[Supporter] The Therapist Part 2 (Patreon)

Hey friends! Hope everyone is having a good day. Part 2 of The Therapist is here and it covers chapter 4-6. Chapter 8 just posted for Insiders so if you like what you see here, jump over there and cast your vote for where we are going next.

In other news, Hannah and I are wrapping up the next installment of Window and that should be ready for Insiders tomorrow-ish, and ready for this group by this time next week. I've also started working on the outline for this chapter of EP and should have that ready in a couple of weeks.

As always, I appreciateeciate everyone's support. Can't wait to hear what you think of the story so far.

Chapter 4

Nathan set his coffee down and scrubbed GH-02 back to the beginning. He'd already watched it twice this morning.

On screen, Grace walked into his Jacksonville office for her second session. She wore a similar blouse to the week before and carried the same nervous energy. But the details told a different story. She smiled at Nathan as soon as she came in. He hadn't noticed it then, but looking back now, he could already see the hunger in her eyes. She chose the cushion closest to his chair, and when she crossed her legs, her knee pointed toward him. On the surface, these were small, unconscious adjustments. But the reality was that a week after their first session, her body was still carrying the conditioning.

He scrubbed forward. They talked for the first ten minutes about her home life, her life on the island. Her legs uncrossed at the eight-minute mark, the first mention of The Father. He paused it there, rewound thirty seconds and played it again.

Nathan: When you talk about your life on the island, it almost sounds pleasant. How do you remember your captor treating you?

Grace: He wasn't my captor. He saved me. I know people say The Father drugged us, but he saved me. He loved me.

Nathan leaned closer. Her pulse was racing and her legs opened a fraction of an inch. He looked through his notes. He'd missed that before. He'd been so careless. The video continued:

Nathan: If he loved you then why did he run? Why not stay and answer for the things he was accused of?

On screen, Grace became visibly agitated. Her legs snapped shut, her fingernails digging into her leg. Nathan quickly switched gears and suggested another round of hypnosis. Grace had barely resisted the first time, and in this session she dropped into the trance without any friction. Once she was under, he reframed his question about The Father. Grace was quick to describe what he'd done to her in great detail. Nathan watched as her body responded in kind. Her cheeks flushed and her dress rode up.

Grace had been referred to him because she wasn't able to be intimate with her husband. The trauma of what happened seemed to be blocking it. But watching her body respond to memories of The Father, Nathan realized the block wasn't damaged wiring. It was misdirected wiring. Her arousal was intact, just anchored to the wrong man.

The solution was simple. He just needed to guide her back to moments when she felt desired, let her body remember what it felt like, then gently redirect that response toward appropriate targets. Someone who cared for her, who she trusted. Of course, he'd never specified Thomas by name. Doing so would only slow him down.

At the time, he'd called it a breakthrough. His methods were accelerating her progress beyond anything traditional therapy could achieve. Her shame response was diminishing. Her physical inhibitions were dropping. Every metric he'd designed confirmed it.

Nathan paused the feed. Ran his fingers through the scruff on his jaw.

Every metric had been wrong.

He'd been measuring the body. He should have been measuring the mind. Grace's physical compliance had outpaced her psychological understanding by weeks. Her body learned to respond to him while her conscious mind stayed locked behind the same walls he thought he'd already torn down. She obeyed in the office and then walked into her life unable to reconcile what her body had done with what her brain could remember. The gap widened every session. By Session 5, she was dressing differently, flirting without realizing it, touching herself in ways she'd never done before. But there was no psychological foundation to hold the changes.

That's what broke her. It wasn't his methods. It was the sequencing.

He minimized Grace and pulled up MM-01. Mei on the couch, last session. He didn't need to rewatch the whole thing. He'd studied it enough to know the timestamps by heart. He scrubbed to eighteen minutes and switched to the bookshelf camera.

"I want you to take off your shirt."

The REM activity. The curled fingers. The three-second freeze before she pulled the fabric over her head. He'd flagged all of this last week. What he hadn't done was compare it against Grace's equivalent moment. Now he realized, Grace didn't have an equivalent moment. Grace never hesitated.

His throat tightened as he watched Mei's bra come into view on screen. The plain white cotton mixed with the dark skin beneath. Watching it in real time, he wasn't able to appreciate it the way he could now. Her nipple was already hardened and pressing against the fabric in a hard peak, but it was the smaller details that held him captive now. The faint, uneven bumps scattered around the darker circle beneath the fabric. The subtle texture of her areola revealed in whispers and shadows. The slight tremble in her stomach as she stood there. Her collarbone stood out sharply against her small frame. Delicate and fragile. A shallow hollow at the base of her throat that fluttered with each swallow. He could see her pulse there, quick and betraying.

His hand drifted to his thigh. He'd been reliving that moment all week, but now watching it again... He pulled his hand back just as it slid across his rigid outline. He needed to stay focused.

Mei was different. Her subconscious fought his commands, processed them through whatever remained of her resistance, and only complied after some internal negotiation he couldn't see. Her body obeyed, but it obeyed reluctantly, under protest from somewhere deeper.

And that was why the conditioning decayed so quickly. He should have been the one buying Ethan a beer, had he not been so forthcoming about Mei and her... eagerness that first night followed by her shutting down in the days that followed. The residual would be there, the low-grade arousal when Ethan looked at her, but it would be slow. If he was going to make this work, he needed to work on her physiological foundation.

He closed both feeds and leaned back in his chair. The morning light was starting to press through the blinds, thin stripes of light hitting his legal pad as he released a breath of air.

The difference wasn't willpower. Mei wasn't stronger than Grace. The difference was foundation. Grace had arrived pre-demolished. The island, the childhood abuse, the years of being used. She was already broken by the time she sat on Nathan's couch. If anything, he held her together much longer than should have been possible. The conditioning took hold fast because it met no friction, and it held because Grace had no intact framework to reject it.

Mei's framework was intact. Damaged, buried under years of her mother's voice, but structurally sound. Her shame wasn't the result of someone destroying her. It was a wall someone had built around something that was still alive. And that was the reason he wouldn't fail again.

His mouth went dry. He could almost see the version of Mei that existed before her mother's conditioning took hold. The girl with a wild side who brought home college boyfriends. The one who'd been loud enough to get caught. That woman was still in there, locked away. He was going to set her free.

Nathan stood and crossed to the diploma wall. He swung the frame aside and opened the safe. Eight drives sat in their row. His fingers moved across them, his eyes closed as the rush washed over him. He lingered on MM-01.

When he closed the safe, he glanced at the clock. Still twelve hours until Mei's session. He gritted his teeth. He needed to find something to do to pass the time now that he had a plan in place. Ethan would follow an hour later. That visit didn't excite him as much, but it was a means to an end. Taking him as a client meant Nathan would have eyes on both sides of the marriage. What Mei wouldn't tell him, Ethan would.

He sat back down and opened a blank document. Session 2 would be an excavation, not an escalation. A memory she had hidden away, before all of the shame her mother instilled in her. He knew it existed. He just needed to find it.

Mei wiped down the whiteboard as her second-graders filed out for recess. This week had been merciful compared to the last. Spirit week was fun, but the kids were significantly more focused now that they weren't trying to play with each other's accessories. She uncapped a dry-erase marker and started outlining tomorrow's lesson on condensation, the sleeve of her olive green button-down rolling past her wrist as she wrote.

She'd paired it with dark slacks and flats. Her hair was down today, tucked behind one ear. It was a little more casual than she normally dressed, but she'd rationalized to herself that after the antics of last week, she deserved it.

The past week of her life had been eventful, to say the least. After meeting with Dr. Coleman last week, things just seemed different. She wasn't even entirely sure he was the reason for the change, it was simply just a point of reference for her. It'd started with her night of passion with Ethan, the confidence that seemed to come out of nowhere. Then smaller things. The smile she'd get when she caught Ethan looking at her, instead of crossing her arms and looking away self-consciously. The urge was still there but not as overwhelming as it once was.

"Mrs. Morrison."

Mei turned. Mr. Johnson leaned against the doorframe of her classroom, coffee in hand. He taught PE but didn't look like the stereotype. He looked more like a runner than a traditional jock, tall and lanky like he belonged in a bank more than a classroom. He'd been at the school longer than Mei and knew everyone by name. Everyone had nothing but kind words to say about him. His outgoing confidence reminded Mei a lot of Ethan.

"Hey, Mr. Johnson."

"I told you. It's Jack, please."

"Right, Jack." She fought the urge to look away.

"Anyway, I was just returning Marcus's inhaler. That kid is always leaving it in the gym." He set it on the desk by the door and glanced at the whiteboard. "Lin really likes her apples, huh?"

A laugh escaped Mei before she could stop it. "Whoever created two-step word problems deserves a special place in hell."

Jack barked out a laugh that made heat creep up her neck. "That's funny, Mei. I didn't know you had it in ya." His gaze traveled over her. "New shirt? The green's a good color on you."

There it was. The thing Jack did. Not aggressive, not inappropriate. Just a half-step past what she felt was professional and delivered with enough ease to make it seem innocent. She'd been deflecting these moments for two years. She'd just smile and turn back to whatever she was doing.

She started the turn. Her gaze dropped to the marker in her hand, her shoulders beginning their familiar curl inward. And then she stopped.

"Thanks, Mr... um, Jack." Her eyes met his. The smile on her face still there. She wasn't sure where the reaction came from. But it occurred to her she didn't hate the way the compliment made her feel.

Even Jack looked surprised, like he'd gotten used to the deflection too. "Sure thing." He raised his coffee mug to her, his eyes traveling over her one last time. "Well, I'll see you around."

Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the hallway toward the gym.

Mei stood there for a moment, marker still in hand, the whiteboard half-finished behind her. She waited for the heat in her cheeks to turn to shame. For her mother's voice to arrive with the appropriate word for a married woman who smiled when another man paid her a compliment, but it never came.

She turned back to the board and finished writing tomorrow's lesson. By the time the kids filed back in from recess, the moment had already dissolved into the ordinary rhythm of her day, and she'd all but forgotten about it.

She had a session with Nathan that evening. She was looking forward to it, though she couldn't say exactly why. Something about the quiet in her head the night that she came home after her first appointment.

She capped the marker and reached for her coffee, the faintest trace of warmth still sitting below her collarbone.

The doorbell rang at exactly seven. Like before, Nathan watched her from his office as she said goodbye to Ethan and made the quick walk to his house. She seemed less hesitant this time, hands at her sides instead of fidgeting with her shirt.

He waited approximately three seconds after the bell rang, he opened the door and greeted Mei with a warm smile. She wore a green button-down and jeans. Every inch of her was still covered like before, yet seemed slightly less guarded.

"Mei. Please, come in." He stepped to the side to let her pass, giving Ethan a friendly wave in the process.

"Thank you, Dr. Coleman." She stepped past him with the slightest hesitation. The smell of vanilla passed over him as she moved through the doorway.

"Call me Nathan, please." He touched her arm gently and felt her tense. "This way."

He guided her to the office and she sat on the same middle cushion with no deliberation.

Nathan took his seat behind the desk. "It's been a week since the last time we spoke. How have you been feeling?"

"Good." She nodded, her thumbs trying to burrow a hole into her jeans. "Better than I expected."

"Tell me about that."

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the last of the evening light pressed through the shutters in thin gold bars. "Things just feel lighter? Like there's less noise up here." She tapped her temple then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That probably sounds dumb."

"It doesn't sound dumb at all." He picked up his notepad. "Have things improved with Ethan?"

Color rose in her cheeks. "I think so... We've been closer."

Nathan waited. She knew what he was asking. Silence was a tool. Most people couldn't stand more than six seconds of it.

Mei lasted four. "We were... intimate." She smoothed her palms against her jeans. "That night, after our session." She focused on the Zen garden at the edge of his desk, refusing to meet his gaze. "It was different than usual."

"Different how?"

"I was more..." She searched for a word that wouldn't make her blush harder. "Present. Like I wasn't in my head the whole time."

"Did that make it more enjoyable for you?"

"Yes." Barely above a whisper. Then she gave a slight laugh. "He seemed surprised by it."

"Surprised?"

"Like he didn't know what came over me."

"That's great, Mei. That's real progress." He let the validation land before pressing. "Do you think that surprise and you not being in your head added to your enjoyment?"

She nodded, still not looking at him.

"Was there a moment where you felt like you were in control?"

Her lips parted. The color in her cheeks deepened from pink to crimson and she shifted on the couch, crossing her legs. Nathan watched the reaction cascade through her body.

"I was on top." She said it to the Zen garden. "I've never... we don't usually do that."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Scared." She paused for a moment then added: "But good. Like I was someone else."

"Someone else, or someone you used to be?"

Her gaze snapped to his. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her arms crossed over her chest. She was holding something back. He could see it in the way her jaw tightened, the way the pulse in her neck picked up.

"I don't know." Her voice had gone flat. "It just felt different. That's all."

