After another nearly sleepless night, I arrive at my office four hours early. I consider ducking into Bernard’s office to tear a sheet off his prescription pad and write myself a prescription for Ambien, but I decide not to fall into old patterns. After all, that type of behavior is the reason why I’m sitting in this office at five a.m. in the first place.

The reason I became an addiction therapist has everything to do with my addiction to Ritalin and sleeping pills during my senior year as an undergrad at Whitman College. I had to take three weeks off during my first semester when my younger sister Melissa overdosed on heroin. When I came back to school, I was so far behind, I felt the only way to get caught up was to sleep less. I got caught up with within a month of returning to Whitman, but by then I was already addicted.

I felt I couldn’t concentrate unless I took Ritalin and I couldn’t fall asleep unless I took a sleeping pill. And when I woke, I had to take more Ritalin to counteract the grogginess. It was a vicious cycle that culminated in a nervous breakdown two weeks before graduation.

Luckily, I had very supportive parents who didn’t want to see me end up like Melissa. After six weeks at a rehab facility, and a semester off, I returned to Whitman and graduated the next year. And that was how I changed my path in medical school from a focus on pediatrics to a focus on psychiatry and clinical research in the field of addiction medicine.

At 8:30 a.m., Linda and Bernard arrive at the office. Linda brings me the usual multigrain scone from the bakery near her apartment in Capitol Hill.

“What time did you get in today?” she asks, taking a seat on my gray tweed sofa and breaking off a piece of her scone before popping it in her mouth.

“About five,” I reply, breaking off a piece of my scone and holding it in my hand as I ponder whether I should tell her about my urge to steal a prescription this morning.

But Linda isn’t my therapist. And my next appointment with my therapist isn’t for another week, though I wonder if I should move that up based on my dangerous interactions with Mr.-C-slash-Samuel-Paxson and my urge to fall back on an old crutch. Yes, I should definitely try to book an appointment with my therapist soon — very soon.

Linda looks concerned. “Do you need me to prescribe something? I’m assuming you’ve tried all the standard stuff we suggest: meditation, yoga, exercise, no electronic devices two hours before bedtime, etc. etc.”

I heaved a deep sigh as I stare off into the distance. “I’ve tried it all.”

I don’t mention that the insomnia began almost immediately after I began counseling Samuel.

“I know you know this, but sometimes it’s good just to be reminded. It’s okay to ask for help, Leah. And it’s okay to take something that will make you feel better. You don’t have to be afraid of becoming addicted to Ambien or Lunesta or whatever it is you decide to take. You have me now, baby. And I won’t let that happen. Okay?”

I smile at the fierce look in her eyes. “Okay. I’ll take that prescription. But I’ll only fill it if I feel I really have no other option. I don’t think I’m there yet.”

She shrugs as she stands up and heads toward the door. “You do what you have to do to survive. I’ll go get that prescription.”

At one in the afternoon, the time when I would normally be speaking with Samuel, I stare at the appointment block on my computer screen. After our last unfortunate appointment a few days ago, I sent him an email with a list of therapists I recommend, then I removed his name from all my future appointments. That was only three days ago, so the time-slot hasn’t been filled with a new patient.

I think of the trust Linda showed me this morning when she wrote me a prescription for Ambien. I think of the fact that I haven’t told anyone, not even my own therapist, about the encounter with Samuel on my balcony. Maybe there is a chance I can still counsel him while maintaining a healthy, professional relationship.

I shake my head as I tap on the appointment slot and type the words “out to lunch” and shut the lid on my laptop. Now, if Samuel attempts to Skype me I will not be available. And if he attempts to call my direct line, I can route the call back to the receptionist and she will inform him I’m out to lunch.

I decide to use my extra hour to do some simple daily affirmations followed by a some meditation. I take off my shoes and plop down onto my sofa, pulling my legs up so I’m crosslegged. Straightening my back, I close my eyes and mentally speak to myself.

I am grateful for the good in my life.

My mind is sharp and capable of accomplishing anything I focus on.

I am capable of leading with love.

In this moment, I choose to release the past and look forward to the good that awaits me.

I repeat these four affirmations very slowly to myself until I begin to feel relaxed and hopeful. Just as I began clearing my mind and focusing on my breathing for a bit of meditation, a knock comes at the door.

