The Sex Surrogate (28 page)

But
I stayed infuriatingly numb.

Chase
shifted, moving upward and leaning over me. Then started planting
kisses from the base of my neck downward.

And
I suddenly wasn't numb anymore. I was definitely feeling that.

I
knew I should take the opportunity to get up, to get dressed, to
leave. But it felt too nice to walk away from.

It
felt like worship.

He
kissed down my spine, shifting slightly, kissing one of my ass
cheeks, the down the leg to my ankle, then up the other leg, across
that ass cheek, then up my spine again. Every inch of my body felt
tingly. Light. Loved.

Oh,
no.

Okay.

Shut.
It. Down.

I
wasn't loved. I wasn't worshiped. I was kissed. That was it. It
wasn't anything other than that. Just kissing. Just more training.
Coaching. Because I was a client, not a lover. Not a girlfriend. I
was no one to him.

His
lips moved across my shoulder then off.

Too
soon.

And
yet not soon enough.

When
he settled back beside me again, I pushed myself up on all fours,
then landed back on my heels.

His
hand reached out for me, but I was out of reach.

“Wait.
Where are you going?”

“I
promised Shay I would help her set up the room tonight.”

Lie.
It was a bold-faced lie.

“Ava...”

I
moved off the bed, reaching for my dress.

Sensing
my determination to leave, he moved off the side of the bed and
grabbed his pants.

“What
are you doing?” I asked, pulling my dress over my head.

“I'm
walking you to your car,” he said, standing, reaching for his
shirt while simultaneously slipping into his shoes. “You're not
walking around at night with no fucking panties on.”

I
rolled my eyes. I had walked to his office just fine with no panties
on. But, whatever. There was no use fighting him. I grabbed my wallet
and keys, and walked out, leaving him to follow behind, still
buttoning his shirt.

We
walked in stony silence. And it
was
stony. Chase was stiff as marble beside me, but I
pretended
to ignore him, walking to my car and unlocking it, throwing my wallet
on the passenger seat.

I
was moving to turn back to him, when his hands grabbed my shoulders
tight and slammed me back against my car, holding me there.

“Chase...
what the hell...”

“What
is wrong with you?”

Oh,
boy.

“Nothing,”
I said, scrunching my face up like he was crazy.

“Bullshit,
you've been off since you woke up the other morning and kept giving
me that fake ass smile. What is going on with you?”

I
took a breath, willing my voice to sound convincing. “Nothing
is wrong with me,” I said. “I'm good. I've been...
learning a lot.”

Mostly
about how to pretend not to be in love with someone even when they
are inside of you.

“What
the fuck...” he growled, then shook his head, taking a deep
breath, calming himself. “You're not being you.”

“You've
only seen me for a couple hours here and there, Chase. You have no
idea who I really am.”

Which
was master liar and a royal bitch when I am on the defensive.

“I
know you,” he said, his words tight, his jaw ticking. “I
fucking know you.
This
,”
he said, savagely, “is not you.” And then he cursed,
leaning forward and taking my lips in his.

I
had been expecting angry. Bruising. Hard.

But
his lips were soft and teasing. Nipping at my lower lip, sucking it.
Sweet. It was so damn sweet I felt my head tilting back, my lips
parting, a whimper escaping them. His tongue slipped inside to mate
with mine. Light. Full of promises. Then he pulled quickly away,
stroking my cheek.

My
eyes opened slowly and his eyes softened. “There. That's my
Ava.”

My.

My
Ava.

Shit.

I
needed to leave.

He
didn't mean it. Not that way. It's just a phrase.

“And
she's gone,” he said, looking impossibly sad.

“So
sorry to disappoint you,” I said, my tone cold.

His
eyes closed for a long moment. “Tomorrow. Seven.”

“Fine,”
I said, wrenching away and dropping into my seat. “I'll see you
tomorrow.”

He
slammed my door, stepping back, and watching me intently until I was
out of sight.

My
Ava.

I
sighed, shaking my head.

Shut
it down.

Three
more sessions.

It
was almost over.

And
then I could open up that locked chest deep inside and let the pain
slide out raw and wet all over the floor.

Until
then, I just had to endure.

After
the Session

Shay's
bed arrived the next afternoon. By the time I got home from work,
Jake was already halfway done putting it together. My room was the
bigger of the two, but it wasn't exactly meant to have two full sized
beds in it either. Jake had moved my desk and computer to one side of
my bed, leaving me with maybe a foot and a half to be able to walk
between. But it was tolerable. He had the back of the murphy bed
attached to the wall and was working on getting the actual bed
together.

“Wow,
Jake,” I said, leaning against the wall, “I didn't know
you were so good with your hands.”