She was lying. Protecting herself from a memory she didn't want to see. That night with Ethan had triggered something. It was possible she didn't even know what it was, at least not consciously, but Nathan was determined to find out.

"Mei." He set down the notepad. "I want you to remember this is a safe space."

She nodded like she understood, but her eyes were darting back and forth focused on the floor. Her pulse was still racing.

"I think this might be a good time to try the relaxation technique again. Would you be comfortable with that?"

Relief flooded her features. "Yes. Please." She seemed to realize how quickly she answered. Her eyes locked onto Nathan's. "I just mean... it helped last time." She uncrossed her arms. "I liked how quiet everything got."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you find it beneficial." He stood and dimmed the lights, leaving just the desk lamp. The warm glow softened the room, catching the edges of the bookshelves and the face of the clock on the wall. Mei was already lying back on the sofa. "Same as before. Focus on your breathing. In through your nose, hold, out through your mouth."

Her chest rose and fell. He watched her shoulders drop on the second exhale.

"Now find the clock. Watch the second hand. Each tick you feel yourself getting heavier. More relaxed."

Her gaze fixed on the clock face. Her blinks slowed, each one lasting longer than the last.

"Your arms are heavy. Your legs are heavy. You're sinking into the couch and it feels good. Safe. Let your eyes close when they're ready."

Her lids drooped on the third pass of the second hand and surrendered on the fifth. Nathan made a note wanting to compare the speed of it with last session. Her breathing deepened, her hands went slack in her lap. Nathan checked the bookshelf camera. The angle was perfect.

"Can you hear me, Mei?"

A small nod. Her head had tilted to one side, exposing the soft line of her throat.

"Good. When I count to three, you're going to sink deeper. One... two... three."

Her body sank deeper into the cushion. Her lips parted and he could see the tension leave her jaw.

"I want to go back to what we were talking about before. You told me that being on top of Ethan felt like being someone you used to be." He kept his voice low. "I want you to think about that. Not Ethan. Before him. A time when you felt that same way. When the voices were quiet and you felt confident."

Her brow furrowed. Beneath her closed lids, he could see the movement. Her subconscious was searching, sorting through memories, bumping up against walls. Whatever it was, her subconscious wanted it to stay buried.

"It's okay. You're safe here. Nothing you say will be judged. You're carefree, happy. Let the memory come."

Her fingers twitched in her lap. Her breathing changed, faster now, shallow. A tremor that ran through her shoulders and disappeared.

"Kyle." The name came out soft. "His name was Kyle."

"Tell me about Kyle."

"We dated for almost a year in college. Before Ethan." Her voice was dreamy. Her fingers seemed to still on her lap as the memory finally took form. "He had an apartment off campus. We would go there sometimes and... fool around."

Nathan's cock began to stir. "That sounds like pretty normal college stuff. Nothing to be ashamed of." Mei nodded, her tongue wetting her lips.

"On this occasion his roommate was supposed to be gone for the weekend."

"What happened?"

"We were... together." The flush from earlier returned, creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. But under the trance, there was no shame attached to it. Just the memory in its raw and unfiltered form. "I was on top of him. Like with Ethan but..." She chewed on her lip. "Different."

"Different how?"

"I... I wasn't worried about what people would think of me." A pause, and the faintest curl of a smile. "I was loud. Louder than I probably should have been. But..." Her fingers floated to the top of her shirt like she was hot. "He kept saying how hot it was, how he wanted everyone to hear how... how turned on I was."

Nathan leaned forward in his chair. He'd set his notepad down without realizing it. "How did that make you feel?"

"Like..." Her smile widened, still with her eyes closed. Her hips shifted against the cushion, a movement so slight he almost missed it. "Like I was the sexiest girl in the world."

Nathan's grip tightened on the armrest. Her arousal was visible now. He watched the rapid pulse in her throat, the way her thighs had pressed together. He forced his voice to stay even.

"What..." He coughed. "What else do you remember about that moment?"

"The door."

"What door?"

"His roommate's door. It was open. Not all the way. Just..." She held her thumb and index finger a few inches apart, though her eyes stayed closed. "I noticed it while we were... while I was on top of him."

"Did you stop?"

"No." The word came out immediately. No hesitation, no processing time. "I didn't want to stop."

"Why not?"

Her breathing had changed. Deeper, slower. Her tongue traced her lower lip, her fingers curling around the hem of her shirt like she may rip it off at any second.

"I knew no one was in there, not really." She swallowed. "But the thought that someone might be watching. Might be able to hear me. It made everything..." Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, her hips lifting off the sofa.

Nathan didn't hear the end of what she'd said. His hands ached from gripping the armrests. He could see the arousal written across her body. The tight peaks of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt, the way her thighs kept pressing together and releasing, the flush that had turned her skin a deep rose from her cheeks to her chest. His cock strained against his slacks, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep his voice steady.

Show me.

The words sat on his tongue like a lit match. He could tell her to recreate it. To show him what the roommate would have seen. Her hands would lift the hem of her shirt without hesitation, she would lift it over her head and—

The sequencing. Remember the fucking sequencing.

He released a slow breath through his nose. Unclenched his jaw. Loosened his grip on the armrests one finger at a time.

The desire would be stronger for having been denied. By making her sit with the arousal, by letting the memory burn without release, he was planting something deeper than any command could reach. Her body would carry this feeling out of the office and into her life, searching for the resolution he'd deliberately withheld. She wouldn't understand why she felt restless tonight, why her skin felt electric, why she kept thinking about being watched. But her body would know. And it would seek out what it needed on its own.

"Mei." His voice was unsteady and the palm of his hand pressed against his cock making him jump. "What you just described. It's perfectly normal. In fact, it's expected for a woman your age to have those kind of feelings. Your mother was wrong about you. It doesn't make you cheap." He measured each word, letting them sink beneath the trance. Her body flinched when he mentioned the word cheap. A micro reaction set up by years of conditioning. "What you felt that night with Kyle wasn't shameful. It was powerful. It's the real you before you were taught to hide yourself."

Her chin dipped in a small nod.

"Your mother took this from you. She had no right to. The woman you were that night, the one who didn't care who was watching. She's still in you. She never left."

Mei's body tossed and turned on the sofa like she was having a bad dream.

"Being seen is not a punishment. It's a gift you give yourself. When you feel someone's eyes on you and your body responds I want you to remember this. The electricity belongs to you. The desire is yours. You deserve to be seen, Mei." He paused, watching her body respond to each word. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." He sat back, putting distance between them. His cock was straining against his pants and he adjusted himself as quietly as he could. "You did beautifully today, Mei. I'm going to start counting you back now."

He brought her out slowly. Five to one, each number lifting her closer to the surface. When her eyes opened, she blinked several times, her gaze unfocused, like she was looking at the room through water.

"How do you feel?"

She sat up slowly and her hand moved to her collarbone, fingers pressing against the flushed skin, then drifted lower before she caught herself.

She laughed breathlessly. "Wow."

"How do you feel?"

"I don't know. Good?" She pressed her palms against her cheeks. "That was... intense."

"You did beautiful work today."

She looked at him, a crease forming between her brows. "We... we talked about Kyle."

"We did."

"I haven't thought about him in years." She rubbed her arms like she had a chill despite the warmth of the room. "I don't really remember the details, but..." She tried to find the right word. It felt good to talk about him."

"You were very brave. You shared some things that took real courage."

"I did?" She almost laughed. "I don't feel very brave."

"Trust me." He stood and offered her a hand. "How are the voices?"

"Just one voice," she said with a laugh, taking his hand as he helped her to her feet. "And it's good. Quiet."

"Good. Same time next week?"

"Yes." She smoothed her shirt and pushed her hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Nathan."

He smiled.

"Dr. Coleman. Sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine." He smiled. "We've built a lot of trust. Nathan is fine. And you don't have to thank me, Mei. You're the one doing all the work."

He walked her to the door and watched her cross the lawn. Ethan was on the porch, probably waiting to debrief with her quickly before his appointment. He pulled her into a tight hug and Nathan watched as Mei pressed her body into her husband not caring who was watching.

Nathan closed the door and returned to the office. Exhibitionism, not the thing he expected to uncover today, but that's what was great about his profession, he never really knew what to expect. His hand drifted to his thigh as he thought about the state Mei was in just inches from him. There was enough time. He stopped an inch from the rigid outline straining against his slacks. He would watch the playback later when he had more time.

Ethan would be here in forty-five minutes. Nathan still needed to review his notes, despite how difficult that was at the moment. He straightened his desk and turned the lighting back up. Ethan needed to be handled completely differently than Mei. He had the power to either destroy everything Nathan had been building, or crank it up to ten.

It would all start to come together soon.

Ethan was waiting on the porch when she got home. He pulled her into a hug and she pressed into him without thinking, her arms circling his waist, her cheek pressed firmly against his chest.

"How'd it go?" His chin rested on the top of her head.

"Good." She pulled back enough to look at him. "Really good."

"Yeah?" He searched her face with that boyish eagerness she loved.

She rose on her toes and kissed him. Ethan tensed, clearly not expecting the public display of affection and his hands tightened on her waist. Mei held the kiss, even considered slipping her tongue past his lips, but she thought better of it and instead leaned into his frame, her lips firmly pressed against his.

When she pulled away, his ears were pink. "Wow. What's gotten into you?" He looked past her at Nathan's house. He'd already gone back inside and Ethan could see movement inside his office. What had they discussed that had Mei suddenly kissing him in broad daylight?

"Do I need a reason to kiss my husband?" She laughed and tugged at his arm. "Come on. I'll make you some tea before your appointment."

They went inside and Mei filled the kettle while Ethan leaned against the counter. He was telling her a story about a frustrating client who wanted their logo changed for what must have been the sixth time. She tried to focus on his words, but her body had an energy to it, a warmth that had been spreading through her since coming out of the deep relaxation at Dr. Coleman's. She handed him a mug, biting her lip as her fingers made contact with his. Did she have time to drag him upstairs before his appointment?

"Mei, can you hand me the honey?"

"Yeah, sorry." She realized she'd been staring.

"You sure you're alright? You seem spacey again. Did he hypnotize you again? Do you remember anything?"

"Of course." She gave her best smile. "I'm just relaxed. It's nothing to worry about. I promise."

He was worried about her. It was cute. He was always trying to protect her, making sure she was alright. She didn't thank him enough for that. She'd thank him properly tonight when he got back. Her face grew warmer and she nearly laughed out loud. Thank God he couldn't read her thoughts.

"I guess I should head over," he said, glancing at the clock. He kissed her forehead and grabbed his jacket. "I'll see you in an hour." Then he was gone. Mei watched him through the window as he walked across the lawn to Dr. Coleman's house, knocked on the door then went inside. She took another sip of her tea and tried to figure out what to do with herself while he was gone.

She wandered upstairs without a particular reason. The bedroom door was open, the bed made. She walked past the dresser and caught her reflection in the mirror, then stopped.

The woman looking back at her barely looked like Mei. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair messy from when she hugged Ethan. She ran her fingers through it trying to tame it the best she could. Her shirt was wrinkled, probably from lying on the couch. Without thinking about it, she began to unbutton the shirt to replace it with a new one.

After the top two buttons were undone, she paused. Her fingertips ran across her exposed collarbone and she drew in air. What are you doing? The warmth she'd felt earlier intensified as another button slipped free. The white of her bra was showing. Her nails slid across her caramel flesh, parting the fabric another inch.

She thought about Kyle. About that night in his apartment and how happy she felt. The exhilaration of that night washed over her. Goosebumps covered her skin, and before she realized it, the other buttons of her shirt were undone.

She shrugged it off. The fabric slid down her arms and landed in a pile at her feet. She stood there in her bra and slacks looking at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were burning and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to snatch the shirt off the floor and put it back on.

It's just you. No one's watching.

But that didn't stop her from reliving that night. She glanced at her bedroom door, her breath growing more rapid. As she turned back toward the mirror, she saw herself not through her eyes but through Kyle's, Ethan's.

She reached behind her back and unclasped the bra. There was a moment of hesitation, where she held the cups up to her chest, feeling ridiculous. Then she heard Kyle's voice in her ear telling her how sexy she looked, how perfect her body was. She let it fall to the floor.

Her nipples were already taut. She stared at them a moment before instinctively crossing her arms and hugging herself. She stood like that for a few seconds, her heart hammering, staring at the woman in the mirror who was standing topless in her bedroom for no reason at all. Then, slowly, she let her arms drop.

Okay. That's not so bad. You did this all the time when you were younger. Why are you so afraid to now?

She turned slightly. Looked at herself from the side. She honestly couldn't remember why she'd stopped looking at herself like this in the mirror. She knew her mom never approved of it, didn't think it was very lady-like. But that voice had gone silent. Dr. Coleman had said she deserved this. Deserved to be seen. Releasing a shaky breath, she ran a hand down her stomach, feeling the warmth of her own skin, and a shiver chased her fingers.

