 
# THERAPY

### Dr Sexy Series - Part One

## Katrina Liss

#### Katrina Liss

# Copyright

Copyright © K.M. Liss 2016.

Katrina Liss Novels

* * *

**All Rights Reserved.**

This book is sold subject to conditions that it cannot by way of trade be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author's prior consent, in any form or cover, other than which it is published.

Disclaimer : This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author's imagination.

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# Acknowledgements

Love and thanks to my family and friends, for believing in me and encouraging me to write my little heart out.

And a special thanks to my dear editor Marion Archer for her snipping and pruning and inspiring input. makingmanuscripts.com

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### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Dr Sexy - Consort - Book 2

Thank You

Also by Katrina Liss

About the Author

Katrina Liss Web Links

# 1

He strides into the room and stands before us. His smartly dressed, handsome presence exudes an ocean of self confidence. My eyes are riveted, watching his every move.

"Okay, we're all here now, so... let's kick this off."

The smooth American accent hits my spot very pleasantly as he begins his introduction.

"Ladies, welcome to the London Cheshire Hotel... and to my therapy workshop."

Mmm...he's all charm and handsome grin and I do so appreciate being one of his _ladies_ for the next few days.

"As you no doubt already know, my name is Ryan Brantwell, but I'd like you all to address me as Mr B. Now what you may or may not know is that I'm a clinical psychotherapist, with eight years experience specialising in the treatment of female sexual dysfunction. I know my subject." He smiles broadly at us and I smile broadly in return. It's impossible not to. He's got one of _those_ smiles. It's infectious. But not only that, it's delicious. The kind of smile that makes a woman's knees go weak and her eyes glaze over with lust. And, oh boy, I just love the little gap between his front teeth.

"So, here we are, ready for three days of therapy. Although this is going to be a lot of fun, at times you may find it a little uncomfortable as I push at your boundaries. But that's what you need, isn't it? To be gently nudged in the right direction, and end up where you want to be. All I'm asking of you is to open your minds and get in the zone, girls. Be receptive and willing to change your perceptions and attitude. With the right mindset, we can do this together, I promise you that."

His switch to addressing us as his _girls_ hasn't gone unnoticed. This guy is very clever. He's pulling us together as a group, creating unity, a sense of friendliness and intimacy. I'm listening to everything he says very closely, in theory so that I can pick a good few holes in him, but I can't deny I'm impressed. There's some respect and the beginnings of friendship in the bag, within the first minute of his introduction.

I glance along the row of pink faces staring at him and wonder about their stories and what's going on in their heads right now. I bet it's quite different than what's going on in mine. I smother my smug smile. Not appropriate behaviour.

"You all have something in common," he continues, surveying us all slowly in turn as he walks past us. His unwavering gaze probes deeply into my very receptive female psyche making it buzz like a dildo on steroids. "Sexual hang ups..." he pauses a moment for us to digest this fact, "...some kind of dysfunctional behaviour —phobias —fears —call them what you will. Some may be physical, some psychological, but usually they're a mixture of both. Whatever your challenge is, it's causing you distress and concern enough, to want to do something about it. It could be that it began with something your partner said or did, or maybe it's something deep inside you which makes you feel uncomfortable and tense and unable to enjoy yourself. I understand it may have taken a lot of courage for you to reach out in this way and to attend this workshop. It's my task to find a solution for you. And checking we're all on the same page, I'm guessing a solution is what you want from me, or you wouldn't be here, would you?" He chuckles briefly and we all respond with a soft female echo.

I love the way he laughs. Definitely on the dirty side.

"So let's get off on the right foot." He turns in front of me, slips his hands in his pants pockets and walks back down the row of women. All eyes are glued to him. "We're going to become close friends over the next three days - and friends trust each other. Be assured you can trust me implicitly. There's no need to feel uncomfortable with me about anything whatsoever. I've heard it all, believe me. Try to forget I'm a man and let me into your mind, like you would a very close girlfriend, and I'll do all I can to help you leave your problems here and go home a changed, much happier woman. And I'd like to add, if there's anything at all you don't want to say or ask in the group, come see me after the session or leave me a message for me at reception. I'm open all hours for you."

_Wow, he's really winning us over fast. Well, he's won me over._

Another big grin pops up on his handsome face. He has such beautiful white teeth, and the most adorable nose I've ever seen. I want to rub it, all over me. I bring myself out of that train of thought before I get overexcited.

"From this moment forth, consider yourselves to be in therapy... _so._.. let's get you sexed up and happy. And girls – you'll really enjoy my style of therapy, because it's going to be fun."

I'm a very receptive person, and despite his gentle and amusing introduction, I can't help but notice some of the other women are worried. I'm feeling a wave of tense vibes and the smiles a few of them are wearing seem to be a little forced. I can't imagine feeling worried or tense where the subject of sex is concerned. It's all about pleasure and enjoyment, isn't it? Well, it should be. The girls don't seem very pleased or enjoying things right now. But I expect if you have bad hang ups about something it wouldn't be fun. It must be very difficult to face your fears and phobias. Especially one as intimate as theirs. I have an irrational fear of moths. I consider how I'd feel if I was in a workshop trying to battle with that, knowing the next three days I would be subjected to a deluge of moth therapy. Probably not very happy at all. Probably tense and worried, like these girls are.

Although I'm sure I'm going to enjoy Mr B's style of therapy a great deal, I do wonder how much they will.

"Excuse me?" I put my hand up with a pertinent question, starting some interaction between us and our charming host.

"Yes?" he replies, turning to my position at the end of the row.

All heads have turned to look at me.

"Will it be groupie therapy all the way, or will we have some private one-on-one's with you?" I ask sweetly. I'd really enjoy picking his brains about sex, or having him pick mine.

He takes a couple of steps towards me. I cross my legs deliberately, my skirt riding high on my thigh, exposing the top of my lacy stay-up stocking for his delectation.

I'm testing him. I know I have a very nice pair of legs. I'm watching his eyes and his expression.

He's very professional. He hasn't batted an eyelid or even looked at my leg. He's obviously made of strong stuff and is highly controlled on the job. Or maybe he's sexually inured to women's bodies after having dealt with them so intimately for eight hardened years.

"I was getting round to that, Samantha..." he begins, reading my name badge, which I have pinned into position on one of the most prominent points on my chest.

"Please call me Sammy," I interrupt.

"... _Sammy,_ " he continues, "I work in the group, but on occasion privately, if I feel it's warranted. And would you mind keeping your questions until later please, it disturbs the flow."

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't intend to disturb the flow Mr B. Do carry on flowing with your delightful presentation." I make the zip gesture with my hand across my lips.

His eyebrows rise, just a little, but I can tell his interest in piqued as he returns to the centre of the row.

"Before we start, I want to explain what I'm going to do in this workshop. I'm building a whole new world of sex for you. By that I mean from the ground up. In modern life we're bombarded by misleading and conflicting information from all sides and it can become very confusing and disjointed. You need someone to spell it all out, and explain to you where you stand and what to expect from your sex life. And I want to do that for you. It's all very simple in reality and you'll understand what I mean as we progress. Some of the workshop will be high level and other parts intense and detailed. There'll be a lot of sexual terms used and now and then my language will be on the strong side. Please don't be offended by my swearing - it's the way I am. Sorry but I can't control my tongue for three whole days." He supplies a beaming grin. I'm sure I'll have no problem with any number of obscenities that flow from that charming mouth of his. "You'll be encouraged to talk things through and share your issues later in the process, but for now, just follow me as I lead you through the sex maze. And finally - I want you all to embrace our mission mindset. It's a very simple one. Imprint it in your brains. Sexual equals natural. It's your nature to want and need it. It's a natural instinct. As old as time. There's no shame in admitting it. And there should be no embarrassment about the subject. So, keep that in your minds at all times, okay? Sexual equals natural."

I'm lost in his world already. I don't think I could be in a better place than sitting in front of him right now. And my admiration is growing rapidly...by the second.

"Now then, I have a small exercise for you, and then we'll get down to some basics, shall we?" A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he scans our faces.

He collects some papers from his table and hands out a one page questionnaire to each of us.

