Page 15 of Group Hug

“Not at all. Just nervous. I loved it, but I’m a little surprised at myself for doing it.”

“Petra, you and Weston can do that to me anytime the mood strikes you, and I’ll probably just fall in love with both of you for it.”

I can’t believe I just said that.

Petra blinks at me and settles back in for a snuggle. It’s amazingly comfortable like this. We sit quietly like that for a while, and I wonder if she’s drifting off. Sadly, however, she finally sits up and says. “I’m sorry to say that I have to get back to work. I have a deadline to meet, and this book isn’t going to write itself.”

I’m so sad to watch her put her bra and shirt back on. That was such a nice view. But I have the sneaking suspicion that we’ll be seeing lots more of our beautiful Petra’s tits in the future. She may be a bit shocked at herself, but she certainly embraced what we did with a flare.

She gives me a friendly smooch and says, “I’ll be in the hearth room if you want me.”

Chuckling as I pull up my pants, I answer, “I always want you.” Leaning back, I close my eyes and decide to take a much-needed nap for a while.

My final thought before drifting off is,What an amazing day. I love my life.

Thirteen

Weston

I can’t believeI had to leave them and go talk to a whiny client who tries my patience like this clown manages to do. He doesn’t have any real problems other than he’s selfish and spoiled—and probably lonely. And he expects the world to do his bidding. I’m not getting through to him very well that it’s time to grow a pair and grow up because he’d rather cry about his latest litany of perceived injustices. I can see why his parents are paying for his counseling. They’re probably sick of trying to make him take some responsibility for himself. He’s a thirty-five-year-old man who has the maturity of a kindergartner. And just my luck, he seems to like me. I steel myself to get into the mood to be polite and talk to the guy. I know I need to have empathy for him, and I normally have no trouble with that, but this guy…

At least my client load has picked up tremendously. I’ve been networking and making contacts that have given me a bunch of referrals. It’s like having Petra and Callum move in was a goodluck charm and the kick in the butt I needed to get my act together. What a relief.

I dash to the shower where I’m in and out in a minute, run a brush through my wet hair, and streak down the hall to my office with a shirt and sweatpants in my hand. Looking at the clock again, I panic because I’m a stickler for appointments starting right on time. I fling myself into my chair, and I’m still buttoning up my shirt when the call connects. I didn’t even have time to put on the pants yet. If anyone could see me, they’d think I was some kind of pervert or something.

I never knew this seat cushion was kind of abrasive, but immediately I have the urge to scratch my butt cheeks. That’s not going to fly, so I try to put my discomfort out of my mind while I welcome the patient politely. “How’s it going today, Gavin?” I ask, and just as I expected, the guy barely comes up for air. He complains about a driver who was crowding his lane at a stoplight and who gave him a dirty look when he flipped him off. The drugstore has stopped carrying his favorite candy brand, and he has to drive two extra miles to buy it. (He doesn’t need to be eating candy. He needs to lose weight and brush his damn teeth.) His mean parents are threatening to start charging him rent unless he stops cranking up the AC so high. They claim they can’t afford the utility bill, but he gets sohot. His coworker wears stinky cologne that makes him gag. He says he can’t get a promotion because his work is being negatively affected by this smelly person who reminds him of his fifth-grade social studies teacher who gave him a D when he failed to memorize the Pledge of Allegiance for a test. When I break in and ask him finally if he can request a different location to work in, he says, “I like my space. It’s close to the vending machines. I don’t want to move.”

On and on it goes, and a couple of times, I can’t stand it. Ihaveto scratch. The third time, Gavin asks me, “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you taking notes like you usually do? Wheredo you keep putting your hands? Why is your hair all wet and you keep making faces? Are you even listening to me?”

I gaze dumbly back at him and give a nervous cough. The movement makes my cheeks rub on the rough cushion even worse, so I bite the bullet and say, “Gavin, could you please excuse me for just a second?” Without waiting for an answer, I slam the laptop lid down—immediately regretting that I just disconnected the call—and grab my sweats. I jam my feet into the legs and stand up to haul them up, just as I see Petra walk by the open door.Why didn’t I shut the door? Oh yeah, I’m a dumbass who was in a hurry.The reminder of why I was in such a rush comes flooding back as she pauses and gapes at me with a surprised and then lustful look on her face. I stare back like a deer in headlights, and my dick immediately swells up to a nice boner. I groan as I have to stuff it into my pants.

