I’d always assumed he would not do it and if he did, that he would see a marriage counselor. Apparently, he had decided he needed a sex therapist.
Maybe he did. He hadn’t touched me in a month. Not since he couldn’t get an erection with me naked and ready in front of him. Who couldn’t get an erection in front of me? At least that would be my argument in a divorce proceeding. I knew exactly why he couldn’t get hard.
“So, you get fifty million if he doesn’t see a counselor for ten sessions. What has to happen for you to get two-hundred-fifty million?”
“That will never happen, I promise you. We have to stay married for twenty years. Or he has to die. He’s pretty healthy. I don’t see him dying while we’re still married.”
I didn’t expect Dirk to suddenly keel over and die. He worked out five times a week and had a really fit body. Two-hundred-fifty million was half of his estate when we got married. Now it was less, but it was still a substantial sum and I could do nicely with that. I just didn’t see him dying soon, and death was the only way I could get that amount.
So, I just had to figure out a way to ensure he didn’t make it to ten counseling sessions with this slut Regina Davenport.
Chapter7
A Dreamy Ride
I exitedmy office building to meet the Uber I had arranged. It was a Friday night, 8:00 pm, nineteen days after my first and last appointment with Dirk. It was dark, with only the glow of streetlights providing any illumination. The streets were also quiet in this downtown area. There were no restaurants or bars within ten blocks of my office.
I had worked late, catching up on all my patient notes, jotting down questions to ask or therapies to consider for each of the clients that I had seen that week. My heels were killing my feet. I just wanted to get home and take them off. A hot bath sounded so inviting right now.
I looked up from scrolling through my phone as the vehicle pulled up. The app said my ride was driving a lime green Kia Soul. Not my favorite choice, but I wanted to get home.
The vehicle that pulled up wasn’t a Kia Soul. And it wasn’t lime green. It was a black Lincoln Navigator with tinted glass and a license plate that read SECURE1. It parked on the curb right in front of me.That’s a dreamy ride.
The driver got out and walked around the vehicle. He wore a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. His well-polished patent leather shoes reflected the streetlights.
“Evening, Ma’am,” he said as he tipped his head to me politely. He opened the backseat door facing the curb for me. “Mr. Baxter requests your presence.”
I peeked into the back seat. It was empty.
“Well, if Mr. Baxter wants to see me, he knows how to make an appointment.” I crossed my arms, tapped my index finger on my arm, and smirked at the man.
“Miss Davenport. If you would just get in, I’ll be driving you to see Mr. Baxter.”
“He didn’t have enough desire to come himself?” I leaned to one side, displaying even more attitude.
“Please, Miss Davenport. If you’ll just get in, I’ll have you there in about forty minutes.”
“Look,… whatever your name is, I’m tired. I just want to go home and relax. Mr. Baxter knows my office hours. Have him make an appointment.”
A lime green Kia pulled in behind the Navigator and the driver reached inside his suit jacket as he eyed the vehicle and the driver.My Uber. Thank God.
“Trace Adams, Ma’am. I’m Mr. Baxter’s personal driver. You’ll be safe with me. I promise.”
Trace had a square jaw, broad shoulders, and a bald ebony head. His suit couldn’t hide his thin waist and broad chest. It couldn’t hide his muscular body, either. He wasn’t a normal limo driver. It was too dark to make out his facial features, but he looked and sounded like he could keep a woman safe.
Right now, I wasn’t worried about my safety. I just wanted to get home and into a hot bath.I can use those Morning Zen bath bombs setting on my bathroom counter.
“Mr. Adams. Thank you so much for coming by and thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“Mr. Baxter really wants to see you?”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t have missed his last two appointments.” I couldn’t really blame the man for that. When I blurted out what I said in my office and he recognized who I was, it must have been a shock to him. I’m sure he never expected to see me again after our tryst in the Cherry Pit.
The memory of it and his hands on me flashed through my mind at that moment as Trace stood waiting. I felt a tingle between my legs as I remembered him penetrating me during my lap dance.
“He is extremely sorry for that, Miss Davenport. He would like to discuss resuming his appointments…” The Uber driver, who had exited his car, cut Trace off.
“Miss Davenport?” the Uber driver asked. He was an older man, kind looking.