"It's self explanatory. Write in the box, your own personal ranking, plus 1 to 5 for things you like or potentially would like, and minus 1 to 5 for things you don't or wouldn't. This is a very broad group exercise so I can gauge the range of attitude and experience, turn ons and turn offs.,etc. Don't think too hard about it, go with your instincts. Stick a ballpark number in those boxes for me."

A few squeaks and coughs of distaste fill the air we read the list.

_Jeez, it's only a list of sexual practices; the girls need to loosen up some._

I scan the selection of items on the list with an unintentional little yawn. I had a very late night last night.

He obviously mistakes my tiredness for boredom and his forehead creases into a frown. I swallow the other bigger yawn that follows it.

I mouth _sorry_ at him, then settle down, resting on my attached chair table, giving the questionnaire my attention.

* * *

_Vaginal, Oral, Anal, Multiple partners, Interracial, Lesbianism, Sex aids, BDSM, Domination, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Fetishism, Pornography_

* * *

I raise my hand. I know he told me not to interrupt with questions, but I want some extra clarity before I put pen to paper. I think the other girls might do too.

"Yes?" he asks, calmly.

"Pornography...would that be watching or participating?"

The woman next to me gives me a very dirty look. I respond in kind.

What's up with her? Wasn't that a valid question to ask?

"It doesn't matter," he replies. "I'm just interested in your views on that particular subject matter, ladies," he announces to everyone.

I concentrate on the things I'm not keen on first. Anal gets a zero, it does nothing for me one way or the other. Lesbianism gets a +2, it's lukewarm on my hot scale. But if I was stuck on a desert island with a girl Friday, I expect I could come to like it more. I haven't personally indulged in BDSM or real domination but I'm more than open to the concept. In general, I just love all things sex. I'm about to add a +5 in the other boxes when I realise I really shouldn't do that. I'll stand out like a sore thumb. I put a +5 in vaginal, that's safe enough to love, and add a varying random number, between minus 4 and plus 4 for the rest. Hopefully that will give me those sexual hangups I'm supposed to have.

I put my pen down and he holds out his hand for my paper. He examines my answers, nipping his lip between his teeth rhythmically. That's something I wouldn't mind doing. His mouth is exceptionally nippable.

He looks at me quizzically, his brow furrowing slightly.

I smile brightly, giving him the full-on Sammy special. It usually works a treat with guys, but not with him, he doesn't return my smile, I just get a probing look.

He gathers up the rest of the papers and looks at each one carefully. I watch his expression change into a light frown.

Maybe he's just discovered the group average is close to minus five across the board.

I'm probably the only normal one here. They all have sexual issues and I don't. I openly admit I love sex. I'm very liberated sexually, and free to indulge my inner desires, any time, any place. And I do indulge, quite often.

The reason I'm attending this therapy course is for research. I work for a sex magazine, _Sexplicit_ , and I'm intending to find out what a sex therapist does and a little about the background and problems faced by those women who feel they want or need to attend an open workshop like Mr B's.

I was instantly drawn in when I spotted his 'invitation' in Cosmo, my favourite women's magazine.

_"US sex therapist Ryan Brantwell invites you to attend his exclusive Sex Therapy Workshop. Designed to help women of any age suffering from mild to severe sexual dysfunction and lack of confidence in expressing themselves sexually. Gentle group approach, lots of discussion and a very friendly fun atmosphere. Four UK dates. Three full day events. Very limited places..."_

My mind was pleasantly stimulated at the prospect of meeting and talking to him about sexual affairs. After a quick and very persuasive discussion with my editor, I followed through and jumped on his website to book my spot with the company credit card.

In my sex magazine world Ryan Brantwell is very well known and respected. In the US mainly. But he contributes to a lot of sex articles worldwide.

I've examined lots of photos of him and spent some time poking around his website, Twitter feed and Facebook scene. He's got a massive following everywhere, with everyone singing his praises like he's the sex messiah.

Although he's very photogenic, and I had to admit to spending more time than I should drooling over his handsome face, in real life he's so much more than just good looking. He almost glows with warmth, health, charm, virility and intelligence. I sigh with deep satisfaction as this renown psychotherapist, counsellor, TV's Dr Sex personality and all round clever sex hottie, walks over to the white board. He bends down to adjust it upwards a few inches, to a more appropriate height for him, and I study his expensively covered ass as his jacket rises at the back. I also admire his Rolex watch and very attractive diamond studded ring - the tangible evidence of his success. He stands and smooths his hair back. That shiny dark hair is doing things to me. It's way too neat and currently begging me to grab handfuls of it and make it go all wild and tousled. I take a few subtle breaths to calm myself. My reaction to him is rather strong. I must be peaking hormonally—a surge of oestrogen flowing through my brain.

"Let's get in the zone shall we?"

With a flare of his eyes, and an appealing little grin, he turns to his board, picks up a marker pen and writes one big word on its white surface. I know this word intimately. It's something I experience a great deal of.

* * *

DESIRE

* * *

"I'd like to know the first thing that enters your mind, when you see that word. It doesn't matter what it is." He points at a rather shy looking blonde woman, sitting two along from me, who cringes visibly and reds up in an amazing blush. "Nicola, let's start with you. What springs to your mind?"

"Ummm, I don't know. Wanting something a lot?" she answers in a tiny whisper, frantically wringing her hands in her lap.

"Wanting what?" he probes gently, trying to draw her out further.

"Anything really."

"Yes, you can have a desire for anything, that's true," he grins.

I think he wants something a little more relevant to our workshop. I'm mentally shouting at him.

_Ask me...PLEASE_...

My enthusiastic vibes must have caught his attention. I'm guessing he wants a more vocal reply after poor Nicola's painful start.

"Sammy...do you have something more detailed to add."

"I do... desire is a burning need inside you, for instance, to jump on a hot guy, rip his clothes off and eat him alive."

A few giggles arise around the group. I'm pleased to hear they're loosening up. You never know, after a few drinks at lunch they might get even looser than a giggle or two.

"Mmm, descriptive," he replies, tongue in cheek.

I play with my heart charm and chain, sucking the heart and staring at him intently as he stares at me. It's a long hard stare.

_Holy mother, is he staring me out?_

Well, good luck to him, I can hold a stare for months.

I stare shamelessly and suddenly highly erotic thoughts pop into my head. I'm really enjoying the fantasising.

But he doesn't play eye-ball for long. He cuts the stare dead and moves away, back to the white board, where he writes another sexy word.

* * *

EROTIC

* * *

I start in surprise.

_Is he telepathic?_

My mind is like a runaway train, erotic scenes featuring him rush through it. I can't stop them. Once I get deep in the zone, I have great difficulty removing myself from it.

He turns and surveys us all then points his pen at one of the girls.

"Claire, what's your concept of that word?"

"Something sexy and hot?"

"In what context?"

"Something you see?"

"Yes, things can be visually erotic...anyone else want to add more."

It's all quiet. I really don't want to show off but my rampant tongue does.

I stick my hand up. He smiles at me indulgently.

"Okay Sammy, let's hear your erotic thoughts."

I won't be telling everyone here my erotic fantasies, that's for sure. This will be purely theoretical...

"The erotic is a sensual feast of a sexual nature. Something arousing in terms of the five senses. It can be derived from many sources, such as literature, images, sounds, thoughts and dreams and can send the imagination wild with the erotic suggestion."

"Now that's a lovely description. Kind of poetic actually. Well done." He studies me again, briefly but rather intensely, before moving on. His eyes have a way of sinking into my head, as if he's reading me like a book. I wonder if it's a skill therapists develop and if they all do it.

* * *

PLEASURE

* * *

The woman next to me puts her hand up.

_Amazing, well done you!_

"Yes, Ashley. Give me some pleasure," he jokes with a chuckle.

"Something that makes you feel good in some sense," she says without smile or humour.

"Expand on that, what's your idea of feeling good?"

"Eating a lovely meal; drinking a glass of wine; having a scented bubble bath; sitting in the sun on a beach."

"And what about sex, isn't that pleasurable?" he leads.

"I imagine for most people, yes. But not in my case," she replies shortly, with a sniff and sticks her nose in the air.

