Page 7 of Taken Online

A jar of my cum?

Is that too far? Would he block me?

Yes, he would.

I cross it out.

“I don’t know. I don’t want my wife to…”

He rambles, but the answer’s obvious. He doesn’t respect a woman’s sexuality, at least not really. He sees sex as something inherently degrading from a woman’s perspective, so if his wife were to take part in his fantasies, he’d subconsciously view her as less for it.

Sad, but boring. It’s a pattern I’ve seen in a lot of men. A real shame. They deprive themselves of the pleasure of watching someone they love do filthy things for them.

I can’t relate. Nor do I care to understand.

My watch vibrates. I set the notebook down.

“I see. I think our next session should focus on breaking the barrier between what you consider a sexual versus a respectable woman.” He nods. “In the meantime, try imagining your wife in the positions you assign to other women. Or try humanizing the women you watch. Understand?”

He sighs but nods.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course.”

He leaves. I open the picture Ash sent me.

He’s wearing my old university T-shirt.

He looks good in it. Too good. It’s too big for him, which sends a wave of desire right through me. Shows just how significant the size difference would be. I bet I could wrap my hands around his waist.

A call comes through.

“Dr. Peterson.”

“Speaking.”

“A new walk-in client. He says it’s court-mandated therapy.”

My brows knit together. I check the time.

I suppose I can squeeze in one more. What’s the harm?

“Send me the court documents and let him in.”

I hear the door open. Swift steps approach the couch. I don’t look up, focused on my tablet, reviewing the documents I need to sign.

“Sit down, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I see, from the corner of my eye, that he sits.

I finally set the tablet down and look up.

Dark chocolate eyes meet mine.

Bambi.

This can’t be happening.

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