“My
hands,” he said, sounding surly, “are meant to be good at
other things.” I was about to roll my eyes when he added, “Like
playing with pussy or stroking my own cock. Not this manual labor
shit.”

I
laughed, moving to sit on my bed. “You know... I've seen Shay
naked.”

His
hands stilled, looking over his shoulder at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,”
I nodded. “It's worth that hard work.”

“Fuck,
I knew it,” he grumbled, going to grab a screwdriver, then
stopping and turning to look at me.

“So,
you still have that freshly fucked glow about you.”

“Yes.
That tends to happen when you are working with a sex surrogate.”

“It's
getting good, huh?”

“There
was a basket of toys on the nightstand,” I confided, surprising
myself.

Jake
nodded. “Sounds pretty fucking good. What's the plan from now
on?”

“Tonight
I think it just more sex. The next session after that, I believe, is
him taking me out and showing me how to flirt or something like that.
And then the tenth one is the final one. We can do anything.”

“I
think this has been good for you. You know... aside form the whole
transference thing.”

“Yeah,”
I agreed. It had been good for me. “Alright,” I said,
jumping up, trying to make my mind think of anything but Dr. Chase
Hudson. “Shay is going to be by with some of her stuff in like
an hour. I am gonna go get us some food,” I said, grabbing a
jacket and making my way out the door.

Once
outside, I took a deep breath. Three more sessions.

I
felt a simultaneous stab and wave of relief.

Almost
there.

I
had no idea what was on the table for later that night. And, frankly,
I didn't want to know. It was easier to just... go with it. Which
was, in and of itself, a completely new concept for me. I had never
been a 'go with the flow' kind of person. I was a 'freak the fuck out
and fight change tooth and nail' kind of person.

But
I had to admit... even my generalized anxiety had been doing a lot
better.

It
was working.

I
was getting better.

And
if that meant I had to break my heart to keep going, well... that was
just fine.

Sort
of.

But
not really.

The
door chimed as I walked in, the black and white checkered floor worn
and old. The walls were a bright red, the counter an old wood that
matched the few small tables and chairs inside. I was hit immediately
with the scent of freshly baked Italian bread, rich red pasta sauce,
and cheese. I took a slow, deep breath, enjoying it.

“Eat?”
the owner asked, coming out from the back room in a white apron. He
was a middle aged man with a ruddy face and thick mustache, his belly
spilling happily over his waistband.

“Yes,”
I smiled, holding up three fingers so he knew he wasn't making food
just for me.

“Hey
there,
stranger
,” a very familiar voice said, making me
jump and turn. It hadn't escaped my notice how much of an inflection
there was in the word 'stranger'. Like he really meant it. Like I
wasn't me anymore.

“What
are you doing here?” I asked, my heart hammering hard in my
chest.

Because,
sure enough, there was Chase in a black suit and gray shirt, sitting
at one of the tables in my favorite rundown Italian restaurant.

“A
girl I know,” he said, the inflection still there, “told
me this is the best Italian. I came to see for myself.”

I
swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, recalling it for
exactly what it was- anxiety. The second I acknowledged it, I felt it
sweep over my body, making my palms sweat, making my chest constrict,
making me feel like if I didn't escape... I was going to pass out. My
hand went to my throat, holding, like I could force the lump away.

“Ava?”
Chase asked, starting to stand. “Ava... hey... take a breath.”

But
I couldn't. I just couldn't.

I
needed to go. I needed to get out of there. Away from him.

I
turned, storming out the door, and running.

I
slowed in front of my apartment, looking up at it. Knowing Jake and
Shay were inside. Not wanting them to see me having a panic attack.
Not when they both thought I was doing so much better. I didn't want
to be a disappointment. Again.

So
I kept going.

But
with nowhere to actually escape to, I sat down on a street bench,
burying my face in my hands and breathing through it. It seemed to go
on forever, my rapid heartbeat making me feel queasy and I was glad
for my empty stomach.

“It's
okay,” I murmured to myself, rocking back and forth.

But
it wasn't okay.

It
wasn't getting better.

I
dug in my purse for my phone, scanning through my contact and finding
the only number that could maybe help.

“Hello?”

“I
need to talk to Dr. Bowler,” I said, my voice high and
hysterical.

“Okay.
Alright,” the secretary said in a soothing voice. Used to, no
doubt, the occasional emergency call. “I will get her for you.
Who is calling?”

“Ava
Davis.”

“Okay,
Ava. Hold tight.”

It
was less than a minute later when the line switched and Dr. Bowler's
voice reached out to me. “Ava. What's wrong?”

“I.
Can't. Breathe.”

“Alright,”
she said, calm. “You're having a panic attack?”

“Yes.”

“Can
you tell me what set it off?”

“I
went to get food. My therapist was there.”

“Dr.
Hudson?”

Even
his name hurt to hear.