I keep quiet and straight-faced, biting my tongue. I found that strangely funny. It's not what she said, but how she delivered it. Confrontationally. Angrily, even. Like it was everyone else's fault and how dare they enjoy sex when she can't. She sounds bitter and envious and very lacking in a sense of humour.

"We'll get into individual issues later, or you can talk to me privately after the session, okay?" he says pleasantly with a warm smile at her. Then he returns to his sexy word game.

* * *

OBSESSION

* * *

He turns and his eyes bore into mine again immediately.

This is a little off base from his former words. Why would he want to know what we think about obsession? I'm wondering if he wrote this for me. Whether he did or not, it's one I definitely want to answer.

I put my hand up.

"Go on." He gestures.

"An obsession occupies every waking moment and every thought. A deep and irrational need for someone or something that controls your life. For example to want sex all the time."

"That would more likely be a compulsive sex disorder, rather than obsession," he replies.

" _God no_ , I'd much prefer be obsessed than compulsive or disordered about sex," I say, in all seriousness.

His eyes zoom in on me. Based on the suspicious look on his face, I shouldn't have said that, I think I might have blown my dysfunctional cover.

I'm not entirely sure, but I think I hear an uncomplimentary whisper from the group. Not that it bothers me much.

"May I speak to you privately for a moment? Outside," he addresses me calmly with a small smile. "Excuse us for a minute or two, girls."

_Uh-oh. I've got the red card already._

What am I doing being so obviously _me_? I got carried away indulging myself in my favourite subject. I'm supposed to be subtle, blending in with the crowd, gleaning an insight into his mind and those around me, not taking centre stage as the lead actress. I need to cool off and rescue the situation fast or my boss will be pissed if I don't deliver on my promise. And he's pissed enough lately as I've been avoiding him. One of the main benefits of being here is that I can officially avoid him, for three whole days. I don't like his assumption that I'll accept it whenever he's in the mood to cop a feel. It's disgusting. He's married with three grown up kids and old enough to be my dad. I do have standards.

I follow Mr B outside, wearing my sweetest expression, in my sweet short sleeved candy-pink twin-set, very sexy short black skirt and flat black patent pumps. I hope my bright pink lipstick is still intact and I look sweet, sexy and appealing to him.

He turns to face me, closing the door behind me.

He's tall. Six foot plus. But I'm tall as well at five seven, so at least he isn't towering too high above me in my flats.

Our eyes lock and he studies me closely. I study him equally closely. I love what I see.

"Okay, cards on the table. Why are you here, Samantha?" His voice is a little on the tetchy side and he's calling me Samantha again. His friendly air has cooled already.

"Err... for some of your intense sex therapy, of course."

"I may be reading you completely wrong but I'm not buying it. After eight years I think I can tell if a woman is suffering from debilitating sexual hang ups. Your body language, your comments and your personality are telling me something quite different, and the unusual ratings you put on that questionnaire don't make sense or synch with your behaviour."

I mentally kick myself. I should have thought more intelligently about that. My mind works fast and I come up with a great cover story, which isn't that far from the truth.

"It's true that I don't have hang ups like the women in there do, but I do have sexual issues. I was in two minds whether to attend this workshop because I know I'm not the right profile for it and I don't suppose you can manage to deal with all my problems and the others at the same time. I guess it was a bit much to expect of anyone, even someone like you. I think I might have wasted my money and I don't have that much to spare."

I think I've done a convincing job. I've laid it on real thick, my tone a little desperate. I hope I'm appealing to him in multiple layers, and setting him a challenge, an unknown and possibly testing set of problems to resolve. I need to get him on my side. I can't afford to be sent home this early in the proceedings. Nor do I want to be for various reasons.

Despite my little dig about his professional ability to manage it all, he doesn't rise to the bait. Mr B's a really cool customer. I like cool guys. They're always the hottest when they get going.

I'm swimming in his eyes. They're a wonderful mixture of hazel rimmed with grey. I try not to stare at his mouth. I'd love some heated action with that. Or any action with any part of him really. I'm going to turn on the Sammy charm and see where it gets me.

He drops right into my trap. I pat myself on the back for being such a clever girl.

"It seems you've set me a challenge and I don't back away from those lightly." He strokes through his hair with his finger tips and my belly contracts with a rush of desire. "I can't discuss it now, because everyone's waiting for us, but after we've finished the day's workshop, I'm offering you a private session and we'll begin to discover what your issues really are."

I fold my arms under my tits and hold my head up. I'm hoping I'm up to the challenge as well. I don't need a therapy session, but I've set the ball rolling now. I suppose it could be interesting and potentially great research material. Maybe it'll even be fun. I have no idea what it involves at all but I'm willing to find out.

"That's very kind of you. Thank you," I say summoning up some of my sweet charm and another sweet smile to go with. "I'm looking forward to being probed and placing myself in your _sexpert_ hands."

I've obviously stroked him somewhere pleasant because he suddenly laughs and produces a gorgeous, steaming hot grin full of white teeth, and a flash of tongue, which I'd love to have thrust in my mouth.

His eyes shine with amusement.

"I like your sense of humour and I'm looking forward to our session as well. Let's re-join the others now. There's lots of interesting things to cover today."

I snigger. "I'm all eyes and ears, Dr Sexy."

"It's Mr B, Dr Sex is my TV show."

"Mr B then. But to be honest I like Dr Sexy far better. It's so much more... _you_."

I open the door and slink back inside the room.

Everyone's staring at me. I seem to thrive on the wrong kind of attention and I'm not about to waste this golden opportunity. I keep it tasteful, but I'm my usual suggestive self. "How wonderful," I murmur dreamily, smoothing my long blonde hair and skirt with my hands and planting my backside down on my chair with a resounding deep sigh of satisfaction.

I look up and into the curious, open mouthed stare of Ashley Brown. I really don't like her at all. It's only an initial impression but she has an unpleasant vibe surrounding her. Unattractive inside, as well as out. And she obviously doesn't like me one little bit either.

" _And_?" I confront her. She sniffs at me snootily and looks away quickly, down her large and slightly hooked nose, back to our guy who is writing something on his board.

What is it this time? I lean sideways to look round him.

_Oh ha ha..._

* * *

I'M VERY FUCKABLE

* * *

_You're certainly that, Mr B._

"This will be our mantra for the next three days. It's a little crude, but fun and purely a confidence boosting technique," he explains. "Nice and loud if you please. Convince me and yourselves...on my cue...what are you?" He holds his hand to his ear and a cheeky grin appears on his face.

" _I'm very fuckable._ " My voice is the loudest of course. As I already know this fact to be true, I don't need to convince myself or anyone.

"Come again, much louder please. What are you?" His eyes flick to mine in an obvious, ' _that doesn't mean you, you're loud enough girl_ ' look.

We all repeat the sexual mantra, I'm quieter and admittedly the girls are a little louder. Not loud or convincing enough, in my opinion, but he seems satisfied with them, for now.

I pick up my notebook from the table to the side of me, preparing myself to take down some earth shattering notes about the world of sex (or not, more likely). I don't think there's much I don't l know.

* * *

For the next half an hour I find myself scribbling away with surprising interest. We examine the underlying concepts of sexual practice, the multitude of words and terms associated with the act, the roots of their origins and the history of sexual perception through the modern age. We even delve into sex in ancient Rome and Egypt. The things they got up to make us all laugh out loud. His sense of humour really breaks the ice.

I don't know about the others, but I'm bonding with him, so fast and in a way that surprises me. He's warm and full of fun, but serious about his subject and dedicated to helping us. I'm now wondering what's coming up later, in our private session. My stomach flips wildly at the prospect of Mr B's full-on therapist's mind probing mine. As I watch him move around and work the group, so effortlessly and professionally, I realise this man is something really special. He's stirring my mind in ways it's never been stirred. I can't recall ever feeling this kind of burning desire before. Of course I'm attracted to him sexually, who wouldn't be? But, the man himself intrigues me. He's someone I want to know a lot more about.

