Page 12 of Dead Bled Ringer
Had my pussy made a dirty squelching sound? I wondered in horror, jamming my hands under my ass so my husband couldn’t tell they were shaking.
“Really you weren’t serious about all that masked man stuff, were you?” our therapist prompted kindly. “Having Mr. Santerre come in and hunt you down. Is that something you really want your loving husband to do?”
Slick heat began to drip down to my thighs.
“No, of course not,” I said.
A drop of arousal begin to slide down my leg, trail in a slow, humiliating fashion under my skirt until I moved my hands quickly to my lap to hide it.
“And how are you feeling about your husband?” Dr. Willoughby-Horton asked, straightening her glasses.
“Pretty good,” I said quickly. “I feel like we have been rebuilding trust.”
“What does rebuilding trust look like?”
“Well. . .I guess before I would have been insecure about any woman my husband interacted with.”
“Anywoman?”
“Yes, any woman. Anyone he worked with. Anyone he came in contact with.”
“Even me?” she asked.
“Even you,” I said.
Dr. Willoughby-Horton looked surprised, her prim mouth pursing up.
“Even though I’m your marriage therapist?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. “It sounds like jealousy is something we do need to work on.”
“Well, you’re a beautiful woman,” I said uncomfortably. “Before I would always have been comparing myself.”
She smiled kindly and turned to her filing cabinet, rapidly flicking through the files to find a pamphlet for me.
“101 Ways Jealousy Is Sabotaging Your Relationship” it said.
“There’s some homework for you,” she ordered kindly.
“And, Henry?” Dr. Willoughby-Horton asked, turning to him. “How are you doing with your homework? Are you sticking to your Action Plans?”
“Yes, I am,” he replied, taking my hand in his much bigger one.
Why didn’t I look at his hands that night? I wondered to myself.
I would have known immediately it wasn’t my husband. Henry’s hands were big, strong, with blunt-cut fingernails and a thick gold wedding band. Hunter’s hands had scars on the knuckles, oil-stained fingers.
I should have been more cautious. Then I wouldn’t have to sit here miserably with dripping wet panties and sweat pooling in my lower back.
“Have you been able to draw firm boundaries?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said. “Your methods have been helping me immeasurably.”
“How many times this week have you lusted for other women besides your wife?” Dr. Willoughby-Horton asked. “Please be specific.”
“All right,” Henry said. “On Monday I lusted for a woman I saw at the coffee shop.”
“Why?” she asked. “Remember, this is a no-judgment zone.”
“She had a beautiful body. Long, sleek dark hair. Very pale, almost translucent skin. Very large breasts. A tight little ass. When I saw her, I wanted to fuck her up that ass.”
