"I cried the whole time. But I don't think he knew that. He was behind me so he couldn't see my face." She seemed overly uncomfortable talking to me about it. "Once it was over with, I took a shower until the water turned cold. I decided for the second time that I would never do that again. I figured I would end up dying alone and untouched."
"That's not going to happen. I am here now, and I'm very good at what I do. We'll work through this and then you can whore around all you want." I laughed, trying to make light of the situation and ease her some, but it left a knot in my stomach at the thought.
At least it earned a smile from her.
"Reservations for Cade Morgan," I told the hostess as soon as we walked in.
She smiled and took us to our table, which was in the back corner of the restaurant. It was the table I had asked for when calling earlier. I didn't want our conversation to be interrupted or overheard. I knew Ivy wouldn't be comfortable talking with other ears around.
"This is how I see things working out," I began. "I would like to assume that you have no intentions of calling for male escorts again. Which means you need to meet someone, grow comfortable with them, and then see where that leads. But first, we need to get you comfortable going out to different places."
"I'm not uncomfortable going places."
"Then why don't you? And don't use driving as an excuse. There are lots of places around your apartment within walking distance that would lead you to meeting people. I'm not insinuating that you should go to bars and get hammered in order to get laid, but if you do go to a bar, you can have a drink or two and just interact with people. Just be cautious since some fuckers only go to bars to pick up chicks for sex. You seem to be somewhat of a good judge of character. Use that to your advantage and don't ever go home with strangers."
"You make it sound so easy. Yet it's not. I have a hard time meeting people. I can't explain it."
"It's not going to be an overnight thing. It will be something we will both have to work on. But I promise you this, we can get through it. But in order to do that, I need for you to trust me. I need for you to tell me the truth about things. I won't judge you. I won't think less of you. We all have our demons, our dark corners in closets where skeletons are kept. Show them to me when you're ready. I'll be right there by your side to battle them together."
She smiled at me and I found myself in a trance. I couldn't peel my eyes away from her. Her unusual eyes pierced straight through me as I fought within to look away. I couldn't. Her nose was small and narrow; nothing special about it, but it fit her face and gave her a soft look. She had thin lips, which I didn't particularly like on women-I like full lips to suck on-but on her, I loved them. They were perfect and didn't get in the way when she smiled, which wasn't often, but when she did, I was able to see her slightly crooked teeth. Which also suited her. Her top incisors sat up higher than the others did, almost what fangs would look like on people. I thought they looked sexy and made me wonder what it would feel like if she bit my shoulder while I was thrusting deep inside her.
I had to look away. I couldn't keep staring at her perfectly imperfect features and stay professional at the same time. I had to stay on task and continually remind myself that I was her therapist. I was there to help and heal her, not to take advantage of the relationship we had. That would be wrong and unethical.
"So what's the plan, Doc? How are you going to fix me?"
If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was flirting with me. But I did know better. She wasn't capable of flirting, or at least she didn't seem to be. It at least made me aware that once she was able to flirt and feel confident doing so, she would be a force to be reckoned with.
"First, we'll work on getting you comfortable with meeting people. We'll slowly work into finding a way that'll make you comfortable with touch. It'll start off with something as simple as holding hands, and then we'll move up from there. But in order to break through your built-in barriers, I need to know about the things that happened when you were younger. You really haven't given me much. I need to fully understand what fears your mom instilled in your head before I can show you how wrong she was."
"I know she was wrong. I don't need to go over the gory details with you to know that. I've already come to that conclusion. I have been to shrinks before. I have heard it all. The social workers and foster families had tried talking to me. It's not a matter of knowing she was wrong or not." She was acting defensive and I hated it.
My patience started to thin out, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. I was always very good at keeping an even temper in sessions. I knew the defense mechanisms commonly used and how they worked better than most. But there was something about Ivy and the way she fought with me that made me quickly lose control of my emotions. She certainly wasn't the first one to fight with me, but she was the first that actually got to me. It was like she knew exactly how to goad me, even though I knew that wasn't what she was doing and she surely wasn't trying to piss me off. It was because she mattered to me. And that pissed me off even more.
"I'm sure you are aware that it's wrong, but you haven't accepted it. You haven't accepted that bad things happen, and there's not always a reason. You haven't accepted that sometimes there are bad people out there that do bad things for no reason other than because they're vile people. Most importantly, I don't think that you've accepted the things that have happened to you. Once you can accept that, then you can start to move on." I was a hypocrite and a liar. I knew firsthand about horrible people doing vicious things. I also knew firsthand about good people making bad choices, and suffering through the consequences of those actions. I accepted that a long time ago, yet I had never been able to move on. No matter what I tried or how many times I tried the various steps.
"Do we have to talk about that here?" she asked as her eyes darted around the room at the other people oblivious to us and enjoying their meals. Her feistiness had begun to thaw, leaving way for her insecurities to take hold. I could see it in her posture, in the way she looked around in fear of people eavesdropping. I could sense it in her cold and rigid form as she sat across the table from me.
I slowly moved to occupy the empty seat next to her. I lowered my voice and took on a softer tone. "No, we don't have to talk about that here. But we will need to discuss it at some point. Hopefully, sooner rather than later if you're planning to overcome this anytime soon. But it's up to you. We can work at your pace. I can make the plan but you're the one that has to follow it." I kept my voice quiet but stern as I leaned into her. I knew it was important to give her the control of the situation and then be there to take it back when she couldn't handle it.
Once I moved chairs, we each had a wall to our backs and we could see the entire room laid out in front of us. The people dining were all busy with their own meals or companions to even notice or acknowledge our presence, alone in the corner. My eyes moved back to hers and I was so close to her face I could almost feel the heat from her pink cheeks radiating onto my skin. I placed my hand on her knee, feeling her soft skin beneath the rip in her jeans. I could feel the heat of her body burning through the material and into my palm. Our eyes never wavered as her breaths grew quick and shallow. It was sexy as hell.
"But there's one more key that you're missing here, Ivy," I said in a voice so hoarse I wasn't sure it was my own.
Her words came out shaky and breathy as she asked, "What's that?"
"If you ever plan on being comfortable when someone else touches you, you'll have to be comfortable touching yourself." My eyes moved to her lips as I heard her already short breaths grow even shorter. I knew I had affected her, but I needed to make sure she wasn't hyperventilating.
"Wha – what do you mean?"
"You need to learn to masturbate."
Her eyes grew twice the size on her face. Her breathing had completely halted in her chest and her hands were rattling the silverware on the table. I kept my face straight as I stared back at her, even though all I wanted to do was smile.
"Listen, you need to calm down," I warned.
"I can't while you're talking about that with your hand resting on my leg."
"Talking about what?" I goaded her, wanting to hear her say the word. I was testing her, pushing her to see how far she would go. "Say it. It's just a word. A word like any other word."
She shook her head vigorously.