Chapter 5
Chapter five
Breeze
Walking out of Dr. Long’s office, I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I had spent the weekend building the courage to ask if he would be the person I had my solo encounter with.
It went just as I expected. He didn’t think I was a weirdo, but he couldn’t jump at the chance either.
I was his patient; I knew he wanted to stand on ethics and morals, but this wasn’t about that.
He could return to being the decorated therapist he was known to be after the twenty-four hours were up.
Finally, it was my turn to reach the front desk.
I kept trying to figure out what was different about Shareese this morning when she checked me in.
I had probably been too nervous to pinpoint it, but the longer I stood there, it dawned on me.
She had cut her hair, and it made her features stand out even more.
She smiled brightly as I approached the desk.
“I know now what’s different about you. Your hair. It’s so pretty, the style really fits you.” I complimented her.
“Thank you so much, beautiful.” She said as he clicked the screen and then leaned in closer to it.
“You wanted to schedule another session?” She asked, I confirmed, and waited for her to give me a list of available dates and times.
“Actually, Dr. Long just sent a message that said it’s not necessary for now, and he’ll email your husband the follow-up plan,” she said as she looked from the screen back up to me.
“Perfect. Have a great day.” I said as I plastered a smile on my face, but my whole stomach was in knots. What the hell did that mean? Was he going to email my husband a plan?
My palms started sweating as I struggled to grip the steering wheel and back out of the parking space. I knew it wasn’t exactly breaking the rules to ask Dr. Long, but I still didn’t know how Tim would feel if it were the therapist.
“Hello,” I answered the phone when I saw Cassie’s name flash across the screen.
“I’m running late, I just left the office. I’ll be about ten minutes behind you.” She said as soon as I picked up.
“That’s fine. If you want me to order for you, let me know. My session ended early.”
Cassie texted me while I was on the way to my session, asking if I wanted to grab a quick breakfast with her after I finished. Since our schedules had been conflicting and we hadn’t had our weekly lunch date in a while, I responded right away and accepted her invitation.
Once we disconnected the call, I turned on the radio and turned on my favorite playlist to ease my mind.
And like my mind had done so many times before, it drifted to this situation with Tim and me.
Judging by Dr. Long’s reaction and his basically blocking me from scheduling another session, I wasn’t sure he would be willing to get involved.
That was fair, and I wasn’t bothered by it. His practice came first.
But if he declined, I wouldn’t approach anyone else.
My decision to choose him was based on two things.
I was very attracted to him, and because he already knew our situation.
It gave me a little security that I didn’t have people in the community knowing I was sleeping with men other than my husband.
Not to mention that I definitely would feel like a creep explaining it to anyone else.
He wasn’t the end-all, be-all, so if it happened, it happened.
But if it didn’t, I wouldn’t lose sleep about it, and I’d still allow Tim to explore whatever he wanted with no hard feelings.
***
It was a busy morning. I had been out all day running errands and was returning to the office after grabbing lunch when I got an email notification.
Glancing at my phone's home screen, I saw that the message was from Quentin Long.
I pulled into a plaza beside the restaurant, parked, and unlocked my phone.
After a nervous pause with my finger over the email folder, I opened it.
The email had no body text. I tapped on the attached document, but a prompt indicated it was password-protected.
My head fell back against the headrest. Then I exited and tried again, but got the same error message. Throwing the phone on the passenger seat, I got back on the road, wondering what the hell was going on and what type of games he was playing.
I was just pulling into my designated parking spot at Luxe Motors, unable to shake the mysterious attachment from my head. I opened my browser and went to the Long Term Therapy website. On it, there was a number listed for his business phone. I called it.
It rang for a while, but went to voicemail.
The greeting on the message was definitely him saying to leave a message or call the proper authorities if it was an emergency.
At this point, I was tired of the cat-and-mouse game.
And I started to feel a bit foolish. I didn’t want to seem too eager or desperate for this man whom I barely even knew.
So once again, I put it to the back burner and walked into the building.
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson, how are you today?” My receptionist greeted me.
“I’m good, Nat, what about you?” I asked as I swept the lobby area. It was busy today, just as it had been all month.
