The Sex Surrogate(30)

“She'll be okay,” he said in a tone that didn't sound entirely convincing.

“What happened?”

“Honestly?” he said, sounding tired. “I don't know.”

“Did you guys...”

“Yeah, but she was fine. I swear, Shay. I was paying attention. In my professional opinion, she was handling it really well.”

Professional opinion.

Ouch.

Like, really, ouch.

I shrank away from him, moving away from a place that didn't quite feel so safe anymore, and turned from him, curling up to face the other wall.

“I guess she didn't like something you said,” Shay said, standing.

“Yeah,” he said, tired. He sounded as tired as I felt. “But, fuck if I know what it was.”

“Figure it out,” she said, sounding so stern I almost wanted to smile. “I mean it, doc. Fix her. I want her back to how she was before. She was doing so good. Going out, being more open with me and Jake...”

“I know.”

“How many more sessions are you supposed to have?”

“Four.”

“What are they?”

“More... intimacy. For... two more sessions. Then on the ninth session, I take her out.”

“For what?”

“To teach her how to handle herself around men. Flirt with them. Shut them down if she doesn't want them. Prepare her for her new life after therapy is over.”

“And the last?”

“Patient's choice. We can do recaps of everything. We can try a fetish if there's one she is interested in. Threesomes. Or even just some talk therapy.”

“Pretty sure she ain't into threesomes.”

“I know. Honestly, I hate those sessions anyway.”

“Too much work, huh?” Shay asked and I could hear a smile in her voice.

“I think the only men who want them are men who have no idea what they are getting into.”

That's right. Just have talk about all your other sexual conquests while I am lying right there. I was just dying little by little. No big deal.

“Well,” Shay said, sounding further away, like she was going back to the door, “like I said... fix her. She's the best.”

“I know.”

Luckily, Chase didn't reach for me again. I got to cry in semi-privacy, then pass back out.

I woke up when the sun was streaming in the windows, bright on Chase's face. He was fast asleep.

I crept out of the bed, tip-toeing my way toward the door and going to take a shower. I felt more human. Especially under the hot water.

I was still broken. My edges felt sharp, like if someone touched me they would come back bloody. But I was all cried out. There were no more tears. I had used them all up.

And it still hurt. A sharp sensation that seemed to worsen if I focused on it. So I didn't.

But I would be okay.

I wiped the condensation off the mirror, looking at my puffy eyes. “You'll be okay,” I said to my reflection, willing myself to put my faith to rest in it.

I was going to move on.

I was going to get over it.

Take my feelings for Chase and lock them in a vault somewhere deep inside, to be dealt with at a later time.

Because, well, I wasn't a quitter.

And I wasn't quitting.

I was going to go back to Chase's office. And I was going to learn everything I could learn from him. I would have more sex. I would learn about flirting. I would take whatever he could give me.

Then I would - Move. The. Fuck. On.

That was the plan.

But first- damage control.

I slipped into jeans and a black long-sleeve t-shirt, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and went out into the living room.

Shay was still there and I had a moment of pure panic at the idea that I hadn't called out of work. And she was there too. That left the office so short...

“I said we both got the stomach flu from some bad take-out,” Shay supplied, somehow knowing where my head was. “You aight?”

But then a motion to the side caught my attention. I turned my head to see Chase standing in my doorway, wrinkled, exhausted looking. How long had he stayed up after I passed out?

“Ava...” he said, the same concern clear in his voice.

I turned back to Shay, who nodded at me, then walked toward him, waiting for him to step aside so I could step in and close the door.

I took a deep breath, staring at my bed for a minute. Trying to get up the nerve. Then I turned back to him, raising my chin a little. “I'm sorry.”

“Ava, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, shaking his head. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I... had a panic attack.” That was true enough. “After. Which was different and I just... didn't handle it well.”

“Okay. Why didn't you tell me?”

Because you're the one who caused it.

“I just... needed some space.” Also true.

