Filthy Doctor(170)

Now, his face was strangely grim, and she found herself precariously close to hoping that he was handing her a breakup note. But instead he handed her a box: four chocolates from Godiva, and a rose. “Happy belated birthday,” he said, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

She blinked, surprised, and let him in. It was the least she could do, given that he seemed disinclined to make a fuss about her masturbating in front of a crowd last night. She at least owed him a civil breakup, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel bad about it. He’d done nothing wrong, after all. He’d agreed to wait until she was ready for sex—he planned interesting and fun dates, and when they hit the dance floors together she could tell that the passion between them was real. His touch was certain yet delicate, and his body felt sensuous and strong against hers when they danced together—but he’d never been one for true public affection, and while they got hot and horny on the dance floor, the ardor never translated into their private moments.

“I heard about last night,” he said, as she set a glass of water down in front of him. He was more disciplined than she was: no booze, no sugar, only whole grains if he had to have carbs. “That must have been interesting.”

“Look,” she said. “I know you mean well. I like you, I really do—you’re a great guy and one day you’ll make the right girl—”

“You are the right girl,” he said. “Don’t you feel it?”

She didn’t say anything. They’d started out romantically enough, but lately, she’d found herself getting frustrated with the way he touched her. It had been one thing when they were first dating—she could forgive a few clumsy advances—but it was six months and he still hadn’t figure out that treating her nipples like the joysticks of an X-Box simply didn’t do it for her. She’d given him blow jobs that had him coming so hard and so much it looked as if she were frothing at the mouth, and tried to show him the kind of touches that would turn her on. For some reason, as gifted as he was at commanding the stage, though, he never quite managed to figure out how to please her, and after last night, she’d come to the realization that she didn’t need a man to make her feel like a woman.

“Honestly, Cal—you’re a great guy, but you just don’t do it for me,” she said.

“And you think you can get off for the rest of your life with vibrators?” he snapped.

She flushed. After what had happened last night, she’d taken the dance floor with Stella, and the feel of Stella’s hands on her breasts, gently squeezing as Stella guided her to follow along with her movements, had awakened an awareness in her about what it meant to be touched. Alisha, up until last night, had been willing to accept that one night she would get drunk enough and Calvin would touch her and she would simply accept sex with him because he was her boyfriend. But now—now that she understood what it meant to be touch and be touched, and the power behind a single finger, carefully placed, simply accepting that he would fumble at her while she moaned and groaned and pretended to enjoy it seemed like sacrilege. She couldn’t lie to him or herself anymore: she was ready for sex, just not with him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, now. “That was uncalled for.”

“I know I can’t get off with you,” she said, finally.

That took him back. “What—what do you mean?” he asked. “We’re great together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “but the way you go about touching me—it just gives me the creeps—”

“I’m not the one stripping you naked in front of a crowd—”

“I’d let you if it meant you could make me feel—like that,” she said, remembering how powerful, serene, and beautiful she felt, especially when she’d caught the eyes of the women that had been there. “I need to feel like a woman, Calvin, not like a sex toy.”

That stunned him into silence, and she could see the tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she began, but he wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand and said, “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I never understood what you needed. Please, just give me a chance to learn what to do, and I swear, I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.”

She’d never expected to hear that from him. Some begging, sure—all of her previous boyfriends had begged her not to break it off, and some of them had even asked for a last chance. But Calvin was so sincere about it—and she’d be lying to deny that she wasn’t touched by it.

Damn it, she thought, because she could feel her own eyes welling with tears and her vision go blurry as she realized that it she owed him one more chance. Because they did fit well together—that was indisputable. And Calvin genuinely loved her—she could see it in his eyes, now, and the look brought her back to the times when they’d danced together, so perfectly in sync, his touch real and passionate. He could make her happy—and she owed him the chance to prove it.

“All right,” she said, finally. “But we’ve got to see someone,” she added.

He drew away from her. “Really?” he asked.

“Look, you’ve had six months—if you haven’t figured it out by now you’re not going to, and damn it, I want you to figure it out,” she said.

He bit his lip and nodded. “All right, fair enough,” he said. “But I get to pick. Since I’m the one with the issues about doing it in front of people.”

She had to smile at his squeamishness—he couldn’t even say “sex” without blushing. “All right,” she said, kissing him. Her oven timer went off, a little bell that pulled her out of the drama that she was wrapped in. “Stella’s late,” she said. “Want to stay for dinner?”



A week passed, a week where Stella came over to help her pick out a vibrator and show her how to use it. She lay in her bed after the sessions. Stella would insist that she be naked, and while Alisha was sure it was entirely for her own gratification, the feel of Stella’s hands on her breasts how gently her fingers parted the folds between her legs were so gentle and loving she didn’t mind being used. And when she felt the vibrator slide inside her and her body close around it as she flipped it on she was sent back to that night in the club, feeling the hungry eyes of the crowd on her as they eyed her body and licked her lips, men and women alike. There had been a feeling of intimacy, as if she was sharing her pleasure with those men and only those men—as she felt the pressure build inside her she remembered the way Calvin touched her when they danced, how certain he could be. And when her body gave in—when the fireworks in her head exploded and all she could see was stars and her body felt like one big puddle of pleasure as it clenched around the vibrator again—it was with a longing for that passion to be made real.

“I’ve got an appointment,” Calvin had told her. “Saturday. With a licensed sex therapist.”

“There is a such a thing?” she’d asked.

He’d shrugged. “You can find out a lot if you just ask around.”

So now she was waiting outside her apartment for Calvin to come pick her up. He had a car—or rather, his parents had given him their old one—and she was looking for the old green Chrysler, acutely aware that, even though she was modestly dressed in a floral, knee-length dress with a cardigan and ballet flats, she was getting stares from drivers wondering if she was a hooker. It would be just her luck if a cop pulled up and asked her if she was waiting for someone. They probably heard, “I’m waiting for my boyfriend,” all the time.

Luckily, Calvin pulled up before a cop did. She got in quickly, before she attracted any more stairs. “So where are we going?” she asked.

Calvin said, “Somewhere in Harris.”

“Harris?” Harris was the richest county in the area, the kind of place where shopping at Whole Foods was the norm and everybody drove a BMW. “Jesus, how much are you paying this guy?”

Calvin cocked his head at her and said, “Actually, they said they’d do it for free.”

She laughed nervously. “You’ve got to be kidding. I know you’re charming and all but you can’t be that good.”

“Hell if I can figure out why,” he said. “At first I thought that maybe they’d want a video of our session but he assured me they don’t do video unless it’s a turn-on for both partners.”

“Is it a turn-on for you?” she asked, teasing him now.

He blushed and ducked his head in that cute and charming way he had, and for a moment she was able to forget the frustration of the last six months, the needs that had gone unsated, the desires that she’d only recently been able to figure out how to quell, but she couldn’t quench them, not entirely. She wanted to be touched by him—she wanted him to make her feel the way Stella did.

The house they drove up to was at the top of a hill, on a long and winding driveway. A valet met them at the door and took the keys to Calvin’s car and drove it to a long garage at the bottom of the hill. The garage had six doors—one of them was open, and he parked it there. Alisha was still trying to get used to the idea that some people had six cars when the front door opened and her stepbrother opened it.