Page 18 of Pleasure Island

I liked to think I was helping.

Today had been one of the first days I’d really gotten a glimmer of hope that I might be too. He’d gotten aroused during the session. We’d done nothing but talk about his fantasies but having him relax enough to actuallyspeakabout his fantasies had been a milestone for him.

Then for him to really start playing into the idea of a fantasy?

I hadn’t expected that. Not yet.

Sitting at my desk, I made notes about the session on my computer, keeping a close eye on the time.

I didn’t have any other appointments for the day and could spend the entire afternoon with Millie if I wanted. And I just might. But only if I finished recording everything from my last session.

I’d just finished the last keystroke when I heard Millie’s familiar voice echo through my office.

I had several rooms in my ‘office,’ a waiting room where I greeted my patients as they arrived, the main room where I handled the therapy sessions, then therealoffice, complete with a desk and computer, files and books lining the walls.

“I’m in the back,” I called out.

She found me as I was shutting down the computer, a mock pout on her face. “None of your clients are here,” she said with a theatrical sigh.

“As I’d planned,” I responded tartly. “Remember, what I do is confidential. My clients prefer confidentiality.”

“Which is why you always have me coming after everybody’s left for the day. I just want a peek.” She winked at me. “Do you have one who is so well-endowed, he can’t find a lover? I’ll help him out.”

I made a face at her. “That’s not the typical referral to a sex therapist, Millie.”

“Well, you’re not a typical sex therapist. You’re asex specialist.” She grinned broadly at me.

I made a show of tossing one of my books at her before getting up to go kiss her cheek. She smelled of Chanel No. 5 as she always did. “You look beautiful,” I told her.

And she did.

She was seventy-three, but I imagined she could pass for her late fifties or early sixties, despite the snow-white hair twisted up into an elegant chignon. Her green eyes met mine, a misty smile on her face. “You’re such a sweet girl.”

“No.” I laughed as I gathered my things. “I’m a lot of things, but sweet isn’t one of them. Are you ready? I amstarving.”

* * *

I letmy grandmother make the lunch plans. That could always be entertaining – there had been a time or two when we’d ended up having lunch at Hooters or some similarly styled pub.

This time, though, she chose an Asian-fusion place not far from where I worked. We took a cab, chatting about odds and ends and she mentioned needing a shopping trip.

I hoped I covered my wince well enough. I loved to shop, but Millie could almost put me flat on my back when she got into a mind to hit the stores. She caught sight of my face and laughed. “Relax. I’m not going to drag you into it. Although you need to build up your stamina if shopping with me is so exhausting.”

She waggled a finger at me.

I rolled my eyes. “When you get in the middle of a sale, you’re like the energizer bunny on speed. Please. I’d need pharmaceutical help to keep up with you.”

“That’s what my current man says.” She grinned at me.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing and leaned over to hug her. “I love you, Grandma.”

We’d nearly finishedour meal when she looked at me.

Over the remains of fried rice and some fusion dish neither of us had cared for, Millie studied me, her green eyes sharp and insightful. “Are you happy?” she asked softly.

“Happy?” I blinked, thrown by the question. “I…well…”

I thought about it because I knew my grandmother. She’d want an honest answer. After a few moments, I shrugged. “Most of the time.” I managed a wobbly smile as I said huskily, “I miss Mom. Every day.”

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