The Sex Surrogate (8 page)

He
watched me as I spoke, interested, apt. His hand moved to rest on the
back of my chair, not touching me, but there. “You know,
you're really...”

“Hey,”
Jake's voice broke in from my other side, “don't bother dude.
She's not interested.” What? What the hell? Was Jake
actually... trying to protect me? Brushing off someone he thought was
pestering me? That was so incredibly sweet and unexpected of him.
“She's not interested in any one but her sex doctor.”

Well,
that was much more Jake-like.

“Shut
the hell up, Jake,” I growled, eyes shooting daggers at him.
Silently trying to make sure he got the point.

“No,
seriously,” Jake said, too cocky or too careless to notice my
silent plea for him to go away, “she's like frigid, dude. You
don't want her.”

Oh

my

god.

I
wanted to just curl up inside myself and die. Right there. Because it
was just way too fucking humiliating to live through another moment
of it.

Chase
leaned forward on the bar, looking at Jake, extending his hand toward
him to shake. “Dr. Chase Hudson,” he said, and I could
sense Jake stiffen next to me.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,
oh
,” Chase said, glancing at me in all my embarrassment,
staring down at my hands, my hair falling like a curtain around me to
hide my red cheeks and lip biting, “What you just did to her is
absolutely fucking unacceptable,” he scolded, and my head
jerked up to look between them.

“Dude,
I didn't mean any offense...”

“It's
not me you should be apologizing to, it's her. Do you have any idea
how insensitive that was? Knowing that she is struggling, to rub her
face in it in front of someone you thought was a stranger? You need
to take better care of her.”

“I'm
not her boyfriend or brother, man,” Jake defended himself, but
I knew he was starting to feel the guilt.

“No,
but I suspect her being here was your idea in the first place. This
obviously isn't the kind of thing she's comfortable with. And then
you fucking abandon her. Then make fun of her? Who does shit like
that? She's in your life. You care about her at all... fucking do
better,” he said, throwing money onto the bar then touching my
back between my shoulder blades for a brief moment. “Ava,”
he said, pausing, waiting for me to look at him. When I did, he gave
me a smile, “I will see you Thursday.”

And
then he was gone. Walking out the front door, pausing to look,
crossing the street, then disappearing into his apartment building.

“Damn,
I feel like a chastened eight year old,” Jake said, looking
down at me. “Hey, sorry. I know I'm a dick. I shouldn't have...
said that shit. I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“It's
o...” I trailed off, glancing back toward Chase's apartment
building. I could practically hear him telling me not to say it was
okay. It wasn't okay. I needed to learn to stand up for myself a
little bit. At least with Jake. I put up with way too much shit from
him. “Actually,” I said instead, turning to look at him,
“it's not okay. Nothing about tonight was okay. Taking me here
only to abandon me. Then saying that stuff. It's not okay. And it
needs to stop. Especially the talk about my sex life. I mean it. It
stops now.”

Jake's
brows lowered for a moment before a smile started to play at his
lips. “Damn,” he said, nodding, glancing off toward the
direction Chase left, “he really is helping you, huh?”

“What
are you talking about?”

“That,”
he said, sitting down and reaching for an onion ring. “That
attitude. That speech. You never would have told me off in the past.
Never. No matter how far I stepped over the line. He's really helping
you. That's really great for you.”

He
was right. He was really right. After three interactions with Chase,
I felt enough confidence to stand my ground a little. Or at least try
to. That was progress. That was more progress than I had made in
years. “Seriously, though Jake. The talk about my sex life...”

He
held up a hand, palm out. “Never again. I mean... not in front
of anyone else anymore.”

“Thank
you,” I said, meaning it.

“You
should be thanking that doctor,” he said, grabbing a handful of
chips.

I
nodded. “How do I thank a guy?” I wondered aloud.

“Guys
are easy,” Jake answered. “We don't need flowers and
jewelry and fancy dinners. Show up wearing something sexy as fuck and
we are happy men.”

I
looked at him, smiling a little. “You're a genius.”

The
next night after work I took a cab to the fanciest lingerie store I
knew of. I also knew because I knew of it, that whatever I ended up
picking out was going to cost me a small fortune. But it would be
worth it.

For
two separate reasons.

One,
because it might help bolster my confidence a little. Women
supposedly felt sexy wearing new pretty panties and bras and all that
stuff. And I was about to be getting undressed in front of someone. I
could use all the sexy I could get.

Two,
because like Jake said, it was a good way to thank a guy.

The
inside of the store was gorgeous. The walls were a crisp, but light,
gray. The floors were an immaculate dark wood. There were two large
white tables with trays of lacy undies and bras on them. The walls
had built-in units with racks of matching bras and panties, garter
belts, nighties, even robes. There were two black chandeliers hanging
from the ceiling, on over each table. Toward the back were crisp
white curtains draping a doorway that led, I imagined, to the
changing rooms. Beside the doorway was a discreet gray service desk,
a gorgeous redhead standing behind it in a tight black dress. There
was slow, sensual classical music playing through hidden speakers and
the air was warm, making me shiver coming from the cool outside.