“Weston? I thought you had a client call,” she says with some confusion. “Were you just trying to get away from us after all?”

“Yes, I… I mean no! I can’t explain right this moment, Petra, I’m in the middle of a session now.”

She frowns at me and blinks at my disappearing boner, then gives a pointed look at my closed laptop. “Right. It must be some call. Don’t let me keep you.” Clearly thinking I’m full of shit, she bolts away into her room and a few seconds later, she leaves again with the charger for her laptop. She doesn’t look at me on the way back down the hall.

I went from being on top of the world to the pits of confusion in just fifteen minutes. I’m going to have to do some serious explaining, but right now I can’t. I open the laptop and redial Gavin, ready to apologize profusely. I see that he is now eating an ice cream sandwich, and it’s dripping all over his hand, down his T-shirt, and onto whatever surface his computer is sitting on. He looks like he’s ready to cry as he says, “I wasn’t sure you were coming back, Dr. Alister. You’ve never left me before.” Hehas ice cream on his face and chocolate cookie bits in his teeth. I suppress a shudder.

I apologize as professionally (and effusively) as possible for the interruption and try to salvage our session. At least my butt stopped itching, and I resolve to keep a towel over the cushion for any future pants—or non-pants—emergencies.

The only further catastrophe happens when Gavin drops a blob of ice cream onto his keyboard and gets panicky about that. The idea of sticky keys with food in them frankly turns my stomach, but just like everything else, he brought it on himself.

After talking him down from that, we try to get back on track. I suggest a relaxation technique he might try when things start feeling like they are too much for him to handle, and he seems satisfied with that. Finally, I tell him I’m looking forward to speaking to him in a couple of days, and we disconnect.

Shaking my head, I think to myself,Some days are a challenge.

Over dinner that night,I explain the entire scenario to my roommates—without breaking any confidentiality rules for Gavin. Petra and Callum can’t stop laughing their heads off. At least I’m forgiven, and they believe me. Callum even wiggles his eyebrows and offers to massage my butt cheeks for me, and just the thought gives me a shivery feeling.

We’re just finishing up the dishes when Petra’s phone rings. She looks at it and says, “Huh. It’s Darleen—my old roommate.” She shrugs and takes the call.

“Hello?” She listens and frowns. “Why do you think I have anything to do with that?” Silence. “I assure you I have no idea, but if you’re worried about it, why don’t you install a doorbellcamera? I think you can get one that’s pretty inexpensive.” She listens and frowns even more. “No, I’m not paying for it! I have nothing to do with it. Take it out of my cleaning deposit that you refused to give back because you didn’t think I vacuumed enough!” She listens some more and then answers, “Look, I’m sorry you’re grossed out, but I don’t live there anymore, and it has nothing to do with me…What? Why would you take me to small claims court for that?!”By now she’s shaking with anger. “Okay! You’re being an unreasonable bitch as usual, but if it will make you shut up and leave me alone, I’ll see if I can have one installed.” She ends the call with an abrupt jab at her phone and reaches into the refrigerator.

Cursing under her breath, she pulls out a bottle of wine, pours herself a tall glass, and plops down at the kitchen table. Callum and I sit down with her, and I ask, “What’s going on? Can we help?”

She sighs. “Either someone who’s pissed at me is still hanging around, or some animal is pulling some pretty gross shit. She keeps finding dead birds and rodents on her doorstep. I tend to go with the idea that it’s a cat, but on the off chance it has to do with me, I guess installing a doorbell camera might help me to figure out who’s doing it. Since my car hasn’t been anywhere near the apartment in quite a while and no one has seen me come and go, I sincerely doubt anyone I know is doing this. It’s just not plausible. But she says she’s going to sue me if this doesn’t get resolved because it never happened before I moved in. I’d rather take care of it than waste my time in stupid small claims court over dead critters. She issucha vile person, but hopefully, this will get her off of my case.”

“My dad and I installed one of those for my parents’ house,” Callum says. “They aren’t difficult. We can swing by Best Buy tomorrow where you can get one, and Weston and I can install it for you. It can be synced up to both of your phones, so you’llknow firsthand what’s going on. You won’t have to take her word for anything.”

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