Chapter Five
Spencer
Dr. Klein watches me for a long moment. Not judging. Just . . . seeing me.
“That’s the first time you’ve smiled while talking about someone.”
She closes her notebook gently.
“It sounds like Sophie gave you permission to imagine a future—not just live in your past. That kind of shift matters.”
She tilts her head.
“So, here’s my question, Spencer: when you think about love now, is it still about proving something to the people who didn’t see you? Or is it finally becoming something you want for yourself?”
I exhaled through my nose—a half-laugh.
“I’m not sure . . . both maybe.”
I shrug, but it’s not as dismissive as it sounds.
“I think for a long time, I was chasing what I never got. From my parents. From Chess. Even from Carlo, in a way. But Sophie . . . She didn’t ask me to prove anything. She just looked at me like I was already worth it.”
I pause. Then my voice softens.
“I think that scared me more than anything.”
She tilts her head as if listening out for a quiet note in a tune.
“It scared you? That seems a powerful sentiment.”
“I didn’t want to let her down, and yet that’s exactly what I’ve done.”
She sets her pen down on top of her notepad, the movement deliberate. Then she straightens, folding her hands in her lap. Her gaze lingers, thoughtful but unflinching.
“And when Sophie came into your life . . . how did you explain Carlo? Was she invited into that part of your world—or kept just outside it?”
I stared down at her shoes, classic, black with a sturdy heel, just as I’d expect from her. Carlo always says a lady’s shoes can tell you a lot about the wearer’s personality. I smile at the thought. He’s right on this occasion.
I miss him. My aggression during our conversation last night was so unnecessary. I squeeze my eyes closed, making a mental note to call him as soon as we’re done here.
“Can I have a glass of water please, Dr. Klein?”
Her reaction to my question wouldn’t have been more severe than if I’d run an electrical current through her.
She jumped up, striding to her desk.
“Of course, I’m so sorry. I’ve allowed myself to get distracted. Just water? Not coffee or tea?”
“Water’s fine, thanks.”
She buzzes her assistant, and the break gives me a chance to reflect on the information she’s seeking.
It was my decision to have these intensive sessions. I thought it would speed up the process. It’s only now that I realize why Dr. Klein and her assistant were so against this practice.
Sitting with my legs parted, and my elbows on my knees, I try to train my mind back to those first few dates with Sophie.
I close my eyes, enjoying the wealth of happy memories I have logged from the first few weeks and months of our relationship. Not that they stopped after that time; that period has stayed in my mind as ‘the golden time’.
It was during those times that she was mine. I didn’t share her instantly, and keeping her to myself seemed precious.
There’s a gentle tap on the door, and Dr. Klein’s assistant enters carrying a tray with two bottles of water, and a French press of coffee. She sets it down on the desk, then busies herself pouring and making sure we’re both satisfied before giving me a shy smile and leaving the room.
I watch the door close before turning my focus back to Dr. Klein.
She gives me a warm smile and raises her coffee to her lips to take a tentative sip.
Inspired by her lead, I take a long drink of water; my eyes flitting to the clock. I’ve got half an hour to download this, and then I’ve got to leave. My schedule is full this afternoon.
We never lived the classic student life.
Sophie was worth so much more than takeout pizzas and drink-the-bar-dry nights.
I wanted to show her how magical our life could be.
So, I took her to some of the best restaurants, to concerts, the theater.
I did precisely what I always despised my parents for; I used my money to show off.
And for the first time in my life, I understood the power of money.
And the reason I fell in love with her? She couldn’t give a shit about any of it.
She just wanted me.
We’d been together for nearly three months before I introduced her to Carlo.
I caught myself talking about him often and tried to help her understand how important Carlo was to me. Sophie seemed to enjoy hearing about our antics growing up.
She commented a few times on how strange she found my strained connection to my family.
It’s funny; when it’s all you’ve known, I suppose it doesn’t seem strange.
Carlo was nervous about meeting Sophie. For that reason, I took her to his hotel. It was safe territory for him, but he always had a get-out clause if he needed it.
He didn’t.
His reaction to Sophie was instantaneous. And in no time, the three of us became firm friends.
Until he met her, Carlo had been vocal about not wanting another woman. Chess’ death tore the stuffing out of him, and he didn’t believe he’d ever recover from her loss. In some ways he still hasn’t, but when he looked at my girlfriend, I could see the sparkle in his eye.
The old Carlo was coming back. It was slow, extremely slow. But it was there. And the temptation to draw it out was too great to resist.
I can’t pinpoint precisely when all this happened, but it would have been between eighteen months and two years after Chess’s passing.
Carlo was a young virial man. I reminded him of Nonna’s words.
Chess would have wanted us to move on. She wouldn’t have expected our lives to stop because hers did. It hurt. It was a peculiar sensation, but it seemed like the moment.
Sophie was totally sexually uninhibited. She was experimental and daring. As such a young woman, she seemed far more experienced than her relationship history claimed.
She blew my mind frequently. At this stage, I’d only ever had sex with Chess and Carlo, and my physical relationship with Chess only lasted for a few weeks over the summer before she died.
