Page 38 of Rather: The Therapist

9:59.

My screen displayed the time big and bold, reminding me I had less than a minute before Rose showed up to my door. I restarted the song I’d played in the car several times.

The lyrics were beginning to grow on me. I even memorized a few. It was a fairly simple repetition of words with a few new ones in the verses. Still, it was easy to remember.

10:00.

I studied my phone until the digits changed. As they did so, I lowered the volume on my phone as I stalked the door with my eyes. Anxiously, I awaited the knock I’d only heard once but had somehow fallen victim to.

Knowing a lethal being who was cold-fucking-blooded on the other side was ready to suck me dry and bring me back to life by hydrating me with her built-in ocean did something for me. Did something to me.

My dick grew longer and harder, ready to bust out of my briefs as the seconds ticked away. I waited to feel her presence. Waited to be engulfed in her essence. Ready to inhale her fragrance. Ready to bask in her aura.

10:04.

My fingers tightened around the glass. Rose’s absence made little sense. I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or combing the ballroom for her. Somehow, I knew going downstairs would be pointless. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t here. I couldn’t feel her. I didn’t sense her.

10:15.

From one end of the second floor to the other, I paced. The drink I’d only taken a sip from was still in my hand. Too anxious to put it down, too anxious to drink it, I allowed its presence.

10:30.

I began the grueling thought process. Decisions were always and had always been easy to come by. My decisiveness was one of the many reasons my father’s retirement happened to be my promotion. With an iron fist, I led my family to greater heights, better profits, and more legal business opportunities.

Somehow, I struggled to determine if thirty minutes was far too long to wait for someone who didn’t treasure my time. I considered tardiness a sign of disrespect.

It wasn’t tolerated. It wasn’t rewarded. It resulted in punishment of some kind. Yet, Rose’s tardiness had my nostrils flared, my balls aching, and my heart heavy.

Where the fuck are you? I questioned.

And, why the fuck aren’t you right here? Right now? With me?

10:45.

All hope was lost. The decision was easier to make, especially with the song I was beginning to hate still on rotation. It had been drowned out until I snapped back to reality.

The fuck am I doing?

I tossed the drink back, clearing the glass. Sitting around waiting for anyone, especially a woman, was unlike me. Princeton Valentine was the only human I’d wait on hand and foot. And, even he was respectful of my time, effort, and energy.

In a minute’s time, I was out of the door, back in my whip, and pulling out of the garage. If Rose happened to come, she wouldn’t find me in my suite.

With any luck, she’d see me another night. One when she was prompt and didn’t keep me waiting.

11:21.

I dead my engine and made my way into the house. Against my better judgment, I poured a third drink. On my way into my bedroom, I began shedding my clothing one article at a time until I was down to my briefs.

In my closet, I flipped on the light and was immediately reminded of why I’d waited. Why I’d been unable to make the decision to leave sooner. Why I’d broken my own fucking protocol for a woman I didn’t know the first fucking thing about.

The emptiness of the left side of the closet was hollowing. It twisted the dagger already in my heart.

Bare.

Hangers, empty shelves, and empty racks were accurate analogies for the emptiness I’d been experiencing for the last two years. On one hand, I was full to the brim. Life, business, and family filled one side to capacity. But, that other fucking side was bare bones.

Blood mixed with my saliva as I turned, completely disregarding what was staring me right in the fucking face. I grabbed a pair of pants from the sleepwear collection. I pulled them up over my briefs and shut off the light on the way out of the closet.

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