The Lessons (8 page)

I gently spread her legs and kissed her thighs, making my way up to her sex. I wasn’t lying before—it really was beautiful, so pink and glistening and plump. As I ran my finger down the edge of her cunt, I heard her breath hitch again. God, she looked so wet after her last orgasm. Like,
dripping
. Her body was just hungry for attention and It. Was. Fascinating.

How no one ever succeeded in fucking this woman was a complete mystery to me. Her full hips, the way her ass swayed when she walked. The sweet way her glasses perched on the tip of her perfect little nose. And those breasts, sorry, those tits. Those perfect, fucking tits. What I wouldn’t give to just bury my face in them, and check out for days.

Shit.
Control yourself, Andrews. Focus.

So I did. I focused on her cunt. It was perfectly manicured, and I silently wondered if she’d done that for me. I mean, it had to be; I knew she wasn’t seeing anyone else. Although I guess she could have just done it for herself. Then another thought donned on me: No other man had probably seen what I was seeing right now. I don’t know why this had occurred to me now. It’d never occurred to me before, even though it’d had probably been true for a handful of clients I’d had. Maybe it hadn’t matter to me before— like I’d said, it was all just work. Just like this was
just work
.

Just work.

As my gut twisted, her hips twitched.
Shit.
I’d been staring too long.

I started to kiss her thighs again, as I made my way toward her. I moved slowly, deliberately, licking my finger before dragging it the length of her slit. It was as wet as it looked, and my finger slid over her soft cunt easily. I tested her clit, flicking it gently with my thumb. She immediately responded with a tilt of her hips, and like a junkie, I immediately had to see it again. I moved my thumb over her two more times. Another rock and then a small groan.

She liked it.

I was glad she was laying back and couldn’t see me, because the biggest, stupidest grin took over my face. I’d tried desperately to stay serious with her, but she liked it, and I couldn’t wait to show her more. She had no idea what was in store.

And all I had to do was not fuck it up.

Natalie

Oh,
fuck.

I couldn’t believe it. I’d just had a hot man-God go down on me and he actually managed to bring me to orgasm.
Wow
, I murmured to myself, my vision still fuzzy. That was incredible. I looked over at Ryan, who was now lying with me in bed.
Would it be wrong to ask him to do that again?
I thought.
Yes, stupid. He’s not a whore you are paying by the hour. Don’t you even go there.

He turned to me, and propped himself up on his elbow. “So,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm, “how did that feel?”

I pressed my lips together and rubbed my face. “Uh, really good.”
Should I thank him again? Fuck, what is the right way to answer?
“Thank you.”

Ryan looked amused at my response. “The pleasure was all mine, Natalie. That’s important for you to remember. Many men really enjoy giving oral sex to women.”

Did he mean— what did he mean by that? I looked down at his boxers. They were still on, and fully tented. Hmm. Maybe he did really enjoy doing that. What was I supposed to do now? Was I supposed to, oh God… not that I didn’t want to—

“Well,” he said stretching a little as he sat up, “I think that’s good enough for today.” He continued, very matter-of-factly, and rather confidently, despite his state of undress.

“Why do you do it?” I asked suddenly. The question clearly surprised him, and honestly, it surprised me as well. Why did I ask it? Well, there was only one reason. I wanted to stay with him, just a little longer. Well, okay, maybe I was curious too.

He looked over at me, and arranged himself so he was seated facing me. I mirrored him, bringing the sheet up to cover me.

“What do you mean? Do what?” he asked, a smile curling on his lips.

“This.” I closed one eye and looked up at the ceiling. “This work.” Taking ladies’ virginities wasn’t exactly a class at
my
college, and I was curious how one finds this as a vocation. What could his possible motivation be? Was he a sex addict? As much as it’d be a perfect job for one, I couldn’t imagine they’d get past the screening process Dr. Lerner had described. “Or is that too personal a question?”

“Oh,” he said, the muscles in his face visibly relaxing. “No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s only fair you know about my professional motivations.” He ran his hand though his hair. I hadn’t touched that hair yet, but I wanted to. It was sex God hair, all dark and thick. “Well, not to be crass, but the hours are reasonable, it fits in with my schedule, and it pays well.”

“Oh right, you’re in school?”

“Yep, PhD in Psychology. Final year.”

Oh.
This is starting to make more sense. “Is this your uh, area of concentration?” I cringed at my choice of words, given our, uh,
session
that afternoon.

