3. April
3
April
P aul kissed my cheek before leaving for the airport. Sometimes, his lack of intimacy made it appear as if he were having an affair, the other woman getting everything I should. Paul wasn’t that kind of man. He had a reputation to maintain, a certain level in his circle that meant more than side pussy. Besides, he wasn’t one of those men most temptresses targeted. For him to be a cheater, hell would have to freeze over.
I had no morning appointments, so I puttered around the house, digging out a favorite vibrator and dildo from the back of the closet. Paul didn’t know about the sex toy stash behind his box of old baseball cards. I introduced a vibrator into our marriage years ago, but Paul balked at the idea. How dare I question his manhood. I left the vibrator on the nightstand that night, and when I woke the following day, it was gone. When Paul left for work, I checked the trash outside and found the cute little toy lying at the bottom all alone. I joked the rest of the day that I was the sex toy whisperer .
Man-child, at least in my head, crawled into bed with me, the vibrator, and the dildo. It didn’t bother him to have such things in bed because he had no doubts about his manhood. Neither did I. A few minutes later, I writhed across the bed in the most extraordinary orgasm of my life. Man-child gave me an orgasm without even being present.
I spent the rest of the morning walking around the house, thinking about what to take if I left for good. There wasn’t much. Most of the shit belonged to Paul.
With no morning appointments, I arrived at work around noon to a buzz amongst the staff. They were mostly young college graduates looking to make a name for themselves, even at the expense of those who’d invested their time in the business. They didn’t understand that every minute spent on social media while at work took away a minute of learning about what we did in the office. By the end of the day, we got about five hours of work out of people.
“I hope he brings friends,” Kendra Alexander said to whomever she was talking to on the phone. Kendra was our OCD receptionist who kept the office and staff calendars pristine. She stayed on top of things like a hooker on Saturday nights. She also dressed like a Saturday night hooker, clearly desiring the attention of a TikTok influencer. Last week, I caught her in the bathroom taking naked selfies. “They call the president of the club Beast.” She giggled and finally noticed the lobby was no longer empty.
“What’s going on?” I asked the pretentious little princess, face now red.
Kendra ended her call and straightened a pen that lay crooked on her desk. “Dr. Clark is meeting with one of those Brothers of Chaos biker guys this afternoon at two. The sheriff called him yesterday. Said he was sending a biker over. ”
“That’s what has everyone so excited?” I asked. Remembering the day before, I understood the excitement. “Let's see if we can get back to business.”
Robert Clark and I started the business together ten years ago. Then Paul wanted me to work part-time, so I did. Six months later, Robert ran the place. He took all the important clients, anyone Pine Bluff deemed high profile, and left me with the rest. I later found out Paul had spoken with Robert about me going part-time and Robert taking over.
I stood at Kendra’s desk, ignoring her princess mentality. At precisely noon every day, Kendra and two of the younger psyche doctors retreated to the office safe room and meditated together. Imagining what they were doing made me think of man-child who was part of a biker club. The thought that he might be the one walking through the door excited me and gave me dread.
“April?” Kendra asked.
I ignored the little bitch, knowing she was banging Robert every chance she got, and walked down the hall to my office. I closed the door and stood at the window overlooking the parking lot. I was actually fucking wet from thinking about the biker from yesterday. I shook the thought of the man from my head.
I rolled my eyes at the picture on the wall of me standing between Paul and Robert while on a trip to Hilton Head. The two men left me at the hotel every day while they went to play golf. They were gone so long that I wondered what else they were up to—sleeping together? The thought made me laugh.
The rumble of motorcycles shook the window, and I turned my attention to the bikers passing by on Main Street. None of the bikers was man-child—more disappointment in my life .
The thought of leaving Paul, the big house, and nice cars inexplicably returned. Could I do it? Could I walk out on the man who helped me build a business, who taught me things sexually—though his knowledge of things dark and sensual was non-existent? No. He taught me nothing I didn’t already know.
As the last biker passed, I imagined myself on the back of man-child’s bike, hair blowing in the wind, not giving a damn about other people’s problems. Fuck, I needed, for once in my life, for things to be about me and not someone else. Didn’t we all deserve that opportunity?
Jasmine Wells knocked and then entered. Jasmine was the office happy-go-lucky-who-gives-a-fuck-about-anything psyche doctor. She looked at life with blinders off. Everything had a purpose. Not every action deserves a reaction. She believed drugs—weed and the such—were an essential part of therapy to bring people down to a level where they could properly manage issues and problems in their lives. I think she told me all this while she was high.
