Cindy

After Rex leaves, I feel my cheeks flush again at the thought of him sharing our discussion with his mother. I’ve known Margie for twenty years, but the thought of crossing her still makes me a little nervous. She’s one of those women who can intimidate with a simple glare. I know she’s a believer in sex surrogacy, but I’m not so sure she would be onboard when it’s her son who’s getting involved.

I think back to how our conversation never really dealt with his depression, which is why she sent him to see me. Of course, if a young man like him gets into the business, he can make incredible money getting laid, so that in itself might cure the depression. I shake my head, knowing it’s never that simple. He’s not only dealing with losing the only career track he’s ever focused on, but the realization that a woman he loved was only interested in his earning potential. Nothing will damage the ego like figuring out that the people around you are attracted for all the wrong reasons. Looking down at my ringing cellphone, I see it’s Margie. Shit.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answer trying to be casual.

“How did it go with Rex?” she asks curtly.

“We had a nice talk.” I reply, not wanting to divulge any details. She knows that everything is confidential, but because it’s her son she probably thinks I’ll spill the details. “He seems to be adjusting to everything pretty well. Teresa definitely sounds like she was a piece of work.”

“Oh, thank god that’s over with. I could tell she was a gold digger the first time I met her. But she was a little hottie,” she adds sarcastically. I can literally see her doing the air quotes.

“Even men twice his age make the same stupid mistakes.” My blood pressure raises a notch at the thought of my ex falling for the same exact shit.

“Sorry, hun. You’ll still get the last laugh on that one. Karma will catch up to him,” she says showing her rarely seen empathetic side. “Judging by what she wore to the Christmas party; he’s been showering her with whatever she wants. That won’t last forever.”

“It’s already lasted a lot longer than I thought it would,” I reply, thinking she would’ve moved on long ago. “It’s not like he’s a passionate man.”

“Do those actually exist?” She laughs. “If Phillip is actually home, he’s usually buzzed and nodding off in his recliner. I can’t remember the last time we had a romantic encounter, much less a night out.” The conversation hits a lull as we both contemplate our situations.

“That’s honestly why I’m not dying to get into another relationship,” I vent. “Most of the guys I’ve met since him are either creeps or losers.”

“I’m sure there are good ones, but like everything else, you have to move lots of dirt to find the diamonds.” She laughs at her own remark. It would be funny, if it wasn’t absolutely true. But as she well knows it’s no better to be stuck in a loveless marriage. It’s one of the factors that keeps me thinking I’m better off just waiting for the right guy to come along.

“We can always contact Hot Guys for Angels,” I tease, knowing she has most likely read about them in the same trade publication that caught my eye.

“Honey, I’m not even sure this angel would know what to do with one of those hot guys,” she says with a giggle.

“I don’t think you need to do anything. As a paying customer you just lie back and make him do all the work!” We both laugh out loud.

“On that note, I better get prepped for my next appointment,” she says, seeming startled by the time.

“Yeah, I have a three o’clock too. Have a good rest of your day,” I say, ending the call. I exhale, realizing that I must have been holding my breath. If she wants to learn anything about today’s session, she’ll have to talk to her son. A smile crosses my face as I think about the bulge he had when he stood up at the end of our session. He tried to subtly adjust himself, but that kid has one hell of a package. If he wasn’t Margie’s son, I would definitely be tempted.

The Following Tuesday

Since I haven’t heard anything back from Margie or Rex, I’m assuming there were no issues with the content of our last session. Most likely Rex did some research on his own instead of talking to his mother. I’m actually a little nervous, waiting for Rex to show up for his appointment. He’s half my age, so it’s interesting that I have butterflies. It’s something I haven’t experienced for years. Maybe it’s the whole taboo thing.

“Hey, Cindy,” Rex says casually as he comes through the door and gives me a quick hug.

“Hi Rex.” I get a whiff of his fabulous cologne and once again am forced to squelch the feelings simmering within me. “How have you been feeling since our last appointment.” I turn right to business since he too seems a bit flustered.

“Better. You gave me a lot to think about,” he says, slumping into the chair. “It was a good distraction.”

“Any thoughts?” I find myself very curious as to how someone like him would view the world of sex surrogacy.

“I have some mixed feelings, I guess.” He pauses with a perplexed look.