But Ryan wasn’t deterred. “What, sex?” he chuckled. “Actually, no, I’m focusing on depression and anxiety. This work, it’s more like a side job while I’m in school. I also do regular therapy— I have to log so many hours to get my license.”

“Ah, so I’m the side job?”
Shit.
Why did I say that?! I scrambled to cover. “How many, uh, clients have you worked with? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.” I said, still wincing inside.

“Hmm. Good question.” He paused while he seemed to do the tally in his head. I watched him, completely perplexed by it all— I mean, who loses track of how many people they’ve fucked? “Clients, probably only about thirty or so. SFCS insists on time off between cases, but I’ve done about three or four a year for the last eight years or so.”

I shuddered a little, thinking about him with all those other… all those other women. “Huh, so you like it? I mean, you’ve kept doing it for eight years…” I said, still trying to suss out why exactly someone goes into this for a profession.

“Well, I guess so. I mean, I enjoy the work, but honestly it’s not about the sex— it’s actually pretty rewarding to see people through the process, to see people get better. That’s what’s kept me doing it. Although I probably won’t continue once I start my practice.”

“The other clients; do they all achieve penetration?”
Not that I was asking about myself or comparing myself to the other students in the class. Nope. Not at all.

I heard Josh ring in my head:
Such a fucking Virgo.

Ryan chuckled as he smiled over at me with something new— something I recognized, but didn’t expect. Was it, dare I say, warmth? God, that warm, dreamy smile. It was a panty-dropper for sure. I pondered how he might react if I asked to take a picture of him with my phone. Okay, no that would get me reported, a definite red flag. Calm down, Reese.

“Actually, Natalie, people come in with a wide variety of concerns—you’d be surprised. It’s not all about penetration.”

“Ah, so I could achieve penetration, go out into the world, fuck myself up and then have to come back to SFCS again? There’s no guarantee policy on the work?”

This made him belly-laugh. “I suppose so, Natalie. All the more reason to get things right the first time. Which, in this case, I mean quite literally.”

We both laughed at that one.

“So, Ms. Reese,” he said getting up and putting on his pants, “Shall I leave you to dress?”

“Uh, sure. Thank you,
Mr. Andrews
.” I pursed my lips and smiled. The mock-formality felt incredibly silly, given I’d just orgasmed with his head between my legs.

“Feel free to use the shower. Extra towels are in the wardrobe,” he said, throwing on his shirt. “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

Natalie

My phone vibrated, causing me to turn my attention from my computer screen. I’d been holed up in my now perfectly unpacked apartment, killing time before my next appointment with Dr. Lerner by guiltily researching Ryan Andrews online. I’d run his name through Google, searching for any clues to his life outside our work together. I’d found his Facebook page, which was set to private, and the website of a comic book artist. My Ryan Andrews was not a comic book artist.

Yes, I called him mine. He’d put his mouth on my vagina, and I was feeling a little territorial about the whole thing. Sue me.

I unlocked my phone.

I’m done at 12:30 and don’t fly out until six. Do you want to meet for lunch?

It was Josh. It was his last day in San Francisco, and the time had flown by. I felt like I’d barely been able to see him.

Yes, definitely. Anywhere in particular?

He texted back a link to a Mexican restaurant in the Tenderloin neighborhood. Josh always did have a knack for picking out the best places to eat, I missed that about him. I texted him to confirm before grabbing my purse to leave for Dr. Lerner’s office.

It felt like a million years had passed since I’d last seen her, since that day Ryan caught me in the hall and pulled me into the restroom. I already felt so… different. Not in a way I’d expect, not more worldly or wise, but more… something. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

It starts with an R and ends with an
–
yan Andrews,
my subconscious hissed aggressively. Humph. One taste of the tongue and she was now quite the pushy little thing.
Argh,
I sighed, trying not to let myself be distracted by this. I had to keep my eyes on the prize— this, all of this, was part of a much bigger plan. The plan for
my
life
. I needed to stay focused and keep moving forward. This strategy had worked when I was young, and it was going to work now.

As I approached SFCS, I was acutely aware of how much I had to talk about since our last meeting. Armed with that list of accomplishments, I also had a list of things to avoid—or at least tiptoe around. Either way, it was going to be an interesting session, that was for sure.

I gave a quick wave to Priya the receptionist as I entered the waiting area.

“Hi Natalie, Dr. Lerner is running a little behind today. Have a seat and she should be ready for you in about ten minutes.

