CHAPTER 5
Grace
Every word from his mouth was like the perfect aphrodisiac. As I listened to him talk, I imagined him doing all those sexually explicit things to me, like his hand trailing up my thigh, only to find that I was drenched. Because at that moment; I was. In fact, I’d never been so turned on in my entire life. He had me completely enchanted, and I felt like my world was crashing down around me when I read the words on that piece of paper. I thought I’d misread him, that he wasn’t really interested at me at all, and I’d worked myself up over nothing. I was humiliated and hurt, and I had to fight back the tears as I rushed toward the door. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, but the way he called out my name made me stop, dead in my tracks. Then, he told me our session wasn’t over, and I was more confused than ever, until he reached into his pocket and offered me a business card.
“What is this?”
“The address on the back is where I’ll be tonight.”
“Okay?” I took the card from his hand and asked, “But I don’t understand, why you are giving me this, Dr. Pratt?”
“No more Dr. Pratt. It’s Michael from now on. After you signed that piece of paper, I’m no longer your therapist, Grace.” His eyes locked on mine, and I felt my knees tremble as he said, “I gave you that address, because I’ll be there…at that hotel, waiting for you.”
I was speechless. All my sensibilities went flying out the window, and I could only stand there and stare at him with bewilderment. After several seconds, I looked down at the card and read the name of the hotel. I hadn’t realized I’d actually said the words aloud, until he responded, “Yes. The Regency Downtown. Come to the bar tonight at eight o’clock. I’ll be waiting.”
“But why?”
“All those things I said about pleasing a woman…” He brought his hand up to my face and softly brushed the pad of his thumb across my cheek, sending chills down my spine. “I plan to do each and every one those things to you, Grace.”
Between the low, seductive sound of his voice and the intensity of his stare, I thought I would melt, right there on the spot. I wanted nothing more than to spend the night making wild, passionate love to him, but the thought of it also terrified me. Again, I had no idea what to say and barely managed to mutter, “Oh.”
“Come tonight, and let me make all your fantasies come true,” he pleaded.
There was no way I could go through with it. There was too much at stake. Even though I’d signed that paper, I knew being with him could not only jeopardize his career, but also my sanity. I couldn’t take another letdown, especially with him.
Even though I knew there was no way I’d take that risk, I said, “I’ll think about it, Michael.”
“Good. I want you to think about. I want you to think long and hard about everything we talked about…but while you’re doing all this thinking, I need you to do something for me.”
“Okay?”
“Until we meet…no Bob. Leave it in the drawer.” He leaned toward me; placing his mouth close to my ear as he whispered, “Save that hot, little pussy just for me.”
It was all too much. I felt like my brain was going to short circuit if I didn’t get away from him. Before he had a chance to say anything more, I turned and rushed out the door. As I headed for my car, I caught myself looking back toward his building, hoping to get one last glimpse of him. I needed some kind of proof that he really did exist outside of those walls, that I hadn’t concocted him and everything that was said inside my head. I got in my car and just as I was about to pull out onto the road, I spotted him standing at the door. His eyes locked on mine, and it was then that I knew, he was no made-up fantasy. Michael Pratt was a living, breathing force of nature that I feared would be impossible to resist. He was just too perfect, and I wanted him too much. I swallowed hard; trying to push back the anxious feeling that was creeping up my chest, and pressed my foot to the accelerator. I needed to get the hell out of there and fast, or I was bound to do something I’d regret.
I was too rattled to go back to work, so I headed to my apartment. Even though the streets were buzzing with people, I felt completely alone as I made it up the stairs to my front door. I could call one of my girlfriends, my sister, or even my mom, but I couldn’t tell any of them about my experience with Dr. Pratt. None of them would understand what had happened between us. They would just twist it into something wrong and make me feel awful about it.
