Feeling vulnerable in this situation. Embarrassed?
He didn’t speak for a while. I started to say something, but he turned his face to me again.
“She wants sex every time we’re together.” His voice was even lower this time.
“And you don’t want sex every time?”
“Not every damn time,” he growled.
“And how does that make you feel?”
“It makes me feel frustrated.”
“Why does it frustrate you?”
“Because I don’t want to have sex three times a day.” A bit of a Scottish accent slipped into his speech as he said that. It was damn sexy and sent a tingle through my body.
“And why not?”
“I have a business to run. I see her in the morning before I go to work. She wants sex then. I see her when I get home, usually after eight. She wants to have sex. We eat something, relax, and go to bed. She wants to have sex. It was great at first, but now it is just tiring. The lass doesn’t quit.”
My patients have talked about all kinds of sexual encounters they experienced. Some in graphic detail. I encourage that because by talking about it; they let that energy go. The energy of the memories. The energy of the trauma. Or the energy of the thrill and taboo.
When they do so, it seldom makes me wet. Dirk Baxter, Mr. Dark Eyes, was making me wet.He’s fucking married, though.
I felt both compassion and jealousy at the same time. Compassion for his predicament. Jealousy that he fucks his wife three times per day.
“Have you talked to her about it?”
“I’ve tried. She doesn’t listen. She keeps going on about how I promised to keep her happy.”
“When was the last time you had sex with her?”
“A month ago.” He looked away when he said that. His eyes focused on the window or something outside.
“How has she reacted to not having sex three times per day?”But you had sex with me two nights ago.Was that why he was all over me?
“She hates it.”
I stared straight at him, my right eyebrow raised.
“She screams. She threatens.” He met my gaze.
“And what does she threaten you with? You seem very strong. Very capable.”
“She threatens to tell reporters about our problems.”
Our eyes locked. Mr. Dark Eyes staring into mine. His eyes held a challenging menace in them, a simmering anger. A lump formed in my throat.
“How long have you been married, Mr. Baxter?” I asked, trying to stay professional.
“Three years.”
I looked down at my pad and made more entries.
Wife wants sex three times per day.
No sex for a month.