I take a deep breath and remind myself to respond to this intrusion with love and compassion. Rising from the sofa, I tread softly on my bare feet across the Persian rug and open my office door.

“Yes, Jennifer? Can I help you?” I ask politely.

Jennifer’s pale face is flushed pink and she’s wearing what appears to be a naughty smile. “I’m sorry, Dr. Grayson, but you have a gentleman here who says he has an appointment, but I can’t find it in the system. The system says you’re taking an extra hour for lunch. His name is Samuel. He refused to give his last name, but he was very polite. Very polite.”

A flicker of jealousy sparks inside me at the way she so obviously has fallen under Samuel’s spell. “Thank you, Jennifer. I’ll go talk to him.”

I follow Jennifer back to the front office, not bothering to put my shoes on. I don’t have time. Considering I only began my positive affirmations no more than 10 minutes ago, it didn’t take Samuel very long to decide to come down here when I didn’t answer his Skype call. I don’t have a moment to lose.

When Jennifer opens the door and waits for me to enter the reception area first, my heart pounds wildly in my chest as I cross the threshold and set my eyes on the beautiful male specimen standing in front of Jennifer’s desk. His eyes lock on mine and once again I feel an intense magnetic pull toward him, like a moth to a flame.

His gaze drops to my bare feet and he smiles. “Good afternoon, Dr. Grayson,” he says in that voice that’s smooth as silk except for the slight purr when he speaks my name.

I try to flash him a severe look as I head toward the exit door leading out into the corridor, but I already feel my face flushing. “Good afternoon, Samuel. Please follow me.”

He follows me out into the corridor and closes the door softly behind him. “I apologize if I’m interrupting your lunch,” he begins, his gaze traveling down the length of my body and smiling at my bare feet. “But I do believe we have an appointment.”

I draw in a long, fortifying breath. “You know very well we do not have an appointment today. I emailed you to let you know that all your future appointments were canceled. In my email, I provided you a list of therapists whom I personally recommend. A few of those therapists I would recommend above myself due to their specialty in…your particular addiction. I highly recommend you continue seeking treatment, but you cannot do it here.”

He tilts his head curiously. “You did nothing wrong, Leah. We did nothing wrong. I don’t know why you’re pushing me away,” he says taking a step toward me. “Especially, when it’s so clear you would rather I was the one doing the pushing.”

I take a step back and my bare foot hits the wall, my heart racing as I realize I am trapped and I find this exciting rather than frightening. “I don’t know what you mean by that, but you have to leave. I know there is no record of your identity in my notes, but that doesn’t make what happened between us okay. This is not okay. You have to leave before you put my job at risk. I could have my license revoked for what happened this weekend. It cannot happen again.”

He takes another step toward me so my back is now against the wall and his face is inches from mine as he towers over me. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, Leah,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup my face. “I would rather get in trouble with you elsewhere. But you cannot deny what you’re feeling right now.” His other hand comes up so he’s holding my face and I can barely breathe. “I know you’ve done your research on me by now. I’ve done my research on you. I know you’ve been denying your carnal pleasures.” His body’s flush against mine now, the bulge in his pants solid against my abdomen. “You don’t have to do that anymore, Leah,” he murmurs as his mouth grazes my cheekbone. “I will give you anything you want. I will do anything you want me to do. I will be anything you want me to be. All I ask in return is that you don’t deny this desire,” he whispers in my ear, sending a shiver coursing through me. “Let me…” He plants a kiss on my temple so tender it makes my chest ache. “Let me have you, little bird. Let me set you free.”

His lips land on mine and I reach up it grab onto the lapels of his blazer for support. His tongue pushes inside as his fingers tangle in my hair, holding me still. A whimper issues from deep inside my throat as his tongue brushes against mine. I can’t keep from silently wishing it was his cock.

Oh, God. What is wrong with me?

But before I can even answer the question in my mind, the door opens and Bernard comes out.

I quickly push Samuel away and try to catch my breath. “I have to go inside,” I say, refusing to look at either Samuel or Bernard as I head back.

Bernard follows after me and I allow him into my office. “Who was that?” he asks, seeming more intrigued than concerned.