As I headed into the kitchen, I could almost hear my mother say, “This guy is a nutjob, Grace! You should sue him for malpractice” On the other hand, she might’ve been thrilled to hear that a doctor of any kind was interested in me. Deciding I didn’t care what anyone thought, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and poured myself a drink. I took a long sip then carried it over to my desk. I turned on my laptop. I needed something to distracting me from my overactive hormones, so I started sorting through my emails. I had an assignment due by the end of the week and should’ve spent my time researching for it, but without even realizing what I was doing, I typed in the name Dr. Michael Pratt. A thrill shot through me soon as I hit enter. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him, but I got more than I bargained for. In a matter of seconds, my screen was bombarded with a long list of sites mentioning Dr. Pratt and his associates. Intrigued, I clicked on his work website, and I couldn’t help but smile when his handsome face popped up on my computer. As I stared at his picture, I reached for my glass of wine and took another long drink.
As I scrolled through the page, reading all the rave reviews left from families he’d helped, and noting all the awards he’d won, it all seemed so surreal. A man with a career like his wouldn’t put everything at risk for a one-night stand with a patient—even an ex-patient. It just didn’t make sense. I was lost in my thoughts and almost didn’t hear it when my phone started vibrating across the room. I sat down my glass and hurried over to the counter. I quickly reached inside my purse to grab my phone, and as soon as I saw her name flash across the screen, I sighed with disappointment.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered.
“Did you see that email I sent you?” she asked excitedly.
“The one about the gym?” I’d seen her email, along with the twenty other text messages she’d sent, but as usual, I’d ignored them. I hoped she’d just drop it and move on to her next grand idea.
“Yes! It just opened, and it’s only a few blocks from your apartment. They are offering free memberships for the rest of the month.”
“Okay,” I grumbled. Damn. She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Grace, it would be a great way for you to meet people.” I knew why she wanted me to join the gym, and it had nothing to do with meeting people. She had it in her head that I needed to lose weight. There were days I’d agreed with her, but today wasn’t one of them. When I thought back to Michael and the way he’d looked at me, I’d never felt so sexy, like my figure was great—exactly the way it was, and I wasn’t about to let her make me feel bad about myself.
“I said okay, Mom.”
“There’s no reason to get snippy, Grace. You spend most of your day sitting in front of a computer, and it wouldn’t kill you to get a little exercise now and then.”
“You’re right,” I groaned. “I’ll look into it tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow? They don’t close until five. You have plenty of time to run by there today.” A curse was on the tip of my tongue. It was just sitting there, ready to lash out at her, but before I had a chance to let it roll, she continued, “I’ll come down and go with you, if you want me to. I don’t mind.”
“No. That’s not necessary,” I replied, biting my tongue. I knew deep down she had good intentions, but she was just ticking me off. Knowing I needed to change the subject, I asked, “Hey, don’t you have to help Mia with Nate’s birthday party?”
“Oh. Yes. I guess I don’t have time to do both.”
“No, you don’t, besides, Nate’s birthday is more important than checking out a gym.” I knocked on my wall several times, and then said, “Sorry, Mom. I have to go. There’s someone at the door.”
“Are you at home?”
And just like that, I’d opened another can of worms. Next, she’d be asking if something was wrong at work or if I was sick. Trying to shoot two birds with one stone, I said, “Umm…Yes. I needed some peace and quiet so I can finish this article.”
“Oh.” I was relieved that she’d caught the hint. “Okay, dear. Let me know how it goes at the gym tomorrow.”
I was beyond aggravated as I hung up the phone. My mother had a way of getting under my skin better than anyone. I grabbed the bottle of wine, and as I poured myself another drink, I decided that I wasn’t going to let her get to me—not today. Michael had me feeling beautiful, sexy even, and I wasn’t going to let her take that away. I took my glass of wine, along with my phone, and headed into the bathroom. I filled the tub with the hottest water I could stand, then undressed and slipped inside. The warm water felt like heaven, and I quickly forgot about my conversation with my mother. I turned on the jets, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
It didn’t take long for him to creep back into my thoughts. His beautiful, dark eyes. His strong, masculine hands. His seductive words—‘I ease my hand down the nape of her neck to the swell of her breast, then down her hip and up her thigh, only to find her soaking wet…tasting a woman, teasing her, tormenting her with my mouth, and watching her as she comes unglued…I plan to do each and every one those things to you, Grace.’ My entire body tingled with desire as one hand reached for my breast, and the other slipped between my legs. I imagined him touching me as I caressed my now swollen nub. With each twirl of my finger, I found myself getting more and more aroused, and just as I was getting close to the edge, I remembered his request. ‘Save that hot, little pussy just for me.’ At first, I tried to forget those words and continued with my pursuit, but it didn’t take me long to realize the moment was gone. I knew there was no hope for an orgasm, so I moved my hand and sat up in the water. Damn it.