But I'm daydreaming, about personal things and I shouldn't be. I need to be on the ball. I drag my mind back to the subject matter. It's all really great stuff so far. I am actually learning interesting details that I can use in my work. And I already have lots of ideas for future projects. I may even get a real raise out of old dirt-bag Smyth for this, which would be an improvement on the usual skirt lifting one. But more than that, I need to use this workshop experience productively, so I can escape from him and my job and get a better one elsewhere. Somewhere I don't have to hide from my middle aged boss's advances from 9 to 5. I know it's my own fault. I've dug my own grave, behaving like I have there in the past, like I'm game for anything, with anyone. Which actually I'm not. Well, not at work anyway.

# 2

The girls all make their way to the buffet lunch in the dining room. They're huddled in two groups in a chattering gaggle, just ahead of me. Lunch and coffee breaks are provided as part of our fee. Everything else is at our own cost, along with the accommodation. Apparently Mr B isn't joining us for lunch today, it's obviously a girls-only bonding session, and, I quickly notice, a dry one. Plain old water jugs stand on the tables. Shame. I could have done with a glass of wine or two, my hangover's starting to kick in badly and I need a reviving alcoholic boost. I stand at the end of the queue, pick up a plate and survey all the goodies. I love my food. I have an oral fixation. Drink, food and oral sex. The best things in life, in reverse order. Small, shy Nicola arrives a little later at my side after her cloakroom visit. I feel sorry for her somehow. I wonder about her story, why she's here. She could be a great source for my research. I decide to chum up with her, if she'll go for it. The shy and the very much not so. It should make for some amusing conversation and maybe I can help her survive the ordeal she's placed herself in.

"Hi," I say turning to her with my warmest smile.

"Hi," she replies quietly and flicks her eyes up at me, a blush creeping up her cheeks. My heart goes out to her. She's obviously painfully shy. Being here must be a trial of endurance for her.

"Lovely food, isn't it? I want to eat it all," I say, my mouth watering like crazy.

"Mmm, it all looks really gorgeous," she replies, piling up some salmon and a big spoonful of pasta and salad.

"Speaking of gorgeous, what d'you think of our Mr B, eh?" I nudge her gently with my elbow.

"He seems lovely. But I wish he wasn't quite so good looking, it makes it that much harder."

"Why?" I ask. His looks don't make things hard for me. It heightens the experience to a much more pleasurable one.

"I can't relax around good looking men."

"And you can with ugly ones?"

"It's easier. I assume they have lower standards."

"Right, and that means _what_ exactly?"

She pauses as if she doesn't know quite what to say or if she wants to say it. I try and put her at ease and pull back on the throttle a little.

"Sorry, I'm a real nosey-parker. You don't have to answer that." I smile at her.

"No, I want to. I'm trying to get things out in the open. My biggest problem is that I've got such low self esteem. I was divorced two years ago and since then I've tried to date a few men, but it's been difficult. If I like their looks I clam up and I can't relate and talk. If I find them unattractive I don't want to date them again. It's kind of catch twenty-two. I'm hoping this workshop will get me out of myself. Give me more confidence when I'm with men, you know?"

"I'm sure Ryan will do a great job pulling you out of your jam," I reassure her.

I'm trying to bolster her mood but I'm not at all sure he can fix her funk. He's a sex therapist not a miracle worker and it sounds like Nicola needs far more than sex therapy to me. From what I can gather, from my brief observation, she's socially dysfunctional, introverted and terribly self conscious. But then, what do I know? Ryan's very successful and highly regarded. He may well be the answer for her. Perhaps the answer to her sex problems will open the gates to all her others naturally.

"I hope he can. But this whole thing is _way out_ there for me. It's like a foreign language. Talking sex all day and in so much depth. God knows how I even got myself here. But it seemed a good idea at the time when I booked."

"How did you find out about it?" I'm also quite amazed she's here.

"I heard him on Heart radio, doing an interview and he sounded so nice and kind. And he said he can help absolutely anyone with anything wrong in their love and sex lives. I looked him up on his website and read everything everywhere. I was swayed by all the good reviews really. Women just like me, suffering from low self esteem, who found what they needed with him. I booked up before I could change my mind and my God, I've felt sick for the three months since. I nearly cancelled a dozen times."

"Well, good for you sticking with it and coming anyway. You've made a good decision, I feel."

"I'm so not comfortable though. My stomach's in my mouth the whole time in there in case he asks me something."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed. But from what I gather, the rest of the group aren't that comfy either. Hang in there, it's early days."

"Mmm, I know. I'm trying to keep positive. But what about you, you seem to have loads of confidence. Why are you here?"

"I've got my own issues. Oversexed ones, I'm trying to tone it down," I lie.

"Oh. Is it a problem with your boyfriend then?"

"I don't have one. I don't do conventional dating."

"Right."

She looks at me for a moment as she digests my oversexed, lack of regular partner, information.

"Let's take a seat and eat this feast shall we," I suggest.

I follow her and she chooses to sit down at a table for two, slightly apart from the others. I guess she doesn't want to sit with them for some reason. I smile at the other two girls on the table for four closest to us and ignore the snide looks from the snooty Ashley on the other table of four. She's really giving me evils.

"How long were you married?" I ask Nicola.

"Four years. I got married too young really. I was only nineteen."

"And what happened, with you and your ex?"

"Where do I start? Just about everything... It was a complete disaster from beginning to end. He had an affair and left me for her."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say trying to be understanding. I don't have much experience with other women's problems, in any way. But I'm thinking she might need a very, very strong boost. Poor old Mr B has a lot of work to do here. "And what kind of sex problems did you have, do you mind me asking?"

She blushes yet again. She can't look me in the eye.

"Hey, don't be shy with me, honestly, I've done most of the stuff on that check-list we filled in this morning."

She giggles, and her face lights up. She's quite cute really. I imagine she'd appeal to a lot of guys if she sorted out her shyness.

"Well, I didn't find it very satisfying. I was too tense and embarrassed. It all seemed, _wrong_ , somehow."

"Wrong?"

"It's complicated."

I lower my voice and lean forward so no one else can catch the conversation we're possibly about to have.

"Right. So tell me this. When you say you didn't find it very satisfying, do you mean you didn't have many orgasms with him?" I know I'm getting very personal with her, and she's probably going to clam up, but I'd really like to know her sex story.

Surprisingly she answers my question.

"No...I never did... none."

The next question's even more personal but I'm asking anyway. She can tell me to go mind my own business if she likes. "What about on your own? Do you come then?"

"I can't seem to relax enough to ever get that far. Then my mind wanders. Maybe I'm just not that sexual in nature..." She looks so embarrassed admitting this, but at least she has. That's a step forward.

"You've never had one, ever?" I clarify.

"No."

I try not to show it, but I'm quite shocked. I can't imagine not ever having had one single orgasm. Whether it's me, a sex toy or a guy giving me one, I have to admit I can't live without them. How can you live without the best feeling in the world?

I feel so sorry for her.

I tell her straight how she can fix this very easily. "Go get yourself a vibrator girl, that'll relax you and give you one in less than five minutes. Christ, I couldn't function without mine. It's my best friend. I've even got a little lipstick version in my handbag, in case I get desperate on the go. I'll show you later."

" _Sammy no_ , there's no way I could _ever_ go out shopping for something like that."

"Of course you can. I'll tell you what? We'll go together, I can advise you on the best buzzer to buy."

"D'you really think it would help me?" she asks.

"Yes, I really do. You need the big O to understand what sex is all about, surely? It's a release from frustration and gives you a real high that you'll want more of. And you'll find out all about yourself when you use one. Believe me you really will."

She laughs a pink-cheeked sweet little laugh. And I suddenly want to hug her. She's an innocent doll and I want to corrupt her a bit. I stop myself thinking things like that. She's part of my research, that's all and I mustn't interfere with Mr B's plan. But surely she deserves a little fun with a sex toy. Every woman should experience one orgasm, at least. Or, more preferably, a few a day. That'll be my friendly contribution to her 'cure'.

"Okay, well I'm willing to try. I don't suppose there's any harm in it. But when we go out to buy it, can you pretend it's for you?"

She's so embarrassed about sex. God knows how she's going to react when Mr B gets down to some intense sex talk later. I can see she's desperate, and the whole sex scene is obviously so not her, but maybe, just maybe, discovering she really likes sex, even if it's with a toy, may do the trick and give her the push she really needs to cope with all this.