“Oh, it’s nobody,” I reply as I slide my feet into my flats and head back to take a seat at my desk.

He chuckles. “Are you kidding me? You are fire-engine-red right now, and you haven’t been in a relationship in years. Are you seriously going to tell me that was nothing? Spill the beans, Grayson.”

I look up and into Bernard’s wide brown eyes, and I want to lie. I should lie. But I can’t lie.

I draw in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I have something to tell you, but you’re not going to like it. And you’re going to wish I hadn’t told you. But you’re going to have to do whatever you feel is right. I can’t carry this secret. It’s been less than a week since that party and it’s been eating me alive.”

The playful curiosity in his eyes dims as he closes my office door and takes a seat on the sofa. “Listen to me, Leah. You know we, as therapists, have a duty to report. You know that applies to situations where someone is in danger of hurting themselves or someone else. So, if that is not the issue, I would caution you against saying anything that could be construed as dangerous.”

I take a few more deep breaths as I mull over Bernard’s words. “I understand, but I can’t keep this a secret. The secrecy…that’s where it starts. With any addiction, it starts with the secrecy. You know that as well as I do.”

He nods solemnly. “Okay, but just for the sake of prudence, I want to state that I’m very happy to be talking to you today…for our first therapy session.”

I smile at his need to protect me. “Thank you, Dr. Jones,” I begin. “The man you saw me... kissing is one of my patients.” I wait a moment for Bernard to digest this information before I continue. “I didn’t know he was my patient until after the party. He must have looked me up on the internet–”

“You mean, he was cyber-stalking you?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want to call it, he must have found out about the party and decided to pay me a visit in person. Until then, we had only spoken via Skype, and he was one of my anonymous patients.”

Bernard looks confused. “But, I thought you do Skype calls with your anonymous patients. Wouldn’t you have recognized him at the party?”

I swallow hard. “Well, you see, Mr. C—I mean, Samuel requested his identity be kept anonymous, including his appearance. So, I never actually saw him. But that’s not much different from the way it’s done on therapy apps, which now allow you to text with your patients or simply talk to them on the phone. I didn’t think it was that much different than an anonymous text conversation.”

Bernard looks a little nervous now. “Okay, I see the logic behind this decision. But did you feel you had a duty to inform your fellow therapists at your practice about this different approach?”

“Bernard, I’m so sorry. I really am. I had no idea he would show up to my costume party and seduce me.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I understand that, Leah. But you were making out with him in the hallway. It doesn’t exactly look like you learned from that mistake. You do realize it was a mistake, don’t you?”

“Of course! Of course it was a mistake,” I reply defensively. “I know that. But... But... Oh, God. I fucked up. I know. I know that now. It will not happen again.”

Bernard stares at me for a long while, his eyes slightly narrowed with skepticism. “Okay. I’ll have to think about this. I just have one question. What is this man’s addiction?”

My eyes widen as my heart bangs against my chest. “Sex.”

I arrive home a few minutes after six p.m. feeling more exhausted than I’ve ever felt in my life. I hang my coat and purse in the closet near the front door, then I head straight to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of Riesling. I guzzle the first glass down and pour myself another one before putting the bottle back in the fridge. Heading straight to the bathroom, I place my Riesling on the bathroom counter and turn on the water in the bath as I begin to undress.

Glimpsing my naked body in the mirror, I get a strong urge to touch myself as I recall the feeling of Samuel’s hands on me. There’s nothing wrong with a little fantasy, I reason as I head to the bedroom to retrieve my waterproof vibrator.

As I pass my writing desk on the way to the walk-in closet, I notice my laptop is open. A tremor of excitement courses through me as I remember that kiss with Samuel today. Upon entering the walk-in closet, I open the top drawer in the wall unit to retrieve my waterproof rabbit vibrator. I turn it on to check the batteries are still functional, and the vibrator buzzes strongly in my hand.

Smiling as I turn it off, I head back out of the closet. But I’m almost at the bedroom door when I’m stopped by the sudden recognizable notification sound of a Skype call coming through on my laptop. I turn around and race toward the desk, trying to make it there before the auto-answer feature kicks in. I’m no more than a couple feet away when the call is answered and Samuels handsome face materializes before me.

