”

  “Mary and I had been friends since kindergarten. We stayed friends; but after that, everything about her seemed so hyper-sexualized and it felt like all she talked about was sex.”

  “Which only increased your anxiety, I would assume?”

  “Yeah,” I say, looking down at my lap. These memories make me uncomfortable and I do my best to avoid them.

  “Was she sexually active after that?”

  “Yes, she had several boyfriends, one in particular who was terrible. She had several pregnancy scares because of some strange refusal to use birth control.”

  “That is strange.”

  “I know. I never could figure it out. Everything about it seemed really stressful.”

  “What about other friends?”

  “Some had boyfriends and others didn’t. I knew a couple girls that had sex early on in high school; and they either seemed to regret it or ended up with all kinds of break-up drama.” I make a face at the memory. Everyone was so stupid back then.

  Dr. Markson laughs. “You don’t approve of high school drama?”

  “No. Not really. Stand by your choices, you know?”

  “Teenagers aren’t usually known for making well-informed decisions, especially when their hormones are involved.”

  “Well, they should. It’s not like it’s complicated,” I snap. “Sorry. I just really hate stupid people who make stupid, emotional decisions. That’s the reason I’m not friends with them anymore.”

  “It’s understandable. You watched your friends make mistake after mistake, which of course, is their prerogative. But it’s scary seeing people you care about have broken hearts or act dangerously. I can see how it would make you want to protect yourself in a way they hadn’t.”

  I nod, feeling relief that someone understands what I felt during that time. I wasn’t judging them. I just worried about them. Several fat tears roll down my cheeks, a physical reminder of the anxiety that has built up inside me. I brush them away.

  Dr. Markson checks her watch and says, “Our time is up for today. I’ll see you in two weeks unless you have an emergency.”

  I leave the office after making my follow-up appointment. I’ve just pressed the down button when I hear someone call, “Hold up!”

  I stop the elevator and Graham pops his head in the open door. “Audrey!” he says. He’s out of breath from sprinting down the hall. He frowns when he sees my face and touches my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, through a stuffed nose and watery eyes. “Just therapy, you know?”

  He nods and squeezes my arm before releasing it. We enter the elevator and Graham presses the down button. A tense silence hovers between us, only broken up by my sniffing. The elevator dings and just before the door opens, he says, “Wait.”

  “Yeah?”

  Graham lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes away the tears on my cheeks. He smiles and says, “That’s better.”

  The doors open to the lobby. He lets me exit first.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Of course.”

  We stand awkwardly for a moment. Are things really different outside the office? Outside our protective bubble? What will it be like when we’ve seen each other naked? “Have a good weekend, Audrey,” he eventually says. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Yes, Monday.”

  We both walk off in opposite directions, him to whatever life he has outside all of this, and me, into the sun with dry cheeks.

  Chapter 11

  (Graham)

  Silver, with a flash of red, sails through the air. It lands with a solid thud on the corkboard. “Damn.” I shake my head.

  Dave gives me a smug grin. “At least, you hit the inner ring.”

  “Not enough to win.”

  He sets his stance and weighs his darts. He eyes the target and throws. No thud, no anything. Just perfect. “Bastard.”

  “I’ll take a Blue Moon,” he says, already claiming his winnings.

  “You got it.”

  The bar’s crowded, even for a Thursday night. I lean on the edge, keeping an eye on the flat screen mounted to the wall. Baseball season started a week ago. The Braves have two men on base. “Knock it out,” I say to no one in particular, thinking the batter can get at least one home. I feel a soft hand on my arm. I look down into a pair of familiar bright blue eyes.

  “Hey, babe,” Janelle says, the glint unmistakable in her eyes. “How are you?”

  I glance around the room. Janelle’s short; but her blonde hair, tight skirt, and giant tits make her pretty noticeable. Sure enough, two guys at the bar are checking her out. Janelle is one of my clients, was one of my clients. Her husband is an anthropologist studying in Egypt for six months; and everyone that knows them, marvel at how they’re a perfect example of the nerdy guy with a hot woman. It all works until the nerd gets too focused on finding ancient artifacts, leaving his wife, desperate and lonely. That’s where I come in. “I’m fine. You?”

  “I’m doing okay,” she says, but I see the pout forming. “It’s been a long time. I miss seeing you.”

  “School’s taking up a lot of time lately.”

  “Just school?” She moves closer, rubbing her leg against mine.

  “Graduate program, remember? I told you about it. It’s a bitch.”

  She bites her bottom lip and toys with the button between her breasts. “I miss being your bitch.”

  God, she likes to play dirty and I sort of miss it. My dick, pulsing in my shorts, really misses it. It’s been weeks, and I’ve never gone this long without being with a woman. My hand just isn’t the same.

  “Don’t talk like that,” I say, glancing around. No one’s listening. They’re either watching the game or looking at Janelle’s tits.

  “It’s your fault, baby, leaving me high and dry like that. I came down here looking for something to help work off a little frustration.”

  Working for Dr. Markson has been a total lifestyle change for me. I met with my clients one by one to tell them I was on a sabbatical until I graduate. Most have been okay with it, and I even had several nice, sexy goodbyes. Margaret’s biding her time until I’m finished; having booked me first thing once the experiment is over. April threw a vase. Janelle? She didn’t buy it then; and from the way she’s rubbing against me, I’m not sure she’s buying it now. To be fair, if I could, I’d drag her to the alley behind the bar. Janelle loves giving head. She’d cure me of these blue balls before the Braves get up to their next bat.

  However, that’s not happening. At least that’s what I remind myself as I say, “Call me in a couple months.” I gesture to the bartender and order two Blue Moons. “My schedule should be clear by then.”

  “Summer?”

  “It’s nice to see you, Janelle.” I lean down to give her a quick kiss. She wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me
closer, pushing her tongue in my mouth. I’m not going to hurt her feelings or offend her, so I let it happen. I may be busy with work now, but I have no interest in losing my hard-earned client list.

  “I’ve got that,” she says, pointing to the two beers the bartender just pushed my way.

  “Thanks.” I wink and give her my best smile.

  I set the beer in front of Dave and he says, “Who was that?”

  “That was Janelle.”

  He looks over at the bar and checks out the woman I’ve talked so much about. “Your Tuesday night? She’s the one whose husband is out of town for six months?”

  “Yeah, poor bastard.” I tip the bottle to my lips and wash the taste of her out of my mouth. “And former Tuesday night, I’m a one woman guy now.”

  Dave shudders. “Don’t talk about Dr. Markson like that.”

  I laugh but leave the joke. Dave’s in my program and knows that I’m working closely with our professor on a long-term project. That’s all he knows other than the fact I’ve cut back on my dates to focus. “She’s an inspired professor,” I say. “Very cutting edge.”

  “She’d have to be for you to give up the cash cow.” His eyes light up. “Maybe I should fill in for you until you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

  I shoot him a hard look. “No.”

  “Why not? I lay pipe as good as anyone else.”

  I shake my head. “Being an escort isn’t about laying pipe. Not all the time, at least. It’s not just about having sex. It’s about giving your date what she needs.”

  “Which sometimes a good fuck is exactly what she needs,” Dave says, nodding across the room to where Janelle leans against some guy. His hand cups her ass and something about it makes me uncomfortable.

  “Sometimes, yes, but you wouldn’t believe the number of times I had to listen to her cry about being alone, and how her husband loves his job more than he loves her. Or, Jesus, the women who have all kinds of insecurities or the women who are so tired of being dominated that they just want to dominate someone in return.”