When he offered another thousand for the kiss, I turned him down. I kissed him anyway, though.
Back in the present, barely, my cheeks flushed. Hell, I think my pussy blushed. I definitely felt the heat down there.You have to be professional.
“Mrs. Davenport?” he said, breaking me from my daze.
I looked up and met those dark eyes of his. He looked amused and awkward, as well as in control, all at the same time. I know that seems impossible, but as my therapist skills and my ability to read people kicked back in, I saw all those emotions flash through his eyes. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to regain my composure. I just wanted to make it through the next hour and not take any of my clothes off.
I looked back down and wrote some notes.
Amused.
Awkward.
In Control.
Does he recognize me?????
“Mr. Baxter. How would you prefer me to address you? Mr. Baxter? Derek?”
“Dirk is fine.”
“Dirk?” I eyed him.
“A nickname from my Scottish parents and the boys in school.”
“Dirk, then. Tell me Dirk, why are you here to see me today?”I swear if you offer me a thousand dollars for a lap dance, I’ll turn you down. What the fuck, Reg!
I did my best to shake off those thoughts. He was paying me twenty thousand a visit. I intended to give him his money’s worth of professional help and counseling.
He was sitting on the couch leisurely, one leg crossed over the other. He was wearing a blue suit, white shirt, power red tie. His dark eyes looked at the open window and I got a good look at his profile. Square jaw, Roman nose, and well-groomed, black hair. His hands were large, strong, and his nails manicured. Even his shoes were polished and expensive.
This man was not cheap, just what I would expect from someone willing to pay me what he was paying me. He pondered his response.Does he like to be intentional with his response or is he preparing to lie? Many patients lie to their therapists and to themselves most of all.
“I’ve been having difficulties in my marriage,” he began. He turned and faced me, meeting my eyes. He also gave no recognition of our previous encounter. No discomfort. No averted eyes. He seemed more professional than I did.
“Difficulties? What kind of difficulties?” My hand trembled as I made another note on my pad.
Marriage problems!!!!!
“Well, my wife is younger than me. And she has a serious sexual appetite.” The tone of his voice raised a bit.
“How old is your wife?” I asked.
“Thirty-three,” he replied. His voice sinking back down into that low baritone.
“And you are, how old?”
“Fifty-five.”
“So, a twenty-two-year difference. That’s more than a bit younger. Tell me about these difficulties.”
He looked back to the window, the sunlight almost reached his face.
I made some notes, letting him process before he spoke.
Wife - 33 - Strong sexual appetite.
Dirk - 55 - Sexual problems?
