Page 29 of Rather: The Therapist

I toyed with the record player on the console table near the door. It was nine-fifty-two and in exactly eight minutes, the sweetest thing to grace planet Earth would be walking through my door. I’d expected the four days to take their precious time, but they’d come around far too soon.

On one hand, I was anxious for the night to begin. On the other, I wasn’t prepared for the hangover I knew the night would result in. It had been four whole days and the haze was just beginning to clear. No liquor had ever lingered in my system like she had.

Willie Hutch’s voice finally came through the speakers beneath the record player. Unfortunately, the pitch was enough to make me consider shutting the entire operation down. However, I twisted the nob near the edge to lower it.

“Perfect.”

I turned the volume down, sure not to drown out our conversation or get any words lost in translation. Once I was satisfied with the outpouring of lyrics, I made my way toward the counter where my cup was sitting. I contemplated the first sip, knowing a whole bottle of Hennessy was on its way to my suite and before the night ended, I would have consumed it entirely.

Fuck it.

I needed something to take the edge off. It had been a hell of a day and seven minutes of waiting was too fucking long to sit with my thoughts. I sipped the brown liquid and waited for the slight burn.

“Argh.”

As the glass hit the surface, there was a gentle knock on the door. I checked the face of my Rolex, quickly determining my guest was a bit earlier than expected.

Could she sense my misery? I questioned with a chuckle.

Between business and family, I wasn’t sure which had contributed more. Nevertheless, I loved the life I lived and the people who surrounded me. I wouldn’t trade either for a sunny day on the beach with no worries or responsibilities. This was the life I’d chosen and I did a damn good job maintaining it.

Because I already knew who was behind the door, I didn’t bother asking. Instead, I unfastened the first button on my shirt and released the tension stemming from my day’s work.

My feet were ahead of me, forming a mind of their own. My hands joined the cause, twisting the knob to reveal the luxury art behind the door’s frame.

Red sheeted her body. The silk fabric clung to her curves. The red lipstick matched perfectly. Black shoes I’d provided were hidden underneath the expansive piece that cut across her breast with precision and pushed them toward her chin.

The vision that must’ve replayed in my head a hundred times or more was nothing in comparison to what I was seeing. I took a second to absorb her presence. And, when I was ready, I stepped aside to allow her entry.

I twisted the lock of the door behind her. Still completely in awe of every fucking aspect of the woman before me, I rounded her.

Once.

Twice.

And, the charmed one.

Silently, she waited with her breath lodged in her throat. Without instruction, she wouldn’t move. Without instruction, she wouldn’t speak. Her thoughts no longer belonged to her.

They were mine to have. So were her movements. Her words. Her voice. Her body.

Finally, I stood in front of her with my hands entangled in front of me. It was the only way to keep me from putting them on her so soon. She was far too stunning to strip her just yet.

“Good evening.”

I invited her to speak.

“Hello.”

She paused as I took her all in.

“How’d you know the number of my suite?”

“Don’t ask any questions, my dear.”

Silence trailed.

“Over the last four days, I’ve found myself returning to thoughts of a woman who’s name I don’t even know.”

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