I freeze with one hand on top of the back of my desk chair and the other clutched tightly around my pink vibrator. With visceral clarity, I’m suddenly aware I’m standing in front of my WebCam completely naked while the object of my desire gazes at me with an obscene hunger in his eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak, but it takes him a moment to find his words. “I’ll admit this is not what I expected. But I am very pleased, nonetheless. I would be even more pleased if you took a step sideways so I could see that beautiful pussy I tasted the other night. Come out of the shadows for me, little bird. Reveal your true self.”

I should slam the lid shut on my laptop right now. Then, I should call my therapist and request an emergency session. Of course, I know as well as Samuel does that neither of those things are going to happen.

I stand up straight and set the vibrator down on the desk before I step sideways, so he can see every inch of me.

“That is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” he begins. “But I think you should pick up your dildo. You’re going to need it. Go ahead.”

I pull the chair out and grab the vibrator as I take a seat. I am about to ask him what he wants me to do when I remember the bathwater is still running. “Oh, my God! I have to turn off the water!”

I drop the vibrator on the desk and quickly make my way back to the bathroom. Luckily, the water is still a few inches from reaching the rim of the tub. I quickly turn it off and head back to my writing desk in the bedroom.

Slightly flushed and out of breath now, I look back and forth between the vibrator and the laptop. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Take me in there with you. I’ll talk to you while you take a bath, so you can relax,” he says, his words cradling my neglected heart and propping up my fragile ego.

I bite my lip as I contemplate stopping this right now, but the confidence in his blue eyes, the sharpness in his cheekbones, the devious curve of his full lips are casting a spell on me. No one has to know about our Skype calls.

Oh, shit. I’m already assuming there will be more than this one call.

I grab the laptop and smile at the lust in his eyes as I bring it closer to my body, the WebCam pointed directly at my breasts as carry it with me to the bathroom. I move a few candles and a jar of bath salts to the side so I can set the laptop down on the window ledge next to the bathtub. Tilting the screen down a bit, I climb into the tub and let out a soft gasp when a bit of water splashes over the rim as I sink down.

“Can you see me?” I ask.

“Yes, little bird, I can see you perfectly,” he says, leaning back on his midnight-blue sofa. “You’re going to do something for me now, okay?”

I pull my shoulders back a bit and breathe in deeply. “Okay.”

“That’s it. Get comfortable. But as soon as the water starts to get cold, I want you to get out of the tub and take me with you to your bed. I will not have you catching cold. Okay?” He smiles when I nod in agreement. “Good girl. The first thing I want you to do is push your breasts together.”

My breathing quickens as I slide my hands over my abdomen and ribs until my breasts are cupped in my palms. I push the burgeoning flesh together and gaze into his eyes.

He holds my gaze for a moment before he allows his eyes to wander down to my breasts. “I can’t be there to touch you right now. I know you need me to stay away. And I will respect your wishes. But tonight, I’m going to tell you everything I would do if I were there with you right now. And believe me, little bird, if I were there with you right now you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Do you want to know what I would do to you?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, please. Tell me everything,” I say as the throbbing ache between my legs intensifies.

“You can let go of your breasts, sweetheart. Now, slide one of your hands over your pussy, but don’t slide your fingers inside and don’t touch that perfect little clit. Just cover it as if you’re trying to hide your precious pearl.” His nostrils flare slightly as he watches my hand disappear between my legs. “I’m going to tell you a little story. It’s the story of what we would do if you weren’t my therapist. Listen carefully, as I’m sure this scenario will come true sooner than you think. And I want you to be prepared.”

I draw in a long breath and let it out slowly as I wait for him to continue.

“I see you at the café,” he begins. “You order your coffee black, and that’s how I know you take pride in depriving yourself of simple pleasures like cream and sugar. That’s how I know you won’t allow yourself to give in to your darkest desires unless they are irresistibly tempting… I get my coffee and make my way toward the table, where you’re busy typing on your laptop between sips of dark roast. As you look up from your laptop to meet my eyes, a glint of naughtiness shines in yours. Slide a finger inside your pussy. Show me that naughtiness in your eyes.”