"That's fine. No problem at all. We'll go later this afternoon, I'll look up the nearest shop on my phone after lunch."

"Where are you staying?"

"Here, room 311, what about you?"

"Here as well. Room 415. Perhaps we can have some dinner together?"

"I was going to nip round the corner to Mc D or Burger King and have an early night. I'm dog tired. I didn't get my head down till four. I was at a party."

"That'll be good and suits me too, I can read and take a bath, have an early night as well."

"Maybe I can manage to share a bottle of wine in my room before I crash, if you like." I suggest.

"That'll be nice, I'll look forward to it, and Sammy..." she starts hesitantly. "Can I ask you something...how did you get to be, ummm, oversexed?"

"I've always been this way," I reply, deliberately pushing the reason why to the furthest reaches of my mind.

She pauses with a piece of salmon on her fork, her eyes wide. "Maybe you're a nympho or something, d'you think?"

"I really don't know. Although I don't go on the prowl for sex, it's always in my mind when I see a guy I like. As soon as he comes on to me I find him too hard to resist. Actually I don't even think about resisting. I don't want to."

"God...and you've really done most of that stuff on the list?"

"In one way or another, yep."

"Oh Sammy..." she giggles and holds her hand over her mouth. "Multiple partners?"

"Yes, I've done that."

"Lesbianism?"

"Yep, but only once. Not so keen. You're quite safe, I won't hit on you, don't worry."

"Oh, you're so funny," she giggles.

"I try and keep things light, life can be hard work otherwise."

"What about sexual diseases and stuff like that? Don't you worry about that kind of thing?"

"That's something I'm very responsible about. I've had a contraceptive jab, because I'm crap with pills, and I get myself checked out often and always insist guys wear a condom."

In truth I wasn't always so careful in the past. I had a nasty dose of clap I had to clean up. That was a dreadful experience. But that wasn't really my fault. I was ignorant of the facts then. I push that to the back of mind along with my oversexed history.

"I suppose you've gotta be careful really, haven't you?"

"It pays to be. The consequences of not being careful could be pretty bad."

"Look, I'm dying to know, what did Mr B say to you, when you were outside the room together."

"He simply wanted to know why I was here. So I told him, I'm a sex maniac, sort me out. He's giving me a private session later. I'll be reformed before I know it, I'm sure." My enthusiastic, if rather flippant reply is purely for show. Despite being intrigued by what's coming up later, I've no intention of being sorted out. Basically because there's nothing to sort. But I'll have to play the game, I guess, to get some really juicy meat for my research.

"That's good of him, isn't it? What a generous guy he is."

"Yeah, he does seem to be genuinely nice. Perhaps you could ask for some extra help too?"

" _No way_ , and don't you dare suggest it to him." She holds her hands up defensively. "Let's see what happens today and tomorrow. Groupie therapy is more than enough for me to cope with right now. Honestly it is Sammy..."

* * *

In the afternoon session, I insist Nicky, as she prefers to be called, sits next to me and I ask the snooty Ashley, very politely and with a small smile, if she wouldn't mind moving down one. I'd have thought she'd have been delighted to part company with me. I'm obviously not her favourite person in the world. She sneers at me for having the affront to speak to her and I can't stop myself and sneer back. What a nasty sexual inadequate she is. Anyway, I've decided, I'm giving her a very wide berth.

The luscious Ryan appears to be busy writing a long essay on his board.

* * *

Sexual Dynamics

What partner wants + What you want = Balancing the act.

* * *

"Okay, girls. Now that my stable's fed and watered, it's time to exercise your pretty heads in the sex paddock...I'm going to ask each of you in turn, what you think your partner wants and what you want from a sexual encounter. I'm not talking about sexual technique here. This is objective based. And please don't say an orgasm. That goes without saying.

"Sammy, care to start us off?"

"Okay," I say smiling enthusiastically. "The guy wants to satisfy his craving to get his hands on a hot piece of ass, and so do I."

He rubs his chin. "Yes, that's a good start, satisfying your deep sexual attraction, both physical objectives." He draws two columns on the board, adds a male and female sign at the top of them and then and writes a P in both, and then he turns back to us. "And you, Nicola?"

She's looking so red and flustered, like she's about to have a panic attack. I have to help her.

"Love and affection," I lean her way and whisper under my breath.

"Ummm, I want love and affection and he wants, errr...ummm..."

"To relieve his frustration," I whisper, off the top of my head with a cough to cover.

"To relieve his frustration," she finishes with a deep sigh.

"Thank you Nicola, that's an emotional and a physical objective."

He writes down a P and an E, "And Sammy, no helping next time, okay? Nicola needs to make her own thoughts known, not yours."

I'm thoroughly chastised, like the time long ago when my dad spotted me doodling on the hymn book in church and told me off in front of the very unamused Father George.

"Sorry," I mutter apologetically.

I lower my head and give Nicky a sideways look. She mouths thank you at me and smiles a little.

"And that's a heads up for everyone. If you can't answer, that's absolutely fine. Just say, 'I don't know'. You'll get more out of it being honest. If you're starting from square one, then that's where you have to start...square one...no problem."

"Ashley. What about you? Do you have any thoughts on the balancing act?"

She looks up from studying her hands and twisting her rings madly. "Based on my experience, he wants it, whenever he wants it, and won't stop bothering me till he gets it. I just want it over with."

"I see, a persistent male quest for physical gratification and a negative female emotional reaction to that," he summarises intelligently. Another P and E for the board.

By the time we've got to the end of the line, there's a good list of P's and E's.

"Right. D'you see a pattern here. Most of the female responses you've given me are emotional, and most of the male ones are physical. Now this is where I turn things around and tell you, you're wrong. Men do not see sex mainly in the physical. We have a different type of emotional response but we're in the same place as women. Sex is primarily in the head and heart, male and female, both the same. Remember that. Men want affection and to please and love their partner just as much as women do, I'd say more so. It's much more than a physical release, it's an all round head and body experience that we want to share. Unless you're a man who has emotional hang ups of course. And there's a fair few of those." We all laugh at that comment. "But most men, the well rounded sort, are flying on the same plane as you."

I can't help but notice, they are all looking at him like he's the most wonderful thing God ever created and that he has just made the most amazing revelation ever. I'm not so amazed. Of course 'normal' men have emotions during the act, nothing new there. Even I have a few now and then, although I try and keep them to a minimum. I'm guessing he's actively narrowing the gender gap between him, our partners and us. Bringing the male and female minds together. And doing a bloody good job as well. He'll be an honorary woman soon, discussing fad diets, arty flower arranging and Nigella's cake recipes.

I scribble down a summary of what he said in my notebook. No matter what, all information is gratefully received, and logged for possible future use.

* * *

The afternoon flies by, with another perception-changing question and answer session. Then we have some instruction on communication.

"Who likes ice cream?" he asks. We all raise our hands.

"What d'you like about it, Sophie?"

"It's creamy, decadent, sweet and moreish," she says.

"Mmm, I know, most people love ice-cream, and so do I. The feel of it on my tongue, the rich taste, the tingling icy cold pleasure as I suck it into my mouth, and the sense of emptiness in my life when it's all consumed and gone." He pauses and grins at us. "And what if your partner made you some very, very special ice-cream one day, and sat opposite you and fed you spoonful by delicious spoonful. What would you say?"

"Yum?" I offer.

"Anything else?"

We all look at him, waiting for the great ice cream revelation.

"Come on, we're talking the best ice cream you've ever tasted and he's feeding you by spoon."

I think we all want him to tell us _his_ thoughts on this as we sit silently waiting.

"Where's your imagination, ladies?" He temples his fingers to his mouth as he grins. "Let me give you some ideas...Give me bigger spoonfuls, leave the spoon in my mouth so I can lick it clean, mmm so creamy, divine, sublime, I love it, go make some more right now, let's do this again tomorrow, more choccy chips, more strawberry, less sauce next time, it's dripping down my chin, _stop right now_...fucking brain freeze!"

We all laugh loudly.

"I expect you'd say some of those things. You wouldn't sit in silence, would you? It's a pleasurable giving experience, it needs a reaction, a verbal one. Because that's the best way human beings communicate."

