Filthy Doctor(172)

The three of them left the room, and Calvin leaned back in his chair, deflated. “Shit,” he breathed. “I don’t think I can do anything more after a conversation like that.”

“Me neither,” she said. “I had no idea you felt that way,” she added.

“It’s not something I usually get into with the girls I date,” he said. “You were right—we needed to see someone. Still not sure how I feel about them being your stepbrothers, though.”

“They’re a recent addition to my family,” she said. “It’s not like we grew up together or anything.”

“Still, it’s just weird.”

She nodded. For the first hour it’d been possible to treat it like any other couple’s therapy session, in as much as she knew what they were supposed to be like. Sol had been quietly professional in the questions he asked, prefacing the truly personal ones with, “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me.” Now they were rapidly approaching the time for the therapy rooms—and she wondered what they would look like: the dungeon from Fifty Shades of Gray? Or some elaborate nineteenth-century boudoir? And what would they do? Would Sol be touching her? She didn’t mind Stella, but Sol was her stepbrother—there was some kind of line, wasn’t there?

Altaire came in, carrying two stacks of towels and robes. “For this part of the therapy session we’re going to ask you to bathe each other. This is a typical aspect of foreplay that you might do with each other, even in the absence of a luxurious house. You might choose to get a room in a hotel, for example.” He handed one to each of them and began heading down the hall, up the sweeping spiral stairs, and down another hall. “Calvin, you, for instance, might take a few minutes each day to prepare for the weekend—get your candles and scents on Monday, for example, set aside your fluffiest towels on Tuesday, clean the bedroom on Wednesday—you get the picture. And you, Alisha, might start stoking the flames of desire a little: send him pictures showing a little cleavage, arrange his lunch in a suggestive manner when you meet for lunch, tell him about a particular fantasy, that sort of thing.”

“Do you have the Cliff notes?” asked Calvin.

“That’s why we have you do this,” said Mars, who stepped out of a room and held open the door for them. They stepped inside, into an enormous, almost palatial bathroom, compared to the cramped showers that were six inches from the toilet that were in their respective apartments. The room was white, except for the curtains and the candles, which were the boldest, most-brilliant aquamarine blue, and a side table, which was starkly black. The room was scented with the crisp, clean scent, one that she couldn’t quite place, but for some reason it reminded her of the ocean.

“It’s not exactly rocket science,” said Altaire. “Please,” he gestured to the table. Alisha and Calvin laid their towels and robes down on it.

There was an awkward moment where they stood waiting for the brothers to leave, until Altaire said, “Oh, I see. You think we’re going to leave you—no.”

Mars picked up Calvin’s wrists. “Relax,” he intoned, as he lifted Calvin’s arms. Calvin dropped his shoulders automatically, and let Mars guide his hands over to Alisha. “Undress her,” he said.

“I’m not wearing—” Alisha began, but Altaire put his finger over her lips. “Your job is to experience this,” he said, turning her so that her back was to Calvin.

“Touch,” Mars said, and on one shoulder she felt Mars’ massive hand engulf her collarbone, while Calvin’s wispy touch settled on her other shoulder. “No,” Mars said. “Remember, she wants to please you—we’ve established that. You have to show her what you want her to feel.”

“Strength,” said Altaire, reaching around her and moving Calvin’s hand to her waist. “Feel her breathing. Let it flow into yours. Feel her, sense how strong she is—give her what you want her to be.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” said Calvin.

“She will give you what you give her,” said Mars, as he began to squeeze her shoulder, and she could feel the strength in his hands seeking out the bones of her body. “Like this,” and she felt Calvin’s hand squeeze her shoulder, as he’d always tried to do—but it was different this time. This time the pressure didn’t come from his fingers, it came from his hand, and this time she could feel the muscles in her shoulder giving in to his touch, her body revealing its strength to him—and the gasp of surprise when she moaned softly. Mars’ hand disappeared from her shoulder. In the mirror, he’d moved behind Calvin.