I close my eyes as I lift one leg up to rest it on the edge of the bathtub before sliding a finger inside my throbbing pussy. A soft moan escapes my lips as I slide the finger up and down over the ridged entrance.

“Open your eyes and look at me while you touch yourself. But don’t touch your clit,” he commands. “That’s it. I’ll continue my story now, just keep sliding your finger in and out… As I was saying, I see the naughtiness in your eyes. We pretend we’re long lost lovers, meeting for the first time after many years. And just as we discussed, I greet you by saying, ‘Good morning, Mrs. C. Is this seat taken?’ And you reply, ‘Good morning, Mr. C. Please have a seat.’” He watches my hand for a bit, a crooked smile forming on his face. “You’re going to have to drain that water now and take me with you to your bed.”

I slide my hand out from between my legs and let out a deep sigh. “This is unnecessary. If we’re going to do this. You might as well come over and really do it.”

He chuckles as I pull the plug on the tub and the water begins to drain. “I don’t want to jeopardize your job, Leah. What I did today, showing up at your office, was wrong. As much as I would kill to be there with you right now, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if this affected you negatively.”

I hug my knees to my chest and stare at the water as it swirls around the drain. “I can’t believe this.”

“You can’t believe what?”

“You’re finally resisting your addiction, and you’re doing it at my expense. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

He laughs harder this time. “Oh, little bird, you should definitely be flattered. When I say I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you right now, that is not an exaggeration in the slightest. Wanting you and being able to resist that temptation gives me strength, whereas wanting other women and giving in to that urge has made me feel out of control. You’re my strength, princess.”

Despite the goosebumps all over my body from the cold air hitting my wet skin, I can feel my cheeks pool with hot blood. I quickly wrap myself in a bathrobe and towel-dry my hair with another one, before I grab the laptop and take Samuel with me to bed. I let the robe drop to the floor, then I turn down my covers and placed the laptop on top of the mattress. Sliding between the sheets, I smile when Samuel tsks.

“No, no, little bird. If you’re cold, turn up the temperature on your thermostat. You’ll be on top of the covers today, so I can see every inch of you at all times.”

I smile as I kick the covers off my bed and lie back with my head propped up slightly on a couple of pillows. “The temperature in here is fine, thank you.”

“Actually, you might want to grab that vibrator now. Go ahead I’ll wait.”

I hurry to the writing desk in the corner and grab the vibrator, then I hurry back to bed.

“Okay, sweetheart. So, where was I? Oh, yes, I was talking about the first time we meet in public… I take a seat across from you and we talk for a long time, about work and how many kids we want and places we’ve always wanted to travel to. I tell you I’m a hospitality investor and I studied philosophy in college, which you find hilarious.”

I chuckle. “You studied philosophy? Somehow, I find that very unsurprising.”

“It’s hard to understand the world unless you understand philosophy. Matters of global politics and matters of the heart both depend on a solid understanding of philosophical ideas.” He is silent for a moment and I can’t help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes as he waits for me to either respond or judge him, which I do neither. “I tell you I studied philosophy and I want to have three children.”

“Three children?” I sputter.

He laughs. “That certainly got your attention.”

My heart races as a clutch my pink vibrator to my chest. “Continue.”

He smiles as he watches me for a moment. “Okay, you’re going to spread your legs and move the laptop between your feet so the WebCam is pointed straight at your pussy. Then, you’re going to turn on the vibrator and slide it inside you, but don’t let those little bunny ears touch your clit. Okay, sweetheart?”

I move the laptop between my legs, then I close my eyes and bite my lip as I spread my legs and slide the buzzing vibrator about an inch inside of me, so the rabbit ears are still out of reach of my swollen nub. “Oh... Oh, yes.”

“This view is priceless,” he remarks. “Okay, little bird, make sure you’re not touching that clit. That’s not yours. That’s mine. Okay?”

I let out a deep moan as the vibration against my G-spot makes my pussy clench around the vibrator. “Okay.”

“As I was saying, I tell you I want three kids and the one place I haven’t visited, that I want to visit with you, is the sacred Valley in the Peruvian Andes. One day, I’ll take you there. But for now, I take you out of the café and we go to your apartment. As soon as we step through your door, you drop your purse on the floor as I grab you from behind. I slide my hand down the front of your skirt and cup your pussy in my hand, massaging you through the wet crotch of your panties. Why are you so fucking wet?”

