“Reggie?”
“Miss Davenport.”
“Oh, your sex therapist, who you call by her first name, wants to see me. Oh, well fuck then, let me drop everything and help you cheat me out of fifty million dollars just because you can’t get a hard-on around me and want a divorce.”
“Scarlet. Please. Just come with me.”
She turned around and stomped over to her buzzing phone. After checking it, she dropped it into her red clutch and glared at me.
“My ride is outside. I need to go.”
“At least think about it. Maybe we both need this. She’s good. Discerning. Maybe she can help us…”
“Reconcile,” she said, completing my sentence for me. In our years of marriage, she’d always been able to do that. She always knew what I wanted to say, sometimes before I did. That always worried me.
“Scarlet, please.”
She walked around the kitchen island counter, on the opposite side from me. The room had gotten heated, but now seemed so cold. Stopping at the door, she looked over her shoulder. “When and what time?”
“Friday. 4:00 PM.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. You don’t deserve this.” The last word hung in the air like a heavy fog, giving you a glimpse of what was inside but leaving everything murky. Unclear.
I felt some sympathy for her. Perhaps I’d been too hard on her. I hadn’t thought deeply about how she might be affected by a divorce. I just assumed she would go along with it. She’d always seemed teflon coated while we dated and during the first few years of our marriage.
I gave her a minute so she would be gone by the time I left. I wasn’t ready to face her so soon after our exchange. It would be hard enough on Friday. Assuming she came.
* * *
I stormed to the Navigator, where Stu opened the back door for me. The license plates read Secure2. Dirk was driven around by too-hot to touch Trace in Secure1. I got Stu as my driver in the second Navigator in his fleet of vehicles.
“Where to, Mrs. Baxter?”
“The Ace Hotel. And quickly.”
Stu gave me a look through the rear-view mirror. He knew what I wanted when we got there and he was always eager to please. I needed some sexual relief.
Fighting with Dirk only raised my libido. I literally wanted to jump my husband’s bones at that moment. There was something about him that made me want his dick in my cunt. Maybe it was his money, but I couldn’t deny that he was also handsome. And he had this killer charisma.
I settled in as Stu left the property. Several deep breaths calmed me as I replayed the argument in my head. I hoped I had been convincing enough. My only desire was for Dirk Baxter to not complete his ten sessions with Miss Davenport, or should I sayReggie.
That he called her by her first name bothered me. He rarely did that. He usually treated clients and other professionals he dealt with by their last names. He only reserved first names for friends or close employees like Trace and his investigator bitch, Hayley.
“Oh, my fucking God.”
“What’s that Mrs. Baxter?”
“Nothing. Hurry and get to the hotel.”
The only reason Dirk Baxter would call his sex therapist by her first name was if he was attracted to her. Even that wouldn’t be enough usually. There had to be more to it than that. The son of a bitch had to be fucking his therapist.
Which made me want to fuck Stu even more than I had planned. I might be late for dinner with my friends if I followed through with that, but the closer we got, the more I intended to do just that.
The thought of Dirk fucking his therapist made me both furious and horny at the same time. I definitely would attend Dirk’s next session with “Reggie”. To see my competition up close and personal was a necessity.
I texted him to confirm that I would be there in a conciliatory tone. I even added an “I love you” with a broken heart emoji and several lips emojis. Then I settled in for the rest of the ride, my horniness growing by the minute.
The horny feeling confused me. I had never understood my libido and why I was attracted to certain people. I had slept with multiple movie producers trying to get a role and I had cheated on Dirk multiple times over the years. Sometimes with some of my friends. Sometimes with a random hookup at a club, when I was drunk.