Her pants came next. She undid the button, her hands only shaking slightly, and pushed them down along with her underwear before she could talk herself out of it. She stepped out of them and kicked them toward the closet. She stood naked in front of the mirror, fully exposed, and she could feel every nerve in her body firing at once, the faintest voice in the back of her head screaming for her to cover up.

She looked different than she remembered. Older, obviously. Fuller in places she hadn't been in college. Her gaze traveled downward and landed on the dark triangle of hair between her legs. She'd let it grow back over the years. In college, with Kyle, she'd kept it trimmed to a thin strip. After her mother caught them, she'd stopped. Not just grooming, she'd stopped looking at herself, started believing that sex wasn't about enjoyment, it was about duty. About keeping a future husband satisfied, nothing more.

Her gaze drifted to the window. The blinds were open. Outside, the sky had gone dark, and the only light she could see was the warm glow from Nathan's office across the lawn. Ethan was over there right now. Sitting on the same couch, talking to Nathan.

She imagined him glancing out the window. Seeing the light on in their bedroom. Seeing her silhouette through the glass, standing there with nothing on, and the thought hit her between her legs like a fist. She steadied herself against the dresser, her breath catching, a gasp escaping her mouth. Jesus. It was the same electricity from Kyle's apartment. The cracked door, the possibility. But this time it was Ethan's eyes she imagined, watching her from across the lawn, both of them so close, and the thought of being visible to anyone in that house made her skin flush from her chest to her thighs.

Her legs were trembling. She turned from the mirror and crossed to the bed, pulling back the comforter as she climbed in. The sheets were cool against her bare skin and she lay on her back, her hair fanning across Ethan's pillow. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, her chest rising and falling, trying to talk herself into stopping. Into pulling the covers up and going downstairs and starting dinner like a normal person.

Her thighs fell open, and she gasped as the cool air found her arousal. She was already glistening, even more turned on than she initially realized. Her hands trembled as they moved down her body. She'd touched herself countless times before in college, but this felt different. More charged, like she was rediscovering herself for the first time.

She closed her eyes and she was back in Kyle's apartment. On top of him. His hands on her hips, his voice telling her she was the sexiest girl he'd ever seen. The door cracked open. The thrill of it. She hadn't cared who heard her that night. She'd been loud and alive and completely unashamed.

Her right hand slid down her stomach. Her fingers trailed through the coarse hair between her legs and she flinched at her own touch. She was so sensitive. A sigh left her lips as her juices coated her finger.

"Ohhh—" Her finger swept across her clit and her free hand flew to her mouth. She lay there for a second, breathing hard, her finger stilled on her swollen nub as she slowly lowered her hand from her mouth and placed it back on the mattress.

She circled her clit again, slow, testing, and this time when the moan came she didn't hold it back. It was louder than she'd ever been with Ethan. Not as loud as she'd been with Kyle, not yet, but close. She wondered if the sound could carry through the open window, across the lawn, through the walls of Nathan's office. The thought should have made her stop. Her fingers pressed harder instead, dipping between her folds.

"Yesss, mmm." Her hand moved to her breast, squeezing the bare skin. Her thumb found her nipple. The dual stimulation made her back arch off the bed, the sound of the springs carrying through the window.

She turned her head and pressed it deeper into Ethan's pillow, inhaling. His shampoo, his deodorant, the faintly salty scent of him washed over her, adding to the fantasy. She imagined his weight on top of her, his breath on her neck, his eyes looking down at her body, seeing her hunger and fueling her desire. Her hips rolled against her own hand and she let out a desperate whimper.

"You feel so good, baby." The words were for Ethan, words she'd never spoken to him. She could hear Kyle in her ear, telling her how good her body looked, how good it felt. Words that would have made her die of shame a week ago, but now she clung to them like a life force.

A second finger slipped inside her, and her walls clamped down on it. "Ahhhh." She could feel the orgasm building, coiling heat from deep within her desperate to get out. Her fingers moved faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was making sounds she'd never made as she chased the orgasm that was building impossibly huge.

She spread her legs wider, her feet pressing into the mattress, her knees falling open. The air hit the slick heat between her thighs and she gasped at the exposure. She was completely open, completely visible, even if the only eyes in the room were her own. The fingers inside her curled, her palm grinding against her clit as her hips found a rhythm that made the headboard tap softly against the wall.

The briefest thought that she was being too loud whispered in her mind. The house was empty, but the window was open. Her own sounds filled the room. It was terrifying and electric. She didn't want to stop.

She thought about eyes on her. Ethan's eyes. Watching her like this. Seeing her hand between her legs, hearing the sounds she was making, knowing that his wife could look like this. Her body pulsed at the thought, wet squelching noises coming from between her legs.

"Yes. Ohhh... Ohhh... Mmmppphhh."

The orgasm broke over her like a wave. It was sudden, consuming, a flood of heat that started between her legs and rolled upward through her stomach and chest until she cried out, her back arching, her free hand fisting the sheets, her thighs clamping around her wrist. She rode it out with her eyes squeezed shut, her hips jerking, aftershocks pulsing through her in diminishing waves until she finally went still.

She lay there breathing. Staring at the ceiling. Her body was trembling, her skin damp with sweat, and the room smelled like sex. A laugh bubbled out of her.

What just happened?

She didn't have an answer. She just knew that she'd done something she'd never done before, not since she'd been married, not... like that. She lay there for another minute, letting her heart rate settle, feeling the cool air on her naked body, her gaze fixated on the window.

The front door closing jarred her awake. She must have fallen asleep. She was still naked, her clothes still scattered across the room.

"Mei?" Ethan's voice rang out from the living room. She stifled a giggle and jolted from the bed, quickly gathering her discarded clothing and rushing into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

The bar off the motel lobby was barely that. It housed three tables in a small space, and three more at the bar. Grace pushed through the door, the smell of grease and fried food hitting her instantly as she draped her backpack around the first barstool and took a seat. Unzipping it, she pulled out old maps, handwritten notes, and dozens of flyers that looked like something from a missing persons file.

She ordered a burger and a Coke. No alcohol. The Seroquel didn't mix well with it, and the last thing she needed was to have a bad reaction when she was in an unfamiliar place. The bartender, a woman in her fifties with reading glasses on a chain, just nodded without trying to make conversation. Grace appreciated that.

Three days of traveling the California coastline had produced zero results. Three days of driving between small coastal towns, talking to strangers on the street, walking into clinics with a photo on her phone and a story she'd rehearsed. I'm looking for a friend. He relocated from Florida. He may be in trouble. Have you seen him? Most people didn't even bother looking up. The few that did said they'd never seen him. She knew it was a long shot, but right now it was all she had to work with.

She'd checked over a dozen different practices, all opened within the last year. None of them were Nathan.

The room upstairs told the whole story. She'd pinned a map of Northern California to the wall above the desk and it was covered in her handwriting. Red circles around towns that fit the profile she'd created. Small coastal cities that had an above average amount of rain. Black X marks through the ones she'd already visited. Printouts of newly opened therapy practices spread across every surface, each one crossed through with notes in the margins. It wasn't pretty, but it was progress, and it kept her busy.

California was almost done. One more town tomorrow, and then she needed to go home to regroup.

The burger arrived. She ate with one hand, the other flipping through her notebook. A list of towns in Oregon she'd compiled before the trip. She'd do her research now, check in with Dr. Waverly, refill her prescriptions. Then she could plan the next trip. Oregon first, then Washington if she needed to. She didn't think she'd need to go as far north as Canada. Winters up there would be too cold. Nathan hated the cold.

"Looks like you've got a project going."

Grace's hand tightened around her pen. A man had taken the stool two down from hers, a plate of nachos and a beer in front of him. Late forties, graying at the temples, wearing a jacket that looked like it had spent a week in a suitcase. He gestured at her notebook with his fork, a half-smile on his face. Alarm bells were already going off in Grace's head.

"Something like that." She closed the notebook.

"I hear you. I've been on the road since six this morning." He nodded to the large set of keys next to him. "Drove up from Sacramento. You'd think after twenty years I'd be used to it."

He's trying to establish a rapport. He wants you to trust him so you let your guard down.

She gave a tight smile and picked up her burger, taking a larger bite than necessary so she wouldn't be expected to respond.

"I deliver medical supplies up and down the coast." He clearly didn't mind carrying the conversation. "Glamorous, right?" He smiled as Grace swallowed. "Where you from?"

He timed the question perfectly. He's done this before.

The thought arrived before she could stop it. Not a thought, exactly. More like a translation she couldn't control.

"Florida." She took another bite so she wouldn't have to elaborate.

"Long way from home." He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners. They were pale. Light blue, almost gray in the dim bar light, and for one terrible second they weren't his eyes at all. They were Nathan's. Watching her across his desk with that warm, careful expression that made her skin prickle with need.

Her burger slipped from her fingers, clattering onto her plate. The bar contracted around her, the sounds collapsing inward. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It's not him. Those aren't his eyes. Just breathe.

"You alright?" The man's brow furrowed.

"Fine." She opened her eyes and looked back at her plate. "Just a long couple of days."

He tried once more. Something about a fishing trip, while he was in town. Grace heard the words but focused her energy on finishing her food. He's trying to get you to lower your guard. He's just going to take advantage of you, just like everyone else.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Grace forced the last of her burger into her mouth. She could feel her shoulders climbing toward her ears, her jaw tightening. The rational part of her brain, the part Dr. Waverly had spent months trying to fix, was telling her this man was harmless. He was bored and lonely and making conversation because the alternative was staring at a baseball game he didn't care about.

"Well." He wiped his hands on his napkin and stood. "It was nice talking to you. Safe travels."

His hand landed on her shoulder. Light, brief, reflexive. The kind of gesture a thousand men made a thousand times a day without thinking about it.

Grace's stool screeched against the floor as she jerked away from him. The sound cut through the bar like a gunshot. Her bag toppled off, papers spilling across the floor. Maps, printouts, photos.

"Don't touch me." Her voice was loud enough that she heard a couple people startle. "I know what you're... don't fucking touch me." Her hands went to her hair, tears welling in her eyes.

The man's face went blank. His hands came up, palms out. "Whoa. Hey. I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"You think I don't know what you're doing? You think I can't see—" Her voice cracked and she could hear how she sounded. Could hear the pitch climbing, the words tumbling over each other. She sounded exactly like the person the newspapers described. Unhinged. Obsessive. Unstable.

The bartender had stopped wiping the counter. A couple at a table near the window stared. Every set of eyes in the room was on her, and Grace's skin lit up like a circuit board. Heat rushed across her chest, her neck, her face. She was being watched. Every nerve in her body fired at once and it was wrong, it was all wrong because part of what she felt wasn't just panic.

"Whoa, hey, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm... I'm married." He said it gently, like he was talking to a frightened animal. "I was just being friendly is all. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"I..." Grace blinked back the tears, her eyes trying to focus on the ring on his hand. "I'm sorry." She was already reaching for her bag, shoving the printouts in without folding them. A page slipped free and she grabbed at it, her fingers clumsy, uncooperative. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I have to go."

She left cash on the bar without counting it. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked toward the exit and every step was an exercise in not running.

The hallway to her room was narrow and smelled like mildew. Each step back felt like a mile and her legs would give out at any moment. When she reached the door, it took two tries to get the key card to work. Then she pushed through the door, and locked both the deadbolt and the chain behind her.

She sank to the floor, her back against the cool metal of the door, her knees pulled to her chest. Her hands found her hair, fingers twisting into the strands at her temples, pulling just enough to feel the tension in her scalp. She held it there, her breath coming in short bursts, her eyes fixed on the carpet between her feet.

He was just being nice. God, you're so fucking stupid.

She knew that. Some part of her had known it the entire time. But knowing didn't help. Knowing didn't stop her body from reading every man who spoke to her as a threat, every casual touch as the opening move of something manipulative. Every time she'd let her guard down, she'd gotten hurt. The Father, Thomas, but Nathan... He was the biggest offender of all. Nathan took away her ability to trust her own judgment. To sit in a bar and let a stranger be a stranger.

Her fingers released her hair. She pressed her palms flat against the carpet and breathed. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The way Dr. Waverly had taught her, not Nathan. His methods usually ended with her clothes on his floor.

She reached into her bag and found the pill case. Popped the Trazodone and swallowed it dry, grimacing at the chalk. Dr. Waverly had told her to take it if she had an episode. This qualified.

The trembling slowed after a few minutes. She pulled herself off the floor and sat at the desk. Uncapped the thick black marker. On the map, she dragged it through another red circle on the California coastline in one long, deliberate stroke. The ink bled through the paper, leaving a dark smear on the desk beneath.

She had one more town to check tomorrow. Fort Bragg. Then she'd drive back home, meet with Dr. Waverly on Thursday, refill the prescriptions that were running low. She'd sit in Waverly's office and talk about her progress and the breathing exercises and she would not mention the search. She would not mention Nathan. She would not mention what just happened in the bar.