“You can be straight with me,” I tell him. “I’m not going to judge you for having perfectly normal feelings. Most guys your age would be a little overwhelmed by the whole concept.”

“Yeah, I am. I like the idea of being called a sex surrogate, but it would be a lot easier to be a gigolo.” He sighs and glances away. “I don’t want to be a sex therapist like Mom. I mean, what do I know about how these women are feeling. I would rather just help them have an orgasm.”

“That’s understandable, but most of the time their problems are a combination of mental and physical.” I explain, knowing that most of my clients have deep seeded issues with sexuality. “For the majority, it’s not going to be as easy as stimulating the right spots.”

“You can talk about sex until your blue in the face, but nothing can compare to a great orgasm.” He stops abruptly. “I guess that’s my opinion, but what do I know? It’s not like I have a degree and years of experience to fall back on.”

“Actually, you’re not completely wrong.” I pause, a bit hesitant to go further down this road. “I have a client who has been stuck in the same place with her last three boyfriends. She’s perpetually disappointed, even though there’s a good chance that the problem is actually her. She seems to think that finding the right guy will fix everything.”

“I’m thinking that I can fix girls like that. Show them what they’re actually looking for, then maybe they can teach the next guy in their life a thing or two,” he says with a wink. “I don’t think most guys my age have any clue how to please a woman.”

“It’s not just the guys and it’s not just the ones your age,” I reply with a laugh. “Most people are relatively clueless when it comes to sex, because everyone is so reluctant to talk about it. I’m not sure why there is such a stigma when it comes to sexuality.”

“It’s not an easy topic to talk about,” he says, drawing a deep breath. “Take us for example.”

“What about us?” I ask, knowing damn well that he’s referring to the tension that has hung in the air between us since the moment our first session began. As the adult, I know I should take the lead in the discussion, but I’m interested to see how he handles this. It will be a good indicator of whether or not I can trust him with a client.

“I really have a thing for short dresses and sexy legs,” he says, his eyes panning mine. “And you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t get you out of my head after the last time I saw you. I know you’re friends with my mom, but no one since Teresa has turned me on the way you do.” He shifts in his seat and adjusts himself, the same way as he did last time.

“I’m flattered, but don’t you think part of it is the fact that we both know that nothing can happen between us?” I ask, a feeling of sadness washing through me. “I mean… I could lose my license for fraternizing with any client, much less one your age. Not to mention what Margie would do to me.”

“Oh, I’ve thought about that, but the basic fact is that I’m drawn to you in a way that makes me feel a little crazy,” he says with complete sincerity. “I would give anything to feel you in my arms and show you my talents first hand.”

“Okay.” I pop to my feet and take a few steps toward my desk before realizing that I’m actually fleeing. “This is why it’s difficult to talk about. Because there is usually a one-sided component involved, so one or the other tends to feel uncomfortable or hurt.” I walk back to my chair and sit back down, knowing that I’m going to have to wear long pants to our next session. “Believe me. I’m extremely flattered that you find me attractive, even though I’m just a few years younger than your mother. But nothing is ever going to happen between us.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to be honest with you,” he says, looking away.

“I did. I wanted to see if you were capable of talking about sexuality and your feelings, because most people have a very hard time with it.”

“Most people didn’t grow up with a sex therapist, who has no filter, as a mother,” he says shaking his head. “I used to get embarrassed, but she would just ignore it and keep talking about it anyway. I think I became immune by the time I was eighteen.”

“That’s actually a gift and probably explains why you’re so good with women,” I tell him, still feeling my heartbeat in my neck. That’s something else that hasn’t happened in a long, long time. He makes me feel like a schoolgirl or something. “Do you have an intuitive feel for what a woman likes or do you verbalize?”

“I’ve learned to watch for clues. If they have a sensitive neck, then I spend some time nibbling in that area. If they have sensitive nipples, then I know that after a few minutes of playing and sucking on them, I’ll find them nice and wet when I slip my finger between their lips,” he explains, causing me to experience the effects he’s describing.

“I can tell that you have a sensitive neck,” he says with a smirk, glancing at my hard nipples before reestablishing eye contact. “Just one more reason I find you so damn irresistible.”

“Nothing is going to happen between us, regardless of how much you tease me,” I reiterate, trying to convince myself that I’m completely off limits.