“Good, Mr. Thompson asked for you when he popped in earlier,” she said as she handed me a stack of folders of high-ticket clients who had been pre-approved.
“Thank you, I’m going to find him now,” I said as I walked in the direction of his office, which was on the opposite end of the hallway from mine.
I heard him arguing on the phone through the door. I tapped, pushed it open, and he turned, brows furrowed, still arguing about a shipment that was never ordered or misplaced. I chuckled; Tim ran a tight ship here.
Pushing the door closed, I locked it and walked toward him, went around the desk, and sat on his lap. He paid me no attention until he got the issue on the phone resolved. Then he slammed it on the receiver and looked up at me.
I looked at him and burst out laughing, then rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t smile a bit when he said, “Yeah, it’s funny now until your cousin can’t pay his bills.” I laughed even harder.
“What did he do, now?” I asked.
He explained it, and I didn’t dispute him.
“You’re the boss, Mr. Thompson.”
He sighed, fell back into the chair, and rubbed my thigh.
“Where have you been? I went to your office this morning, and you weren’t there?”
"Ran some errands and picked up food," I said, setting the bag on the table and taking out the garlic parmesan wings I bought for him.
“Cool. We need to talk later,” he said, tone serious.
“Okay, about what?” I questioned. My heart suddenly beat faster than usual.
“We’ll talk later; this isn’t the right time or place,” he insisted, then kissed my cheek.
I nodded, and my phone vibrated in my purse. The caller ID read unknown, though I recognized the number as the one I just called.
Taking it out, I got up from Tim’s lap and kissed his lips. “I have to take this call.” He slapped my butt as I walked toward the door. But the phone stopped ringing once I was in the hallway.
I pressed the button to call back.
“Hello?” The baritone on the other end of the phone said.
“Hi, Dr. Long. It’s Breeze. I received an email from you. It was password-protected, though,” I said while casually walking back to my office with the folders and food.
“Yeah, it is. The password is 1-2-0-6 he said calmly.”
“Got it, thank you.”
“No problem, let me know if you have any questions,” he said before we hung up.
I walked over to my desk and pulled up my emails again. I pressed the email, and the password prompt came up again.
I typed in the four digits, and then a document came into view titled “Consent For Treatment and Non-Disclosure.”
I was confused at first, but as I read, I was amused, turned on, and a little scared.
Breeze,
What we discussed in the last session was unusual, so this agreement will be too. It calls for transparency and trust. Read it carefully, and if you’re still certain this is what you want, sign it and return it to me.
What happens next will depend entirely on your willingness to let go of what’s safe. But note that once you sign it, the space between us changes.
—Q
My breathing hitched as I scrolled down to the ten points that were outlined in the document.
By signing, you acknowledge the following:
I understand that either party may withdraw consent at any time.
I consent to testing and the exchange of Protected Health Information, including passwords, and acknowledge that the experience is based solely on the receipt of this PHI.
I acknowledge that this experience is personal, private, and not to be shared by either party at any time for any reason.
I understand that this experience will require complete and unguarded trust.
I am aware that boundaries may feel different here, and I choose to explore that uncertainty.
I accept that control will shift, sometimes subtly, sometimes not.
I will remain present, attentive, and honest, even when the moment feels unfamiliar.
I agree with having every fantasy that I have divulged explored in its entirety.
I recognize that what happens here may stay with me long after it ends.
I confirm that if we proceed, I am here by choice, and that choice is mine alone.
I don’t know what the hell was going on, but now I was intrigued.
I must have read that email twenty times before I started to complete the eSign.
I placed my initials on each line, then hit the submit button.
Once I got confirmation that it had been sent back to him, I exited the entire email thread.
No sooner had I done so than he sent me a text message. “The ball is in your court now.”
I exhaled and put the phone down on the desk.
He was right, this was starting to get more real by the second.
Tim and I hadn’t even discussed the agreement since we left the last session together.
We didn’t have a date or a time for either of us to do it.
But we agreed it should happen on the same night.
We thought that it would be easier to handle if we were both occupied.
He wanted to talk tonight, so I was going to ease that in.
I had just signed the document, so it was no turning back.