Page 20 of Physical Therapy

“I think I have some comprehension, yes.”

“My next appointment is in five days. We can talk about this then.”

“Boe,” she pleads. “Listen to me. I won’t let you in here.”

Goddamn it. “Video call, huh?” I lean against the front of my desk, head hung.

“Yes.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes.” Each answer comes quieter as though more resigned.

I need to respect her honor, here. I should be impressed that she has the fucking kahunas to admit she can’t face me in person again without giving in to her carnal desire. Fuck that. I’m mad. Irritated like a kid who’s been told they can’t play with their favorite toy anymore.

“Video call it is, then.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Boe.”

She disconnects, clearly under the impression that our little rendezvous is a thing of the past.

Whatever. If the good doctor should have learned one thing about me by now, it’s that I never play fair.

The games have just begun.

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