Quentin
“Good morning, Dr. Long, will you be having your usual today?” The barista at Cold Brew asked with a polite smile as I walked up to the register.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, getting out my card and preparing to swipe it to pay for my items. Just as I did, the bathroom door opened and out walked Breeze Thompson.
I chuckled. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in months.
Communication ended once she left the beach house.
My eyes scanned her body. She was dressed for work, wearing a shirt with their logo tucked neatly into some denim jeans, and sneakers.
Even dressed down, she was still pretty as fuck.
She had been focusing on the ground when she looked up; she froze for a second, then broke eye contact just as quickly.
I would be a liar if I said that I didn’t think about the night that we spent together. Breeze is walking around with the type of shit that niggas crash out about. But we both knew what it was.
As we waited, I approached her. At first, I just stared down at her and watched her reaction. Her chest rose and fell quickly. I could see her getting flustered. She folded her arms and glared at me.
She spoke in a hushed tone so none of the people in the lounge could hear her, “If you’re going to stare at me, Quentin, at least speak.” She rolled her eyes.
“Who you got an attitude with, Breeze?” I asked her. Her breathing became shallower, and I can’t say that I didn’t like the reaction I was getting from her. It was almost like she might want to act like I didn’t exist, but her body remembered me all too well.
“Cute, move out my way,” she said as she tried to sidestep me. I stepped in front of her and continued to stare at her.
“How you been?” I asked her.
“Perfect until today,” She admitted. I chuckled.
“You miss us?” I nodded toward my dick, and her mouth fell open in shock. I reached up and closed it for her.
“This is how you behave in your work clothes?” She swatted my hand.
I disregarded her question, “I missed y’all.
” I stated matter-of-factly. She chuckled and shook her head, and then rounded me and went to the counter to pick up her order.
I let her bypass me this time. Breeze was a good girl.
I respected that she was married and faithful to her husband, which is why I never hit her up or tried to start any conversation with her during this time.
But there was no way that I was about to let her fine ass be this close to me and not say anything to her.
Having her just feet away from me again gave me an instant flashback of her being bent over on the patio, ass spread and riding my face.
It awakened the menace in me. I’m a therapist, but I ain’t perfect, shit.
I grabbed my drink and breakfast, got into my truck, and headed toward the office. My reminder said that my first client of the day was scheduled in an hour, so I had enough time to eat and get settled.
Walking through the doors, I scanned the lobby.
It was one of the slower weeks, and for that I was grateful because last week took me through hell.
I have a couple that I did premarital counseling for who have come back.
An athlete. He had a baby on his wife, she left him, and he wanted to reconcile.
At the first session, she sat quietly and refused to answer any of my questions.
When I asked her why, she said, “My prenup says I have to show up for mediation, not engage.” It was one of the craziest things I had witnessed, but it seemed like the week only went from bad to worse.
There was a different couple where the woman invited her husband’s mistress to a session, and they started fighting in my office.
“Good morning,” I said to Shareese as I passed by her desk.
“Mmhmm,” She sighed, making me laugh. I pushed open the hallway door, walked to my office, and unlocked my door.
I sat at my desk, scrolled through some emails, and ate my breakfast, ready to wrap up today and start the weekend. I lost track of time, but the timer going off reminded me that my first session was set to start in 5 minutes.
I wrapped up the exercise email to my clients as fast as I could and prepared for my first session of the morning.
Shareese sent me a Teams message.
S. Williams: Are you ready?
Me: Yes
Discarding my trash and sweeping away the crumbs on my desk, I walked around it and sat on the sofa with my pad and pen. The door opened, and in walked Breeze and her husband.
I cursed myself for never checking the schedule. Inside, I was amused. I thought that after what happened between us, she would never step foot in this office again. But I could see that she had a sense of humor.
I stood to greet them.
“Good morning,” I said to them both as I shook their hands, and they returned the gesture, then took a seat.
Breeze sat down with her hand interlocked in her husband’s, one leg crossed over the other, and her head leaned onto his shoulder. It’s my job to scan and note body language; it was an intimate position. So, I was confused as to why the hell they were back again.
“It’s been a while; how have you been doing? What brings you by?” I greeted them.
“It has been a while. We’ve been great. You know that we came to you some months ago about having solo experiences; we had those. I feel like it helped us reconnect a lot. I kind of feel like it brought a lot of excitement to the marriage and made intimacy between us better.” He started.
I wanted to reaffirm his statement, but I wasn’t sure where I should jump in, so I listened a bit longer.
“We’re back because we talked bout adding solo and shared experiences to our marriage. We both want to, but she said she feels like it’s eventually going to lead to us getting divorced. I don’t think so.” He stated.
“Mrs. Thompson, may I ask why you believe having situations like that long term leads to divorce?” I directed my attention to Breeze.
“Once you do it for so long, I feel like it creates a divide, and you become more into other people than you do your spouse. People might not like to admit it, but they love new things. Especially new feelings. We’ve been together twenty years.
Although we love each other deeply, we can never get the feeling of being new back.
We can only try to recreate it,” she said as she continued to swing her leg aimlessly.
“That’s a valid point. What do you say to that, Mr. Thompson?”
“I think she does have a point. I just know that I want to spend the rest of my life with her.” He said.
“That’s what every couple wants, until it doesn’t happen,” She interjected.
“I’m cool with the experiences, and I’m cool without them.
I’ve told him I would 100% want to watch.
But I don’t value the experiences over my marriage.
Let’s navigate that doc.” She said, with a smirk, as she led the conversation exactly where she wanted it to go.
I chuckled and helped them talk through their feelings, and by the end of it, I didn’t know what I was listening to.
It didn’t sound like they were on the verge of divorce, more like they were suggesting an open marriage.
But I didn’t want to use the term and scare them.
Again, I just helped them like I would any other couple in their position.
“We’re going to need more sessions for this shit,” Mr. Thompson exhaled and chuckled at the same time.
“That’s understandable. If that’s what you think is best, you can schedule another appointment with my admin assistant,” I offered as I always did once we all stood, and I shook their hands again.
They walked out of the office. I gathered my notes and started to go back to my desk. The door opened again. I turned; it was Breeze going over to the couch to grab her purse.
She put it under her arm and then came over to me and stood in front of me. She grabbed the collar of my shirt and then pulled me down toward her and kissed me. Shit was deep, she slipped her tongue into my mouth and then sucked my bottom lip. I grabbed her by her waist and held her there.
Then she grabbed my dick that had already hardened the moment our lips touched.
“Breeze,” I warned her as I let go of her hips.
She slowly looked up at me, and then took her hand back, “Of course I missed y’all, see you soon.” She purred as she turned on her heels and walked out the door like nothing had happened.
I chuckled to myself and sat at the damn desk, mind blown. I had three degrees, celebrity patients, awards for my work, and my own practice. Yet here I was, ready to forego all my common sense and be Breeze Thompson’s on-call dick. That woman was dangerous, and I think she knew it, too.
I loved what I did, and I would never pursue her. But it was no way in hell that if the opportunity presented itself again, I wasn’t going to fuck her. Before she formed the words to ask me, I would have her bent over, a mouth full of her pussy, and demanding her to cum for me.
The End