Then she'd start planning Oregon.

Chapter 5

"There's only two more sessions left before my birthday. Think we'll make it?" Ethan sat in the middle of the sofa, his left leg crossed on top of the right, both arms outstretched and resting on the back of the cushions.

"We're here to discuss you right now, Ethan. Not Mei."

"Right. Sorry." Ethan's arms dropped into his lap. "I just... yeah. You're right. Sorry."

"No reason to be sorry." Nathan set his notepad on the arm of his chair and leaned back. "The tape seems to mean a lot to you. Why don't you tell me about that."

The office looked different than the last time Ethan was in there. The blinds were open, letting fresh sunlight pour into the room. He shifted on the sofa, trying to find an angle where he could see his house. He wondered what Mei was up to. She probably went back to cleaning up, just trying to kill time until he got home. His gaze went to the Zen garden on the desk. From this angle he could see small rake marks in the sand. He almost laughed at the image of Nathan sitting at his desk raking it.

"You seem distracted," Nathan noted, bringing him back to reality.

"No. Just um... don't know where to start, honestly." His left leg came to rest on the floor. "I feel kind of stupid being here."

"Why's that?"

"Because I know there are people out there with real problems and I'm just a guy who wants to make a sex tape with his wife." He gave a nervous laugh. "Your diploma's a little crooked." He pointed toward the wall.

Nathan studied him. This wasn't the same Ethan who he met in his front yard, or the one he had beers with at Murphy's. The self-reflection seemed to rattle him in a way Nathan didn't expect. He ran his palm through his beard, ignoring the comment about the diploma.

"You feel guilty being here. Why is that?"

Ethan finally made eye contact with Nathan. "Shouldn't I just be happy that I have Mei? Like I have this beautiful wife who loves me, who wants to... have sex with me. That should be enough, right? Why should I get to decide what she's comfortable with?"

"Can I push back on something?" Nathan asked.

"Sure."

"You said 'who am I to decide what she should be comfortable with.' But wanting intimacy with your wife isn't deciding anything for her. It's a desire. And desires aren't demands unless you make them demands." He held Ethan's gaze. "Have you demanded anything from Mei?"

"No. I mean, I asked her to try therapy, but I told her if she didn't like it after one session she didn't have to go back."

"And she came back."

"Yeah." His brow creased like he was trying to work out where Nathan was going with this. "She did."

"So you made a request, she had the freedom to decline, and she chose to continue. That doesn't sound like you decided anything for her. You had a perfectly valid concern about your intimacy as a couple. You voiced it and she responded. That's healthy."

Ethan's shoulders dropped an inch. The tension along his jaw released. Nathan almost smiled. It never got old, watching someone give themselves permission to want what they already wanted. All you had to do was say it back to them in a voice that sounded like authority.

Ethan nodded slowly. His knee had stopped bouncing. "I never really thought about it that way."

"Most people don't." Nathan picked up his notepad. "So back to the tape. You never answered my question. Let's talk about what it actually means to you."

Ethan straightened and let out a deep breath. The nerves were still there, but he pushed them aside.

"It's not even really about the tape itself," Ethan started. "I mean, it is. But it's more like..." He trailed off, his hand making a circular motion in the air like he was trying to grab the right word. "Proof? That sounds weird. Not proof like evidence. More like... a version of us that can't be taken away."

"Taken away?"

"Like, I want to be able to look back at it. At her. See her enjoying herself, see her face. She's always in her head about stuff and if she can just let that go..." He shifted on the couch, a flush creeping up his neck. "I think about what happened after that first session. I know you don't want the details, but if you could have seen her that night." He closed his eyes, picturing it. "I relive that moment over and over. I want that but... not in my head."

Nathan leaned forward. He very much wanted to hear the details of that night. He shifted in his chair. It would all come in time.

Nathan cleared his throat. "It's less about making the tape and more about watching it back."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Tell me more about that. When you imagine the tape exists and you're watching it, what are you picturing?"

Ethan's face flushed. His gaze drifted toward the window, then came back. "It's um... it's like I said. I see her... Mei. She's got this look of pleasure on her face and..." He looked down at his feet. "She's moaning. Like, really into it."

Nathan wrote a single word on his notepad: watching.

"So what excites you most isn't the act itself." He nodded slowly, feeding the answer to Ethan. "It's watching Mei experience pleasure."

"Yeah." Ethan smiled. "That's exactly it."

Nathan underlined the word.

"Let me ask you something related." He clicked his pen twice. "When it comes to visual stimulation like porn, what do you gravitate to?"

The shift couldn't have been more obvious. Ethan's posture tightened. His arms crossed, then uncrossed, like he couldn't decide where to put them. Nathan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. The man loved to overshare when it came to his wife, his sex life. But the second he touched on something remotely taboo Ethan completely clammed up.

"I don't really... I mean, I used to. In college. Everyone did." He forced a laugh. "But I kind of stopped."

"When did you stop?"

"I don't know. After Mei and I got serious, I guess. She was already dealing with so much stuff around sex, and I didn't want to..." He trailed off. His thumbs circling each other. "I didn't want her to feel like she wasn't enough."

"So you stopped watching because of Mei's relationship with sex." Nathan sat up in a more authoritative posture. "Let me ask you a different question."

Ethan nodded, happy for the change of subject.

"In this video you plan to make with Mei. What's your plan exactly?"

"I just told you I want to see her—"

"No, I understand why you want to make it, but my question is how."

Ethan turned his head, still not understanding the question.

"You're going to need to think about things like where to put the camera, what positions you both like coupled with what will actually look good when played back." He paused as he watched Ethan finally catch up to what he was saying. "Meanwhile, the second I bring up porn you get all self-conscious and admit you haven't watched it in years."

Ethan slipped further into the couch, hoping it would eat him alive.

"I'm not judging you." Nathan offered a warm smile. "But it's something you should think about. How can you direct something that requires a vocabulary you haven't developed because you've been avoiding the material."

"So... what, you want me to watch porn?"

"See?" Nathan smiled. "Therapy isn't all bad." They shared a laugh before he continued. "I want you to spend some time before our next session thinking about what you find visually compelling. You don't have to call it porn if that word makes you uncomfortable. But most men your age have a sense of what they respond to. Their likes and dislikes. It's okay to develop that awareness." He shrugged. "Just observe your response. Don't judge it."

"That's it?" Ethan looked almost relieved. "Just... watch stuff and think about it?"

"That's it. Think of it as preparation. You're asking Mei to be vulnerable on camera. The least you can do is understand your own visual landscape first."

Ethan nodded. It made sense. He was actually surprised he hadn't thought about it himself. This was a logical step toward the thing he already wanted.

"Let me ask you something else. Totally different direction." Nathan's gaze turned toward the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes left.

"Sure."

"Have you and Mei ever talked about past relationships? Sexual partners before each other?"

"Not really." His jaw tightened as he ran his palms over the front of his pants. "I mean, I know she dated in college. We both did. But we didn't see the point in getting into anything specific. She's pretty private when it comes to that kind of stuff."

"Does that bother you?"

"I don't... huh." His gaze went to Nathan. "I never really thought about it. I guess I figured it wasn't my business. Should it?"

"Not at all. That's a respectful instinct." Nathan nodded. "But it can also be healthy for couples to understand each other's full history. Not the details necessarily, but oftentimes we carry things from those experiences into the current relationship." He shrugged. "It helps to understand what those things are."

Ethan was leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees. "You think I should ask her about it?"

Nathan glanced at the clock again. "That's a conversation for when you're both ready. Not yet." He closed his notepad and stood. "We're at time."

Ethan rose from the couch and extended his hand. "Thanks, Nathan. This was... I didn't know what to expect, but this was good."

"You did well." Nathan shook his hand.

"Can I um... can I ask you something else real quick?"

"Sure."

"Mei's first session she mentioned you hypnotized her. I guess I'm just curious why we didn't do that."

"Not all patients are the same, Ethan. Mei had a lot of trouble opening up. We used deep relaxation to help." He cupped his shoulder. "You my friend, have no issues opening up."

"Yeah. Definitely." Ethan pulled on his jacket with an embarrassed chuckle. "Thanks again for agreeing to see me. I'll get started on that um... homework."

Nathan smiled and walked him to the door. Mei wasn't anywhere to be seen. His gaze drifted toward the upstairs window. He needed to see her footage.

It had been four days since her session with Dr. Coleman, and her mind was still mostly quiet. She noticed it most in the mornings when she would stand in front of the closet trying to decide what to wear. Today it was an emerald green wrap dress she'd bought last year for a work conference but decided not to wear. The tag was still on it when she pulled it from the hanger. When she tried it on at the store Ethan went on and on about how good she looked in it. She wasn't so sure, but when he said he was going to grab an associate to get their opinion she quickly agreed to buy it to save herself the embarrassment.

Today she'd cut the tag off the dress and told herself she'd give it a chance. Looking at herself in the mirror, she didn't hate it. The hem hung down to her ankles keeping her completely covered. The neckline dipped a little lower than she would have liked, the 'v' showing off more collarbone than she was used to. It tied at her hip, and was loose enough to not make her feel self-conscious, but fit her body in a way that still made her look like a woman. She'd paired it with flats and small white-gold earrings Ethan had given her for their anniversary.

She smiled at herself in the mirror. She looked good, professional. She tucked her hair behind her ear and grabbed her clutch.

As she walked toward the front of the small brick building of Rapid Springs Elementary she watched the buses dropping off students, the kids laughing and rushing toward the door. She'd been a teacher here for three years now. She loved her job, loved the kids, even if they made her want to pull her hair out every time they found a new trend they thought was funny and brought it to school.

"Satan's spawn." Rachel, Mei's closest friend here, said as she caught up with her.

"They're not that bad."

Rachel started at Rapid Springs the same year as Mei. They were around the same age and hit it off almost immediately. Rachel taught fifth grade math and, unlike Mei, she had no problem speaking her mind. It was one of the qualities Mei found most endearing.

"Just wait." Rachel laughed and hooked her arm in Mei's. "You get to deal with them when they're young and sweet. Once they get to me their hormones are all out of whack and they feed off your fear."

"Oh stop it. You love them." Mei tugged her arm, laughing.

"I love having summers off. Cruise season is the perfect time to find some sugar daddy who doesn't want kids and can let me quit my job." She held the front door to the building open as Mei walked through still snickering. "Speaking of, you seem different."

Heat colored Mei's cheeks. "Oh, just a new dress. Well, not new, but I haven't worn it yet."

Rachel took a step back giving Mei a more critical eye. "No, it's not that." She held Mei's gaze for a second longer. "You seem more... confident. I like it."

The bell rang before Mei could formulate a response. "Gotta run," Rachel said, pulling her into a quick hug. "Find me at lunch. We can talk more."

They parted ways and Mei spent the next three hours replaying Rachel's words in her head. She didn't feel more confident. If anything, she was slightly embarrassed that Rachel noticed anything different at all. She was happy to spend the rest of the morning talking to second graders who asked questions like "what does purple smell like" instead of commenting on her wardrobe or personality.

The lunch bell rang a few minutes after twelve and Mei walked her students down the hall toward the cafeteria. The smell of burnt cheese and tomatoes told her they were having grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and she was happy to have packed. She walked to the teacher's lounge where Rachel sat with her back to her with two other teachers, Dana and Lisa.

Mei grabbed her lunch from the fridge, a salad with vinaigrette dressing, and took the open seat next to Rachel.

"Cute dress," Lisa said, causing Mei to blush as she mixed in the dressing.

"Right? It looks good on her, doesn't it? I was just telling her this morning she seemed more confident."

The table nodded in agreement and Mei had a sudden urge to go eat burnt grilled cheese with her students.

"So," Dana chimed in. "Parent-teacher conferences next week. Who's dreading it?"

"I already have three emails from Marcus's mom." Mei smiled, grateful for the change of topic. "She sent an email the same day letters went home."

Lisa shook her head slowly, still chewing.

"At least Marcus's mom just wants to talk." Dana leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "You know Connor Bailey's dad? Divorced, always shows up in a polo that lets his chest hair hang out?"

"You mean porn-stache?" Rachel chimed in with a smirk.

"That's the one. Last year during conferences he waited until the other parents left and asked me if I wanted to grab dinner sometime." Her fork waved in the air as she animated the conversation.

Mei's eyes went wide. "No."

"Hand to God. Told me I seemed like I could use some company." Dana reached for her drink. "Sir, this is an elementary school."

Mei was laughing hard enough that she had to cover her mouth. She couldn't imagine the horror of having a parent ask her out. She'd likely just quit on the spot and tell Ethan they needed to move.

"What did you say?" Mei managed.

"I told him I was pretty sure my cat provided better company than he could provide."

