Even if Scarlet didn’t turn him on anymore. Even if Chastity didn’t excite him to a full erection. I did. That excited me.
Knowing that and knowing that he brought back feelings of both love and lust into my life would normally be a joyous thing.
But it left me conflicted. My dancing, which I loved to do, had put me in an unpleasant situation with my ex-husband and the courts. It was also where I met Dirk, so it had that going against it as well. I couldn’t afford to have Dirk in my life as anything other than my patient. I had to get custody of my kids back and Mr. Dark Eyes would just confuse that.
The homework I had given Dirk and Scarlet was for the best. It was the right thing for me to do as a therapist and with the dyads, it might also mend the physical wound between the two of them. I repeated those words over and over.
It was the right thing to do.
It was the right thing to do.
Why do I feel like I just lost something special then?
Chapter21
Poison in the Soup
I sampledthe chef’s chicken cacciatore in-between pacing the kitchen. Dirk had avoided me over the weekend, but he had promised to come home Monday night for dinner. Being a model in LA, I knew the importance of presentation. So, I had planned tonight meticulously, down to the last detail.
I would greet Dirk in his favorite black dress—an Alaia sleeveless dress with corset features which hugged my features beautifully and came down to just above the knees. Louboutins, hose and garter, a lacy push-up bra and matching thong panties, all in black, completed my fuck-me-please outfit.
I had a bottle of 2017 TOR “Black Magic” cabernet sauvignon for Dirk and a bottle of 2017 Heart Block sauvignon blanc for myself. Wine was the only item where his tastes were more expensive than mine. I just loved a white wine and had never developed a taste for reds. I looked good dressed in red though, but I went with the black dress to match the Black Magic.
Henri had prepared Dirk’s favorites: Caesar salad, minestrone soup, olive oil bread rolls, and chicken cacciatore. The table was set with our finest dinner ware. Two silver candlesticks sat on the table with long tapered red candles ready to be lit. The sun was setting on the horizon over the ocean, creating shimmers in the evening air that matched the simmering in between my thighs.
I had abstained over the weekend, much to Stu’s chagrin. I went down on him, though, to keep him happy and his mouth shut. Dirk was getting too close to satisfying his pre-nuptial condition that would allow him to divorce me and give me the paltry sum of a million dollars instead of the fifty I would get if he just divorced me without counseling.
It was a silly clause. I had convinced him over wine and intercourse to add to the prenup. The original agreement would have only given me ten million. I had talked him into fifty million only because, in the bliss of our new relationship, he could not foresee wanting to divorce me. None of that compared to the lifestyle I could maintain if we didn’t divorce.
My head spun from thinking about the numbers. The only number I cared about right now was 8:45 PM, which was forty-five minutes past the time Dirk had said he would be home for dinner. I had other plans beyond dinner and, thanks to that whore therapist, Regina Davenport, he would have to join me in our bedroom.
I stepped into the security room next to his office and checked the security cameras. Dirk’s car pulled up to the six-car garage. He waited for the door to open to pull inside. The thought of him inside me gave me a quick flash of pleasure in my pussy.
Stay on task, Scarlet.
Dashing to the kitchen, I poured Dirk a glass of Black Magic and then fished the small pill bottle out of my purse. Ground up thiazide and fluoxetine, enough for two normal doses of each, along with the contents of one Librium waited inside, ready to be delivered. I poured half of the cocktail mix into his wine and stirred it up. The other half I added to his bowl of minestrone soup.
The blood pressure medication and the depression pills had worked over time to give Dirk a serious case of erectile dysfunction, but it had taken weeks before the symptoms set in. It had taken months before that to figure out which combination worked best.
I had tried every SSRI medication and multiple blood-pressure pills before I found something that worked. The Librium, a tranquilizer, was an emergency ingredient which I hoped would be enough to make him as limp as fully cooked spaghetti.
I was sure he was ready to divorce me a year prior. My plan was far-fetched, but I understood Dirk’s psyche. I was sure that destroying his concept of his own manhood would keep me on his arm and married for looks, if nothing else.
He had been at the point of frustration and my plan for gas lighting him—for making him dependent upon me and malleable to my manipulative ways—had been working perfectly until he hadn’t come home on a Saturday night and told me the next day he wanted a divorce.
His announcement came out of the blue and I never understood why. All I knew is he ditched his security detail that night and didn’t appear again until the next day. Whatever happened, wherever he went, flipped a switch inside him and led him to want a divorce.
I had been working to get him to invest twenty million in a movie that I would star in. I had even gone to the trouble of having a new accountant friend write up a business plan. Instead, he wanted a divorce and any hold I had developed on him slipped away overnight.
I set the bowl of soup and the glass of wine on the table just as he came in from the garage.
He wore a nice blue Tom Ford suit with black Tom Ford shoes. A paisley tie of red and gold silk hung loose on his neck and his white shirt had two buttons undone. His hair, in slight disarray, as if fingers had been run through it, showed it had been a tough day.
No matter what he or anyone else thought, I paid attention to minor details. It was the minor details that needed attention, whether it was when acting and modeling or when plotting to get your husband to support you in a major project.
“Hello, husband. You’re just in time.”
“Hello, Scarlet.” He scanned the dining room and the kitchen before setting down his briefcase.
