“Yesterday. We had a long conversation about the situation. She was more open to a sane discussion and something had changed in my life. I needed a resolution.”
“Is she difficult to talk to?”
“She is very unreasonable at times, but she never gets super mad to the point of throwing things, though. She just seems to look for a fight. All the time. She can shift moods, though, so quickly. As soon as I concede, she calms immediately. It seems very childlike. I sometimes feel like she’s acting even at home.” His eyes stared at the wall behind me as he said that last sentence. A revelation, perhaps.
“Can I be frank, Mr. Baxter?” I sat my notepad aside and leaned forward in my chair.
“Yes, please do. Can you help me?” He sat up a little taller but didn’t lean in.
“Why come see me? This seems to be a personality issue. A lack of communication. It seems like you two are not on the same page.”
“A friend recommended you.”
“You know I’m a sex therapist, Mr. Baxter? I usually deal with sexual dysfunction and sexual disorders, taboo types of things. Things that cause shame and guilt in my patients. You don’t seem to be feeling any shame or guilt. I would recommend you and your wife should go to couples’ counseling.”
He pondered what I said as the second hand on my wall clock ticked off the seconds and the bubbling of my fountain sounded behind me. Then he sat up, leaned forward, and clasped his hands in front of him, arms on his knees.
“Well, there is a reason we haven’t had sex in a month, Mrs. Davenport.”
“And what is that, Mr. Baxter?”
“A month ago, on a Saturday night, I came home after a long day at the office. I had a big merger I’m were working on and I had to get a proposal ready by Monday. I had prepared myself to be jumped at the door and was ready to perform. Finishing a tough project always makes me feel more alive and virile.”
I expected and dreaded to hear this story both at the same time. While his case seemed just to need a marriage counselor and not my services, it still intrigued me. His lawyer had insisted on me and my staff signing an NDA before he even saw me. He had a beautiful trophy wife at home who wanted sex with him constantly. He obviously was wealthy. So much so, that he was going to pay me two-hundred thousand dollars to see him ten times.
I hoped there was something I could do to help him.You fucked him two days ago. I’m not sure that was really helpful knowing what I know now.
“I get home and she didn’t greet me at the door. I called out her name as I laid my briefcase and keys in the entryway. No answer. I walk through the house looking for her. She wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. She wasn’t in our bedroom or the master bathroom. Her cars had been in the garage and she hated taking Uber, so I was confident she was home.”
I caught myself holding my breath. I breathed in.
“I went to the south wing where my office, library, entertainment room, and workout room were. As I approached the workout room, I heard some moans and giggling. It seemed more moaning than giggling, though. My heart beat faster. I imagined the worst and my blood boiled. Was she cheating on me at my own house?”
“How did that make you feel?” I whispered.
He frowned and ignored my question.
“When I pushed the door open, my wife was on a massage table with two masseuses giving her a massage. She was on her stomach. The male was rubbing her shoulders and positioned at the end of the table. A female was massaging her legs and seemed to hit some rather sensitive parts. Thus the moans.”
I felt myself getting a little wet between the legs. It wasn’t the story as much as it was his voice. He’d hit that deep baritone vibration that he had uttered his commands in, and it affected my pussy.
“What’s going on in here, I said to the three of them. They were enjoying themselves in my house, in my workout room, with my wife. Scarlet turned to me and smiled. She had arranged for a double massage at my house to celebrate the upcoming merger. I went on about how it wasn’t a done deal yet and she just smiled and pointed to the other massage table in the room. The female masseuse smiled and gave me instructions for getting ready. I remember taking in a deep breath. I was so relieved that I didn’t have to… be with my wife after getting home. Maybe, I thought, I’d make it through the night without having to perform for her.”
I made a mental note. I didn’t want to stop him from talking. He thinks of sex as performing for his wife. Not making love. Not having fun. A performance. That’s getting into my area of expertise.
“The massage was very enjoyable. The girl, Thea, was very good, and she got very close to my cock. She actually touched my balls and massaged them. Not real professional, but I was on this high from work and relieved that Scarlet hadn’t jumped me at the door, so I said nothing and just enjoyed it.”
“Did you want her to do more?” I asked.
“The thought crossed my mind that she might want to do more. That I might like it. I prefer to be in control during sex, though, so it didn’t excite me that much.”
“But you relaxed?”
“Yes, it was very relaxing until it was about time for the massage to end.”
“Because then you might have to perform?”
“No. Near the end of my massage, I woke up or at least became more alert. I had literally dozed off during the massage. I awoke, however, to moans coming from my wife. At first I just thought she was just enjoying the massage, but I took a glance her way and the male masseuse, Victor, had his fingers between her legs and was rubbing her. The moans were from her sexual pleasure.”
