Page 9 of Rather: The Therapist

“Correct.”

“This way, Sir. We have complimentary transportation to your suite if your privacy is–”

“There’s no need.”

“Good, then, Sir. This way,” he said, pointing straight ahead. “Around the waterfall, across the bridge, and into the garage marked PS102.

“You’ll have immediate access to your suite, but the door will not unlock until the garage is completely closed. This is for your safety and privacy as well as others.”

“Noted.”

The gravel cracked under the pressure of my tires. Leaving the window down, I caught the slight breeze with gratitude. My lungs needed the fresh air. My mind needed the escape nature provided.

The grounds were manicured perfectly. Sculptures sprouted occasionally. They were massive in size and strategically placed so their presence wasn’t too daunting for guests, I assumed.

Garages, some doubled and others oversized singles lined the first floor of each building. There were four, fairly small and all with two stories.

PS102. It was already lifted, waiting on my arrival. I pulled in, deadened my engine, and climbed out of my car. Before I managed to grab the garage opener from its slot on the wall, the door closed behind me.

Once it lined with the concrete beneath it the light on the steel door changed in color. Swiftly, the red circle glowed a bold green. A lone, feminine voice came over the loudspeaker right beside the door.

“Welcome, Mr. Valentine. I am Ursula, your personal consultant. I’d like to personally welcome you to The Mansion’s Private Suites. There are a few rules I must reiterate though I’m sure you’ve familiarized yourself with our policies. Are you listening, Mr. Valentine?”

Moved by the gentleness of her tone, I chuckled. With a tilted skull, I placed a thumb against the right side of my chin, baffled by the enchantment. It had caught me by surprise, so had my virtual guest.

“I’m listening, Ursula, but I’d listen better if you were in my face and not o–”

“Mr. Valentine,” she sniggered, losing her composure.

“I don’t like being cut off, Ursula.”

“I’m not in the ballroom. I’m not up for grabs.”

“Anyone I feel is up for grabs is up for grabs. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Breath hiked, she continued, “Will you make this difficult or will you just listen?”

“I can listen, but only because I want you to do your job. You seem to do it well.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“How far do these cameras see into the suite, Ursula?”

Stuffing my hands in my pocket, I measured the distance in my head.

“As long as the door is closed, we can’t see into the suites.”

“Disappointing,” I tittered, kissing the skin of my teeth.

“How so? Privacy is–”

“Because, you should see what you’re passing up on.”

“Exhibitionism.”

“Whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

With a shrug, I removed my hands and smoothed the black shirt I wore beneath the black jacket.

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