My body begins to tremble with the beginnings of an orgasm and, without being prompted to do so, I remove the vibrator from inside me. “I’m wet because everything you say turns me on. Not just what you say, but the way you say it. It drives me crazy.”

His eyes meet mine as I glance down at the laptop between my legs, and a devilish smile forms on his gorgeous mouth. “Okay, little bird. You’ve earned the right to touch your clit. But don’t forget who it belongs to. Go ahead, turn the vibrator back on and slide it all the way inside you so the bunny ears are licking that glistening pearl.”

I close my eyes as I slide the vibrator inside me again, letting out a loud gasp as the rabbit ears touch my aching clit. “Oh, God. I’m going to come.”

“It’s okay, honey. You could come now. You’re going to come more than once tonight. But you have to look me in the eye as you do so.”

I lift my head slightly and open my eyes to look at the laptop between my legs, my eyes locking on his as the orgasm begins to roll through me. It begins like a nine on the Richter scale followed by a series of blissful fives and fours. He watches me intently, and I can only imagine how much he must want to touch himself. If it’s even a drop as much as I want to touch him, he must have the most self-control of any man I ever known. And just this thought sends another orgasm cascading through me as my chest fills with warm pride.

He smiles as I slide the vibrator out of my pussy and switch it off. “I believe that second one took you by surprise,” he muses. “You need to get your sleep, Leah. I’m going to tell you a story, something I’ve never told anyone, but I want you to feel free to fall asleep at any time while I’m speaking. Now, do me a favor and get your phone. And put on the song ‘You’ by Nils Frahm. Then, I want you to turn off the lights and get back in bed before you pull the covers over yourself.”

As if he has programmed me to be unable to resist him, I do everything he asks without question. “Okay, I’m ready,” I say as I pull the blanket and sheets over me and adjust the laptop on the nightstand so it’s still pointed at me. “The song is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you, little bird,” he murmurs. “Okay, close your eyes. I’m going to tell you the story.”

I close my eyes and turn onto my side, so my face is pointed at the WebCam.

“The smell of Chanel No. 5 always reminds me of my mother. The last time I smelled it on her was as I approached her coffin, when I was eight years old. After the funeral, the chauffeur dropped us off under the cover of the porte cochérè and I immediately ran inside, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom. I raced into the en suite bathroom and straight to the vanity, where my mother would put on her makeup and jewelry every morning. The Chanel No. 5 was gone.

“In a fit of rage, I swiped my arm across the vanity, sending bottles of perfume and jars of creams flying across the room until they shattered on the marble floor. My father grabbed me by the collar of my blazer and dragged me to my bedroom across the hall. He smacked me across the face and told me if he ever caught me in his room again, I would end up like my mother.”

Tears slide down the bridge of my nose and my temple, dampening my pillow, but I dare not open my eyes. Instead, I hug the comforter against my breast and imagine it’s Samuel, now and back then at the age of eight.

“I never entered my father’s bedroom again, but I heard him through the walls and doors. I heard the women he brought home less than a month after my mother passed. I heard things that no boy that age should have to hear. For many years, I hated my father. It wasn’t until last year, when my father died of colon cancer just twelve days after my thirty-seventh birthday, that I realized I had never held him accountable for my mother’s suicide. Because there was no doubt in my mind that the mental, emotional, and physical abuse he showered on her was the reason she ended her life.”

I open my eyes to look at him, and he’s so beautiful when he’s this vulnerable. “That’s when the addiction began?”

“Are you asking me as my therapist or as Leah?”

I fashion a soft, reassuring smile. “I think you should know by now that I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

He closes his eyes as if he’s letting my words wash over him. “Yes, that’s when the addiction began.” He opens his eyes again. “But you’ve changed me, Leah. I’ve been to other therapists over this past year. Nine other therapists to be exact. No one has gotten through to me. No one but you.”

I smile as I close my eyes and nuzzle my face into his neck. “Keep talking to me. I think I’m finally going to sleep tonight. But I want to fall asleep to your voice.”

“Yes, little bird. As you wish.”