The Sex Surrogate (3 page)

“Right.”

“So,
if kissing makes you anxious...”

“I
have to let you kiss me.”

His
eyes darkened for a second, just a quick flash that was just as
quickly gone. “Exactly.” He agreed, sitting back in the
chair. “Only pull away or push me away if you can't talk
yourself down. If you can't take it any more. That being said, I am
going to be communicating with you the entire time, trying to work to
dispel the fears before they become overwhelming. The point is for
you to get to the point where you can enjoy being touched.”

By
him.

I
was going to be touched by his six foot three, dark haired, blue
eyed, ridiculously sexy self. All the while he talked to me in that
low, deep, confident way he spoke that was making my skin feel
tingly. Which... was good. That was good. But the initial arousal had
always been easy for me. As long as he was... arousing me outside of
my personal space.

“You're
a very beautiful woman,” he said, shocking through my internal
stream of thought.

“I'm
sorry?” I asked, sure I misheard him.

“I
said you are a very beautiful woman.”

Oh,
for Christ's sake.

I
felt the flutter in my belly, followed immediately by a strange
rolling, my eyes dropping to my lap as my cheeks started to blush. I
was shit at taking compliments. For as long as I remembered.

“Compliments
make you uncomfortable?” he asked and I knew he was watching
me. Always freaking watching me.

“Yes.”

“Why?”
Now, that was a loaded question. “Because you don't believe
them?” he asked, hitting the nail on the head.

“Yes.”

“Ava,”
he said, that same firm, yet pleading sound that I was learning to
take for
look at me.
I
sighed, looking up. “I don't feed women compliments for fun. If
I tell you something, I mean it. It is an observation. You are a
beautiful woman. Case closed.”

“Right,”
I said, hoping it sounded like agreement.

His
lips quirked up, turning into what I could only call a smirk. “Ava,
what do you think the main reason men compliment women is?” He
paused, like he was going to let me answer, but I didn't. “To
get women into bed,” he finished for me. He leaned forward,
that smirk etching wider, almost devilish. “You are here to go
to bed with me. Eventually. Do you really think I need to give you
compliments?”

He
had a point. “I guess not.”

“Exactly.
So, you're beautiful. It's a biological fact.” Right. So it
didn't really mean anything. Everyone finds different people
attractive. For all I knew, he hated blondes. And brown eyes and lack
of seen-from-the-front-buttage. “And,” he cut into my
little insecure tirade, “I find you incredibly attractive.”

Oh,
lord.

Feeling
like I needed to find something to say, I mumbled, “Thanks.”

To
which, he chuckled.

“Do
you find me attractive?”

“I
think the entire continental US would find you attractive,” I
said, hedging the question. It was a skill I had learned early on, to
answer, but not to include myself in the answer.

“That's
wonderful,” he said, leaning toward me, “but I wasn't
asking the entire continental US, I was asking you.”

Mother
fucker.

I
averted my eyes slightly, looking at the edge of his ear, “Yes.”

“Good,”
he said, getting up from his chair suddenly, moving away from the
alcove and making the air feel a lot thinner, easier to breathe. “So,
I will see you... Tuesday for your first session.”

It
was a question, but also a statement. Like there was no doubt in his
mind I would agree.

And,
hell, I was in this deep. I might as well keep going.

“Okay.”

“Okay,”
he said, opening the door to the waiting room and standing there,
waiting for me to pass through. “Seven at night work for you?”

Odd
hours. But I guess it wasn't easy to get in the mood to pay a
stranger to touch you at eight-forty in the morning.

“Yes,”
I agreed, moving into the doorway.

His
hand pressed hard into my lower back, guiding me through, then
dropping as he walked to stand next to the reception desk.

“See
you then, Ava.”

He
needed to stop saying my name.

I
couldn't freaking think straight.

“Okay,”
I said, walking numbly toward the door.

After
the Session

Okay.
So, maybe I ran to my car. Literally. Ran. In heels. Then threw
myself into the seat and turned it over and started my way home.
Because, well, I could use something to focus on.

That
wasn't what I had expected.

Well,
I mean it was. It was sufficiently embarrassing and awkward. But
there was also that weird
'I find you attractive, do you find me
attractive?'
thing. What was that about? If he didn't find me
attractive, would that make a difference? I couldn't imagine all of
his clients were good looking. Which must make for a lot of time
rolling around the highlight reel in his head to get the, ah, juices
flowing.

And
was he attractive? Seriously? Would any woman answer that with an
'eh, seen better'
? Because I was pretty sure I hadn't. He was
like a walking model for a suit catalog. And those eyes...

Alright.
Enough of that.

If
I concentrated on how good looking he was, it would only make me more
nervous. Because, apparently, I only had one more session before I
had to get naked with him.

I
sighed, unlocking my apartment door and stepping inside.

“Still
frigid?”

“What?”
I asked, my heart flying up into my throat.

“You
left your computer up,” Jake, my pain in the ass roommate said,
walking into the living room with an enormous bowl of cereal, wearing
nothing but a pair of thick gray sweatpants slung low on his hips.
Jake was extremely good looking. And completely aware of it.

