Page 14 of Burn With Me

That wipes the grin right off my face. “Sure. I'll take her eleven,” I respond with a roll of my eyes.

“Well, go on and take a seat on the couch. What's your name? I'll put you in the computer.”

Briefly, I wonder if I should just leave. The last thing I need is it getting out that I was at the Women’s Center for a therapy session. It’s clear that this lady doesn’t know who I am just by my face, but my name might jog some recognition.

“Simon.” The name is out of my mouth before my brain can catch up—the name of my late father.

“Last name?” she prompts.

But I’ve already turned away to go sit on the worn blue corduroy sofa, and she doesn’t press the issue. Taking a seat, I scrub my hand over my face and back through my hair. Inexperienced women are not my thing. Slow, virginal, unsure of what they want or like.

My nightmare.

However, when Ginny admitted last night that she was working at the club because she wanted to find someone to teach her—it suddenly became my wildest fantasy.

She’d said she was nearly virginal, and where I’d typically run because virgins end up thinking you’re going to get married and that they’re in love with you, I found myself enraptured.

Ginny is a gold mine that has yet to be explored—all her treasures, mine for the taking.

For the first time in my adult life, it appeals to me. It hit me with a raw, primal hunger—theneedto be the one who teaches her what makes her feel good, and shows her how to take and give pleasure. That fiery temper of hers is just waiting to be unleashed.

“Good night, My Stranger.”She’d said. She’d been eager for more and desperate not to leave.

My stranger.

Well, me as thestrangerwill teach her things, while me asJacksonwill reap the benefits.

“What areyoudoing here?” Her tempestuous tone cuts through my thoughts like lightning.

Lifting my eyes to hers, I stand and offer my best charming smile, ignoring the irritated glare the lady at the front is sending me through the glass. “I’m your eleven o’clock.”

Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a simple forest green turtleneck and a pair of jeans that do nothing for her figure. Baggy with frayed bottoms that hover above a pair of tan suede ankle boots. She shakes her head furiously. “I don’t think so.”

“Afraid so.” Making a show of checking my watch, I walk toward her, relishing the way her eyes widen and her throat constricts as she swallows. “Now, why don’t you show me to your office so we don’t cut into my hour?”

Ginny’s cornflower blues dart to the glass where the lady at the front all but has her face pressed up against the surface as she watches our exchange. “How did you find out I worked here?”

“A little birdie at the hostess stand at Decadence sang your location oh so sweetly,” I whisper.

Her eyebrows relax as she rolls her eyes and turns to open the door to the rest of the office, muttering about someone named Lenni. “Whatever, let’s go. You know this is a waste of resources. This is awomen’scenter.”

“Ah, but I love women. So I think this is just the place for me, Litt—” I cut myself off abruptly as I almost call her little ember. Playing the two roles is going to be more challenging than I thought.

She pays no attention to it, though, and mumbles, “Gross.”

We make our way past free standing cubicles, earning curious looks from more than a few of the men and women who are working. It should make me uneasy, the thought of this getting to the gossip rags before I’ve even stepped foot outside again, but I’m paying more attention to the wayGinny swings her hips as she walks in front of me. My cock stirs behind my slacks and I’m glad I’m wearing a long peacoat to hide that fact.

Following her down a hall to the left, I nearly run into her when she stops outside an open door and turns to motion me inside. “This is us.”

“You soundsohappy to see me. Tell me, do you treat all your patients like this?” Once inside, I sit on the small gray couch that’s tucked against the wall, catty-corner from a plain black desk. There’s no photos on the wall, no plants on the small windowsill that overlooks the sidewalk below. No character or charm. Nothing that makes it feel like it’sheroffice.

“I’mnothappy to see you, Jackson. Why are you here?” she asks in a clearly pissed off tone.

Today, she asks the question with ire, instead of the curiosity she had last night. Such opposites, Scarlett and Ginny.

One, a pile of dying embers just waiting to be stoked to a full flame. The other, an explosive inferno I want to unleash in the confines of my bedroom.

“I’m here to apologize again for yesterday. I know I came off as quite a dick. So, I’d like to ask for forgiveness again, and see if you’ll let me take you out as a way to make it up to you.”

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