Finally finding my keys, I unlocked the car and slid in. I started to close the door when Richard stopped me with a hand on the door frame.
“What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, Regina?”
“Trouble?”
“Yeah. A new patient? Problems at your practice?”
“The only trouble I have is an ass hat ex-husband who just took away my custody rights.”
“You don’t know why someone would want to cause you trouble?”
“No, Richard. Other than you, my life has been peachy. Now let me shut this door or I’m going to start the car and leave, even if that means I drag you with me.”
My hand was on the door handle, trying to pull it shut, and I glared at him. My face was flushed and I could feel tears trickling down my cheeks. The one thing I hated the most about dealing with Richard, any man for that matter, was the angry tears that burst forth like an afternoon thunderstorm.
“Well, someone has it in for you. I hope you do a better job of watching your back.”
“Let. Go. Of. The. Door. Richard.” I strained to shut the door, but he kept me from closing it.
“Fine. You deserve everything that’s happening to you.”
He let go of the door and I slammed it shut. After starting up the car, I slammed it into reverse and burned rubber as I backed out of the parking space. The tires squealed again as I sped away from him to the exit.
* * *
Soon I was in Los Angeles traffic, which meant it would be stop-and-go traffic and it would take two hours to get back to my condo. City traffic, honking horns, and a cool wind tried to compete with the words from the hearing and my internal argument that spun around in my head. My stomach hurt and nausea swept through me. I couldn’t decide if I was angry, sad, confused, frustrated, or all of those emotions and more.
I gripped the steering wheel in my hands so tightly my hands ached. My trip to Disneyland with the kids this upcoming weekend had to be canceled. My next visitation wouldn’t be for two weeks and arrangements had to be made to make sure it was supervised.
I flipped through the radio channels, trying to find something to calm me down. Each station irritated me even further. After flipping through twelve stations, I shut off the radio. At the next stoplight, I banged my fists against the steering wheel.
When I stopped, I noticed the passenger in the car beside me staring at me and shaking her head. I flipped her off.
An hour into my drive home, the anger had subsided; the radio was back on and the saddest, most sentimental songs were playing on the radio. The tears that I had fought to hold back before I got into the car flowed freely now. I would hold it together while driving, but as soon as I hit the next light, they would cascade down my face.
I didn’t understand why Richard did this? Why would he rock the boat and be so spiteful suddenly? It couldn’t be just because I danced at the Cherry Pie. This seemed to be an overreaction, if that was his only reason.
Of course it wasn’t. He didn’t think my profession as a sex therapist was legitimate, either. He had accused me more than once of having sex with my clients.
Oh, fuck. Does he know about me having sex with Dirk?
He couldn’t. Could he?
I finally made it to the 605 and soon was heading north to I-5, which I would catch to Glendale.
I tried to focus on the conversation with Richard and things said in court, but it soon became a tangled mess as I worked my way on the highway. Soon I took the exit to I-5 and continued my journey home.
What if this was all about Dirk? I had been a stupid fool. Those intense dark eyes of his had lured me in, seduced me. What had I been thinking to give him a blow job and fuck him in the Cherry Pit? There was so much testosterone and pheromones in the Pit, no normal human being could function in there, even if they only intended to give a guy a lap dance.
Which had been my only intention. Pent up sexual urges, an alluring sexy man who seemed to command my attention, and the atmosphere of the room had resulted in my lap dance turning into a sexual adventure. And it hadn’t been an isolated occurrence. I’d masturbated to his video of his sensate touch session with Chastity. Over and over. Then I had my own session with Dirk. In my office. I’d sucked his cock in my office. And I’d even slept with Dirk again.
What the fuck had I been thinking?
By the time I’d made it home, I had convinced myself that I was a terrible person, a horrible mother, and the shittiest sex therapist in LA.
When I got inside, I poured a glass of wine, undressed, and settled in the tub for a soak. With some lavender essential oils and some bath salts, I calmed down, but I still couldn’t fight the feelings of victim-hood and worthlessness.
When I went to bed, the only thing I knew for sure was that I could not have sex with Dirk Baxter ever again. Since he had come into my life, I had nothing but bad things happen to me. I needed to finish my sessions with him, get him out of my life, and then do what I could to get my kids back.