“Touch,” Altaire said, now, as he came around behind her and ran the back of his hand down her spine. “This is the most direct path to her mind. So what you give here, she feels a hundred percent, here,” he said, touching the top of her head with his finger, and then he pressed his palm against her breast, over her heart. “And here.”

“What do you want me to do?” Alisha asked, as Calvin ran his hand down her spine, with a firmer touch than what Altaire had done. It awakened a tingling warmth in her spine, and she could feel his fingers working the zipper of her dress down her back.

“Just wait,” said Mars. “He needs to see you change, remember? So you just have to be, until he changes you.”

Calvin’s hand on her waist became firm, and Mars said, “Yes, that’s right,” as her body pushed against his hand, the resistance foreshadowing a taste of what was to come. She looked up and saw Mars’ hand on Calvin’s waist. There was something about that sight that turned her on.

“Now,” came Altaire’s voice. “Both hands—open her.”

She felt Calvin’s slim bony hands butterfly open on her shoulder blades, and he slid her dress of her shoulders with a single, smooth push. Altaire helped tug the dress over her hips, and the fabric puddled on the floor. “Both hands,” Altaire repeated, and Calvin’s hands slid down to her hips and worked her panties over her hips, then back up and she felt her bra come loose, before it, too, joined the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Mirroring everything that Mars was doing to him.

She had been facing the mirror—she’d seen her naked body reflected back at her enough not to be surprised at it, but what did surprise her was Calvin’s face behind hers, and the longing in his eyes as he reached his hand around her and took her breast in his hand, using the same cupping motion that Mars had taught him on her shoulder, and for the first time she felt warmth instead of cold, she wanted more instead of less—she desired instead of tolerated.

“Not yet,” said Sol, as he came in. He’d changed into a tank top and loose pants, showing off his bulging biceps. He turned her around to face Calvin, and she felt his hand on her ass as he pushed them together, so that their bodies just touched. “You want her to anticipate, not to be gratified. This is just the beginning. Now, look into her eyes,” Sol said. “Remember what you felt when you told me about your desires. Kiss her with that feeling.”

Calvin turned her around and began to kiss her, more deeply and sensuously than she’d thought he was capable of. His lips didn’t quiver this time—they were as sure as Stella’s had been that first time, teasing her with gentle tugs, his tongue coaxing the first swell of pleasure out of the depths of her being. When he broke away the only thing she wanted for him to keep going, and as Sol and Mars eased them into the water she found herself thinking only of what was to come.

The water was warm and Sol and Altaire and Mars gathered around them. Altaire and Mars removed their suit jackets—they were wearing sleeveless shirts underneath—and reached into the water, guiding Alisha’s and Calvin’s hands to each other’s bodies. Altaire showed Calvin how to fondle her breasts so that she craved his touch, how to gently ghost his finger over her nipple to send shudders down her spine, right into her pussy. Sol traced his hand down Calvin’s chest side-by-side with her hand; when they reached his cock Sol wrapped her fingers around him, one at a time, and as he moved her hand up and down, slowly, pinching her fingers slightly tighter at the beginning and end of each stroke, Calvin’s face took on a look of pure wonder. I did this, she thought—and her stomach fluttered at the idea that she had that kind of power inside her.

Sol’s fingers were toying with the skin on the inside of her thighs as she leaned into Calvin for a kiss—and found herself kissing Altaire, instead. For a moment she was taken aback, too caught up in the pleasure of the kiss to stop, too guilty wondering what Calvin would think to continue. But then Calvin reached for her face and turned it to Altaire, and she felt Calvin kissing her breasts, his tongue making luxurious circles around her nipples, setting off fireworks inside her belly.

“Now,” whispered Sol, placing two sponges in their hands. “Bathe each other.”

Mars drew her up to her feet, and Calvin, reached up and ran the loofah over her breasts, around her belly. Something about the way the water trickled down her body made her want to move, but Sol’s hands around her hips kept her still. She ran her sponge over Calvin’s face—and Altaire ran his fingers up her legs, stopping just before he got to her pussy. She groaned and tried to move her body down—she just needed some satisfaction, some closure—