The Sex Surrogate Page 16

  I couldn't take it.

  I just... couldn't.

  I was done.

  “Red,” I said, my voice firmer than I thought it would be.

  His hand froze for a second, then moved quickly away.

  “Ava, babe... what's wr...”

  But I wasn't listening.

  I reached for the only towel, drying as best I could as I rushed out into room, grabbing my dress and slipping it awkwardly up my still damp skin, dropping the towel. A naked Chase came storming sopping wet into the room, eyes worried.

  “Ava, please talk to me...”

  My boobs would settle into the bodice right, but I wasn't wasting time with that. I grabbed my keys and wallet, reached for the door to the office and went out.

  Chase had grabbed the towel, wrapping it around his waist, following me out. “Ava!”

  Then I was running, in through the waiting room, unlocking the door with clumsy fingers, then throwing myself out into the street.

  He might have been willing to do a lot of things, but he wasn't going to haul out into the streets wearing only a towel. I had been counting on that as I took off at a dead run toward the parking garage, bare feet slapping on the pavement.

  I shoved my key into the ignition with shaking hands, pulling out of the garage as quickly as possible, taking the back road so I wouldn't have to pass by his office.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  After the Session

  I turned the heat on full blast, my wet body shaking violently against the cold.

  Oh, my god.

  What the hell did I do?

  Fuck.

  I had acted like a damn maniac.

  But I just... I couldn't let him keep touching me and pretend it didn't mean more than that to me. It meant more. Even if I was just dealing with some psychological condition. It was real. It was as real as anything. And it fucking hurt. And I just couldn't keep subjecting myself to that.

  It was over.

  I was done.

  I wasn't going back.

  He could keep the money.

  Even though I was more fucked up than when I first went in.

  Because I couldn't imagine anyone else every laying a hand on me again.

  I ran into my apartment building, hauling the door open and...

  “Congratulations!” Jake's and Shay's voice chorused, sitting on the couch, a big spread of food and booze in front of them.

  One look at my face and wet, disheveled body, and Shay was jumping off the couch. “Ava, what happened?”

  “I can't...” I said, helplessly, shaking my head.

  “Did that fucker hurt you?” Jake asked, jumping up in all his testosterone-driven masculinity.

  And I wanted to say yes.

  Yes.

  He hurt me.

  But not that way.

  I shook my head and the anger deflated, leaving only worry.

  “Ava,” Shay's voice snapped

  “I'm not going back,” I said simply, moving numbly toward my bed.

  The pretty white dress fell to the ground and I reached in my closet for sweatpants and the biggest, warmest sweatshirt I owned, escaping underneath them and climbing into the warmth my bed promised, buried deep under the covers despite my dripping wet hair.

  Buried, I let it out.

  And I mean... let it out.

  Loud, ugly sobs, making my body shake and my breath hitch. I buried my face in my hands, rocking my body for comfort. But there was no comfort.

  Not only was I unable to have a normal sex life. No. On top of that, I was fucking head over heels for my god damn doctor. A man who didn't return my feelings. A man I was hellbent on never seeing again. A man who held the only piece of comfort I had in the whole world and would just continue living, letting other women rest their heads on my spot, offering them what should belong to me. But never would. And it never had. Not really.

  Shay came in a while later, when the sobs subsided, the tears still streaming ruthlessly, and offered me tissues and a cup of tea. I took the tissues and let the tea become cold on my nightstand.

  I didn't sleep. I stayed up, staring at the wall, letting the misery bury into my marrow.

  “I don't think that's a good idea,” I heard Jake's distinct voice say.

  Then there was mumbling.

  “Jake, I dunno,” Shay's voice said, sounding like she was trying to reason with him. “You haven't seen her. She's like... bad. Maybe it will help.”

  “Or it could make it worse.”

  More mumbling.

  I stopped listening, sniffling hard as a new round of tears started. My cheeks felt raw from them, my eyes swollen and painful.

  My bedroom door opened and footsteps came forward.

  Not Shay. She walked quieter.

  Jake then.

  Come one, come all... look at the pathetic mess that is Ava Davis.

  “Baby...”

  No.

  No, please. Anyone else. Literally anyone else but him.

  No wonder Jake was arguing with Shay about it.

  I brought my legs further up into my chest, burying my face in the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

  “Sweetheart,” he crooned, grabbing my arms and prying them from my face, “don't hide from me.” I kept my eyes downcast, too embarrassed by the tear-stained mess I was. “Why did you run?”

  But I wasn't talking. I couldn't. Like all the other times I couldn't. Like I was mute. There was no use trying. The words would just get stuck in my throat.

  Besides, what could I even say?

  “You can't talk to me right now?” he asked, his hand reaching out to rub some of the tears off my cheeks, only to be replaced by new ones. I felt my head shaking slightly. “Okay. That's okay,” he said, infuriatingly patient. “I want to be here for you. Can I be here?”

  No.

  I needed to stay away from him. I needed distance. I needed to not rely on him. I needed to stop having flip-flopping in my belly when he talked so sweet to me. It just all needed to stop.