I grabbed my razor and shaved my legs. When I got close to my upper thigh, I noticed my legs weren’t the only things that needed shaving. Horrified by the ’70s Afro I was sporting; I got out of the tub and into the shower. I hadn’t waxed since my last breakup, and to say that things down there were a mess was the understatement of the year. It was time to do some lady gardening, but as I pressed the razor against my skin, I couldn’t decide if I should leave a little in the shape of a triangle or go completely bare. I decided to just go for it, and by the time I was done, I’d gone through two razors, and I’d broken out in a sweat. As I stepped out of the shower, I got a look at myself in the mirror and grumbled curses under my breath. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was actually considering going to see him at that hotel, but then again, I wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble if I weren’t at least considering it.
Deciding to avoid the thought altogether, I put on some comfortable clothes, sprawled out on the bed, turned on the TV, and started flipping through the channels. I ended up on some romantic comedy, and as I watched the couple interact, a thought came to my mind. If I could find a flaw, something about him that would completely turn me off, then I might be able to forget the whole thing altogether. I wouldn’t have to worry about going to the hotel to meet him, to sleep with him, and possibly have the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. It wouldn’t take much—maybe something like he was a momma’s boy or he was a cheapskate or maybe he talked with his mouth full, anything that might help me stop obsessing over him.
I went to get my phone, and once again started stalking Dr. Michael Pratt. After an hour of poking around, I landed on his Facebook page. It was set on private, so I couldn’t see much, just a few older photos. None of them revealed any major flaws, until I came upon a picture of him with his arm around a beautiful woman’s shoulder. They were both smiling and looked like a couple, a close couple, which made me wonder if she was his girlfriend—the girlfriend he said he didn’t have. That was it. I’d found the flaw I’d been looking for. I should’ve been thrilled. I could finally stop acting like some crazy, off-balanced stalker and move on with my life, but I was disappointed. It felt good to be wanted by such an attractive, charming man and to want him in return, but just like that, someone popped my big red balloon.
With a heavy heart, I rolled to my side and place my phone down on the bedside table. Just as I had turned back to watch the end of my movie, I heard it vibrate against the table. I reached for it, and when I looked at the screen, I saw a message from a number I didn’t recognize. I had no idea who it was until I read the message.
Unknown:
I can’t stop thinking about you.
It was him. Damn. I couldn’t believe he was actually messaging me. I wanted to come up with a clever response, like maybe you should be thinking about your girlfriend instead of me, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Besides, I honestly had no idea who the girl was or when the picture had been taken. I decided to let it go and just take a chance:
Me:
Is this you?
Michael:
Yes. It’s Michael. I got your number from your file. I hope you don’t mind.
Me:
No. I don’t mind, and I’ve been thinking a lot about you, too.
I left off the part where I’d been stalking him online for the past three hours.
Michael:
I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. I really do hope you will come.
Me:
I’m still thinking about it.
Michael:
What can I do to convince you?
I didn’t know how to respond, and after several minutes of not answering, he messaged again.
Michael:
Grace?
Me:
I’m here. I’m not sure.
Michael:
What are you wearing right now?
I looked down at myself and cringed. There was no way I was going to tell him that I was wearing my favorite pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, so I lied and said the first thing that came to my head.
Me:
A black lace nightie.
I groaned when I saw the words pop up on my screen. I could only imagine what he thought of me wearing a stupid black nightie in the middle of the day, but apparently, he was too caught up in the moment to care.
Michael:
And underneath?
Me:
Nothing.
Michael:
Perfect. Keep that on when you come tonight.
Me:
And what makes you think I’m coming.
Michael:
It’s human nature to be curious, so I’m hoping that will work to my advantage.
He was right. I was curious, beyond curious, and yet again, I found myself actually considering going to that hotel to see him. It was just one night. What could it hurt?
Me:
Oh, I’m intrigued. I don’t think I’ve ever been so intrigued in my life.