Page 17 of The Lessons

“Do you want it to?” he finally asked.

“It seems only fair. Plus, I suppose I’d get more out of the work if you are honest with me.” I surprised myself with this statement. I’d always appreciated candid feedback back when I was in school and now, likewise, in the workplace. But intimacy was different. I had zero experience in this department, and I knew I was in for a steep learning curve.

“Then sure. Honesty both ways. Agreed?” For the first time since I'd met him at the library, a small smile crossed his lips. Yep, he was officially gorgeous—when he wasn’t cross with me, that is.

“Agreed.”

“Okay, let’s talk about your goals.” He pulled his notebook up and reviewed it. “Now, I understand from Dr. Lerner that you’ve never had intercourse. Is that correct?” He looked over at me with cool, clinical eyes that belied the nature of his question.

I sucked in a quick breath. Oh. My. God. He actually wanted me to say the words? Jesus. My throat ran dry again, and I pulled my trusty water bottle out of my purse, nodding as I took a drink.

“And what about oral sex?”

Didn’t I fill this out on the questionnaire?I took my time swallowing and then shook my head no.

“Given or received?”

I shook my head again. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I think I saw his eyes widen an infinitesimal amount. Nevertheless, he didn’t press me for a verbal answer, thank God.

“But you’ve kissed a man?”

“Yes.” Oh, fucking finally! Something I could say yes to! I wanted to scream,‘See, see? I’m not a total prude!’but my instinct told me that might not go over so well.

“Who?”

I squinted at him. Why did that matter? I was wrestling with the truth when he cut in and answered for me.

“Never mind, doesn’t matter.” He uncrossed his legs and shifted in his seat. As he did, I could have sworn I saw he was aroused.

And then his eyes caught mine.

Holy shit, he caught me checking out his junk.

Luckily, he played it off like nothing had happened and turned his notebook over. “Do you masturbate?”

Fuck. I thought we were over the worst of the questions.

“Natalie?”

“What?” I asked, blushing from head to toe.

“Do you masturbate?”

I paused and slowly considered my answer, trying to figure out what was an appropriate fit for my ‘story.’ The truth was yes, of course I masturbated, but rarely. I just didn’t find much that really—got my motor running, if you catch my drift. But I needed a more sophisticated answer to go along with my story. So I said:

“Not anymore. Not really.”

“But you have.”

Sheesh!“Yes. Hasn’t everyone?” I stared at him, trying a new tactical offense. Maybe being more aggressive would make him quit his questions and get down to business.

He didn’t take my bait and instead made some notes in his notebook. Probably some highly technical psychobabble drivel like “Masturbation = Yes.”

I scanned the rest of his office while he continued to write, fascinated by how sparse it was—maybe the gaudy sex-pad stuff was behind the closed doors?

“Natalie?”

I looked back at him.

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