Page 64 of Rather: The Therapist

“Give me a second. I have to turn this book in.”

“You feeling it?” He asked, standing on his feet.

“I am, actually. It’s about an arrangement something like ou–”

The book was snatched from between my fingers and slipped underneath Kofi’s arm. He extended the other, ready to take my hand.

“We can’t j–”

“Quiet, Rather, and bring your pretty ass on, girl.”

“But you have the–”

“No one will know if you don’t tell them.”

A kleptomaniac. I concluded, taking his hand and slipping out of the coffee shop with second-hand embarrassment flushing my cheeks a deep maroon. We rounded the corner where I spotted a red Ferrari parked illegally with flashers blinking.

Bingo.

I didn’t need the three degrees I’d acquired younger than most to know I was staring at Kofi’s car. If the obnoxious color hadn’t told me so, the illegal parking might’ve. And, if that wasn’t the case, surely the music that was loud and lewd was the giveaway.

“Where are we headed?”

“You’ll find out when we get there. I need you to learn to trust your fiancé,” he joked.

“Is that what you are? Because, I don’t see a ring yet. And, didn’t you just tell me you’ll be sticking your thing in things dur–”

“Aye. Aye. Stop bringing up the past,” he laughed, showing those pearly teeth and that perfect smile.

“That was only a few minutes ago.”

“Still, the past. And, if it’s a ring you want then a ring I’ll get you. Say no more, love.”

With a roll of my eyes, I sunk into the passenger seat and allowed the buttery soft leather to embrace me. I watched as he dashed around the car and joined me on the driver’s side. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other planted on my thigh, Kofi pulled into traffic.

My back slammed against the seat the second the light changed in color. The missing roof allowed the wind to pour inside of the car. It pushed my hair backward and rearranged the light makeup on my face.

Kofi shifted gears, racing down the street as if flashing lights were behind him. I searched my handbag for the wallet I’d stuffed inside as I was leaving home. Surely we’d be on the side of the road with an officer at the passenger door before we got to our destination. The falsified documentation would be necessary if they requested my identity.

As I located the black leather YSL wallet, the tires came to a screeching halt. I looked up to find us in front of Adrenaline. Though I’d never visited the arcade, I recalled the week of its grand opening. The city was excited and happy to present their largest adult activity facility.

“Put that up,” Kofi suggested, jumping out of the car without opening the door or allowing valet to do so. “If they get behind us, I’m not stopping, baby.”

His declaration was music to my ears. It was lubrication for my center. The throbbing intensified as I watched him adjust his jeans on his waste and the shades on his face. The fact I wouldn’t have the opportunity to indulge was a shame. But, as long as he was craving other women, my appetite for him would be suppressed.

The Mansion.

It had been two years since I’d entered those gates, but the idea of returning to the residence soothed the itch I was developing. I unlocked my phone, prepared to send a message to the concierge. With any luck, my urgency wouldn’t pose a problem for staff. In the event it did, they’d be compensated well for their troubles.

My door swung open as a hand extended for me to grab. The attendant welcomed me with a smile and pretty, white teeth.

“Welcome to Adrenaline.”

“Thank you.”

“When I come back, there better not be a scratch on my shit.”

“Yes Sir,” the attendant chuckled.

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