His For More Than One Night

Swallowing hard, I shake my head. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. I want to say something, but I don’t dare. I’m too scared I’ll fuck everything up.

“Okay.” It’s the last thing I expect, and I’m stunned as he crosses the room to the closet and begins dressing. I wilt back into bed, and it’s where I am when he comes out of the closet. He ’s dressed and he looks so beautiful my heart aches at the sight of him. He cups my cheek, and his kiss is deep and thorough, and he’s tugging at me from the inside out. Just when I can’t breathe, he pulls away. “I love you, don’t forget it, and don’t you dare run from it.” It’s an order and I nod.

Then he’s gone. I hear his footsteps echo on the wood floors down the stairs, and I don’t know what to do. When I hear the garage door open, I give in to my weakness and cry.

***

Joy is still with a client when I come in, because I’m early, and I’m too restless to sit at the couch and page through a magazine, so I pace. Her assistant isn’t fazed, and ignores me, as usual. When the door opens, I stop and pretend to study the window. The buzzer goes, a woman gives her name, and the assistant presses the button. The door opens behind me and a suited, frazzled-looking woman enters. I’m careful to keep looking outside, until I hear the voice of a little girl. Despite an attempt to give her the privacy she deserves, my eyes go to her. Immediately, I wish I kept my damn eyes on the window. Fuck, she’s ridiculously tiny. She looks about seven, but her eyes are too big and old for her face. She’s been crying, and I force myself to turn away. I’m looking toward the window, yet I can’t see anything but the little girl. I have no idea how much time has passed before Joy calls my name.

I turn and follow her into the office, and almost fall onto the oversized chair I prefer to the homey, worn couch, which is too clichéd. There are crayons on the table and plain white paper, thankfully there are none of the little girl’s drawings still there.

“Kate? Are you okay?”

I shake my head.

“Seeing the little girl upset you.” It’s not a question, but I nod. “What about seeing her upset you?”

Opening my mouth it starts, the sobs from deep inside I hadn’t let loose with Trey. Joy doesn’t try to calm me, simply hands me tissues every few minutes. It takes so damn long to stop crying. My head is pounding, and I just want to curl up in a ball and stay that way.

“What happened?”

“Trey wants children.”

“From the tortured way you said that, I can only assume you don’t.”

We had talked about my miscarriage, and she had gotten me to understand the relief everyone felt around me was for me, not the baby. Sixteen and pregnant is hard under the best circumstances, and I was far from that. “No.”

“Why?”

One word, just like Trey. “Because I can’t give a child everything it needs, all the love and care and attention. I just can’t. And...”

“And?”

“And what if he found out when he was older?”

“Found out what?”

“That I was a whore, all the gross things I did. What if he hates me?” The tears build, and I can’t see her.

“Oh, Kate. ” She says sadly. “I had no idea.”

“What?”

“That after all these sessions you still think that way. and we have so far still to go. Kate, I want you to look at me. We are going to get there, I promise. We touched on the sexual acts and behavior you engaged in as a teenager. I am now embarrassed you were able to disguise just how deeply those things hurt you. Each one of those attempts to be in control of your sexual experience was as much of a blow to your mind as the act of rape your mother’s boyfriend inflicted upon you. This isn’t uncommon, we spoke about this, however your bravado and casual dismissal of each experience led me to believe this wasn’t true for you. So now we have to go back to each one, and we’re going to file it away.

You are not, and have never been, a whore. The things you did with other willing sexual partners was not gross or disgusting, perverted, or any of the other bullshit labels society uses on anything outside of their understanding. If you used whips, chains, and rubber suits it wouldn’t matter, do you understand me? What pleases you is all that matters between you and a consenting adult. Now dry your eyes. We aren’t going to have long. Eyes on the tip of the pen.”

***

Once the session is over, I feel raw and without skin. I stumble down the stairs, blind to the world around me. Hearing my name, I flinch. Oh thank god. Trey has me in his arms, and I sink into him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

I moan with relief. His arms tighten around me, then he’s picking me up and settling me into his car.

The drive is a blur. I’m not aware of time passing. I come to in bed. I’m in Trey’s arms, and the tears start all over again. He doesn’t say anything, just holds me and lets me cry.

Long hours later, I’m able to swallow, and I mumble the question I wanted to ask but had been scared to for so long.