He strolls along and comes to stand in front of me. His eyes are on mine.

"Talking during sex," he says slowly, "how many of you do that, I wonder?"

I have no trouble with this subject in practice, but my stomach tightens and I warm up inside at his words. He's so upfront and sensual as he speaks to us. I can't help but imagine him talking during sex. I'd like to hear him whisper things in my ear and have some heated sex talk during a passionate session.

A long and delightful shiver races through me.

He walks along the row of women. "Telling him what you like and encouraging him to tell you what he likes. Is what he's doing hitting your hot spot or not? He needs to know and so do you."

"That's hard to do, it might upset him in some way." One of the girls says.

He shakes his head and purses his lips. "No. What _is_ upsetting is doing something for a long time that's not getting results. Would _you_ like that? To think you're giving him a rush when in fact, it's not doing much for him and his mind wanders off to the ball game he was watching that night. You really do need to say something. With an adjusting physical action if necessary, moving his hand or his head or yourself, to get things the way you want them. And when he gets it right, tell him. And that could be something very simple like...that's perfect, that feels amazing, I love that. Or, if you need something more... a little bit harder, a little bit softer, go left, right, up and down, faster, circle more, go in and out, or don't stop whatever you do, keep going, I'm coming... _fuck!_ " he breaks into laughter and so do we. "You get the message? Because he sure will, if you tell him."

I've known a lot of guys quite intimately in my twenty-five years, but I think I like this man more than all of them put together.

And that's way too much already.

* * *

After a quick coffee and bathroom break, we're back for the final part of the day.

"Okay girls, let's do something good together, shall we? Let's go on a hot date."

I have to admit, that has a lot of appeal.

He writes the words on his sex board.

* * *

HOT DATING

* * *

"Angela, you've been very quiet at the end there. Don't think you can act all invisible while you're in my group. I'd like you to start this one off. What does that term mean to you?"

"Well it's been at least ten years since I've been on one, but I suppose romance is the main reason I'd want to go on a hot date," she says in a small voice with a tinge of a blush rising on her cheeks.

"Romance, yes, good... anything else?

"Seduction?"

"Yes... definitely, keep going."

"Errr..."

She gets stuck on those two. It's probably nerves. I can see she's very fidgety and uncomfortable. I'm not sure that Ryan, with all his limitless confidence, realises how hard it might be to speak up or even think straight, when you're a little shy of sex and put on the spot at a sex therapy workshop by the sexiest guy ever. But then again, maybe he does. He did say he likes to push people's boundaries. Perhaps drawing people's thoughts out publicly, and making them face their shyness, both of him and the group, and especially the subject matter, is his way of doing that.

He leaves his board and comes to stand in front of us. "There's a number of reasons to want to hot date. To enjoy yourself with someone you find attractive, getting to know someone, sharing a joint interest, talking intimately and privately, having a drink and loosening up your inhibitions, to touch and flirt with someone, raising the sexual tension, setting the scene for sex maybe?" He flares his eyes and looks at us suggestively. "Hot dating is something everyone should continue even if they've been married for... _twenty...five...years._ " He widens his eyes expressively.

We all giggle. I can't imagine going on two dates, let alone being stuck with someone for twenty five years. There must be something fundamentally wrong with me. Or maybe I'm just one of those forever free spirits?

"You may well find that concept amusing, but let me explain further." He starts to wander up and down the group, giving us all a little extra special attention. He's so good at this, making each of us feel like he notices us individually and that we really matter. I'm really impressed with his presentation style. It's targeted and intimate. A little on the flirty side, but nicely done.

"Hot dates with your partner," he continues, with a short and manly sigh, "are absolutely essential. Once a month, perhaps? It should be a special time you both set aside to talk and indulge your romantic sides. To be a couple, to get together and seduce each other. Sex shouldn't be something you only do after putting the kids to bed and while thinking about getting the car serviced. Don't you think romance and sex are more special and deserve some extra effort now and then? A time devoted especially to the subject of mutual seduction? It doesn't have to be costly. A takeout and a bottle of wine. An evening walk and a drink at a bar. Something you both do together. And no chit-chat about the kids and your money problems. All that's banned. It's a hot date. Talk about nice things. Fun things. Compliment each other. Hold hands. Indulge yourselves with some good old tongue twisting. Now I know this might seem strange behaviour to contemplate, when you're both so familiar, but the whole idea is to notice one other in different ways. To bring your partner out of the humdrum and to make a point of doing so. You'll actually find it very enjoyable, I swear. If any of you are dating, you'll know just how enjoyable it can be. Looks, body language, the promise of something very intimate in the air. Hot dating is a complete turn on."

I love this. I'm really into it, which is odd, because just a minute ago I didn't want to date and obviously don't have any partner in mind. But the whole concept sound lovely and I want him to go into more detail.

As he continues to walk and talk, delivering his dating advice and his eyes meet mine as he turns, I'm transported to another place. I'm on his arm, strolling alongside a moonlit beach under a starry sky. We're stopping for a few hot encounters here and there before our romantic drive home together, in our convertible sports car. I could definitely make an exception in my life and hot date Ryan a few times. _Yes, indeed._

But sadly, all too soon, our date is over.

We all repeat our mission mindset and our sex mantra, nice and loud, and day one is done. I'm really, really enjoying it so far. Everyone is definitely getting noticeably bolder. Ashley managed to smile a few times and fragile Nicky is coping without having heart failure. I'm sure she even giggled once or twice. He's drawing everyone out gradually, getting us all toasty and comfortable with him. Day one is a real success I feel. Dr Sexy's off to a wonderful flying start.

I tell Nicky I'll call for her at her room when I'm done. Because, now it's my turn to be 'sex-shrinked'. Or is that 'sex-shrunk'?

I pick up my notebook and put it in my bag and stand ready to leave with him.

"Just a minute, wait there will you please, Sammy," he says. He sees the others out, shuts the door and returns to face me. "Would you prefer to stay here, or go find somewhere more comfortable in the lounge or bar."

"Here will do fine." It's private and I definitely want to be on my own with him and not on display in the bar with a drink in my hand and saying things I shouldn't with a loosened tongue. I sit down again and he draws up a chair, facing me. I watch every little movement as he winds down after his intense day's work. I'm hoping this means he's going to be relaxed and less intense with me. He removes his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair and loosens his tie and shirt collar. Then the hair gets a quick ruffle with his fingers. It's more than a fetching look. He's all dishevelled and fuckalicious and my stomach churns with desire.

"I normally charge $300 per hour for my sessions," he says as he takes a seat.

"Really? Being sexually deficient is so expensive, isn't it?" I say with a good dose of sarcasm.

"I'm not a charity, it's my business, and a matter of supply and demand. There are cheaper options than mine, if you need them," he replies pleasantly, ignoring the sarcasm, and supplying a wide disarming smile.

"You'd better get going then, don't want to waste too much of your valuable time and money, do we?" I return his sexy smile to soften my words. I know I've got a wicked, sharp tongue. It has a mind of its own.

He chuckles at me. "You have a hard verbal edge at times, don't you?"

"That's just my edges, the rest of me is pretty soft, as you may discover later," I tease with a naughty grin.

"Oh, will I?" He raises his eyebrows and his face adopts a serious, warning look. I don't think he likes sexual innuendo whilst in therapy, even if it was meant to be a joke. I need to behave myself. "Right. To start with tell me why you're sitting here right now. What do _you_ think your problem is?"

I offer my well thought out line. It's almost the truth.

"I'm obsessed with sex. Maybe I am OCD, I don't know? My sex drive is _way_ too high."

"Having a high sex drive isn't an issue if you have the right outlet. I'm assuming you don't and that's the problem?"

"It depends what you mean by the right outlet?" I reply, avoiding the real answer. I'm already beginning to wonder if this whole thing is a good idea.

He doesn't answer my returning question, but asks me another. "Sex drive is one thing, obsession's quite different. Why do you think you're obsessed?"

"Because I think about it too much. It's always there in the front of my mind." And that's the God's honest truth.

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I need to know a little more about you. Give me a brief history for some background - hobbies, job, relationships, family, all that kind of stuff. I know your basics, so off you go. Just talk and I'll absorb."

