14. 14
I sit in a waiting room, tranquil wall colors and music making me think of Sharon’s waiting room as I wait for Anastasia. I was a little weary when I pulled up to the therapist’s office, but when I really started thinking about it, I decided starting therapy a little early wouldn’t be a bad thing. Especially in this situation where we are both performing for cameras.
No matter how much you want to act normal, you’re still aware of being watched. Plus, the stress of normal life is missing from these encounters. Trying to date with jobs and friends and kids. Any responsibilities that are a normal part of everyday life.
Anastasia steps from the car and her simple outfit takes my breath away. Black cut-off shorts hug her hips and the soft, white tank top ends a few inches above the waistband, the skin there enticing.
Her red lips beg me to mess up her lipstick.
I’ve wanted to kiss her since the first night she ended up sprawled at my feet.
I don’t know why I keep hesitating. I can tell she wants me to and yet, for some reason, with her, I don’t want it to be filmed. I want it to be just ours and I know that’s not a possibility.
“Hey, there,” she says, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair, pulling it back from her face.
“You’re enchanting,” I tell her, no hint of hyperbole.
“I think you might have gotten hit on the head. How many fingers am I holding up?” She doesn’t raise any fingers but looks at my lips, her mouth parting slightly and I almost give in to what we both want.
“I need you to get used to me complimenting you.” I take her hips in my hands, pulling her closer to me and she wraps her arms around me, her hands settling at my lower back.
“Compliments make me feel weird.”
“Because you get tired of hearing them all the time from men like me?”
“There’s no one like you.”
It takes everything in me to not puff my chest out at her compliment.
“Are you ready to get some couple’s counseling done?” I ask, trying to diffuse some of the sexual tension .
“Hell yeah. I’m going to win therapy. Let’s do this.” She gives me a quick squeeze before taking my hand and leading me into the office that’s waiting for us.
Production already has cameras set up to catch all the angles needed for the show. Once they give her the cue, our therapist walks in.
“Hello, Anastasia, Parker. I’m Dr. Jones.”
Dr. Jones is grandmotherly. Graying hair, settled lines. Her face is welcoming. Soothing. There’s something about it that makes you want to pour your heart out. Ten-year-old Parker wants to crawl into this woman’s lap, let her stroke his hair, and kiss his scraped knee. She was made to take care of people; that much is obvious.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” she says, indicating the inviting couch while she takes the single chair, opposite. “Our goal here today is to build intimacy between the two of you. With all these cameras around and the fact your time together will be watched by millions at home, that creates an environment for inauthentic behavior. We want to strip that away. Hopefully, if you make it out of the show together, it will set the beginning of a foundation for your relationship.”
Anya nods her head and I relax a bit, realizing she might not make me divulge everything about myself on national television. The cameras are small in the corner of the room, no people manning them this time. But that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of them.
“Let’s start with a simple exercise. Parker, tell me what you’ve noticed about Anastasia in your time together.”
Clearing my throat, I decide to turn my body to Anya and she mimics the gesture .
“I’ve noticed you’re funny. And smart. And you always try to make sure everyone feels included on our group dates. Your confidence was a little shaken at some point, but you’re trying not to let that experience win. And you’re so beautiful, sometimes it makes my eyes hurt to look at you.”
Her eyes water a little but she reins in her emotions and mumbles a bashful thanks.
“Anastasia, what have you noticed about Parker?”
“You’re caring. And thoughtful. Protective of all of us. You enjoy touching and being touched. And despite being the lead here, I can tell how lucky you feel any of us would want to be here for you.”
Warmth spreads through my limbs and my heartbeat slows at her kindness melting even the barest hint of trepidation from my body. Even though we’ve not known each other long, it’s nice knowing someone can read me even a little.
“Well done, both of you. How did that make you feel?” Dr. Jones asks.
Not wanting Anya to feel put on the spot, I go first.
“Really nice. Like a hug on your worst day.” I reach out and squeeze her knee.
“It made me feel seen.”
And just like that, I feel a small sliver of my heart become hers.