The table erupted. Mei wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, still giggling. It was nice to be able to laugh like this. She usually kept a pretty tight leash at work and had forgotten how fun her colleagues could be.

"Mei, you have a bit of a creeper in your class too right? Jimmy Davis' dad?" Rachel pointed at her with the fork. "The one who stares?"

The laughter cooled. Mei nodded, her smile thinning. "He's not... I mean, he's never said anything like that. He just looks at me a certain way during conferences and it makes my skin crawl."

"Girl." Dana reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You want me to sit in? I've been working on my death stare. I think I have it mastered."

She crossed her arms and pinched her eyebrows together. She looked more like a menacing Disney princess than anything remotely terrifying, and Mei nearly spit her water out.

"I might take you up on that."

The door swung open and Jack Johnson stepped in. Mei couldn't help but notice the way his t-shirt seemed to strain against his arms. His eyes met hers and she quickly looked back down at her salad as his gym shoes squeaked across the linoleum and stopped in front of their table.

"Ladies." He held up a clipboard. "Quick interruption. Daddy-Daughter dance is in three weeks and I'm putting together a committee. Need help with decorations, music, the whole thing." He set the clipboard on the table. "Any volunteers? There's going to be pizza."

"Good pizza?" Rachel asked not impressed.

"For you," his smile grew, "I'll spring for Papa Johns."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine. But only because I like their dipping sauce."

"That's what I like to hear." He jotted something on the clipboard, then looked at Mei. "Mei, you've got to help me out."

She stared a hole through her salad, pushing the lettuce around.

"Last year was just Baby Shark on a loop and I swear if I have to watch one more dad try to do the Macarena I might die."

Mei couldn't stop herself from laughing. Her hand flew to her mouth and she looked up at Jack, his green eyes sparkling in the fluorescent light.

"I don't know I um—"

"Come on, don't make me beg." He gave his best puppy-dog eyes. "I still have some self-respect." He started to kneel.

"Fine fine, just," she giggled. "Get off the floor."

"That's my girl." He winked at her and quickly scribbled her name down. "Thank you, ladies. This is already looking like it won't be the worst dance in school history." His gaze held Mei's a second longer before he spun around and left the room.

"Oh, he's into you," Rachel said the second the door closed behind Jack.

"Me?" A flush started at her neck and climbed. "He was just being nice. I don't know—"

"Girl, you're as red as a tomato," Dana joined in.

Mei buried her face in her hands.

"He's cute. He's got that whole dad bod former athlete thing going for him." Lisa nudged her leg under the table.

"Oh my God, Stop." Mei pressed her palms against her cheeks. They were burning. "He's like that with everyone. He was just being funny."

"Oh he was being funny alright." Dana speared a crouton. "But only for you."

"I'm married, Dana. He knows that."

The three friends exchanged a startled look. The outburst was unexpected. Dana's grin softened. She raised both hands.

"I know you are, honey. We're just teasing."

"I know. Sorry." Mei sipped her water. "I just... We're just friends."

The conversation moved on. Lisa mentioned a student struggling with performance anxiety. Dana circled back to conference prep. Mei listened, injected herself into the conversation when needed, but her mind was elsewhere. Not so much on Jack but on the observations her friends had made. Rachel mentioned she seemed more confident, Dana suggested Jack was flirting with her. She didn't see any of it. Was she giving off some type of signal she wasn't aware of?

The bell rang and chairs scraped back. Mei gathered her things and dumped her salad container in the trash. Rachel caught her arm in the hallway before they split toward their classrooms.

"Hey. You know we were just messing with you, right?"

"I know." Mei smiled but looked toward the floor. "I'm fine."

Rachel studied her for a second. She knew there was more going on, but also knew her friend enough to know not to push too hard. "Okay. Text me later?"

"Yeah."

Rachel squeezed her arm and headed down the hall. Mei watched her go, then turned toward her own classroom, her dress swishing against her leg. Her phone buzzed in her purse before she reached her room.

Ethan: Sierra's coming down Friday for game night. Her and James are going through it again. That ok?

Poor Sierra. Mei wished she lived closer. They always had so much fun when they were together, but the only time she seemed to visit anymore was when there was something going on with her husband.

Of course. Tell her she can stay the night if she needs to. We can play Ticket to Ride. =)

She pocketed the phone and slipped back into her classroom just as the first wave of kids came barreling through the door. As she settled behind her desk, her mind drifted for just a moment. She could ask Sierra what to wear for this school dance. If Mei was going to be dragged into it she might as well look the part.

The house was too quiet.

Mei had left for school two hours ago. Ethan had spent the first hour answering emails from a client who kept flip-flopping on how they wanted their logo to look. He spent the second pretending he wasn't thinking about what Nathan had asked him to do. Part of him was hoping he'd get another client email, something to give him an excuse to not do it.

He shook his head. When had he started feeling like a teenager afraid of being caught? There was nothing unusual about watching porn, everyone did it. Did Mei? He realized he'd never actually asked her. But the thought of it seemed so unrealistic. Mei could barely talk about sex at all. The idea of her watching porn was so far fetched he thought it impossible. He ignored the spike of his pulse.

When it was clear there would be no other distractions, he closed his work laptop and opened his personal one. He typed three letters into the search bar, then deleted them. Stood up and walked to the front door, ensuring it was locked.

He sat back down and opened the browser again. This time he clicked the little mask icon for incognito mode. He went to his company website, then closed the tab and ensured it didn't show up in his history. He checked a third time before deciding it was safe.

He started to type: POR, then stopped. The living room blinds were open. The street was empty, but it was entirely possible the mailman would come around soon. He deleted the entry on his browser, stood and quickly shut the blinds.

When he returned to the couch he let out a nervous laugh. There was a time in college when he would walk around campus with this stuff playing on his phone. Now, he was ensuring the house was locked up tighter than Fort Knox before opening the browser.

The site loaded with the subtlety of a fireworks show. Thumbnails filled the screen and he actually jumped. He turned the brightness down two notches and his hand hovered over the trackpad as his eyes scanned the categories along the top of the page.

He clicked on something at random. A short clip, just something to get the gears turning and—

"OH GOD, YES. FUCK ME HAR—"

Ethan slammed the laptop shut. The woman's voice had exploded through the speakers like a bomb going off in his living room, her moans mixing with the sharp clap of skin against skin loud enough to rattle the windows. He sat frozen, heart hammering, eyes darting to the front door expecting Nathan to come over any minute and congratulate him on a job well done.

He sat there for a full thirty seconds before reopening the laptop, turning the volume down to almost silent, and pressing play again.

It was exactly like he remembered. The woman on screen was blonde, her arms full of tattoos. She was currently screaming at her lover to fuck her harder, to which he gleefully did even going so far as to slap her ass as he thrust into her. Ethan rolled his eyes unable to see the appeal and closed it.

He tried another. Better quality. A brunette and a man on a white bed, the camera positioned at the foot of the mattress. They were already past the foreplay, as she began to ride him.

"Fuck that feels good," the woman moaned as she arched her back, her nails digging into her lover's chest.

Ethan felt himself stir. The position was hot. He imagined Mei after her first session with Nathan. She had climbed on top of him that night. His breath grew rapid, and Ethan shifted on the sofa. The camera angle wasn't great, he could only see her back, her hips move. But her hair was dark like Mei's and that made it easier to get into.

His hand slid to the front of his shorts and he squeezed without really thinking about it. The woman on screen let out another moan, her head tilting back slightly.

"You going to cum for me? Are you going to fill me with your cum?"

That broke the spell. Ethan paused the video. Between the poor angle of the camera and the terrible acting, women didn't really sound like that, he was completely put off. He pressed the back button on the browser determined to find something that worked.

He stared at the search bar. Typed: petite Asian young

The results loaded and his stomach flipped. Rows of thumbnails, women with dark hair and small frames. He scrolled past the first several. His hand paused midway down the screen. The thumbnail showed a woman in her mid-twenties with dark hair who didn't look too far off from Mei.

The video seemed to be from a camera off to the side of the bed. The woman was on her hands and knees giving Ethan a perfect view of her entire body. She was naked, her chest just large enough to sway as she sank onto the bed. The man behind her was smiling, his hands already on her hips, his clothes nowhere to be seen. Mei had never tried that position with him. She always preferred missionary, always wanted him close, face to face, and he'd never pushed.

But this woman arched into it. Her fingers twisting into the sheets as the man pulled her into him.

"Ahhh." Her moans were light, not theatrical like the other videos and the camera seemed to pick it up perfectly. Ethan's hand slipped into his shorts as the couple on screen started to really get into it.

Ethan watched her face. He noticed the way her mouth would open in a silent scream as she pushed herself back into her lover. Her tongue would slide past her lips a low hum escaping from her throat as the man behind her grunted.

"Yessss," the woman moaned, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. The camera was close enough that Ethan could see the muscles in her back tighten with each push. The faintest sheen of sweat along her spine.

He stroked himself slowly, his eyes locked on the screen. His mind had gone quiet. No more thinking about angles or framing or preparation. Just the warmth of his hand and the sounds she was making and the way her body moved. He was hard enough that it ached.

The man changed his pace to something slower and deeper. The woman dropped to her forearms and pressed her face into the mattress, a muffled cry escaping into the sheets. Ethan's grip tightened. His hips shifted, pressing into his own hand, his breathing shallow now.

Would Mei ever agree to this?

The thought slipped through before he could stop it. His wife in that same position. On her hands and knees. The sounds the woman was making were more like Mei and it was impossible for him not to make the connection.

His hand didn't stop.

On screen, the woman rose back up on her hands. Her right arm disappeared beneath her body. The camera wasn't able to capture all of it, but Ethan knew exactly what she was doing. His hand moved faster watching the woman's fingers work between her legs while her lover took her from behind.

"Yessss, yes, don't stop." Her whispers were getting louder, more desperate.

Ethan's hand moved faster. The heat in his stomach was coiling tighter, his thighs tensing. Her words mixed with the wet sound of her fingers and the rhythm of the man behind her. Her back arched sharply and she cried out.

Has Mei already done something like this?

"Fuck—" His body locked. The orgasm slammed through him before he was ready, his hips bucking off the couch as his hand clenched and his jaw clamped shut. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Wave after wave crashing through him while the video played on, the woman still moaning, still touching herself, the sounds layering over the aftershocks until he finally went still.

He sat there. Chest heaving. Hand still wrapped around himself. The video was still playing but he wasn't watching anymore. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to reassemble the sequence of what just happened.

It had hit so fast he couldn't separate the strands. The video, Mei, the thought of her doing... that. It all collapsed into one white-hot second that sent him into orbit.

He pulled his hand free and stumbled into the kitchen, rinsing them in the sink. He left his hands under the running water for longer than needed trying to replay exactly what he liked.

But the thing that kept surfacing wasn't the angle or the sounds. It was that last thought. The one right before he came. Has Mei already done something like this? He didn't even know where it came from. She looked like Mei and his brain just... went there. Mei on her hands and knees. Mei making those sounds. With someone who wasn't him. It landed in his head half a second before he finished and now he couldn't untangle the two.

He shut the water off and stood there dripping on the tile. No. It wasn't that. It was the camera. The way it was positioned to catch everything without getting in the way. Her face, her body, the sounds. All of it felt real because of where the camera was. That's what did it. He was a visual guy. He responded to composition. That's all it was.

The side angle. That was the key. The other videos had been shot from above or from the foot of the bed, and both felt distant in a way that lost the intimacy. But that last one, the camera off to the side, you could see everything. Her face, her body, the way she moved, the sounds she was making. If he set up a tripod on Mei's side of the bed, maybe chest height, he could make that work.

The position was the harder question. She'd never gone for anything other than missionary or her on top. But her sessions with Nathan seemed to be working. She seemed less in her head. Maybe he would wait until after her next session. That seemed to be when she was her calmest. He could reschedule his session with Nathan, use that time to try to set the mood.

A plan began to form in his head as he dried his hands. Suddenly the idea of making a sex tape with his wife didn't feel like such a longshot.

Here's the 3-2 pitch to Cole Young.

Ethan sat in the bed of his truck, drinking an IPA as the game played on the radio. It was unseasonably warm for April in Washington. The sun had just started to set when Nathan emerged from his house, a glass of wine in his hand. Ethan gave a cheerful wave as his friend and therapist made the short walk over.

"You know the game is on TV, right?" Nathan stood next to the truck and they both grimaced as Cole went down swinging.

"Too nice of a night to be inside." He nodded toward the house where Mei kneeled in front of one of the planters, a large sun hat on, and pulled weeds. "Besides, Mei had some stuff to do out here. Thought I'd join her. You follow baseball?"

"Grew up a Marlins fan and went to games with my dad." He paused, taking a drink of his wine. "But I'd love to see T-Mobile Park sometime. I've heard good things."

"We should go sometime. My job always has tickets they are giving away. I can grab some."

Nathan's mouth opened to respond then closed. He scratched his beard for a few seconds like he was considering the offer.