“I hear heartless Bob is taking on the biker,” Jasmine said. She eased the door closed and turned the knob so it wouldn’t make a clicking sound. “The son-of-a-bitch will get tossed out the window because of some of the shit he tells patients. A biker isn’t going to listen to his bullshit.”
“Not one of the worst things that could happen,” I said, and we laughed together. I stopped laughing, the dramatic episodes in my head suddenly changing my mood. Was it Paul causing the gloom or the fact that I couldn’t have the life man-child had? “I’m going to leave Paul,” I blurted. “As soon as he gets home.”
Jasmine jerked her head back, a turtle retreating to its shell. “No, you are not! ”
I nodded despite the idiocy of the idea. Idiocy would have been Paul’s description. I needed to quit doing that. I wasn’t against a man controlling some things in my life, but controlling my decision-making and every thought? No way.
“I have to, Jasmine. I’m a rat lost in a maze, trying to find the cheese in life. Paul has blocked every corner I turn. I can’t do it anymore. I’m suffocating.”
“Hold up,” Jasmine said and left the office. She returned moments later, easing the door closed. When she showed the recently rolled joint, I covered a snicker with my hand. “Let’s talk this through with a bit of help from a friend.”
“Nothing to discuss, Jasmine. I’m tired of being the old lady in the shoe. I want out. I want a life before life is over.” I gave her a warm smile, hoping to calm her rebuttal.
“I completely agree,” she said, and I just about fell out of the chair. “You need what I have—freedom.”
Jasmine shrugged her dark, shiny shoulders. Despite no real men in the office, she dressed to kill at work. Single with no responsibilities other than herself, she experienced life at the speed of light. Yes, I was jealous. Yes, she was right.
She lit the joint and took a long, enjoyable toke. Smiling like the Cheshire cat, Jasmine reached across the desk, showing much of her tits, and gave over the joint.
I took a long hit and then opened the window, waving the smoke out like a college coed in a dorm, expecting a visit from her parents at any minute. I should have started smoking the stuff ten years ago.
“I always wondered why you married that stick-in-the-mud of a man. And don’t even ask me where he has another stick stuck.” She took the joint and took a drag. “Leave the fucker and hit the clubs with me. I’ll show you the way like a Baptist preacher shows his flock.” She giggled and looked at the joint. “Damn, this shit is good.”
“I need to leave Paul because of Paul. Because of who and what he is. I’m not the right woman for him any more than he’s the right man for me.” I needed to get the other part out before Jasmine figured it out. I wasn’t quick enough.
“Who is he? An attorney? Some politician who hit on you at one of Paul’s socials?” She finished the joint without sharing again and held up a hand, nails freshly manicured. “Are you fucking his friend, the mayor?”
“Gross!”
Bikes rumbled outside, and I looked back.
“Oh shit,” Jasmine said. “You’re going to hell. A biker? That’s gross!”
I rolled my eyes. People had difficulty believing we were all different and desired different things. “Well,” I said as if I were going hide.
“Wait. You have that school-girl look in your eyes.” She flicked the end of the joint out the window. “Have you slept with one of those?”
“One of those?” I questioned. “I saw ‘one of those’ yesterday. I’ve never had a man weaken my knees like he did.”
“What did he say?” Jasmine shook her head when I paused. “Damn. You didn’t talk to the man. You undressed him in your head and imaginarily fucked him.”
Kendra knocked on the door, and I told her to enter. “Bob. Dr. Clark was in a car accident on the north side of town. He’s not going to make it for his appointment at two. He wants you to take it.”
“That’s the biker appointment,” I said. My lips pursued. “Do you know which biker it is?”
Jasmine turned to Kendra, waiting for an answer. She looked at me .
Kendra loved drama. She’d post on Instagram as soon as the biker walked into the office. “He didn’t say. Said the sheriff wanted someone who specialized in anger management. That’s you.”
“Thanks, Kendra.” She stood at the door longer than she should have, sniffing the air. She and Jasmine made eye contact, and she quickly closed the door.
“Bitch doesn’t like weed, but sometimes I see her sniffing like a hunting dog. Surprised her upper lip isn’t white when she returns from lunch every day.” Jasmine waved a hand. “Instead of a horse, your knight’s riding in on a chrome monster, wearing leather instead of armor. Watch yourself, and stay off his dick while you’re in the office.”
“It fucking sends me into a tizzy every time I think about him. Shit! What if it’s him?”
“No way. There are probably fifty of those motherfuckers. Chances are slim to none.” Jasmine stood and walked to the door. “If it is him, see if they like dark meat.”
“You want ‘one of those?’”
“If the dick is the right size.” Jasmine left me alone to wonder. Paul or man-child? No, it wasn’t about one or the other. It was about taking my life back.