“Alright. I understand. I wish you would have felt comfortable enough to share that with me though. So we could work it out together.”

He didn't meant together together. Not that way.

Squash that thrill of hope.

“I'll try harder next time. It just kind of... snuck up on me. I was zero to ten in like two minutes.”

He nodded stepping closer, his arm raising like he was about to touch me. Which I couldn't let happen. I skirted past him, going back toward the door.

“I think Shay is making breakfast,” I said, switching topics and his brows drew together. “You are welcome to stay.”

“Oh, um... I have to go home and change. I have a client at ten.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. I was doing well. And he was almost gone. “What time is our next session?”

“Ava... are you sure you're alright. You seem...”

“I'm fine,” I forced a smile, the movement almost hurting it was so fake.

He watched me for a long time, like he didn't believe me. Like he was thinking about bringing it up. “Okay,” he said, finally. “Tomorrow at seven.”

“Alright,” I said, opening the door, “I'll see you then,” I said, walking him toward the front door. “I'm sorry you needed to come out.”

“I didn't need to come. I wanted to come. And it's nothing. I'll... see you tomorrow,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

“Yup, see you then,” I agreed, then shut the door.

“Girl, that was good.”

“What?” I asked, turning and walking toward her.

“That act. That was gooood.”

“It wasn't...”

“Oh, please. Girl, that shit might work on the men but we girls know better. You are all torn up.”

I debated just shrugging it off, but thought better of it, taking a stool and dropping down on it across from her, watching for a minute as she added veggies and cheese to an omelet she was making. “My other shrink says I have transference.”

“That thing where you like your shrink?”

“Yeah.”

“Girl, you ain't got no transference. You got real feelings.”

“That's what transference feels like though. The only way I'll know it's not real is when it ends and suddenly all the feelings go away.”

“Mmmhmm,” she said, her lips pursed like she wasn't buying it.

“And last night... after...”

“After you did it.”

“Yeah, after we did it... I just realized how weird our situation is. How I feel like I am in love with him... but he just sees me as a client. And I freaked out and hauled out of there without saying anything.”

“Then he showed up here with huge, worried eyes looking like he just lost his damn baby in a mall, fighting with Jake to let him in. That he needed to see you. He needed to make sure you were alright.”

“Right.”

“Yeah, that totally sounds like something a shrink does,” she said dryly.

“It is,” I insisted. “They can't just watch a patient in crisis and wash their hands of it because it is after hours.”

“Of course not,” she said, again... dryly.

“Shay...”

“Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up. “You gonna help me eat this? I made it way too big.”

“Sure,” I said, hopping up to get plates. “Where's Jake?”

“Gym.”

“Where did you sleep last night?”

“Jake's bed.”

“Oh,” I said, glancing over at her.

“No,” she said, not looking at me.

“No what?”

“No I didn't fuck him,” she said, taking the spatula and cutting the omelet in half and letting the pieces fall into the plates I was holding out. “His ass slept on the couch.”

“What?” I sputtered, eyes wide.

“Yeah. He was a good boy and changed the sheets 'cause I ain't lying my ass down on those sheets lord knows how many skanks have been all over. And then I gave him a pillow and a blanket and sent him to the couch.”

“What is this witchy power you have over men?” I asked, digging a fork into the omelet.

“Girl, it ain't as hard as all those women's magazines make it sound. Men are simple. They respond best to direct orders and rewards. They don't like all that thinking and feeling. That's for us. We project that shit on to them. No. You tell a man to clean the garage and you'll suck his cock while he watches the game on Sunday... girl, you'll have a clean fucking garage.”

“You're like the man whisperer,” I said, smiling. “So... what was Jake's reward for sleeping on the couch?”

“That I didn't pick up the phone and call his mama,” she said, smirking. “I stole his phone. Idiot doesn't even keep it locked. It was two in the morning, she woulda been piiiiised to get a call from a woman saying her son was being less than gentlemanly.”