"My parents live in Kent, they own a fruit farm. I have four brothers, all older than me. I went to college, got 3 decent A levels in English, Social Science and Media Studies. Straight after that I went to work for a men's sex mag, initially doing admin and as a promo girl and currently I'm the editorial and research assistant. My hobbies...ummm...movies, music, drinking and dancing, going out to eat, I really love my food, I'm kinda obsessed about that as well. Maybe I have an oral obsession, period?" I muse, absent-mindedly. I catch his eye. He is very unshaken and unmoved by my oral comment. But I don't suppose he would find it shocking. I continue with the things I like to do."I like to go swimming. That's my main form of exercise, apart from sex. Actually... sex is more of a hobby, really." I gaze at him, and as he looks steadily at me, my interest is growing rapidly, literally by the second. He's the sexiest sex therapist alive, without a doubt. "Relationships...uh, none really. I've got two good friends who are men. A lot of very casual friends, of both sexes. I prefer the company of men though. That's about it."

"Your parents and brothers. How often do you see them?"

"Never."

"And why's that?"

"I don't want to."

"Was there a family issue or fight?"

"Something like that."

"Okay...that's enough general background for now. I'd like to go deeper into that another time, if we need to."

I'm delighted to be offered the possibility of another expensive session for free. Not so delighted to have my past revisted though.

His eyes lock on mine. They're soft and warm and I'm more than comfortable sitting here with him. I wonder if all women feel this way in his company. "Now let's explore your attitude to sex. You say you prefer the company of men, but have you ever had sex with other women?"

"Once, just over a year ago. But I'm not gay or even bisexual. I was just curious, I guess. I didn't enjoy it much, and not enough to want to do it again. I'm definitely into men."

"And your two male friends, are they just friends or are they also sexual partners?"

"Sexual partners. I've had sex with both of them." Kind of out of habit. And it was hardly a memorable experience, I admit to myself.

He tilts his head, his eyes still locked on mine.

"When was the last time you had sex, and who with?"

"Yesterday at a party, with someone I met there."

"Is that usual for you?"

"Yep."

I'm being sucked deeply into this conversation. Far too easily. I don't know what I expected of Ryan but he has a way of making me feel so at ease that I want to tell him things. Although this is all excellent material for my research, I don't want to think where it's leading. But then again, telling him what I'm like isn't going to hurt, I guess. It's confidential, and I expect he's heard it all, and a lot worse, many times before.

"Casual party hook ups?"

"Casual and anywhere, pretty much."

"And how long has this pattern of behaviour been the norm?"

"Since I was seventeen..ish."

"And when you have one of your hookups, who initiates it, you or him?"

"Sometimes me, if I fancy someone enough. But him mainly."

"So what would he say for instance, to entice you to have sex with him?"

"Wanna fuck?"

He laughs. "Nice approach."

"I'm kidding. More like wanna get more friendly or come see my tattoos. Sometimes we get kissing and he just leads me away. We both know the score, where we're going and why."

"And you accept and want sex to take place. It's always consensual?"

"I don't need persuading much."

"And you're satisfied by this type of relationship?"

"Physically, I am. At least if the guy's in any way considerate."

"So you tend to prefer no strings sex. The physical side."

"I don't have feelings for the men I have sex with. I like to move on straight afterwards."

Now we're getting down to my feelings. I don't like talking about feelings and emotions.

"No feelings at all? Not even for the really good looking ones who get you off? They don't make your heart pound? You don't need to see them again, to date a few times, and have some kind of relationship afterward?"

"There's plenty of good looking guys. Always more where they come from. I like variety, the more the better, you get me?"

"Why d'you need to keep looking for more? Surely one man is enough? One who gives you the physical and the emotional, and wants to get to know you properly?"

"I don't want those kind of messy complications."

My stomach is starting to churn. I'm revealing a little too much but I'm not sure how not to.

"How is it complicated?"

"I might get hurt. Don't want that. I like to keep things simple." I don't ever want to be hurt again, because I've been hurt enough.

He leans forward and touches my hand gently, his eyes locked onto mine.

"All you want is uncomplicated unemotional sex? What happens when you get older and it doesn't come along so often, if at all? How's all this going to work for you then?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead. I'll deal with that when it happens, okay?" I'm aware my tone is now becoming defensive and he picks up on it. His voice takes on a soothing softer tone.

"Sammy, I'm not judging you at all. That's not my job. What you do is your affair. I can only offer my opinion and play devil's advocate, showing you another viewpoint regarding your actions. In the end you alone know what's best for you and what makes you happy. But there's obviously something wrong or you wouldn't be here with me now, would you? You say you're oversexed and obsessed and don't think you're dealing with it very well. And I agree, you aren't. I have to say I'm already wondering what you really feel about your lifestyle, perhaps you should think more deeply about that. You're a beautiful woman, but the way you use that attraction could be so much more rewarding for you in the present and the future."

I'm trying to ignore his other comments and basking in his 'beautiful' compliment, covering myself with it like it's honey, ready to eat from his hand.

"Straight up, d'you want my honest opinion or not? It's your call."

"Go ahead, hit me with it." Despite my devil-may-care attitude, my heart's pounding like mad over what he just said about me and moreso about what he's about to reveal.

And then, my pounding heart flies into my mouth as he picks up and squeezes one of my hands. His touch is magical and sends sweet chills up and down my spine in response. I stare into his eyes, mesmerised. His eyes are so gorgeous. I stare in a rose-tinted, besotted trance as he delivers his opinion.

"What you are doing is wasting yourself—every beautiful thing you could be, on pointless, meaningless sex. I think deep down you want something better than casual hook ups with guys you want to forget. You're guarded about being hurt and I'd like to know why? What happened to make you feel this way? People are emotionally driven, especially during sex, how can you cut that side of your feeling out completely, all the time? If you pushed those fears of yours aside and put your trust in someone—someone special who you like—you'd be much happier and likely to be far more satisfied than you are with your superficial sex life. You're using and being used and that's a base, loveless existence. Is that what you really want, no love or affection? Not ever?" He pauses and his thumb rubs my hand gently. I'm quaking with his words, the intensity of his gaze and the feel of his hand. I've actually stopped blinking and breathing, like I'm frozen in the moment. "How do you feel inside? Do you love and respect yourself, Samantha?" he asks slowly. Then he places my hand down on my lap and sits with his hands on his knees, awaiting my reply. He's watching my reaction closely.

My head's swimming out of control. His face blurs in front of me.

_My God, is he my inner conscience, out to destroy my status quo?_

I pull myself together with a great deal of effort, and take a deep breath for courage.

"I don't know what I want in truth and my self respect disappeared many years ago." I admit this to him and to myself for the first time ever, cringing inside at the deeply shameful things I've ever done. I also admit to a growing sense of dissatisfaction in my life. There is something missing. I've been feeling lonely and miserable, like I'm not getting anywhere. It's as if I'm on a sex treadmill going nowhere, a distinct lack of purpose festering inside of me.

It's not fun anymore

"Take your time and tell me about that, why did it disappear?"

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing but a strangled squeak emerges. I don't know how to start answering his question. I can't without going somewhere I'm not prepared to go.

He pushes me further in a soft voice. "Sammy, who took away your self respect? Was it someone you had an emotional attachment to?"

The words hit me like a punch in the stomach.

Everything goes white hot in my brain.

_No. I mustn't think about it._

But I can't stop myself thinking about it. My heart hurts. My long buried memories come back to haunt me with a vengeance. Anger washes through me in a rush, my breathing ramping up fast.

I'm so angry, _angry_ , ANGRY...

" _Fuck, you think you know it all, but you don't know anything about me.._." My angry venom gushes forth at him before I can stop it. I don't know what the hell I'm saying, my head's spinning in confusion.

"Then help me to know more, tell me what happened," he replies gently, taking my sudden nasty outburst in his stride.

"NO!"

I try to stop the ball rolling any further. I may be going through a bad patch at the moment, but that's probably all it is. A bad patch. I'm sure everyone feels this way from time to time, it doesn't mean there's anything fundamentally wrong in my life and it doesn't mean I need therapy. My life has been neat and ordered and I've been managing things in my own way. I've been getting by in life the best way I know.

