Page 12 of Therapy Session: Session Two
“What invitation?”
“I received an email from Mercedes saying that they were having a networking community event and were inviting different businesses to come and set up tables. Luxe received an invitation. I thought you were copied on it.”
“Nah, baby, I didn’t get an email. When is the event?”
“Next weekend, actually. It completely slipped my mind to ask what you thought. We don’t have any cute displays. We’d have to put Natalie to work ASAP if you want to go,” I offered.
“We’re not going. Our schedules are busy enough without adding something else to do on the weekends. If you want Luxe Motors to have a display, we can send Natalie and one of the guys.”
I didn’t argue.
“Thompson,” Shareese called out. We rose to our feet and went toward the door so we could go back to see Quentin.
Every time I had to step within 100 feet of that man, sadly, my heart and my pussy palpitated. Even with my husband’s hand resting reassuringly on the small of my back, it did nothing to calm my breathing. It had nothing to do with our marriage, our current circumstances, or the topics we were about to discuss. But had everything to do with not wanting to face the man whommy mind couldn’t get rid of. Tim held the door for me as Quentin stood to greet us.
“Hello, Dr. Long, nice to see you again,” I said, shaking his hand as if we were just patient and client.
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson.” He barely made eye contact, but the way his thumb brushed the back of my hand as he shook it told a different story. I almost wanted to laugh and snatch it. But I kept my composure.
“Mr. Thompson. How’s it going?” He shook Tim’s hand as well, and we took a seat on the couch.
“Good. What’s up, doc?” Tim said, sitting on the couch and throwing his arm around the back of it, so I could get cozy against his body.
“What brings you guys by today? It’s been about a month since your last session. Catch me up.” He asked calmly as he brought out that damn pen and pad again. The same one that recorded all my innermost thoughts and freakiest desires. Then he used them to his advantage and now has my body reacting without him even touching me.
“We were supposed to come back that next week but couldn’t find the time. We’re still at a standstill with the direction that we want to go in. It’s been almost a year since the solo experiences. Breeze is still on the fence about it. She doesn’t want it to end our marriage, but I don’t think it will.”
“Mrs. Thompson?” He waited for me to elaborate.
“I definitely have mixed feelings about it. While I do feel like the encounter served its purpose, I still want to spend the rest of my life with my husband. I don’t want anything to complicate that. On either side,” I doubled down.
The afternoon I left Quentin, on the ride home, I was so happy to be on my way to my husband. I felt empowered and free, but still, I just wanted to live in his skin and be a happily marriedcouple again. And we were. Sex felt better. It felt like he was reclaiming me as his wife. Reminding me, even, why I loved him.
By day three, we were in Miami, sitting on a balcony that overlooked the South Beach nightlife. I was wrapped in my husband’s arms with my eyes closed, letting the wind flow through my hair. Then I heard this voice, as clear as day, say, “Eyes up, B.” My eyes darted open and all I saw was the hustle and bustle of the Miami streets. I knew then that Quentin had me fucked up.
I was trying to avoid this train wreck that I knew was happening. Because I don’t know what Timothy did during his twenty-four hours, but if given a chance, my choice would already be made. I didn’t need to see what else was out there. I wasn’t trying to up the score on my body count. I was going back tohim.
Q and I had this crazy, strong sexual tension. That really didn’t have any emotion behind it. I didn’t know him well enough to think I’d fall in love with him. Leaving my husband wasn’t an option. It was actually the furthest thing from my mind. But I knew what happened to me during my twenty-four hours. And just that alone was probably enough to have me down here every other day, bent over this couch instead of sitting on it. Me saying I didn’t want the arrangement was damage control; it was my version of rehab. They’d just have to take my word for it.
Sure, you could get good dick from anywhere, I assume. But what you couldn’t find is the confidence, the cockiness, the dominance that Quentin possessed. It couldn’t be taught; it had to be in you. And Q had that, hands down. The way he commanded every second of our experience together and made me do things that I never thought I would do comfortably? Yeah… get me out of here.
"Mrs. Thompson." Quentin's voice pulled me back to the moment.
“Oh! I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked, physically shaking my head like it would rid me of the thoughts.
A subtle smile tugged at his lips but didn’t break through.
“I asked you, do you fear that you’ve opened up a door with your husband or yourself that you cannot close?”
“In what sense?”
“You keep suggesting that you don’t want your marriage to be complicated by outside or shared experiences. That’s not something you mentioned in prior sessions, according to my case notes. Before then, you spoke confidently about your marriage. What do you feel changed?” He tapped his pen.
“Great question. I didn’t expect either of us to want to do it again. I thought it would be like a ‘we got it out of our system’ type of thing. So, in a sense, yes, I do feel like it’s a door that we left open. But would very much like to close. He started to speak, but I interrupted him.
“To be clear, though, I do feel like we rushed the terms of the last agreement without thinking them through. In hindsight, twenty-four hours was not a great deal of time. I think we were more worried about making each other comfortable and getting it done, than really planning a ‘bucket list’ type of experience.”
His pen bobbed damn near at the speed of light.