There
were two other women browsing the selections. I made my way toward
one of the tables, feeling unsure. I honestly didn't know what would
work on me. Or what would be sexiest to a man. I bought matching
things on occasion. Blacks, whites, beige. And some could even be
considered kinda hot, but I wanted something better than 'kinda hot'.
I wanted something to inspire drool.

“Are
you looking for something for a special occasion?” the pretty
redhead from the desk asked, coming up beside me.

“Oh,”
I said, dropping the panties I had been looking at. “Yeah.
Um... I just started...” Seeing a sex therapist? And we are
about to get naked for the first time together? Yeah, no. “Seeing
someone,” I improvised.

“Ohh,”
she said, giving me a knowing smile. “Well, you don't want to
be looking here,” she told me, holding out an arm to follow
her. Which I was all too happy to do. I could use all the help I
could get. “Do you, or your... partner,” she said,
effortlessly guiding through political correctness, “have a
color preference? Red? Pink? White?”

That
was a good question. There was no way I would feel sexy in red. Which
made no sense, but it was just screamed sex and that would probably
be too much. And I was never a fan of pink. “I think black
would be best,” I said, knowing myself, knowing my closet which
was full of varying shades of black.

“Always
a good choice,” she said, guiding me toward the walls where the
sets were displayed. “Silk? Lace?”

“Lace,”
I decided, excited by the idea of the cutout peekaboo effect.

“How
about this?” she asked, showing me a black floral lace
balconette bra hanging above the matching panties. She reached into
the rack, pulling out the panties. “These bottoms are cheeky,”
she informed me, flipping them to show me the back, the cut high to
let the a fair view of your butt hang out, but still covered a bit,
“but we also have a matching thong if you would prefer.”

“Cheeky
will be good,” I said quickly. I wanted to at least be covered
when I was still... covered.

“Great,”
she said, glancing down at me for a second before flipping through
the hangers and handing me a pair in my size. She went back to flip
through the bras. “We also have thigh-high stockings and a
garter belt to go with this, if you are interested.”

More
layers? Sign me up. “Sure,” I agreed.

Next
thing I knew, I was walking out with a pretty gray and black striped
bag, black tissue paper happily spilling out of the top, and a few
hundred dollars poorer. But it was worth it. At least, I was hoping
it would be worth it.

I
let myself into the apartment, finding Jake setting up his massage
table. His eyes drifted down to the telling bag, one side of his
mouth quirking up. “Good choice,” he said, nodding.

“Sure,”
I agreed, smiling, “if I can get the balls to wear it.”

“I'll
make sure you do,” he said, nodding. “What are you
wearing over it?”

“Yeah,
I get it. My clothes suck,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“The
clothes aren't to blame. You just put them together badly.”

“Even
worse.”

“I'll
pick out something while you're at work tomorrow and lay it out for
you.”

“Really?”
I asked, stopping short on my way to my room.

“Yeah,”
he said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

But
for his normally selfish disposition, it was. He was going to do
something just because it was nice. For me. With nothing in return.
“Okay. Thank you. But nothing too crazy, okay? I don't want to
look like I am asking for it.”

“But
you are.”

“But
I don't want to
seem
like it. Something modest, okay?”

“Alright,”
he agreed, “but only if what you have in that bag is black and
lacy.

I
smiled, “It is.”

“Good
girl,” he nodded, turning back to his set up. Lotions, oils,
and incense all needed to be laid out on a gorgeous silver and
mirrored bar cart. “You nervous?” he asked, holding a
lighter out to a stick of, what was bound to be, rose incense.

I
opened my bedroom door, turning back. “Yes.”

“Don't
be,” he said, shrugging. “He seems capable.”

“Capable
of what?”

“Anything
you need,” he said in an odd tone, but turned away from me
before I could ask what he meant.

Okay.

I
set the bag on my desk, stripping out of my clothes, getting into
pajamas, and going to bed way too early. Because if I didn't, I was
going to stress about the next night until I made myself positively
sick.

And
then my subconscious took over.

And
I dreamed of him instead.

Second
Session

I
came home to find Jake lounging casually, watching TV, barely
inclining his head toward me as a greeting. So much for the sweet guy
I had seen the night before. Oh, well. I couldn't expect miracles. He
was still Jake after all, even if he had decided to start treating me
better.

After
being scolded by Chase, I reminded myself.

A
swift wave of nausea came over me suddenly. I had been good about not
thinking about him. Well, okay, not good. But okay. Alright, fine. I
had done a shit job of it. But I had tried.

I
opened my door, closing it, before looking up.

And
there was my bed. Splayed with a selection of clothes for the night,
my bag of lingerie, and another unknown bag. I walked over, taking in
the simple black long sleeved t-shirt dress that would be snug, but
not body hugging. Effortless really. Simple. It wouldn't look slutty.
It would show off my pretty sheer black stockings. It was a good
choice. One that I never would have made myself.

I
reached for the bag I didn't recognize, reaching inside and pulling
out a pretty glass bottle of perfume.

“It's
the same scent as that shit lotion you wear,” Jake said from
behind me, making me swing around to find him standing in my doorway.

I
looked down at the bottle, taking in the label. “Jake, this is
too much,” I objected, knowing the general price range.

“It's
no big deal,” he brushed it off. I knew he made good money, way
more than me by leaps and bounds, but still. It was an expensive
gift. And we didn't do that kind of thing.