“The next exercise is going to be a little more personal. I would like you both to go through your values. This can be anything like what you expect in a relationship, political, or religious views, anything you consider a deal breaker. The goal of this is to understand the person across from you in a way that would help you to know if you’re compatible .
“Many of my clients in my practice have diametrically opposed ideals which, understandably, can cause a lot of tension. Parker?”
I take a deep breath and release it slowly, counting, just as Sharon has taught me.
“Loyalty and reliability are the most important things to me. I want to know I can count on you and for you to know you can count on me. No matter what it is, if you need me, I’ll be there and I would want that from a partner.
“People matter to me, as you said. I believe everyone should be able to live the life they love, so long as it doesn’t cause physical or emotional harm to someone else, whatever that may be. My only deal breaker is someone who runs away at any sign of tension.” I say the last staring into Anya’s beautiful eyes and I can see the understanding in their depths.
“Great. Anastasia?”
“I agree, completely, on letting people live the life they want. A deal breaker for me is someone that’s a yeller or lets their anger out in an aggressive way. As far as the traits most important to me? I need someone willing to share themselves with me. Their thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams. I want to feel like nothing is off limits for us to talk about and for them to know they can ask me anything.
“I think, maybe, the reason I stopped looking for a partner, is that…” She pauses, looking up at the ceiling as she breathes in deep, but I hear the wobble in the sound and see tears gathering in her eyes.
“Anya, you don’t have to say—” I start, not wanting to see her in pain.
“No, I want to tell you.” She clears her throat as she gets her emotions under control and I reach out to take her hand, and wait. I would wait however long she needed and not begrudge her a moment of the time. “Freshman year of college, I had a boyfriend who was a yeller. He would yell and rage anytime he was angry, and I was convinced one day he was going to hit me. But any time I would try to sit him down and end it, he would tell me how he couldn’t live without me and if I left, he’d take his life.
“It took a long time to accept I couldn’t stay and try to save him from himself. When I left, he didn’t follow through with his threat, thankfully, but after, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who would use my love for them against me. He effectively trapped me and I can’t do that again. And I sure can’t be with someone who yells at me. I want someone who can communicate.”
Her use of the word trapped worms its way inside me, making me hear Brittany’s voice for a moment as my heart breaks into a thousand shards at Anya’s pain. The situations are completely different and yet, the outcome was the same.
I lift the hand I still hold and press a kiss to the back of it.
“Very nice,” Dr. Jones says while Anya and I maintain eye contact. “How are we doing? Do we need to take a moment?”
“Whatever you need,” I tell Anya.
“I’m good. Let’s keep going,” Anya says.
“The next exercise is going to encourage being grounded in the moment with the person. One of you will be blindfolded while the other will have options of various different items they can use on the other to play on one of the other senses. The blindfolded person is going to communicate what they are feeling. Which of you would like to be blindfolded first?”
“I will,” I say .
She nods and hands me the black silk sleep mask I put on. Shuffling sounds echo around the room as Dr. Jones presents the various options to Anya.
She giggles at one and the sound brings a small smile to my face after everything she shared.
A light touch runs up my forearm, making me jump from the suddenness.
“Whoops, sorry. Did I scare you?” she asks, nervousness in her voice.
“No, it just startled me. Is that a feather?”
“You got it. I figured I’d start easy.”
“That’s nice of you,” I smile. Part of me wants to rip this blindfold off so I can see her, but I’m too invested to see what she chooses next to end the game.
“Parker, what does the sensation make you think of or feel?” Dr. Jones prompts.
“Um, I don’t know, really,” I admit, almost sheepishly.
“That’s okay. Try to focus on how you feel in your body on this next one.”
Anya moves around more and suddenly there’s a smell wafting directly beneath my nose. Following Dr. Jones’s instruction, I pay attention to how I feel. Comfort and love swaddle me and I smile at the memory the smell conjures.
“That smells like my mom’s famous pumpkin loaf,” I tell her. “It makes me think of when I’d fall asleep on the couch after Thanksgiving lunch, the adults in the room talking around me.”
