10. Seth
CHAPTER 10
Normally, I’d sprawl across the couch, fold my hands together on top of my torso, and stare up at the ceiling like patients do in every therapy-session scene ever filmed. But I know Doc’s couch in his home office is off limits. I know this, because I made the mistake of sitting on it four years ago, and the man threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t remove myself from it immediately.
A threat like that coming from a man as calm-natured as he is intimidating-looking had me hopping up like my ass was on fire, no questions asked.
This is why I trudge directly to the chair across from it and collapse into it, and I watch my best friend take a seat on the couch that shall not be sat upon by anyone but him and his wife. He leans back and rests his ankle on his opposite knee, trying to appear relaxed, but his voice gives him away.
“Wanna vent about whatever it was that had you so spaced out that you didn’t hear me call your name five times before I had to yell?”
“Shrinky voooice,” I tell him, but my usual playful tone isn’t in it.
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t think this is a night you want to waste a bunch of time in here, alone with me, and talking about your feelings. So how about we skip the banter, and you just answer my question?” he counters.
I lift my brow at him. “You know Twyla’s surprise, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
While I want to press him for details, a bigger part of me doesn’t want to ruin my wife’s gift. It’s obviously important to her if she’s put in so much work to keep it under wraps and sworn our friends to secrecy. She’s usually the type who can’t keep a gift she’s gotten for someone a surprise if it’s meant for a birthday or holiday. If she gets it too far in advance, she can’t stand the wait and goes ahead and gives it to them. And then she’ll feel guilty that she won’t have something to give them on the special day, so she gets them something else too. So, if she’s actually been able to control herself, then I’m proud of her and will reward her with a genuine reaction. She puts so much thought into anything she ever gets people, especially me. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.
And I seriously have no idea what it could be. Doc has kept me in the loop about her recent sessions and the progress she’s been making, using exercises to build up her self-esteem and learn to have more control over her fear instincts. But as far as the present she either purchased or made for me? No clue.
My only real guess, if I piece together little clues from the past week, is she got me a brand-new sex toy that just hit the market, one that hasn’t been brought to my attention at the club yet and I would need to educate myself on… with hands-on experience.
That could be why she felt the need to build some extra confidence and try to be able to stop from freezing—this toy intimidates her.
I had another idea pop into my head, but it was too crazy to even entertain. My doll is entirely too possessive—adorably so—to share me with anyone, not even someone who isn’t a living, breathing human. So I immediately shut down my harebrained thought that she might be gifting me a threesome with her and the new sex doll she ordered for the shop. And thank God for that, because I would’ve had to hurt my wife’s feelings by telling her I didn’t want her present.
Fake or not, I have absolutely zero desire to touch anyone other than my beautiful Twyla. That goes for other toys men stick their cocks in to get off. Pocket pussies, cock sleeves, and all the other male masturbators do nothing to pique my interest.
The various parts of Twyla’s irresistible body, on the other hand, is a-whole-nother story.
She’s all I’ll ever need.
“Something my wife said at the table made me realize what a shitty Dom I’ve been for her,” I confess, and my statement surprises Doc. Whether it’s because I didn’t annoy him into giving me details about the surprise or because of what I said, I can’t be sure.
And for once, I’ve struck him speechless, so I answer the question I know would be his next one.
“What did she say?” My voice lowers. “‘I must wear the hat of the bad guy who has the audacity to flat-out tell her no.’ And she wasn’t complaining. She’s never nagged me or even done anything more than point out things like ‘we play good-cop/bad-cop with our daughter, and I’m always the bad cop.’ Not with a pout on her face, mind you, but with an adoring smile. And I’m ashamed to admit that I completely overlooked the things she was really trying to tell me.”
Doc has come out of his moment of shock, so he’s gained the ability to question, “What does any of that have to do with you being a ‘shitty Dom’?”
So, I spill everything that went through my head while I sat at the dinner table. Every revelation that branched off into more realizations, I threw it all out there for him to straighten out and organize for himself, so he can do what Doc does better than anyone else I’ve ever known or heard of. Make sense of things that make no sense, and fix things that seem impossible to fix.
He's nodding, and it feels both good and awful that the conclusions I drew for myself seem to be aligning in his mind too.
He clears his throat before he speaks. “First and foremost, you need to realize you’re human, Seth.” When my eyebrow arches at him like Dwayne Johnson’s once again, while I fight the urge to roll my eyes, he continues. “Yes, Doms have an incredible amount of responsibility, and we’re damn-near expected to be these all-knowing beings who can predict the future and read minds to a supernatural degree. And you an even higher level than that. You have the highest IQ of anyone I’ve ever met, and you’ve had that fact shoved down your throat since you were five years old. On top of that, you’re known across the world to be one of the top-skilled Dominants in the country, who has been trusted by hundreds of Doms and subs to teach them how to be respectable members of this community.”
“Thousands,” I correct.
He ignores me and presses forward. “So you’ve got a battle going on inside you that you may not even realize. On one hand, you’ve got a lot of pressure on your shoulders to live up to what so many people think and say about you. On the other hand, the fact that your reputation is so positive and you hear probably every single day what an amazing Dom you are, your confidence in your role is—well-deserved and rightly—high. But… You. Are. Human. And as a mere mortal, Seth, no matter how smart and skilled and admired and reputable you are, you’re going to make mistakes. Perfection is an impossibility.”