  “I don't feel comfortable leaving you if you can't even answer me,” he said, his voice sounding very professional. “So I am going to stay right here, okay?” he said, lowering himself onto the ground beside my bed. “If you need me, I'm right here. If you don't, I'm here anyway.”

  His hand fell from my face and I curled back up, hiding.

  Eventually, sleep came.

  I woke up later, my eyes half swollen shut, my face stinging. But not as bad as my heart. I looked down to see Chase still there like he promised, sitting on the floor, watching me like I might explode.

  “Hey,” he said, softly, like a small animal that might dart.

  And then I was reaching for him, grabbing him, pulling him toward me. He stood up, kicking out of his shoes and climbing into the space beside me. “Come on,” he said, putting an arm out, “come rest on your spot.”

  Then the tears came again even as I moved to lay on his chest. His arms went hesitantly around me.

  “I didn't know something was wrong,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “I would have helped you. You seemed fine. Happy even. I knew you were in there too long. I should have guessed something was up.”

  I wanted to tell him it was okay. I wanted to ease some of the tension I heard in his voice. But I couldn't even comfort myself, how could I ever comfort him?

  His arms tightened more. “I'm proud of you for using the safe word. I know that wasn't easy for you. Especially when you were so upset. I wish you would have stayed. I wish you would have talked to me about it. And not let yourself go to this place.”

  I was okay with that place.

  That place felt real.

  No more trying to pretend I wasn't in love with him.

  Or in fake love with him.

  Whatever it was.

  No more forcing myself to experience things that I, by nature, didn't s
eem inclined to do.

  Just no more faking it.

  I was a mess. Case closed.

  The door creaked open, sending light from the living room in. Shay walked up to the bed, sitting down on the foot, reaching out to rest a hand on my leg over the covers. “Is she gonna be alright? I've seen her panic before, but this is different.”

  “She'll be okay,” he said in a tone that didn't sound entirely convincing.

  “What happened?”

  “Honestly?” he said, sounding tired. “I don't know.”

  “Did you guys...”

  “Yeah, but she was fine. I swear, Shay. I was paying attention. In my professional opinion, she was handling it really well.”

  Professional opinion.

  Ouch.

  Like, really, ouch.

  I shrank away from him, moving away from a place that didn't quite feel so safe anymore, and turned from him, curling up to face the other wall.

  “I guess she didn't like something you said,” Shay said, standing.

  “Yeah,” he said, tired. He sounded as tired as I felt. “But, fuck if I know what it was.”

  “Figure it out,” she said, sounding so stern I almost wanted to smile. “I mean it, doc. Fix her. I want her back to how she was before. She was doing so good. Going out, being more open with me and Jake...”

  “I know.”

  “How many more sessions are you supposed to have?”

  “Four.”

  “What are they?”

  “More... intimacy. For... two more sessions. Then on the ninth session, I take her out.”

  “For what?”

  “To teach her how to handle herself around men. Flirt with them. Shut them down if she doesn't want them. Prepare her for her new life after therapy is over.”

  “And the last?”

  “Patient's choice. We can do recaps of everything. We can try a fetish if there's one she is interested in. Threesomes. Or even just some talk therapy.”

  “Pretty sure she ain't into threesomes.”

  “I know. Honestly, I hate those sessions anyway.”

  “Too much work, huh?” Shay asked and I could hear a smile in her voice.

  “I think the only men who want them are men who have no idea what they are getting into.”

  That's right. Just have talk about all your other sexual conquests while I am lying right there. I was just dying little by little. No big deal.

  “Well,” Shay said, sounding further away, like she was going back to the door, “like I said... fix her. She's the best.”

  “I know.”

  Luckily, Chase didn't reach for me again. I got to cry in semi-privacy, then pass back out.

  I woke up when the sun was streaming in the windows, bright on Chase's face. He was fast asleep.

  I crept out of the bed, tip-toeing my way toward the door and going to take a shower. I felt more human. Especially under the hot water.

  I was still broken. My edges felt sharp, like if someone touched me they would come back bloody. But I was all cried out. There were no more tears. I had used them all up.

  And it still hurt. A sharp sensation that seemed to worsen if I focused on it. So I didn't.

  But I would be okay.

  I wiped the condensation off the mirror, looking at my puffy eyes. “You'll be okay,” I said to my reflection, willing myself to put my faith to rest in it.

  I was going to move on.

  I was going to get over it.

  Take my feelings for Chase and lock them in a vault somewhere deep inside, to be dealt with at a later time.

  Because, well, I wasn't a quitter.

  And I wasn't quitting.

  I was going to go back to Chase's office. And I was going to learn everything I could learn from him. I would have more sex. I would learn about flirting. I would take whatever he could give me.

  Then I would - Move. The. Fuck. On.

  That was the plan.

  But first- damage control.

  I slipped into jeans and a black long-sleeve t-shirt, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and went out into the living room.

