The Sex Surrogate(6)By: Jessica Gadziala
“Seeing as you are here,” he went on, his lips twitching slightly, but not breaking into a smile. Seemingly always set in a firm line. Which I think I preferred. I wasn't sure I could take him smiling, “I wouldn't call you frigid.”
“Do you have sexual fantasies, Ava?”
That question, with my name like a secret on his lips, sent an unexpected ping of desire between my thighs. My eyes focused on the watch on his wrist. “Yes.”
“Do you get turned on?”
You mean like how I was right that second? Nooo. Not at allll. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Ava, can you look at me?”
Um. No. Don't think so. But my eyes moved slowly up anyway.
“There you are,” he said, a smile slightly lifting his lips. “It's good that you get turned on. This process will be much easier. Now, I'm sure you did some looking around on my website, but would you like a bit more in-depth information on how this works.”
“Today, we talk,” he started automatically. “If all goes well and you are comfortable enough with the situation, we will set up the dates for the next ten sessions. Each session will gradually lead up in intimacy. Provided things go par for the course, sex will likely happen around the sixth session.”
Six. I had six sessions of non-sex. Well, that was good. I swallowed hard. “Okay. What... what will the first five sessions be then?”
He gave me a small, encouraging (I think) smile. “The first session is just getting comfortable with contact. At most, it would be kissing. From there, the next session would include undressing. Learning to get comfortable with your own nudity as well as... someone else's...”
His. His nudity. Oh, geez. Him naked... looking at me... naked.
“Ava,” he broke in, his voice firm. “Don't go there,” he said, reading my mind. His hand moved out, landing on top of my knee, solid, strong. Completely disconcerting, but somehow reassuring at the same time. “Anxiety doesn't exist in the moment. It is only in the past and the future. So, let's not think about those things, alright? Just be in this moment.”
The moment. With his hand on my knee. It still hadn't moved. He was just sitting there, arm all stretched out, no doubt less than comfortable, with his hand on my knee.
“This moment makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?” he asked, his hand squeezing my knee.
“Yes,” I admitted, looking away from his hand and back up toward his face.
“But not enough to push me away,” he observed.
“Not yet,” I said, and he chuckled, taking his hand away, my knee feeling almost strange without the contact.
“The purpose of this is to push you out of your comfort zone. It's important that you don't push me away with the first twinge of anxiety. As I'm sure you learned in your previous therapy sessions, anxiety can really only be treated with exposure to that which makes you anxious.”
“So, if kissing makes you anxious...”
“I have to let you kiss me.”
His eyes darkened for a second, just a quick flash that was just as quickly gone. “Exactly.” He agreed, sitting back in the chair. “Only pull away or push me away if you can't talk yourself down. If you can't take it any more. That being said, I am going to be communicating with you the entire time, trying to work to dispel the fears before they become overwhelming. The point is for you to get to the point where you can enjoy being touched.”
I was going to be touched by his six foot three, dark haired, blue eyed, ridiculously sexy self. All the while he talked to me in that low, deep, confident way he spoke that was making my skin feel tingly. Which... was good. That was good. But the initial arousal had always been easy for me. As long as he was... arousing me outside of my personal space.