What he said about the battle inside me rings true. Only on the outside, I put on a good front that everything I do is done without much brainpower. I’m a genius; therefore, it all comes so easily for me, right?
Wrong. So, so, very wrong.
Yes, I have a brain like a computer, but then God thought he’d add a little bit of spice—in the form of ADHD.
My computer brain has a shit load of tabs open all the fucking time. And most of the time, I think I do a pretty good job of keeping all those tabs organized. But what Doc just said makes me understand that sometimes, a few of those tabs are neglected while I focus more on others.
I feel like my Dom tab has not only been neglected but completely separated into its own window. Out of sight and out of mind.
Doc continues, “Secondly, while you take everything you just told me as something wholly negative, it should also be viewed as a testament that… you’re happy. You’re a man who is truly, genuinely happily married and who cherishes the family he’s been given. Who loves fatherhood and cares about his little girl’s feelings so much he avoids hurting them even the tiniest bit. And you’re so happily married, in fact, that your role as a husband who deeply adores his wife has overtaken the other role you have in your life that was formerly the most important to you. The part of yourself that was the ‘main character’ for so long but has now taken a step back to become a—still highly important to the plot—side character.”
I can’t help but chuckle at my best friend. “Ya know, I’ve always admired your ability to come up with metaphors and similes customized for each of your clients.”
He smirks, but then carries on when he sees he’s getting through to me. “In a perfect world for a perfect Dom, you’d be able to perfectly balance all the side characters inside you. But you aren’t The Office. You’re just a man, brother. And if someone can’t forgive that you make human mistakes sometimes, then it’s them who’s the problem, because they have highly unrealistic expectations.” He looks at me pointedly.
“‘It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem,’” I deadpan.
He rolls his eyes. “You are not a Swiftie.”
“Not even close. But the radio plays her stuff every-other fucking song, so you learn the lyrics whether you want to or not. At least a couple of them are catchy.” I shrug.
“So learn these lyrics whether you want to or not—You. Are. Human,” he jabs.
I give him a judgy face. “Um, those aren’t the words. It’s ‘When we’re human again….’”
He stares at me blankly after I sing the line, operatically and everything.
After a moment of just staring at each other in a silent game of Chicken, he finally breaks. “Okay, you’ve stumped me. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Beauty and the Beast, bro. Come on!”
His brow furrows. “Astrid watches that with Luna all the time. There’s no song in there that sounds like that.”
“Duuude. Which release do you have? The 1991 OG version?” I ask.
He pulls out his phone and checks something before he replies, “According to her Favorites list on Roku, it is indeed the one from ’91.”
“Nah, man. Add the one from 2002 at the earliest. It was the first special edition to include the song that was cut out of the original.”
He slowly shakes his head at me. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Don’t shake your head at me. I’ve already spilled my guts about how obsessed I am with my daughter?—”
“Don’t say that. It sounds creepy,” he interrupts.
“Spilled my guts about how wrapped around my daughter’s little finger I am,” I correct immediately, because I gave myself the ick as soon as the word ‘obsessed’ came out of my mouth while being directed at my little girl, when I feel that’s the most accurate word to describe what I feel toward my hot-ass wife.
He rolls his eyes. “You were quoting Beauty and the Beast for years before you even had Luna.”
I sink back into the overstuffed leather chair, and just as maturely as sticking my tongue out at Brian earlier, I tell him huffily, “Shut up.”
He chuckles, then uncrosses his legs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his wide-spread knees and clasping his hands together between them. “Well… I think your wife is probably getting worried by now that you’re spending so much time back here with me instead of at your big-boy birthday party,” he coos at me.
“Touché,” I insert.
“So how about we come up with a temporary solution for your identity crisis to get you through the night, and then we can really work on it when we have more time?”
I sigh and look down. “That feels so wrong to do, when it’s something so important. Like we’re just sticking a cartoon-covered Band-Aid on a mortal wound.”
Doc reaches out and swats the side of my knee, and his voice is gentle when he speaks next. “Seth, I’m telling you, just put it out of your mind as much as you can and enjoy the rest of your night. Go along with the surprise without trying to pull hints out of your girl and make her ruin it. Do whatever Twyla has spent the week busting her ass to put together for you. That will mean more to her than anything else—getting to give you a gift she put her heart and soul into. Even if it’s just for tonight, don’t try to do anything more or less than you would’ve before you had your revelation. Just live in the moment of her present. Then you can work on fixing everything else tomorrow.”
When I stare at him blankly, he adds, “Doctor’s orders,” and I roll my eyes.
“Easier said than done,” I reply.
“I’m sure. But I have a feeling that whatever happens tonight might just give you all the answers you need.”
There’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me not to brush off what he’s saying. He’s not just giving me a careless “it’ll be okay.” He knows something about Twyla’s gift, something important, and it fills me with motivation to swat away the dark cloud that settled over me and get back to the dining room to wrap up dinner and move on to whatever’s next in my wife’s plan.