On a personal level, I couldn’t get enough of Sophie, and I sensed a connection forming between her and Carlo; I’m not sure what turned me on more—the idea of seeing him with her or her with him.
That he’d touch her but when the evening ended, she’d still be mine was a thrill at first.
Progressively, I became physically bolder and bolder with Sophie when Carlo was with us. Taunting him, but not unkindly. I was just trying to draw him out of his self-imposed shell.
It started with passionate kisses when Carlo was in the room; whenever I glanced up, I noticed Carlo was always observing us intently.
When I explained the reason for the sad aura that followed Carlo. Sophie listened carefully as I described the way Chess died. Judging by her emotional expression, it was apparent Sophie’s empathy for Carlo and me was deep-seated, and that pulled me even closer to her.
After that, she didn’t just peck his cheek in the customary way Carlo greeted me. She would give him a warm hug, as if she was trying to impart her warmth on him and help him feel better.
The closer she got to us, the more the desire to see them together grew.
By this stage, Sophie was practically living at our place. She rarely stayed in her room at the university. I never wanted her to.
One night, Sophie and I were lying on our enormous sofa after a shower. She’d picked up one of my shirts to wear and we agreed to watch a movie.
I positioned her between my legs; her back leaning against my chest, with a cashmere blanket covering her bare legs. As she lay there, I couldn’t resist exploring her sexy body. If Sophie was in the room, it was rare for me not to be touching her.
When Carlo returned home from work. He stared at me, silently asking permission to join us. Permission I’d already granted him earlier in the week.
I watched as he lifted Sophie’s feet before sitting down, placing them in his lap.
It wasn’t unusual for Carlo to touch her. They often hugged. One day she asked us to teach her some kickboxing moves, which resulted in her howling with laughter and crumpling on the floor in a hysterical mess.
So, I don’t think his seating choice probably rattled her too much. They were extremely comfortable with each other at this stage.
As my fingers bravely dropped to explore between her legs though, I heard her breath catch in her throat.
In fairness, Carlo never turned his head. He would have known what I was doing, but he sat the entire time massaging her feet. Digging his thumbs into the arch and relieving the ache she often complained of after wearing her high-heeled shoes.
“You’re so wet,” I hissed in her ear, quietly enough that I doubt Carlo could hear.
Her back pressed more firmly into me, and I could feel her mounting excitement.
“Do you like my friend’s hand’s on your feet?” I asked, my voice was more audible this time.
“Hmm,” she hummed, and I couldn’t miss her nipples hardening. I’m not sure exactly when she worked out what was happening, but by this stage I think she had.
“He’d love to see you orgasm for me,” I pleaded, sliding my thick, strong fingers inside her pussy, and making her groan.
Carlo’s attention never faltered from her feet. Yet slowly the blanket was disappearing. My chest froze when I saw Sophie flick it away, giving Carlo the perfect view of my fingers in her wet-as-fuck pussy.
He encouraged the sole of her foot against the hardness in his trousers, and she quickly became overwhelmed. Her body was trembling a little with her need to climax.
Swiveling her head, she captured my lips with hers, passionately kissing me as if she was trying to communicate that she knew where her priorities lay.
My gorgeous friend and his hard cock were turning her on, but it was me who she was falling for, and that felt epic.
She rubbed her foot over Carlo’s dick, mine digging into her back.
When she orgasmed, it hit hard and fast; her reaction was the stuff of my fantasies.
“Hmm, did you like that, baby?” I asked sweetly, peppering her face with tiny butterfly kisses.
“Yes,” she breathlessly admitted, before shooting a shy glance at Carlo.
“Thank you,” Carlo replied simply, “I’ll leave you two to—”
He stood up, his trousers tenting dramatically.
“That’s given me something to deal with,” he muttered with a grin.
“You don’t want to deal with it here?” I asked, hoping he might accept my offer.
“Not yet,” Carlo said as he strode toward his own bedroom.
Each evening after that for the following few weeks, the frequency and intensity of our interactions progressed steadily.
So that it seemed perfectly natural when Carlo’s deep, sexy, heavily accented tone demanded she part her lips and suck his dick while she rode my cock one night. I was so turned on, and Sophie was too, there was no way I could stop the connection building.
I didn’t want to.
Imagine the power of seeing the two people you love more than anything in the world pleasing each other. I felt like my chest would explode with love for them both.
“I love seeing my girl sucking your cock, Carlo,” I told him.
He peered down at me, his eyes black with desire. He’d explained how hard he was still battling his guilt for allowing another woman to touch him, but I was delighted to see him move on.
It wouldn’t be for several more months however, before I was comfortable enough to introduce her to my relationship with Carlo.
Though after I had confessed, I regretted not doing it sooner.
When Carlo’s mouth first closed around my hardness in front of her, she exploded like I’d never seen her do before.
Sexually, we tested her, challenging her to take her desires further and further. We explored all of our sexuality, and in doing so we created a trust and a bond so rich in love, that it gave each of us a sense of belonging. We became what appeared to be an unbreakable unit.