  Shay was still there and I had a moment of pure panic at the idea that I hadn't called out of work. And she was there too. That left the office so short...

  “I said we both got the stomach flu from some bad take-out,” Shay supplied, somehow knowing where my head was. “You aight?”

  But then a motion to the side caught my attention. I turned my head to see Chase standing in my doorway, wrinkled, exhausted looking. How long had he stayed up after I passed out?

  “Ava...” he said, the same concern clear in his voice.

  I turned back to Shay, who nodded at me, then walked toward him, waiting for him to step aside so I could step in and close the door.

  I took a deep breath, staring at my bed for a minute. Trying to get up the nerve. Then I turned back to him, raising my chin a little. “I'm sorry.”

  “Ava, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, shaking his head. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I... had a panic attack.” That was true enough. “After. Which was different and I just... didn't handle it well.”

  “Okay. Why didn't you tell me?”

  Because you're the one who caused it.

  “I just... needed some space.” Also true.

  “Alright. I understand. I wish you would have felt comfortable enough to share that with me though. So we could work it out together.”

  He didn't meant together together. Not that way.

  Squash that thrill of hope.

  “I'll try harder next time. It just kind of... snuck up on me. I was zero to ten in like two minutes.”

  He nodded stepping closer, his arm raising like he was about to touch me. Which I couldn't let happen. I skirted past him, going back toward the door.

  “I think Shay is making breakfast,” I said, switching topics and his brows drew together. “You are welcome to stay.”

  “Oh, um... I have to go home and change. I have a client at ten.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. I was doing well. And he was almost gone. “What time is our next session?”

  “Ava... are you sure you're alright. You seem...”

  “I'm fine,” I forced a smile, the movement almost hurting it was so fake.

  He watched me for a long time, like he didn't believe me. Like he was thinking about bringing it up. “Okay,” he said, finally. “Tomorrow at seven.”

  “Alright,” I said, opening the door, “I'll see you then,” I said, walking him toward the front door. “I'm sorry you needed to come out.”

  “I didn't need to come. I wanted to come. And it's nothing. I'll... see you tomorrow,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

  “Yup, see you then,” I agreed, then shut the door.

  “Girl, that was good.”

  “What?” I asked, turning and walking toward her.

  “That act. That was gooood.”

  “It wasn't...”

  “Oh, please. Girl, that shit might work on the men but we girls know better. You are all torn up.”

  I debated just shrugging it off, but thought better of it, taking a stool and dropping down on it across from her, watching for a minute as she added veggies and cheese to an omelet she was making. “My other shrink says I have transference.”

  “That thing where you like your shrink?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Girl, you ain't got no transference. You got real feelings.”

  “That's what transference feels like though. The only way I'll know it's not real is when it ends and suddenly all the feelings go away.”

  “Mmmhmm,” she said, her lips pursed like she wasn't buying it.

  “And last night... after...”

  “After you did it.”

  “Yeah, after we did it... I just realized how weird our situation is. How I feel like I am in love with
him... but he just sees me as a client. And I freaked out and hauled out of there without saying anything.”

  “Then he showed up here with huge, worried eyes looking like he just lost his damn baby in a mall, fighting with Jake to let him in. That he needed to see you. He needed to make sure you were alright.”

  “Right.”

  “Yeah, that totally sounds like something a shrink does,” she said dryly.

  “It is,” I insisted. “They can't just watch a patient in crisis and wash their hands of it because it is after hours.”

  “Of course not,” she said, again... dryly.

  “Shay...”

  “Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up. “You gonna help me eat this? I made it way too big.”

  “Sure,” I said, hopping up to get plates. “Where's Jake?”

  “Gym.”

  “Where did you sleep last night?”

  “Jake's bed.”

  “Oh,” I said, glancing over at her.

  “No,” she said, not looking at me.

  “No what?”

  “No I didn't fuck him,” she said, taking the spatula and cutting the omelet in half and letting the pieces fall into the plates I was holding out. “His ass slept on the couch.”

  “What?” I sputtered, eyes wide.

  “Yeah. He was a good boy and changed the sheets 'cause I ain't lying my ass down on those sheets lord knows how many skanks have been all over. And then I gave him a pillow and a blanket and sent him to the couch.”

  “What is this witchy power you have over men?” I asked, digging a fork into the omelet.

  “Girl, it ain't as hard as all those women's magazines make it sound. Men are simple. They respond best to direct orders and rewards. They don't like all that thinking and feeling. That's for us. We project that shit on to them. No. You tell a man to clean the garage and you'll suck his cock while he watches the game on Sunday... girl, you'll have a clean fucking garage.”

  “You're like the man whisperer,” I said, smiling. “So... what was Jake's reward for sleeping on the couch?”

  “That I didn't pick up the phone and call his mama,” she said, smirking. “I stole his phone. Idiot doesn't even keep it locked. It was two in the morning, she woulda been piiiiised to get a call from a woman saying her son was being less than gentlemanly.”

  “Oh, my god, Shay. I love you.”