“No problem. I’m early anyway.” And I could hear Josh’s teasing voice in my head,
typical Virgo— so eager to get your gold star
. I took the seat next to the magazine rack and grabbed a month-old copy of Good Housekeeping. I thumbed through it, trying to concentrate on trivial Type-A lady-porn, like how to plant a better vegetable garden and organize my garage, but it was no use. Once again, I was beyond nervous.

My phone buzzed with a text message again. I pulled it out of my purse and slid the screen, thinking it was Josh.

Hey, it’s Brad. I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from Paulina. I’m wondering if you want to get coffee next week?

I stared at my phone. Was this what I thought it was? Was Brad asking me on a date? That’s what coffee is, right—a date? I stared back at the screen helplessly and snuck a peek at Priya. She was busy, typing away at her station. I looked back down at my phone and decided to text Josh.

Josh, are you there? Brad just asked me out.

I waited several long seconds until my phone lit up with a response.

LL, I’m not going to say I told you so, but I saw that coming a mile away.

He was totally into you the other night.

He was?

Uh, DUH. He was like, staring at you all night.

You didn’t notice?

Girl, you didn’t used to be this dense.

Bah- you know not to do that

Do what?

Don’t ‘used-to’ me

Sorry. Had to.

But seriously, you didn’t notice?

I guess I had... but I was just so used to tamping down my expectations since they never, well, never ended up going anywhere.

He’s a hottie. You go, girl.

Thanks.

So I should say yes???

OMG! It’s just coffee. Relax. Yes. Go.

Okay. Thanks. See you soon. g/g

I changed screens back to Brad and typed in a response. He responded almost immediately, and in less than a minute we had plans to get coffee after work on Tuesday.

“Natalie?” Dr. Lerner’s voice came gently crashing into my thoughts. I looked up. She was standing in the doorway, with her trusty notebook.

“Hey,” I said as I gathered my things.

“Sorry to make you wait.”

“Oh, no it’s fine. Really. I was early anyways,” I said as I followed her down the beige hall to her office.

“Have a seat.” She gestured to the couch. I said a silent hello to Larry and Lucius and headed to what was becoming my ‘usual’ spot. I set my purse down on the ground and glanced around the room as she thumbed through her files, finally extracting what I presumed to be mine. She was dressed less formally than the last time I’d seen her. Her hair was still tied back in a chignon, but she was wearing dark jeans and a thin, cream-colored sweater. It was cute, and I was toying with the idea of asking her where she’d gotten it when I realized I was just trying to distract myself from what was at hand. I looked down at my knees. One of them was pumping up and down rapidly, a nervous tick of mine. I halted that immediately.

“So, Natalie,” Dr. Lerner began, “I’m anxious to hear how your first week went.”

No dancing around it, I guess. We were jumping right in.

“Uh, good,” I ventured, “Yeah, I think it went well.”

She began writing. How could she be writing so much? I’d barely said anything. “And why do you say that?”

Oh boy, she wasn’t going to make this easy, was she? What was it with all these psychology types? I don’t
know
why I said that. Because I managed to get through it? I mean, not that it was arduous. But I showed up, and we did what we were supposed to do. We did the assignment. What else was there to it?

“Uh, I guess it went well because we— I mean I, was able to move forward. You know, toward the goal.”

“The goal being intercourse?”

“Yes.” Fuck, there goes the blushing again.

Dr. Lerner removed her reading glasses and looked up at me. “Mr. Andrews updated me on your progress.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I turned and even deeper shade of pink. “Oh, uh—” I coughed. My throat was bone dry and I didn’t have my trusty water bottle with me.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

I nodded, unable to speak. The doctor got up and went into the hall, emerging a short moment later with a paper cup full of water. I took it gratefully.

“Thank you,” I said after a couple of sips. “Sorry about that.”

The doctor shook her head dismissively. “No trouble. Where were we…right. Mr. Andrews had updated me on your progress thus far.”

I swallowed again, this time without a spastic response. “Great. Um, what did he say?”

“Well, he said you’ve covered quite a bit of ground, actually.”

I nodded, and took another sip of water. “I guess you could say that.”

“Are you disappointed with your progress, Natalie?”

I furrowed my brow. “No, I mean, not really. I just— I guess I just wasn’t sure.”

“About what?”

“How long it would take. I mean, how many appointments, how many sessions.”

Dr. Lerner laughed. “Let me guess. Honor roll? I bet you were the teacher’s favorite, too.”

I raised my eyebrows and bit my lips before looking back at her. “Mm, yeah. Am I that easy to read?”