“Famous, huh?” Anya teases. “Do you think she’ll share the recipe? I haven’t found one I’m in love with yet and seasonal treats are always a big draw. ”
“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”
“Deal,” she says, and I feel her shift away from me, presumably to grab something else.
This time, something touches my bottom lip. She lets it rest there, light as a feather, the coldness bright against my warm skin. The scent of the strawberry hits me and suddenly I’m envisioning us in a candlelit room, but I don’t think that would be appropriate to say here.
Sticking the tip of my tongue out, I taste fruit and as I open my mouth, she brings the berry forward, letting me bite into it. The sweet juice runs over my tongue and when her breathing hitches, part of me wishes I could see her.
“I feel”—I pause, searching for the word that could encompass my need for this woman— “hungry.”
The couch shifts as I feel her stand, her footsteps muffled against the carpet. Her body heat warms my arm and I want to turn toward her, but I sit still, waiting to see what she does. One hand settles on my thigh, a little high but not as high as I want, and the other on my shoulder.
A gentle breeze streams over the shell of my ear as she blows out her breath and I harden as my mouth drops open.
My cock tries to stray to the thought of her breath on my ear as she straddles me, as I thrust up into her, but my brain begins throwing thoughts at me about how we are not alone and we are being filmed .
“Anya,” I whisper, letting her hear the attraction flowing below my belt.
“Okay, I think that’s good,” Dr. Jones says, pulling us both back into reality .
“Sorry,” Anya says, settling back onto the couch. Her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment when I remove the blindfold from my eyes, handing it to her to put on.
“Don’t be,” I tell her, giving her a reassuring smile. “That was my favorite one.”
“Anastasia, go ahead and put the blindfold on and I will get the new options for Parker,” the kind doctor says, ignoring the obvious sexual charge in the room.
“Which one made you laugh?” I ask her as Dr. Jones removes the tray before I can take note of all the other items.
“There was a slap bracelet. I was obsessed with those growing up and I just wasn’t expecting to see it here. It was funny to me.”
A new tray is set in front of me, filled with various options but like Anya’s slap bracelet, my tray holds a little toy car in addition to the chocolate, whipped cream, strawberries, velvet, burlap, a hairbrush, and various bottles with different scents.
Wanting to start gently, I pick up the velvet. The soft fabric slides against my fingers as I drag it down Anya’s neck. Goosebumps emerge on her arm.
She shifts on the couch and I have never wanted to read someone’s mind more than I do in this moment.
“That reminds me of my favorite zip up sweatshirt my parents bought me one Christmas.”
Putting the velvet down, I grab up the bottle that says ‘teakwood’ and wave it under her nose.
“That smells like you,” she says, no hesitation, and I melt. The scent is featured heavily in my favorite cologne Charlie helped me pick and I love that she associates the smell with me .
Putting the bottle back down, I lean next to her and decide to follow her lead and be a bit bolder with my last sensation. A little nervous, I run my lips gently up her jaw until I get to her neck, placing a soft kiss to the pulse point, fluttering beneath my lips.
Her soft intake of breath sounds in my ear as she moves her chin infinitesimally, giving me better access.
My hands want to reach out and grab her, pressing a hard kiss against her slightly parted lips, but I don’t.
I control myself even though I want to do nothing more than lose all control.
As I settle back, Dr. Jones lets Anya know she can remove the blindfold. With shaking hands, she reaches up and removes the silk, finding me immediately, heat in her eyes.
“Alright, I think we can call this session a success. The intimacy definitely seemed to have deepened, wouldn’t you say?” Neither of us say anything. Anya’s face is pink and she avoids looking at the therapist. And I’m trying to keep my dick from moving in my pants. Nodding our agreement is all we can do. “It was great meeting you both,” she says, pushing herself to her feet.
We follow suit as she walks to the office door, holding it open for us.
“Thank you for your time,” Anya says as she leaves the office.
“Parker, I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” Dr. Jones says, pulling me back into the real world as effectively as if she poured ice cold water over my head and I have no idea how I’m going to do that exercise with someone else when all I want is Anya.