Page 2 of Dirty Dix

So this is much easier.

“Do you love your father?”

“No, I hate him,” she confesses in a seductive whisper while biting her lip.

“Oh? Would you be comfortable telling me why?” I take a seat near her on the leather sofa, ensuring our knees are only inches apart.

“Because he loves my stepmother more than me,” she replies, her lust-filled stare focusing on my lap as my erection is no doubt poking through my pressed slacks.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tenderly coo. However, I don’t mean a single word. “That must be very hard on you.”

“Yes, it is. It is veryhard.” She nods, and I feel a single finger slide deliberately up my thigh toward my crotch.

Opening my legs in welcome, I ask, “Is that what you think triggered your addiction?”

“What can I say, Dr. Mathews? When something delicious is in front of me, I just can’t say no,” she huskily purrs, her fingers dancing around my straining fly.

“Well, sometimes,” I whisper, “it’s okay to say yes.” I know, I’m going to hell.

And that’s all the trigger Ms. Witherstone needs as her head dives into my lap, her fingers fumbling with my zipper.

As her warm, hungry mouth wraps around my red-hot erection, I close my eyes in disgust. I’m disgusted at myself forusing someone I have no intention of ever seeing again. But I never said I was the hero of this story or even the good guy.

However, who wants to be good when it feels sogoodbeingbad?

Reaching for the jacket off the back of my high-backed leather seat, I try not to recoil when I see my paperwork slightly askew. Memories of Ms. Witherstone’s face pressed into my mahogany desktop while I fucked her from behind come flooding back, and I make a quick beeline for the exit before I throw up.

Locking my door, I see that my receptionist, Susanna, is still here.

“Ms. Vale, you should have left hours ago,” I reprimand, as it’s now seven thirty.

“Oh, that’s okay. Leroy is out of town fishing with his buddies, so I don’t mind working late,” she replies with a nod, her gray hair bobbing with the motion.

Susanna Vale should have retired years ago, but she keeps telling me she’s not ready to hang up her hat just yet. Good help is hard to find, so I’m not going to argue with her.

“Well, make sure you note how many extra hours you’ve worked, and I’ll ensure Nancy pays you.”

“Oh, Dr. Mathews,” she protests with a wave of her wrinkled hand, “don’t be silly. Who else is going to make sure you leave at a decent hour?”

I give her a small smile because it’s true. On more than one occasion, Susanna has sent me home at an ungodly hour, but I went home to what? I returned to my empty Manhattan condo, which reminded me too much ofher. Even after twelve months, her presence, her essence, lingers in the walls.

Shaking aside those unwelcome memories, I play it cool, not wanting my nostalgia to show. “If only you were ten years younger,” I tease, finishing the sentence with a playful wink.

“Oh, you beast.” She shoos me out the door. “Go get something to eat…you skipped lunch.”

I blanch at her comment, as my lunch break was occupied with eating—just not food. With that heinous thought in mind, I quickly bid my assistant good night and catch the elevator down to the ground floor. I’m meeting my two best friends, Finch and Hunter, at a local bar around the corner. We were once a foursome, but that was a lifetime ago when I believed in loyalty and love.

“Here he is. Dr. Love has entered the building,” shouts Hunter from across the room when I walk in.

His loud, obnoxious voice alerts me to where he sits, but of course I know where to find him because he never leaves the bar.

“Holy fuck balls,” he loudly curses, narrowing his eyes. “You totally got laid today.” He raises his Budweiser in salute while Finch chuckles.

“How ’bout you shout a little louder? I don’t think our neighbors in New Jersey heard.” I smack the back of his head playfully.

Taking a seat near Finch, I raise my hand, alerting the pretty blonde behind the bar to my presence. She gives me a small wink while mixing a cocktail.

“So who’s the lucky girl?” asks Finch, nudging me in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

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