He
was slightly over six feet with sandy blonde hair, longer on top and
pushed back from his forehead, bright green eyes, and tan skin over
the body he spent endless hours in the gym working on.

He
was also a jerk.

“So,
you thought that meant you could just... go through my fucking
browser history?” I asked, slamming the door and dropping my
keys on the table.

“That
wasn't the plan,” he said, dropping down onto the couch and
staring at the TV.

“What
was the plan then?” I asked, kicking his gym shoes out of the
middle of the floor.

“You
have that huge screen,” he said, turning to me with a smirk I
didn't trust. “I'm tired of watching porn on my phone.”

“Oh,
gross.”

“Well,
some of us have sexual urges.”

“You're
such a fucking asshole,” I growled, grabbing the box of cereal
off the kitchen counter and putting it back in the cabinet.

I
don't know why I put up with him. He was a slob. Insensitive. He had
wild parties in the middle of the week. He brought an endless barrage
of women home, leaving early in the morning to hit the gym, and
making me to deal with them. God, I can't count how many of those
awkward morning talks I've had. The
'he's an asshole, you can do
so much better'
talks.

Fact
of the matter was, it was an expensive freaking city. And my job
didn't pay that great. On my salary alone, I'd have to live in one of
the shitty areas, worrying myself to ulcers about all the unseemly
characters I shared a building with. So, unfortunately, my only other
option was to find a roommate to live a better neighborhood.

So,
I tolerated Jake. As I had already been doing for two and a half
years.

“Hey,”
he said, coming up behind me unexpectedly, putting his soggy cereal
down on the counter next to me.

“What?”
I snapped, staring out the window over the sink, bracing myself for
the next unfeeling thing bound to come out of his mouth.

“Why
didn't you tell me?”

Surprised,
I turned, brows drawing together. “What?”

“Why
didn't you tell me that you have like... issues with that?”

“Why
would I?”

“Aw,
love, that hurts,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “I
thought we were pretty close. I buy you fucking tampons for god's
sake.”

“It's
not something I like to talk about,” I said, shrugging a
shoulder. Though I had to admit, it was sort of nice that someone
knew. Someone saw the whole picture.

It
was getting beyond irritating to go to family dinners and be teased
relentlessly about my always being single. About how much my mother
wanted grand babies. My coworkers getting annoyed at me when they
discuss their sexcapades and I never had anything to pitch in.

“Christ,
I feel like a dick, Ava,” he said, backing up and leaning
against the kitchen island. “How many times did I pick at you
about needing to get laid? If I had known you have like...
problems...”

“You
still would have teased me,” I said, smiling slightly. He might
have felt like a heel, but the fact of the matter was... that was
just his personality. He was always saying shit that got him in
trouble. Hitting on women in front of their men. Telling the
meatheads at the gym that they must be compensating for something. He
seemed to have an innate ability to know just what buttons to
press... and then push the fuck out of them.

“Yeah,
maybe,” he smiled, boyish, charming, “but I would have
felt bad about it after.”

“You're
a prince,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“So,
how did it go?” he asked, putting his hands at the edge of the
counter behind him, completely comfortable with his half-nakedness.
He always had been. For which, I couldn't blame him. He looked like
he was sculpted out of clay.

“Are
we really going to talk about this?” I asked, shaking my head
at the cereal bowl he was totally going to let sit there on the
counter to fester.

“Only
if you don't want me constantly pestering you about it.”

“Fine,”
I said, turning to strain the milk down the drain and drop the globs
of cereal into the garbage. “It was weird. Uncomfortable.”

“Well,
I mean... you're going to be fucking the dude. So... yeah.” He
stayed silent as I washed the bowl and spoon, placing them in the
drying rack. “Was he halfway decent looking? Please don't tell
me you're fucking a gross fat old guy.”

“He's
probably the best looking guy I've ever seen,” I admitted.

“Hey,”
Jake objected, eyes squinted at me.

“Aside
from you,” I laughed.

“That's
better,” he smiled, and I could see why so many women blindly
followed him home. “So, he got your panties all wet, huh?”

“What?
No!” I screeched, too loud, too fast. A blush crept up into my
cheeks and Jake threw his head back and laughed.

“You're
cute when you're all turned on by your new sex doctor.”

“Oh,
my god. Shut up,” I said, brushing past him.

His
arm swung out, grabbing my bicep and holding me in place until I
looked at him. “I'm just playing,” he said, shrugging.
“I'm glad you're getting help. And if you need to talk about
the sex stuff, well,” he said, smiling his devilish smile
again, “I
am
an expert too.”

I
laughed. “Oh, yeah? What credentials do you have?”

“Baby,
I graduated at the top of my class in Pussyology at Fucking U.”

I
giggled, shaking my head. “You're such a tool.”

“For
serious though,” he said, letting my arm go, “if you have
any questions or want to talk about it... I know you don't have
anyone else to talk to.”