“Takes one to know one.” She chuckled. “But trust me, as one overachiever to another— this is not something you want to rush through. If you do, you run the risk of developing new traumas, new hang-ups, and as much as I like you, the goal is for us to never have to see each other again. Does that make sense?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Yeah. It does.”

“And you’ll have to get very comfortable with the p-word.”

I cocked my head at her. “Penis?”

She threw her head back and let out a deep belly laugh. “No, Natalie,
patience
. Although getting comfortable with penises will be part of it.”

“I think penises might be easier to get used to.” I said with a small smile. Dr. Lerner was nice. I liked her.

“It usually is for our types. Okay, now I’m going to change the subject and get a little more specific. Mr. Andrews tells me you were able to orgasm.”

Here we go again.

“Uh, yep. Yeah.”

“But you have not yet attempted penetration, is that correct?”

“Right. We’ll uh, probably go for that next time.” At least, that is what I assumed. Yep, the teacher’s pet was roaring back to life. I made it sound so easy, like it was my choice; like I was debating between ordering a hot dog or hamburger.

“And how did you find it? Achieving orgasm?”

Jesus. That fucking expression again. This was decidedly the
least
sexy conversation I’d ever had. I longed for it to be over and done. I glanced down at my watch. In about forty-five minutes, I would be sitting down to lunch with Josh, this horrible awkwardness behind me. I couldn’t fucking wait.

“Natalie?”

“What? Oh, sorry. It was good. Yep. Still reflecting on it, I guess.”

She nodded and continued to write in her notebook. “That’s great— that’s an important part of the process. So what about you and Mr. Andrews; are you working well together? Any concerns on that front?”

I felt something move deep inside me at the mention of his name, and immediately I perked up. I tried to avoid tipping her off with eye contact and instead looked at her askance. Was she trying to tip-toe around my attraction to him? Could she even tell? Or was I that obvious? Then a thought occurred to me:
shit, she hadn’t seen us in the hallway last week, had she?
We had been so careful, I was positive no one had seen us. Maybe she was asking for another reason. In any case, my strategy was clear: Deny, deny, deny.

I shrugged. “No complaints. He’s a good teacher. Nice enough.”

She studied my face for a beat longer, and I could tell, she was trying to suss out if I had any inappropriate reaction to him. It felt a little unfair, I mean, what woman would have anything
but
an inappropriate reaction to a man like Ryan Andrews. I must have fooled her though, because after a minute she started with another line of questioning.

“Do you have anything in particular you’d like to cover over the next couple of appointments?”

“With you?”

“Well, it could be with me, but I meant with the surrogate. As you may remember, we check in periodically to design your therapy plan. If you have any particular wishes or ideas, I’d be happy to pass them along to him.”

Wishes? Oh, if she only knew. Ryan Andrews was awakening all sorts of depraved thoughts for me. Things I had only read about in Cosmopolitan magazine were suddenly occupying my mind at night. Was this normal? I was chewing my lip, debating various strategies of debauchery when she continued.

“Or you can continue to have him take the lead. He’ll know how to pace things according to how your body is responding,” she offered.

Ah. Right. Something in her tone of voice told me this was the right answer, so I took it.

“I think that sounds good…”

“So, can we switch gears? I’d like to talk a little more about you today.”

For some reason this made me laugh. “I thought we were talking about me?” My clitoris. My vagina. My lessons on intercourse. My orgasms. How much more intimate could we get?

She laughed along with me. “Right, well, I guess we are talking about your physiology. But let’s move to what’s going on up here and in here.” She tapped her head and then the area above her heart. “I’d like to find out more about why you think you’ve managed to make it all the way to thirty years of age without developing any intimate relations.”

I took a deep breath. I knew my real reasons, and as much as I knew I needed to sort out my head with a trained professional, I didn’t really feel up to getting into everything with this woman. This was supposed to be a quick series of appointments. If I started to talk about the foster system and my mom’s cancer and how it derailed my plan— well, we’d be here for a while. A long while. I knew that I had enough anger and guilt bottled up inside to keep a psych busy for years, but fixing my head wasn’t the goal. Getting back on track with The Plan was.

“Natalie?”

Shit.
I was taking too long to answer. Again.
Get out of your fucking head, Reese.

“Uh,” I said, buying some time. “I think… well, there were my old boyfriends, they made me feel unsure of myself I guess.”
Good, yes, stay with the pre-established script—don’t improv, Reese. Virgos suck at improv.