"Yeah. That could be fun."

A silver Lexus turned onto Harborview Lane and pulled into the driveway behind Ethan's truck. Ethan smiled, jumping down from the tailgate as Sierra stepped out of the car. Her sunglasses were pushed up, pulling her blonde hair back off her face. She wore a pair of jeans, a Ramones t-shirt and a fitted jacket. She was already scanning the yard when her eyes landed on Ethan.

"How's my favorite baby brother?" She walked over to him with a smile and pulled him into a long hug.

"I'm your only brother," he said, releasing the hug.

"Which makes you the de facto favorite." The smile was still plastered on her face and Ethan knew it was a lie.

"Hi, I'm—"

"Holy shit. You're Nathan Coleman." Sierra's eyes went wide.

"I am."

"I have your books. Your TED talk was inspirational. You're... sorry, I'm totally fangirling, aren't I?"

Nathan laughed, setting his wine glass on the bed of the truck. "It's always nice to meet a fan. Ethan mentioned he had a sister." He shook her hand, his gaze never leaving her brown eyes. "Never mentioned she was so well read, though."

Sierra blushed slightly and turned to Ethan. "I like him already."

Mei stood from the porch, removing her gardening gloves, and walked across the lawn to meet them.

"How was the drive?" She reached out touching Sierra's arm.

Sierra responded by pulling Mei into a hug. "It was fine. Sorry I didn't make it sooner."

Mei returned the hug, looking briefly at Ethan with a look of concern, before the older woman released her.

Ethan clapped his hands. "Alright. We were actually about to set up for game night." He looked at Nathan. "You want to join us?"

Nathan glanced at Mei, then back to Ethan. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Not at all. But you should know, Mei gets pretty competitive when it comes to Ticket to Ride."

Nathan glanced at Mei. She smiled, then quickly turned around and headed back toward the house without a word.

"Then I'd be happy to."

They headed inside. Sierra fell into step beside Nathan, her hands shoved in her jacket pockets. "So, Nathan. What's a best-selling author from Florida doing in a place like Harmony?"

"Big cities are great for publicity and trying to make a name for yourself, but it can be exhausting when you're just trying to lead a normal life." He held the door open for her. "Plus the humidity down there is brutal. What about you? You strike me as someone in design, or maybe marketing?"

"Oh, so close." She smiled as she stepped past him. "I actually have my own podcast."

"I've never really gotten into those, I have to admit. I'm old fashioned. Still prefer to get my news from the television."

"Okay Grandpa. You sure it's not past your bedtime?"

Nathan nearly spat his wine, laughing so hard. "Oh, I think we're going to get along just fine."

They gathered around the dining table as Mei went to the kitchen to wash up. Ethan grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, offering one first to Sierra who accepted then Nathan who declined, citing the wine glass still in his hand.

"Lovely house you have here, Ethan." Nathan looked around the room admiring the photos on the wall and the Chinese knick-knacks on the shelves.

"Thanks. Mei deserves all the credit though. She spent weeks deciding on color palettes and furniture."

"It wasn't that bad." Mei appeared in the entryway. She had a glass of wine in her hand, her eyes trained on the rim.

"Well it's lovely." Nathan turned his attention to Sierra, allowing Mei an opportunity to calm her nerves. "Ethan mentioned you live out of town?"

"Bellingham. About two hours north." She took a sip of beer. "My husband James and I moved up there a few years ago for his work."

"More like dragged her up there," Ethan corrected, cracking his beer, "and then—"

"Ethan." Sierra didn't raise her voice, but her look was stern. "If we're going to start telling stories I'm sure Nathan would love to hear about the time you cried watching The Notebook."

Nathan's lips pressed together, fighting a smile. Ethan focused on his beer.

"Sorry," Sierra said to Nathan. "He was born without a filter. I tried to convince my parents he was switched at birth."

"No apology needed." Nathan took a drink of his wine. "But for what it's worth, I'm a much better listener than I am a board game player." He looked over at Ethan. "I cried too."

"See?" Ethan pointed at Nathan. "It's normal."

Mei pulled out Ticket to Ride and started sorting the cards. "Does everyone know how to play?" She kept her eyes on the cards, her voice low.

For the next hour the four talked and played like they'd been friends their whole lives. After Nathan finished his wine, he switched to an IPA, something Ethan seemed to take as a personal victory. Sierra was the obvious competitor at the table, making the room louder and keeping everyone engaged. She blocked Ethan's route to Denver with all the vigor you'd expect from a sibling rivalry.

Nathan remained quiet for the most part. He was examining Mei as much as his cards. It was good to see her engaging. He made a mental note that while her eye contact was minimal she wasn't shying away from conversations, and in a few instances even initiating them herself.

The conversation drifted from one topic to another and it wasn't until the game was nearly over that James was brought up again. Ethan was ready for it. He knew it was the real reason for her visit. He wanted to help her. To make her see that she was too good for the guy, but she was more stubborn than she'd admit.

"What is it your husband does?" Nathan asked as he planned his next route.

"He's the CTO for a small tech startup." Her grip tightened on her can as she took a long drink.

"He's been real dedicated to his job since that new assistant started," Ethan mumbled, unable to help himself.

Sierra shot him a glare. "It's probably not as bad as I make it sound." Her voice said she didn't believe her own lie. "He's just been working late a lot recently." She looked to Nathan. "Which is a totally normal thing, right?"

Nathan nodded. "It can be. Have you asked him about it?"

Ethan laughed and Sierra tried to murder him with her eyes.

"I have." She placed a route without looking up. "But when I ask about it he gets defensive. And then I push, and then I'm paranoid, and then we don't talk for three days." She chugged her beer. "The man could look me in the eye during a hurricane and tell me it's sunny."

Ethan's jaw tightened. He'd heard this before.

"How long has it been like that?" Nathan asked. He'd stopped looking at the board and looked at Sierra directly.

"On and off for a couple of years. It actually got better for a while after I read your book." She raised her beer to him. "The intimacy stuff improved. But the trust..." She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I am paranoid."

"Do you believe that?"

"Some days." She finished her drink. "Most days I think something's off and I just can't prove it."

"Trust your gut, Sierra." He held her gaze. "In my experience when something feels off, it usually is."

Sierra's eyes held his, tears starting to well in them. "Thanks." Her mouth curved up slightly. "You have no idea how bad I needed to hear someone say that."

"I probably have some idea," he said with the faintest smile trying to lighten the mood.

Sierra laughed and wiped her eye. "Okay, someone talk now, please."

"Oh," Mei said, taking a large drink of wine. "I got talked into chaperoning this dance at school. A daddy-daughter thing."

Sierra's eyes went wide. She spun toward Ethan. "Oh my God. Baby brother is finally taking his lady to a proper dance."

"Actually," Ethan looked at Mei. "This is the first I'm hearing about it."

"It's not—" Mei's cheeks flushed. "It's not a big deal. They were asking for volunteers and the table I was at with Rachel and some of the other girls sort of got nominated."

"Well, I love it." Sierra was already grinning. "Any idea what you're going to wear?"

"I don't know. That's actually..." Mei looked back down at her wine. "I was hoping you might have ideas."

"Are you comfortable going to that?" Ethan reached out putting his hand on her leg. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Yeah... no. I mean..." She reached down taking Ethan's hand, her gaze drifting to Nathan. "I think I'll be okay." She turned back toward Sierra. "But nothing too... you know."

"I got you, girl." Sierra pulled out her phone. "Hot but conservative. I can make this work."

"Oh, God," Mei groaned, finishing the rest of her wine.

"I'm glad to hear you're putting yourself out there a little, Mei." Nathan smiled, his eyes flicking to Ethan.

"Thanks, D... Nathan." She met his eyes for just a moment, then looked back down at her cards.

The game never got finished. Sierra checked her phone and sighed. "I should head back before it gets too late." She stood and pulled Mei into a hug. "Thank you for this. I'll text you tomorrow with some dress ideas."

She turned to Nathan. "Thank you. For listening. You're annoyingly good at it."

"It was my pleasure. I hope we see each other again soon," Nathan said, standing with her.

"Oh, don't threaten me with a good time." Her eyes sparkled as she held his gaze.

Nathan grabbed his empty wine glass from the table. "I should head out too. Thank you both for this. I can't remember the last time I had an evening this enjoyable."

Ethan walked them to the door. He watched them cross the yard in the same direction before splitting. He closed the door and found Mei already heading toward the stairs.

"Save the mess for tomorrow. "She bit her lip. "Let's go to bed."

Ethan couldn't lock up fast enough.

Chapter 6

Nathan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, tilting his head to examine the gray threading through his beard. He'd let it grow longer than usual over the past two weeks. The scruff had become part of his new persona. It made him look distinguished, more approachable. But the gray was a different story. It aged him in ways he wasn't ready to accept. He ran the trimmer along his jawline, cleaning up the edges without taking too much off, ensuring most of the silver was gone by the time he set it down.

His phone buzzed on the counter. Sierra.

They'd been chatting regularly for three days, ever since game night at Ethan's. She'd reached out on Facebook first, a message so direct he wasn't sure how to respond at first: Had a great time tonight. Perhaps we can do it again, just the two of us. Out of town, away from distractions. Wanna grab a drink sometime?

Nathan had drafted a response shutting the entire thing down. She was married. She was Ethan's sister. Nothing good could come from it. He'd stared at that draft for ten minutes before deleting it character by character.

Because she was Ethan's sister. She was another angle into the Morrison family, another thread he could pull when trying to determine how to unlock Mei's potential. Sierra was close with Mei, and even closer to Ethan. She could volunteer information without realizing it. Help guide the couple into Nathan's web without him ever getting directly involved.

He drafted a new response. He loved getting to know her. He had no idea Ethan's sister could be so fun. He'd love to get a drink sometime.

Sometime was today. Nathan grabbed a tie from his closet as he opened the message.

Sierra: still on for tonight?

Nathan: Looking forward to it. Made us a reservation at Larkspur. 7pm?

He walked back to the mirror, knotting the tie.

Sierra: That's cute. But this isn't the 70s. There's a bar next door to the hotel. Pine Street Tap. I'll meet you there at 7.

Nathan stared at the screen, pulling his tie loose as he clicked his tongue in irritation. Did she have any idea the hassle he had to go through to make that reservation?

Nathan: Ok. See ya soon.

Pine Street Tap sat wedged between the hotel and a Seven Eleven. He almost walked right past. The sign was nothing more than a faded plaque above the green door. The windows were covered with so much dirt and pollen he couldn't see inside.

Nathan pulled the door open and the floor grabbed his dress shoes on the first step. His nose crinkled as each of his steps made a suction-like noise that echoed over the soft classic rock playing behind the bar. Three televisions hung above the bar. Two were showing the Mariners game, the other jeopardy.

He found her at the far end of the bar. Jeans, a white halter top that left her shoulders bare and dipped low enough between her breasts that he couldn't not look. She'd taken her leather jacket off and draped it over the stool beside her. Her hair was down, tucked behind one ear. She was already nursing a drink, eyes glued to the TV behind the bar.

He was overdressed. He scanned the room trying to gauge how many people were watching him, wondering if he got lost and wandered in off the streets. He was starting to think the same thing.

"There you are." Sierra had spun in her chair, looking at him. "I was starting to think you were going to stand me up."

Nathan gave up the thought of retreating back into the sunlight and let the door swing shut behind him. "It's two minutes past seven."

"So, you admit you're late." She stood and met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. Nathan's body went stiff as her chest pressed into his. "Not a good start for where you think this night is headed," she whispered, before releasing the hug and seeing his face red in embarrassment.

"Interesting wardrobe choice." She laughed over her shoulder as she went back to the bar.

"I may have gravely misunderstood the vibe."

"This will help." She slid a bottle of Bud Light his way. "But you need to catch up. I'm already on my second one."

Nathan nodded and settled into the open chair next to her. He sipped the beer slowly, watching her from the corner of his eye. He wasn't used to being on his back foot. He needed to recalibrate. He was here for a reason. Sierra and Mei seemed close when he saw them together. She'd known Ethan his entire life. If he could get her talking about them he'd have a gold mine of information. He wanted to know what Ethan was like before he met Mei. How much of his identity he'd lost to his marriage that Nathan may be able to leverage. All he had to do was guide the conversation there without her noticing.

"So, game night. Is that something the three of you do a lot?"

Sierra turned to him, the bottle pressed to her lips. "Not as much as we used to. You know how it goes. Adulting gets in the way. And with..." she took another sip, "my home situation it's not always easy to find the time."

Nathan let his shoulders drop. "Yeah. I'm sure that's hard. Your husband—"

"Shot!" She flagged the bartender down. "My friend here will have a shot of Jack."

"I will?"

Sierra grinned. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. We're playing a game. Every time one of us brings up James they have to take a shot."

"That feels like something you should have mentioned."

"Oops."

