Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Tell me more about that.”
“So…” She huffs out a breath. “Okay, this is kind of embarrassing, but he won’t do, you know, certain things.” We make eye contact for half a second and she looks away again. “I got really mad at him last night.”
I’m missing something. I’m just not sure what.
“Well, our partners certainly can’t be mind readers. Have you spoken to him about it?”
“Yes. Oh yes. Every time.”
“Every time…?”
“Every time we have sex.” Now she looks at me straight-on, a wild glint in her gaze. “I mean, I just want him to do what one of my exes would. Or do it how he would. I mean, sex is about pleasing both people, you know? And if I want it a certain way, he should do that. Right?”
I have to take a moment before I answer. My mind spins out possibilities of what it is she might be asking this new boyfriend, Steve, to do. But before I can ask for clarification, she continues.
“So, the last guy I really liked—the one I thought was the one—I mentioned him last time. He was intense. So intense.” She licks her lips. “He liked everything, and I mean everything. And there was no holding back. I didn’t even know I liked it like that… like, so rough.” She exhales shakily, as though even the thought of what she and her ex used to do has her bothered. “He’d shove my face into a pillow until I could, like, barely breathe. And it was…” She seems to search for the right word. “I mean, a little scary the first time, but I looked it up. It’s called breath-play. And it’s a whole thing. And it totally takes it up a level. You know what I mean?” Again, she looks at me for affirmation.
“What do you mean, it ‘takes it up a level’?” I lean forward with interest. I’ve heard of this before. But it’s outside my realm of experience. Both in my own sex life and in treating patients. I’ve never had a client come to me and tell me a partner kept them from breathing—at least, not outside the realm of abuse. Is that what really happened, and she’s confusing it with something positive?
“So there are all these studies, and by restricting oxygen, it like, enhances the sexual experience or something.” She uses air quotation marks as though quoting an actual study. “He’d shove my face in the pillow when we were doing it doggie-style, or he’d, like, lock his elbow around my neck.” She mimics it for me. “But, like, he could do it just right. And the orgasms—like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. And he just knew how to…” Her face pinks. “Pound,” she whispers. “I didn’t know I liked it like that. But I do. I really do.”
This time, I’m silent because I have no words. I copy a few of the things down that’s she said—because at some point I’ll have to wrap my mind around it. Really understand how this does or doesn’t weave into everything else she’s dealing with now and has dealt with in the past. Or maybe this is good. Sex can be a place for play, for role-play, for acting out things that are not okay in real life.
“So you want…” I swallow, staring at the words I’ve written. Pound. Choke. Face smashed in pillow. It’s like I’m sketching out an erotic scene. “You want Steve to do what this ex did?”
“Yes!” She practically explodes off her seat. “And he won’t. So I’m not satisfied. And I told him that, which of course pissed him off because it questioned his masculinity or something. He wound up trying it, but he wouldn’t actually do it hard enough that I couldn’t breathe. Which completely ruins the whole point, and I had to imagine it was my ex, not Steve, to finally get off.”
Rebecca goes on and on, but I’m stuck on how she pretended Steve was her ex.
Just like how I’d pretended Robert was Gabriel.
It makes me wonder. What else do I have in common with my patient? Would I like it a little rough, too?
CHAPTER 28 Now
Today is the day.
I hear Gabriel speaking to Sarah in the outer office and my body responds instantly—heartbeat quickens, skin flushes, and my damn nipples look like they’re ready to salute. It’s an eye-opening reminder of what needs to be done—today will be Gabriel Wright’s last session. The insanity has gone on long enough. I started out with good intentions, but somewhere along the line, they’ve taken a turn.
Sarah knocks twice and pushes the door open to my office without waiting for me to respond. There’s a gleam in her eye, and the corners of her smile hold a salacious quirk. I’m clearly not the only one attracted to my patient. “Your two o’clock is here,” she singsongs.