“That’s okay, but I’m going to continue to tease you, session after session.” A devilish look flashes in his eyes. “It took me two weeks to coax Teresa into bed, but it only took one night to show her what she had been missing.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I miss her body, but I was never convinced that she was the one for me,” he says with a shrug. “I knew who she was and how she acted after I was hurt only confirmed it. It was kind of like giving up an addiction, but I’m glad I’m not wasting any more time with someone like that.”

“That’s very mature of you. Most people have a hard time walking away from a relationship where the sex is great, even if they know it’s toxic,” I reply, making a note in his file.

“Great sex is replaceable. You and I would be incredible together, for example.” He shifts in his chair once again, his bulge visibly straining against his jeans. “But there are lots of women who have sensitive nipples. Even more who respond to having their clit sucked while massaging their G-spot,” he says, emulating the motion with his long, slender middle finger.

“It’s pretty amazing how you’re able to get my body to react using only words.” I cross my arms, embarrassed by the fact that my nipples are protruding again. “I’ll tell you what. I understand that you want to be a gigolo instead of a sex surrogate, because you think there will be too much bullshit involved. But I want you take the certification course anyway. Just for my own peace of mind. I need to be able to trust you with my clients.”

“Trust me?” he asks with a scowl.

“Those are probably the wrong words. I need to be able to refer clients to you and know that you’ve had proper training,” I clarify. “That’s assuming you’re interested in going forward with it.”

“I’m interested,” he shrugs again. “A hundred-hour course is nothing. If I don’t like it, I don’t have to keep doing it. But for a thousand bucks a shot, it’s worth giving it a try.”

“You’ll start out at a much lower rate than that,” I tell him, not wanting to set false expectations. “Two fifty to five hundred per session is where most new surrogates start out.”

“I’m not going to be the average surrogate, so I won’t be making that for long,” he says rubbing the razor stubble on his chin. “A thousand bucks a day is my first goal.”

“That’s a good goal,” I agree. “There is one opening left in the next certification class, which begins next week. Do you want me to refer you?”

“Sure,” he replies with a glimmer in his eye. “Are you sure you don’t need to sample the merchandise first? Just to make sure I’m a good candidate.”

“I’m sure,” I reply, shaking my head. “Although I do appreciate your persistence. Half of the time great orgasms are a result of sheer persistence. I can see you have that trait covered.”

“Persistence has always been one of my best qualities.” He gets up from his chair and stretches, showcasing that very impressive bulge which is now at eye level.

“I’ll submit the referral and contact you once your class time has been confirmed,” I tell him, turning and rising from chair as if I didn’t notice the obvious lump in his pant leg. “Tell your mother hello from me. Are you going to tell her about your plan for certification?”

“I’ll probably wait until after I’m done with the class,” he says scrunching his face. “If she gives me any shit about it, I’m going to blame it on all her sex talk. Fuck it, who cares. Either I’ll like it or I won’t. Maybe I’ll make sure I like the work before I say anything. I don’t see her very often anyway.”

“You’re not living at home?”

“God no. As soon as I was done with therapy, I got a place downtown. I was depressed enough without living with them for Christ sake.” He steps in front of me and wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight. “Thanks for all the help. I’m excited to see how this goes. My apartment is expensive as hell, so I was wondering how I was going to consistently make the rent.”

“You’re welcome, Rex,” I reply, feeling a smile emerge as I stand there looking up at his handsome face. “I think you’re using this as an excuse to cop a feel aren’t you?”

“Hey, I was kind of hoping you weren’t as firm as you look,” he replies with a tilt of his head. “Unfortunately, your body is just as rockin’ as I expected.” He steps back shaking his head. “I can only hope to find a chick who’s half as hot as you at forty.”

“Thirty-nine.” I give him the stink eye. “Don’t ever round up when you’re talking to a woman. You’re be much better off rounding down to thirty-five.”

He bursts out laughing. “Mom still claims that she’s thirty-nine. I told her that she can’t do that anymore since that would make my sister only thirteen years younger than her.”

“What did she say to that?”

“What sister? You don’t have a sister.” He continues to shake his head as he heads for the door. I’m sure he’s already seen through the fact that I’m a little older than thirty-nine myself. Where the hell does all the time go?