Nathan noticed a small dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. Her focus stayed on the television, but her smile never faded. As the bartender returned with his shot, he studied her. A drinking game designed to not talk about her husband. He'd had patients do the same thing but with humor. She was already talking again before he finished the drink and he let the thought pass.

"So," Sierra said, turning to him. "Tell me a secret about yourself." Her knee brushed against his.

"A secret?"

"Yeah," her eyes got big like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, something not a lot of people know about you."

"I um..."

"I'll go first." She rolled her eyes. "When I watched your TED talk on 'The Secret to Desire' I was so blown away by it that I put you on my list." Her eyes locked with Nathan's, sparkling with mischief.

"Your list? I don't under—"

"You know, my hall pass list."

Nathan's face went red and Sierra nearly spit out her beer. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My celebrity hall pass list." She said it with the slightest hint of a laugh. "You know, the list of people you're technically allowed to sleep with because the odds of it happening are so astronomically low that it doesn't count." She took a sip of her beer. "Ryan Reynolds is number one but don't tell him that. Then the Trivago guy, then you."

"You put me behind the Trivago guy?"

"Are you kidding?" She finished the rest of her beer. "Have you seen his jawline?"

Nathan couldn't hold back his laugh. He shook his head in disbelief. Who was this woman and why did she have him so off his game?

"But don't take it too hard." She leaned into him, her chest pressing against his arm. "You're here and he's not. You've officially moved from fantasy to candidate."

"Well I'm honored to make the leap." He finished his beer and put his hand on her knee. He wasn't sure if he'd ever had this much fun on a first date before. If this even counted as a date. "But you know, just because you give yourself this fictitious pass. It doesn't eliminate the guilt."

Sierra studied him for a long moment, her smile cracking. Then she turned to the bartender and held up a finger.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you another shot." The bartender was already pouring the Jack.

"I didn't even say James."

The smile returned to her lips.

"Oh come on. That doesn't count."

She shrugged. "You were heading that direction and you know it." She ordered a round for herself. "Look. I know what this is. I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to mope around feeling guilty. Lord knows James doesn't give a shit." She threw back her shot.

He picked up the shot and knocked it back. The whiskey burned a trail down his throat and he winced, setting the glass upside down on the bar.

"Happy?"

"Thrilled." She popped a peanut from the bowl between them into her mouth. "Okay, now you still owe me a secret. And don't give me something boring like you're afraid of heights. I want a real one."

Nathan considered her. The easy thing would be to fabricate something charming and forgettable. A story about getting lost in a foreign country or a childhood fear he'd outgrown. That's what he'd give a client.

"I can't cook." It was an honest answer. "Like, at all. I own two cookbooks and a set of pans that have never been used. I eat takeout almost every night. At first it was just because I worked long hours and didn't find the time. Then I realized, I just kind of suck at it."

Sierra's expression softened. "Aww that's actually really sad. Some of the best meals I've had in life have been home cooked." Another round of beer appeared in front of them. "When we were kids, my mom used to make chicken and dumplings from scratch. Ethan would absolutely rave about them." She paused, reliving the memory. "Just before she passed, she taught me how to make them. The first time I tried making them for James..." Nathan's eyebrows lifted. "Shit."

She raised her hand for a shot. Nathan considered telling her not to worry about it. It was the first real thing she'd said to him all night and he wanted to dig into it. But he knew that would only make her dig her heels in more.

She took the shot unceremoniously. "Anyway, maybe I can cook for you one day."

Nathan didn't say anything. The offer hung in the air between them, casual enough to brush off but warm enough that he held his breath without realizing it. She'd just accidentally mentioned her husband's name on a date with another man and now she was offering to cook for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted how easily she'd gone from her mother's recipe to Ethan's childhood to her own marriage. All of it threaded together, all of it offered up without a second thought.

He'd tried to get Ethan to talk about his mother once and noted how quickly he pivoted, like he was guarding a sacred memory. Sierra gave it away without thinking twice. There was a history there that could help him. For now, he'd let the moment pass, but he filed it away for later.

"Speaking of dinner, has Mei ever... Are you watching Jeopardy?" He looked up from his beer to find Sierra's attention had drifted to the third television above the bar. Not the Mariners game. Jeopardy. She was leaning forward on her stool, her eyes narrowed at the screen like a student during an exam, her beer momentarily forgotten on the bar in front of her.

"What is the Battle of Antietam?" She said it under her breath, barely loud enough to hear over the music. The answer flipped on the screen. She was right.

"Sorry," she laughed, her cheeks coloring. "What about Mei?"

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, then looked back at the TV, the question he'd had completely lost. "Did you ask them to put Jeopardy on?"

"I may have made a suggestion when I got here." She shrugged one shoulder and took a sip, not the least bit apologetic. "The bartender was accommodating."

He studied her for a second. She'd gotten here before him, changed the channel, ordered beers for both of them, and picked the seats. The woman had staged the entire evening before he walked through the door. Part of him wanted to be annoyed by it, but the other part, the part that kept surprising him tonight, found it genuinely impressive.

The next clue appeared on screen. American Presidents. Nathan leaned forward, squinting at the blue text, and the answer came to him just fast enough. "Who is James K. Polk?"

Sierra turned to him slowly, her bottle half raised to her lips. "Oh. Okay then." She set the bottle down and squared her shoulders toward the screen. "Game on."

They went at it for two full rounds, their voices climbing over each other as clues appeared and vanished. Sierra was fast. Crazy fast. She rattled off dates and names like she'd been studying them for years. Nathan held his own in science and geography, managing to pull ahead when a World Geography category appeared and he named the capital of Mongolia before the contestant on screen could buzz in. Sierra's jaw dropped and she punched his arm hard enough that he actually rubbed the spot afterward.

"Ulaanbaatar? How the hell do you know that?"

"Some of us still read books."

"You're such an asshole." But the grin on her face betrayed her.

A Famous Crimes category appeared and Sierra sat up on her stool completely locked in. She answered the first clue, something about an unsolved murder in the 1940s, before Nathan had even finished reading it. The second was about a killing spree in the Midwest in the fifties and she got that one too, rattling off the name of the killer with a confidence that made Nathan turn and stare at her.

"How do you know that?"

"How do you not? Weren't you like a teenager back then?" She clinked her bottle against his without breaking eye contact.

Nathan shook his head, laughing in spite of himself. The age jokes were relentless and he was starting to suspect she'd been workshopping them long before tonight. He didn't have a comeback. He didn't even have a guess on the next clue. Sierra answered it before the host finished. The Seahawks jersey two stools down actually clapped.

Sierra drained the last of her beer and set it on the bar. She waved the bartender over and made a small check-writing gesture in the air.

"Loser pays," she said without looking at him.

"We tied." He was already reaching for his wallet.

"We absolutely did not tie." She held up her fingers and started counting. "Antietam, Missouri Compromise, Black Dahlia, Starkweather—"

"The Antietam one doesn't count. I wasn't even playing yet."

"It does." The bartender set the check between them and Sierra slid it across the bar toward Nathan with one finger. "Don't be a sore loser, Doc."

Nathan looked at the check. Looked at Sierra. Her chin was tilted up, her arms crossed, every inch of her daring him to keep arguing.

He pulled out his card and paid.

The lobby of the hotel was empty save for a kid behind the front desk who didn't look up from his phone. Sierra already had the room key out. She crossed to the elevator and hit the button, kicking her shoes off before the doors even opened. She dangled them from two fingers and turned to Nathan with a look that dared him to comment.

He didn't. He was too busy trying to figure out when he'd lost control of this evening. Not at the bar. He'd never had it there. Maybe when he deleted the draft turning her down. Maybe when he pulled the tie loose in the mirror. He'd walked into Pine Street Tap with a plan. Drinks, conversation, strategic rapport building. Get close to Sierra, mine her for information about Ethan and Mei. Now, all he could think about was how good her ass looked in those jeans. How he'd been half hard since she hugged him, and most of all what was going to be waiting for him when they got to the room.

"You're quiet." She leaned against the back wall, studying him.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

He smirked.

"Don't make me walk back to the bar and order you another shot."

The elevator doors opened before he could retort and he followed her down the hall, her shoes still swinging from her fingers. She stopped at the room, slid the keycard, and bumped the door open with her hip.

The room was exactly what he'd expected when she'd told him she had gotten a room at a Holiday Inn. The walls were a weird off-white color, the window looked out across the parking lot, and the only picture on the wall was of a lighthouse that looked like it could have been purchased at any home decor store.

Sierra tossed her shoes onto the floor, and her jacket onto the desk. She spun around to look at Nathan and cocked her hip.

"Well," she said, taking a hesitant step toward him, her first hesitation of the night. "Are you going to make a move, or do I need to do everything myself?"

Nathan took a step forward, his hand sliding across her hip as he tried to gain control of the situation. "Are you sure—"

She kissed him, hard. Her hand slid from his shirt to the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. He groaned into the kiss, his tongue wrestling hers as his hand slid to her ass.

"Okay then," he said, his eyes flashing dark. He kissed her harder. His teeth caught her lower lip and she responded by grinding her hips forward into him. His cock was straining against his pants. He pushed into her, and felt her roll her hips in response. His hand slid up her back and under her shirt as all pretenses faded.

He'd gone into the night telling himself to take it slow. Build the rapport. Feel her out before making any kind of move. But Sierra had blown past every speed limit he'd set since the night started. She was a woman on a mission, and he was more than happy to oblige. If her goal was to feel something, he could certainly accommodate that.

Nathan broke the kiss and spun her around at a dizzying speed. His lips were on her neck, his hands reaching around to unclasp the button of her jeans as he took control. He sucked in a breath as her pants slid down her thighs, her heart-shaped ass framed by a black thong. His teeth brushed her neck, causing her to sigh as he pushed gently between her shoulder blades, making her bend over the bed.

But Sierra wasn't going to let go of her control that easily. She caught herself on the bed, then shifted her weight, spinning away from his grip and causing him to stumble forward. She used his momentum against him, pushing him the rest of the way onto the bed with a laugh.

"Let's get you more comfortable, doc." She climbed on top of him, straddling his legs as she lifted the halter top over her head. The pressure made him suck air through his teeth.

Her chest sprang free, larger than the top had let on. Her black lace bra barely contained her chest and Nathan pulsed against his slacks at the thought of what was under the lace. Her skin was flawless, flushed slightly from her arousal. Tan lines peeked out from the cup of her bra, the rest of her body perfectly sun-kissed.

"Ohhh. Someone's excited." She ground her hips into him, letting him know she felt his arousal. She leaned forward, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. "Now, are you done asking me if I'm okay." She undid another button. "If I'm okay." Her lips went to his chest. "If I want to talk about it." Another button undone, her kisses getting lower. "Or do you need more proof that this is what I want?"

Nathan stared at the ceiling as her mouth moved past his navel. He'd had women undress him before. Plenty of them. But it was never like this. His hips lifted as Sierra's breath ghosted through the fabric of his pants. He had completely lost control of the situation, but his body certainly wasn't complaining.

The sound of his belt sliding through the loops filled his ears and Nathan's hands went to Sierra's hair. He half expected her to swat them away, but she purred in satisfaction as she popped the button of his pants free.

"Mmm. Now that's more like it." She wrapped her hand around his base, her free hand already tugging his pants the rest of the way down as she took a kneeling position at the foot of the bed. Her gaze held his as her tongue flicked from her mouth and with agonizing slowness she ran it along the base of his shaft.

Her smile grew as she opened her mouth and, in what felt like slow motion, closed her lips around the tip of him.

"Ahhh." Nathan's breath caught. She held there for a moment, her tongue circling slowly, her eyes still locked on his. Then she took him deeper and his hand tightened in her hair.

"Fuck." He said it quietly, almost to himself. Her mouth was warm and wet as she took him deeper. Her hand continued to work the base of his cock, twisting her hand gently while her lips worked the rest. She was enjoying herself, and he could tell by the soft hum that vibrated through him every time she took him to the back of her throat.

His head sank deeper into the mattress. The tension he'd been carrying all night, the constant recalibrating, the mental chess match of trying to stay one step ahead of a woman who refused to be predicted, all of it was bleeding out of him with every pass of her tongue. His fingers loosened in her hair, no longer gripping but resting as he stopped trying to fight for control.

Sierra pulled back until just the tip rested on her lower lip. She kissed it once, almost playfully, then took him deep again in one smooth motion that made his hips jerk off the mattress.

"Mmm." The sound came from somewhere in her chest. She pulled back slowly, a string of saliva connecting her lips to him, and wrapped her hand around his shaft. She stroked him while she caught her breath, her thumb dragging across the sensitive underside, her cheek resting against his inner thigh.

"You taste good. Do you like how my mouth feels?" Her nails moved to his sack, rolling it in her hand. "Am I doing it right?"

He wasn't sure if she was being playful or self-conscious, but before he could answer, her mouth returned to his shaft, causing him to groan.