Paul called, and his face appeared on the screen. For the first time in our marriage, I didn’t answer. Minutes later, Kendra came to the door again.
“Paul’s on line one.” A commotion out in the lobby drew her attention. When she looked back at me, her eyes were wide and excited. “He’s here!”
“Paul?” I asked teasingly. It went right over her head.
“Your two o’clock is here!” She looked down the hall again. “Oh shit, he’s huge!” She held her hand next to her mouth so only I could hear what she was saying. “You can see the outline of his dick through his jeans! I want to be a fly on your wall!”
“Go do your job, Kendra.” There were days she wore me out more than clients. Eventually, Bob would knock her up like the last receptionist, and she’d leave, only to be replaced by another fresh, out-of-college youngster looking to make a name. I decided Bob needed to go right along with Paul. Stick a fork in me. I was done with it all.
I stayed at my desk, not wanting to add to the circus growing in the lobby. Someone had to be professional. Like always, I had to be the adult. Jasmine showed up at the door, adding to the chaos.
“I definitely want ‘one of those’!” Her eyes moved, but her head didn’t. “Kendra’s bringing him down the hall. I hope you brought a change of panties.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “You’re supposed to bring maturity to this crowd.” I got up and adjusted my skirt and blouse.
“Fuck!” Jasmine whispered. She stepped back and pressed herself against the far wall, her nipples pressing relentlessly against her white blouse. She needed to lay off the weed.
“Nice to meet you,” the deep, god-like voice said in the hallway. I saw a large hand reach for Jasmine. Her hand practically disappeared in his, the tanned skin a shade lighter than hers. Her pearly whites shifted to me, and she covered her mouth with her other hand. So much for leading by example.
Moments later, he stepped into the doorway, and I took several steps back, almost falling over my desk. Shit! Man-child.
“Dr. Summers, this is Ethan Towles. He’s here for his two o’clock.” Kendra gazed up at the giant-like man. ‘Would you like water or coffee or tea?” she asked him. “I can get you anything you want. I promise. ”
“No, thank you.” The deep voice again. I steadied myself against the desk.
Kendra stayed at the door as if glued to the floor.
“Thank you, Kendra,” I said. “Kendra. Thank you.”
Kendra left and shut the door behind her. She giggled down the hall.
Like Kendra, I found my feet glued to the floor, my eyes glued to his, green and deep, with a chance of fucking me on my desk. I wobbled but managed to stay upright.
“Ma’am,” he said. He reached out, offering his hand.
“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Towles.” I placed my hand in his and left it there until he pulled away, which was sooner than I hoped.
“Call me Towles.”
“How about I call you Ethan?”
“How about you not?”
That went over well. I actually felt myself cowering away. Afraid of his command of me and the entire office.
His confidence and command were different from that of Paul. Paul stoked his own ego with his own claims of significance. He needed to be told he was great. This man did not. His very presence loudly made the claim.
“Have a seat, and we’ll get started,” I said. He didn’t sit. He didn’t want to be here.
“Why don’t you just fill out one of your little reports, saying I’m cured, and let me loose.” He walked to the door. I didn’t want him to leave. Ever.
“I can’t,” I whimpered unprofessionally. He turned. “Generally speaking, it takes several sessions to resolve unresolved issues. You should plan on several more visits. ”
“That right?” He walked to the desk and placed his hands on the corners, leaning forward, his fuck-me green eyes erasing any thought I was in control with my psychology mumbo-jumbo. School never prepared me for a man like this walking into my office. Maybe I could go back to school and teach that class.
“I’ll lose my job if you walk out without finishing the first session,” I lied. I veered away from his controlling eyes. His jaws clenched, and I thought he might toss the desk through the window. He had a lot going on between his ears.
“Okay,” he said graciously as if he were doing me a favor, not vice versa. He sat back in the leather chair that barely contained his hard, lean body. Jasmine was correct. I should have brought extra panties. “I saw you in the parking lot at the hospital yesterday.”
I couldn’t own it. Fuck, he’d caught me staring and gawking. No, I scolded myself. I needed to show control over the session.
“Could be,” I said. “I visited a patient there yesterday. I don’t think I remember seeing you or the other bikers.”
“The other bikers?” he asked.
“I just assumed you rode together.”
“I tore up the place shortly after you left.”
While he talked, I sized up every inch of him, including the outline Kendra had mentioned. He caught me staring, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom attached to my office. I needed more help than he did.
I closed the door and put my hands on the vanity, looking at the horny woman in the mirror. The woman never acted like this around Paul. Fuck. What if he came into the bathroom to check on me? What if… ?
