My Favorite Client

“You’re so messed up,” Kat scolded me when I told her that I had fooled around with Nate. “That is not what the therapist’s couch is for. But of course, you’ve decided not to be his therapist any more, right?”

I started to twirl a lock of hair around my finger, a nervous habit that she spotted off the bat. “Oh god, you’re still his therapist.”

“It’s not that easy to leave. It would be like dumping him, which could set his therapy back by months. This is actually working.”

“In what universe?” 

So I proceeded to tell her about the events of the day before, starting with what happened after my blouse inexplicably dropped to the floor.

I had to admit that I half-way expected Nate to be rather mediocre in bed. Yes, he’s amazingly attractive, but I couldn’t simply forget the fact that he was seeking therapy because his wife wouldn’t have sex with him. Call me naive, but I just thought that if you’re married to someone and the sex is good, then you would jump them every moment you’re alone.

I soon learned that the lack of sex going on in Nate’s home had nothing to do with his prowess. And so I continued to lie to myself -- willing myself to believe that these depraved acts with my client were giving me insight into his problems. Sexually proficient. Check. Yay me, I could now successfully cross that one off my list of questions.

At first his moves were tentative, but that only added to my desire. His touch wasn’t demanding like Adam’s; it was soft and slow, making me hot beyond my wildest dreams and craving that we take our relationship to a decidedly more personal level.

“Tell me how you like to be touched,” he whispered in my ear as he ran his hand along the inside of my thigh, touching the front of my panties and then daring to move the thin, lacy fabric aside when he felt me getting wet. He teased me by skimming his hand lightly over my pussy. God how I wanted him to move his hand inside me. 

My breath was rapid, but he was totally in control of himself. His mouth delivered light kisses down my neck as his hand moved gently over me with feather-like touches. This was going on too long. I asked him, rather I begged him to touch me there because I couldn’t stand it any longer.  

And when he obliged my request, he did so with deft expertise, moving his finger slowly inside me and then crooking the tip of it so that it massaged my g-spot making me cum immediately. 

“Oh my. I totally didn’t expect that,” I said breathlessly afterwards.

“You didn’t think I was capable?”

“That’s not what I meant. It just happened so fast.”

He kissed me sweetly. “Wait ‘til I’m inside you. You’ll be happy to know that I don’t suffer from that affliction.” 

Is there any doubt that he’s my favorite client? 

Intervention Intention

When I returned home from the dinner with Adam that had turned into serving me for dessert, a message from Kat awaited me. She asked me to meet for a girls’ coffee date the next day because apparently Ashton was suffering from post coital blues after a date that was supposed to remain platonic.

“She had every intention of being a ‘good girl,’” Kat said making the quote marks in the air with her fingers, “but somehow it ended up with her taking off her top and...well, you know what happens next.”

“That just doesn’t sound like Ashton. So where is she?”

Kat indicated the bathroom of the Starbucks where Ashton was just coming out wearing a pair of black AnnTaylor leggings, a white silk blouse and a new Marc Jacobs bag. In a word, she looked perfect, not at all the mess that Kat had described. Ashton sat down and smiled warmly at me. 

“Kat told me,” I said sympathetically. “Maybe it will turn into something.”

Ashton took my hand. “Actually Mia, I’m fine. I didn’t even go out last night. But, I understand that you did, and well, Kat and I are worried about you.”

The reality of the situation dawned on me. “Wait a minute. Is this an intervention?” The two of them nodded. “This is unbelievable. I’m a therapist. Besides, you two are the ones who said, "Get over your cheating ex-husband; have some mindless sex, blah blah blah." What was that all about?”

“It was meant to get you out of the house and maybe let loose once in awhile, not sleep with someone like Adam, a man who is so depraved that he is coaching you on how to sleep with one of your clients," Kat answered. 

"Yes, and just so he can get off on the stories," Ashton added.

I hated it, but they were right. Adam's pull on me was becoming dangerous. I could lose my license if I slept with Nate. Thankfully, I hadn’t...yet. But the thought of it was all consuming. I understood his pain and his need to connect, but most of all, I just felt undeniable desire for him. 

“I know,” I said resigned. “Adam is incredibly sexy and I can’t believe the hold he has on me. I end up doing things I shouldn’t, but that hasn’t included sleeping with Nate. I’m good.”

“Really?” Kat asked, searching my face for any sign that I was still desperate to jump my client.

“As it happens, he’s my first appointment of the day. I’ll just tell him that we need to get back to him sitting on the couch and me safely tucked behind my desk. No funny business.”

I hugged my friends, thanked them for caring and left to have the talk with Nate.

What is it they say about the best laid intentions? I chock it up to overactive pheromones or maybe the fact that he smelled so good and looked even better. Nate must have sensed my mind thinking overtime about having sex with him because he walked into my office for his appointment, but remained silent. Our communication was reduced to a lustful stare that he bore into my eyes, making my stomach growl low with a hunger that I couldn't ignore. There was no talk about how he was broken, how his ex had hurt him; gone was the man who  needed my sympathy. It was replaced by something else that he needed. 

And I felt it too. I needed someone who could give without taking so much in return. Someone who would love me not just with their body, but with their whole being.

Nate strode to my side of the desk, never removing his gaze from my eyes. And when he reached me, my heart was beating fiercely. He took my head in his hands and pulled me in for the kiss I had never expected. Passionate, full of promise, and long awaited.

“I’ve been thinking about my treatment,” he whispered, his mouth just inches from mine. “I need something more.” We kissed again and as we were lip-locked, he pulled me up from my chair, lifted me into his arms in one swift move and carried me to the couch, never once letting his lips leave mine. 

His fingers moved to the buttons of my blouse. “Wait,” I said with every ounce of willpower in my soul. “If you undo those, then this might progress to where you don’t want it to.”

A low laugh escaped him and he stopped long enough to look me once more. “Don’t you worry about that.”

I sat up just to be certain that he had thought this through. “So you’re sure about this?”

Nate smiled, pushed me back down and proceeded to undo the rest of those damn buttons.