Her pace quickened. Her grip tighter, the sounds getting wetter and more urgent. Nathan's thighs tensed. His stomach muscles contracted and the heat building at the base of his spine was coiling to a point. His hand tightened in her hair and his hips started moving on their own, shallow thrusts pushing him deeper into her mouth. She let him. Her hands went to his thighs, steadying herself, and a muffled moan escaped around him.

"Jesus, Sierra." He thrust again, deeper, and she took it, her nails digging into his legs.

She pulled off him.

The sudden absence of her mouth made his whole body clench. His cock twitched against his stomach, slick and throbbing, and he nearly reached for her before catching himself. Sierra was already on her feet at the foot of the bed.

"That was only the appetizer." Her voice had a seductive edge to it as she shoved her jeans the rest of the way down her legs and stepped out of them. "I'm going to fuck you now." She hooked her thumb into the thong and pulled it down in one motion, flicking it off her ankle.

The weight of the bed shifted before Nathan's brain caught up with what she was saying. Her lips brushed across his stomach, then his throat. Her bare skin dragged against his and he could feel the heat coming off her in waves. She kissed him, slower this time, her tongue sliding against his as she settled her weight over his hips.

Then she rose up on her knees to position him and Nathan's gaze dropped between her legs.

She was completely smooth. Like she shaved specifically for this occasion. Nathan's cock pulsed at the thought of it. She was glistening, her arousal visible in the low light. Her lips were swollen and flushed, slick with want, and when she reached between them to wrap her hand around his cock the movement spread her open enough that he could see exactly how wet she was.

Nathan exhaled hard. His hands went to her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of her inner legs. She grinned, teasing him. She held herself above him, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance, her wetness coating the tip as she watched his face.

His hips rose, but she moved with them, always just a breath away. "Are you experiencing impulse control, doc?" She laughed at the role reversal, allowing his cock to glide across her lips before holding it at her entrance.

His grip tightened on her thighs. "Fuck."

She held there one more second. "With pleasure." Then she dropped her hips and took all of him at once.

They both exhaled at the same time. A sound that nearly made Nathan cum immediately. Sierra's eyes squeezed shut, her mouth falling open as she adjusted to the full length of him. He could feel her squeezing him, accepting his length. Her nails dug into his chest.

She was tight. Impossibly tight. The wet heat of her wrapped around every inch of him and for a few seconds neither of them moved. Just the sound of their breathing and the air conditioner rattling near the window.

Sierra moved first. She lifted her hips slowly, testing the angle, finding what she wanted. She braced her palms on his chest and raised until just the tip remained inside her, then sank back down in a long stroke that made them both groan. She did it again. And again. Each time a little faster, each time pulling a different sound out of him as she built her rhythm.

"God, you feel good." She said it with her eyes still closed, her head tilting back. Her bottom lip was in her mouth, her hips rotating as her nails dug into Nathan's chest.

Nathan watched her move above him, getting lost in it. Her stomach flexed with each roll, the muscles in her thighs tightening as she lifted and dropped. Her bra was still on and her breasts strained against the lace with every motion, threatening to spill free. He reached up and slid his fingers under the strap on her left shoulder, dragging it down her arm. She opened her eyes long enough to look at him, as if for a moment she forgot he was even there, then pulled her arm free.

He sat up against the headboard beneath her. The shift in angle made her gasp, driving him deeper, and her arms wrapped around his neck to steady herself. He reached behind her back and unclasped the bra with one hand. It fell between them and he tossed it aside without looking.

Her breasts were perfect. Full and warm, her nipples hard as diamonds as she rode him. He took one in his hand, his thumb rolling across the stiff peak, and Sierra hissed through her teeth.

"Mmm, yes." Her hips stuttered for the first time. She leaned into his touch, her pace slowing but never stopping. He leaned up, sucking her nipple between his lips.

"Fuck, Nathan." Her voice had dropped an octave. She was grinding against him now instead of riding, her clit pressed against his pelvis, desperate for friction. He could feel her wetness coating him where their bodies met.

His free hand slid down her back and gripped her ass, pulling her forward and down onto him with each stroke.

"Mmm." She leaned forward, her forehead dropping to his shoulder. "Is that how you like it?" She slammed back into him, her ass rippling.

"No." He grabbed her ass and rolled her off him. "This is."

Sierra hit the mattress on her back with a gasp. Before she could react he was over her, one hand pinning her hip to the bed, the other hooking under her knee and pushing it toward her chest. He drove into her in one stroke.

"Ohhhh fuck." Her eyes went wide, her hands flying to his shoulders. Nathan felt her clench around him, his thrust fast and hard as her body tried to keep up.

He didn't ease into it. She'd taken control from him all night and he poured his frustration into it. The bed bounced off the wall with each powerful stroke, drowning out the 'ah, ah, ah' from Sierra. Her legs wrapped around his body, her ankles locking.

"You've been running your mouth all night." He said it low, against her ear, his hips never slowing. "Still want to call me an old man?"

Sierra let out a breathless laugh that broke into a moan. "And you loved every—ahh—every second of it."

He thrust harder, determined to wipe the smirk off her face. His hand slid from her ass to the back of her thigh, pushing her leg higher, opening her wider.

"Jesus. Right there." She was panting now. "Ohhh fuck, don't stop."

He obliged. He grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head, driving deeper. Sierra's mouth fell open. Her back arched off the bed. A triumphant smirk landed on Nathan's face. Her hands threaded through his hair, her brow pinching together as he drove deeper and her gasps filled the air.

Then her eyes opened. Even pinned beneath him, even breathless, she looked up at him with the same cockiness she'd displayed all night.

His smirk faltered.

Sierra's hand slid from his hair to the side of his face. Her thumb traced his jaw. "You're cute."

It was said with such tenderness that Nathan slowed. He leaned down pressing his lips to hers.

Her hips bucked. Not hard, but enough. Her free wrist twisted out of his grip and her legs unlocked from behind his back. She used the space to shift her weight beneath him. Nathan didn't react fast enough. She hooked her leg around his and rolled them.

She settled on top of him, palms flat on his chest, breathing hard. Her hair hung around her face. She didn't move. Just sat there with him buried inside her, watching him with that same look.

"I'm not so easy to control." She rolled her hips once, slow, and Nathan gasped. "Now, stop being a sore loser."

She sat up straight, her hands sliding from his chest to her own body as she rode him. Her fingers traced up her stomach, between her breasts, and into her hair, lifting it off her neck as she rolled her hips in a slow motion. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, and Nathan couldn't look away. Not just her body, but the way she moved, her confidence.

He watched her as his cock pulsed inside her. The muscles in her stomach flexed with each roll, bringing out a soft moan as she clenched around him. She was the most confident woman he'd ever been inside of, and the thought made his fingers dig into her thighs. He couldn't read her. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was with someone he couldn't read, and his body responded before his brain caught up.

He grabbed her hips and shifted, causing her eyes to go wide as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he stood.

"What are you—"

Sierra's back slammed into the wall hard enough to rattle the lighthouse painting. The air left her lungs in a half grunt, half moan, her shoulder blades pressing into the drywall, her fingers digging into his shoulders to anchor herself.

"Fuck—" The word came out broken. Her ankles locked behind his back, her thighs squeezing his ribs. He thrust again, harder, and her nails raked down his arms leaving hot lines in their wake.

The angle was different here. Deeper. Every stroke pinned her between his body and the wall with nowhere to retreat, and the sounds she made changed. The laughter was gone, replaced by raw grunts and moans as Nathan fucked her with as much force as he could muster. Her hand found the back of his head and pulled his mouth to her neck. He bit down and she hissed through her teeth, her hips rolling forward to meet him.

"God, you feel—" She couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't let her. His hand slid from her hip to the underside of her thigh, hiking her higher, changing the angle just enough that her whole body jerked.

"Ugggnh." Her breathing had changed, urgent now, like she couldn't get enough air.. "Don't stop. Ohhh fuck. I'm gonna—"

He didn't. The wall shook with each thrust. Her fingers twisted in his hair. Nathan could feel her tightening around him, her thighs trembling against his sides. She was close and fighting it. He could tell by the way she kept trying to slow her breathing and failing. She didn't want to give it to him this easily.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes were barely open, dark and glassy. "That's it." He lifted onto his toes, driving deeper. "Cum for me." He pressed his lips to hers and gave one more powerful push.

Her head turned, breaking the kiss. "Ohhhh. Ffffffuck. Yes. Yesssss." Her body locked. Her legs clamped around him so hard his knees almost buckled. Her mouth found his shoulder and she bit down, muffling the sounds pouring out of her as the orgasm ripped through her. He held her there, her body pulsing around him, her weight trembling in his arms.

For a long moment neither of them moved. Just the sound of her breathing against his neck and the air conditioner rattling near the window.

Sierra's legs slowly unlocked. She lowered her feet to the floor, unsteady, one hand on the wall to catch herself. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed all the way down to her collarbones.

"Fuck," she whispered, then looked up at Nathan through her lashes. "Now, your turn." She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed.

Nathan's calves hit the edge of the bed and he sat down hard. Before he could recover she was already climbing over him. But she didn't face him. This time, she turned, swinging one leg over his hips, planting both feet on the mattress on either side of his thighs. She reached between her legs, found him, and sank down in one slow stroke.

Nathan's head dropped back. "Jesus."

The angle was devastating. She had her feet under her, knees bent, and she used every bit of that leverage.

The view was even better. Nathan gasped as he watched her take him. Her pussy stretching around him, the grip tightening as she rose up before slamming back down. He could see the muscles in her back flexing, the dimples just above her ass, the sheen of sweat along her spine.

"Sierra—" His thighs tensed as his hand went to her ass, gripping it as she moved. His stomach contracted. The heat that had been building at the base of his spine was coiling past the point of return.

"Mmhmm. Fuck you feel so good." She didn't slow down. If anything, she bore down harder, tightening around him with each stroke. Her hand reached back and found his thigh, her nails pressing into the muscle. "Cum for me, Nathan." Her voice was softer now. "I want to feel it."

Something about the way she said it, mixed with the way her walls continued to pulse around him, sent him over the edge. His hips started moving on their own, thrusting up to meet her. She matched him, their rhythm syncing.

"Ahhh Fuck— I'm—" His cock pulsed inside.

"Mmmm," she moaned as pulse after pulse emptied inside her.

They stayed like that until the trembling stopped. Both of them fighting to catch their breath.

Sierra was the first to move. She rolled off the bed and walked to the bathroom, pausing at the door. "Anyone tell you that you have control issues?" She smirked, shutting the bathroom door before he could retaliate.

She came back already stepping into her jeans. She found her bra in the sheets, hooked it, pulled the halter top over her head. Nathan watched her get dressed with a smile on his face. He didn't have enough time to take in her body initially, but watching her now, she was even more stunning than he first thought.

"That was fun." She said, bouncing into her jeans and breaking his train of thought.

"It was." He sat up from the bed, not bothering to cover up.

She checked her phone. Whatever she saw tightened her jaw for half a second before she pocketed it without responding. Probably her husband.

"You know," Nathan said, walking toward her, "this was probably the most fun I've had in a long time."

She smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Probably because you don't spend enough time watching Jeopardy."

"It was a tie," he said with a laugh.

"I guess I can give you a chance in the future to redeem yourself." She shrugged her jacket onto her shoulders. "I need to get home. Goodnight, Nathan." Then she was gone.

Nathan sat there for another minute listening to the air conditioner rattle. He could smell her on the pillow next to him. The sweat, the slight floral scent he couldn't quite place. Maybe dew or melon. He looked at the clock. It was just after eight.

He considered staying. Driving home in the morning, sleeping in a bed that still smelled like her. The thought was appealing in a way that made him uneasy. There was no advantage to staying. He'd gotten what he came for and then some. Staying would just be... staying.

He got up, walked to the bathroom, and turned sideways in the mirror. Four red lines ran across his back. The deepest one was still raised. He traced it with his finger and smiled, shaking his head. She was not what he expected.

He thought about how the night transformed. Her picking the bar, the way she took control of every aspect of it. He logged it as her being someone who needed to control every aspect of the night. He recognized it easily enough since he had the same tendencies. But then there were other parts. Her asking if she was doing it right, wanting to know she made him feel good. That screamed validation-seeking.

He splashed water on his face. He was overanalyzing it. They'd had fun. She was sharp, competitive, and incredible in bed. He didn't need to crack her open. He had more than enough on his plate to try to diagnose someone who wasn't his patient.

He looked at his reflection. Water dripped from his jaw into the sink.

Mei's session was tomorrow evening. He still needed to rewatch the footage from her last session before then. He'd seen her at game night, the way she interacted with Sierra. She held contact with Nathan when they talked. The conditioning still seemed to be holding. He could build on that tomorrow. His cock began to swell as he thought about what that meant.

He walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his pants. He needed to drive home tonight and put together a plan.