“You okay, Dr. Summers?” The doorknob turned, and he opened the door. His massive body blocked out the sun from the window behind the desk. The man fucking glowed!
“Yes. I’m not feeling well.” Big mistake.
He stepped into the small bathroom, and there was no way for me to go around him. I could scream. But why would I do that? “Let me help you,” he said. He put a hand under my elbow and placed a hand on the small of my back. He moved out of the bathroom with both hands on me. I’d never been so close to someone so powerful. He owned every space he occupied.
“I’m okay,” I said, urging him back to his seat. His rock-hard demeanor had changed into sweet and conscientious. I forced a smile because I had done that for Paul for the last ten years.
He smiled and helped me into my chair behind the desk, running a hand through his hair as he tried to decide what to do next. He stepped back, and I sighed, not because I feared him but because of what I wanted him to do. Please crawl under my desk .
“Should we continue or reschedule,” he said softly. “I don’t mind coming back if it will help you out. I don’t want you getting canned because of me.”
I didn’t answer because seldom had a man ever cared what I wanted at work or home. He noticed the small refrigerator in the corner of the room and retrieved a bottle of water. It practically disappeared in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “We can continue.”
“You have sad eyes,” he said. “It shouldn’t be like that.”
“Shouldn’t be like what?” I knew exactly what he was talking about. I saw the sad eyes every morning in the bathroom mirror. It’s a different kind of sadness, I think. But I’m not sure. Every day, I help people with their problems, but not once has anyone tried to help me with mine.
“I can see it in your soul, April. Mrs. Summers. Dr. Summers.” He rested his left ankle on his right knee, his black boot shiny on top, dirty on the bottom. “Maybe we should talk about you when you’re done with me.”
That’s not why we were here. “I’m perfectly fine, Ethan. I think it was a touch of vertigo.”
“Right,” he said. “And it’s Towles.”
We were back to last names. Not where I wanted to be. He smiled when I cleared my throat and shifted in the chair. I giggled at Jasmine’s comment about panties. He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry.”
“You want to let me in on the joke? I can be a funny guy, sometimes.”
“We should get down to business,” I said. He nodded. “What happened at the hospital yesterday?”
He blinked and smiled. Fuck, he knew how to work a woman. “Before you were watching me or after?”
“After I was watching you,” I said regrettably. “I mean after you entered the hospital.”
He told me about his parents. He told me about the Punishers. And then he told me he was not here by his choosing. They never were. “It’s why I enjoy being part of the brotherhood. We can deal with our shit any way we like. I like to tear up shit.”
“It makes you feel better about yourself,” I said matter of fact.
He shook his head. “Makes me feel better about the situation.” He shrugged his large shoulders, the leather vest squealing. I wanted to press my face against the leather and take a long whiff .
“Have you tried relaxation techniques to help with your anger issues?” I asked clinically. It sounded dumb talking to him like this. He wasn’t buying anything I was selling.
“You think the club needs a safe room? Maybe some coloring books or a puzzle we can work on during church?” He shook his head, growing agitated.
“Not necessarily. I’m looking for an outlet to redirect your anger.” Great. Way to sound condescending. I fidgeted in my chair. Fucking Bob just had to be in an accident.
“Let’s back up the bus,” he said. “First off, I don’t have anger issues. My fucking parents were executed by a rival motorcycle club. Secondly, Dr. Summers, I graduated from Stanford and have dealt with your kind before.” He stood, anger issues pouring from every pore.
“My kind?” I stood and placed my hands on my hips. “I’m trying to help you, Ethan.”
“You’re not, April. You’re trying to diagnose and label.” He crossed his large arms, eyes growing dark. He stepped toward the desk. We were three feet apart. “How would you react in my situation? Go sit in a room and color? Fuck no. You’d want retribution.” He pointed at his chest. “That’s what I want. It’s not anger. It’s justice.”
A therapist who didn’t know what to say was a therapist who needed to find a different line of work. I stood there looking dumb and feeling dumb. Not because of anything I said but because of the way I felt. Fuck! I was in love with an angry man much younger than me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Seriously?” He blinked several times as if I were changing faces. Was I? I’d gone from doctor to a woman falling for a man with more issues than a politician. “You can’t hurt my feelings. I don’t allow people in my life that kind of power.”
“That’s an iss…”
“Fuck you, lady. I don’t need help with imaginary issues.” He turned and walked out of the office. I heard Kendra try to talk to him, but he kept on going.
I went to the window and watched him climb on his bike. He looked up and frowned. I crossed my arms and frowned back. That went as well as could be expected.