What the hell am I doing sitting here putting myself through this? I'm here to work, not to have my mind fucked up.

But my confidence and usual composure have evaporated. I can't even think of anything funny or sarcastic to throw back at him.

I can't help feeling like things are starting to unravel. Mr B has picked the thread and it's too late to sew up the hole. The house of sex I've built around myself is beginning to crumble.

I face up to it and dare to look at myself from the outside.

I'm lying myself.

I'm not going through a bad patch at all. My life's not neat and tidy and neither is my head, it's a great big fucking mess, and I goddamn know it.

I don't have anyone I'm really close to.

I don't love anyone and no one loves me.

I have no connection and contact with human beings except sex with random strangers.

I have a job I hate and a boss who treats me like shit.

I have nothing of value in this world.

I'm stewing inside with this dreadful realisation.

Ryan continues to stare at me silently. He's expressionless , evaluating, while my chest heaves with emotion.

His deadly serious, ultra calm attitude makes it all the harder to take. I'm sitting here brewing like a raging storm and he's watching the storm unleash. My anger is rising. I'm angry with everything and especially the person sitting opposite me who's making me feel this way.

"I can see I'm taking you somewhere you don't want to go, but Sammy, you really do need to," he finally says to me quietly.

"Somewhere I don't want to go?" I whisper, with tears coming to my eyes. "You wanna know something, there isn't anywhere for me to go. I don't want to visit my past, to live in my present or even think about my future. No one in the whole world really gives a shit about me and never has. And up till now, I could handle that just fine, just keeping my head above water. But now, now I don't know what to think. How is this helping me? I mean... _fuck all this therapy crap_." I drag my fingers through my hair as my angry voice rises in distress.

"I understand facing things you don't like about your life and yourself hurts. But that's why you're here, to face up to things. We all have to do this at times, don't we? I've done it myself, believe me. Just sit quietly and calm down for a minute, okay?"

I simply cannot sit here another second looking at this man who has got inside my head so fast and made me look in the mirror and see someone I really don't like or want to be. And God knows what he's thinking about me right now. I'm so humiliated with what I've said and sick with myself and worst of all, I hurt really badly, inside my heart. It throbs like it has taken a thump. I'm on the verge of tears and gulp them back hastily.

"I... I..."

I stand up, grab my bag and rush from the room in a blind panic.

"Sammy, please come back," he calls after me.

I break into a run. I'm at the lift and in my room two minutes later.

I lie on my bed fuming and so upset. Hot tears run down my cheeks unchecked. I'm not sure if it's me or him or my over-reaction to him that I'm upset about. The things he said to me, pushing me in all my painful places; the more than pleasant feel of his hand holding mine; the way he looked at me as if he could see all that was, and had ever gone on, inside my head. I'm a complete jumble inside. A messy tangle of raw feelings. Everything about him and what has just taken place makes my heart pound, my emotions run riot and my insides churn physically. I start to feel nauseous.

That was so very heavy. I don't think my mind and stomach's up to another session like that, not even for the sake of some great research.

The minutes pass and I start to calm down. I realise I have a reluctant admiration for my tormentor. What a disturbing and exceptionally intuitive man he is. He pulled the real me out of hiding so effortlessly and had me in a stranglehold after just ten minutes with him. I'm beginning to understand his power. How women give their secrets up so easily. He's receptive, deep, caring and obviously very, very passionate about his work, helping his dysfunctional women get to the bottom of things, and fast.

I lay there, trying to come to terms with everything. But I can't see the wood for the trees.

I'm confused, and stunned.

But more than that, I'm scared about going any further. I don't want to. I'm definitely not going back in time to that moment... when I... when _he_...

_No, Sammy...you don't need to revisit the past._

I barely survived living through it, and there's no point dragging all that hurt up again.

I need to do things my way, whatever that may be.

# 3

We walk around the sex store and I'm examining the items on display with a great deal of interest. I love these places. I could spend all day in here. And right now it's a welcome and lovely distraction after my earlier heavy dose of emotionally charged reality.

It's not just sex toys, it's the other nicer things I like to look at. Lovely scented body lotions in pretty containers with names like, Hot Belly Jelly, naughty phallic candles called Passion Rockets and the gorgeous silky satin red and black lingerie of which there are lots of very provocative sets. Some of which are calling to me to buy them. I sternly tell myself I have quite enough sexy underwear and make my way back to the subject at hand. Nicky hangs around behind me the whole time. I think she'd rather wait outside while I buy her magic wand or whatever it is I choose.

There's dozens of them.

"Any preference for colour?" I ask trying to narrow it down in a subtle way that won't make her turn tail and fly.

"No, any colour will do. What colour's yours?"

"I've got two black and a pink."

"Why d'you need more than one?" she whispers, curiously.

"They've got different parts, see?" I pick two up to show her a simple one and a not so simple one.

" _Jesus._..all those bits and it's so big..." she squeaks and pales in front of my eyes, her gaze glued to the rather large and very purple "All Pleasure Zones" model.

"Don't worry, we're going small and very simple with you, this is for an advanced user." I give her a reassuring wink.

I choose the nicest, plainest, prettiest pink one I can find and place the box on the sales counter. I need to get her out of here soon, it's too much visual exposure for one day. I notice the way she's staring the bondage gear with a look of incredulity and horror on her face. It's actually kind of amusing but on the other hand, I'm concerned what's going through her head.

"C'mon sweetheart. I'll pay and you can pay me back sometime, okay?" I whisper in her ear.

"Thanks," she mutters, now staring at the floor as we approach the counter.

We pay and leave the store with our floral decorated Hand Candy, as it's very quaintly named. It's wrapped in a subtle white carrier bag which unfortunately advertises in substantially large letters, exactly where we've been shopping to everyone in the street. Not that I care about that. I walk along swinging the bag openly. I'm a liberated woman, I don't feel shame about visiting a sex store. I might be feeling shameful about other areas of my life, but not about that.

"Do I need batteries?" she asks me.

"No, they're already inside. Rechargeables. You just charge it up now and then."

I'm not feeling particularly chatty at the moment, but I do my best to converse as we sit in McDonald's eating our quarter pounders with cheese. My late night partying and my sex shrinking has left me strung out and drained. I want to lay down and sleep and recharge my own batteries. But it's only six thirty, a bit too early.

We walk past a convenience store on the way back and pick up a bottle of wine for a few glasses at the hotel.

Half way across the lobby we meet a couple of the other girls going out together, dressed up smartly in dresses and high heels, their hair immaculately styled. They smile thinly and stop to say hello, much more pleasantly to Nicky than to me.

"Been shopping?" Claire asks, giving my PLEASURE PLANET bag raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, just bought myself a new toy. My old one broke from overuse," I say jokily. I expect a laugh or a giggle. After all that was funny, wasn't it? But I don't get one.

"Oh _please_ , give us all a break from your rampant sex life," Claire announces with a look of disgust. She flounces off dragging her friend Joanna with her, the both of them so obviously desperate to escape my presence in case I infect her with something unsavoury.

"Charming!" Nicky says watching the two of them hasten away.

"It's okay. I don't help myself at times. I'm such a smart mouth, I don't think. That's half the problem with my whole life. I just don't think. I act first and think later. Especially about sex. My whole attitude's completely wrong."

Did I really say that out loud? A few hours ago I thought I had a healthy attitude towards sex. My mindset seems to be changing already. Mr B has a damn lot to answer for.

* * *

We sit on my bed and chat. It's odd but I feel so comfortable with her. She's the complete opposite of me but I feel I can say anything to her and she's non judgmental. She just laughs and pats my hand like I'm a precocious child.

"How did you get your magazine job?" she asks.

"I'd just left college and I was doing promo work for clubs. In bars and on the street. I met my boss, Colin, the editor, while I was out one evening and had a laugh and a chat and he told me he had a magazine that needed promotion. He offered me a part time job and I was just out of college and I took it. Then later on he promoted me as his assistant."

"So what kind of stuff do you write about? Is it all about sex?"

"Well, yes, it is a sex magazine after all. But anything in the wider field. And I don't write much myself. I do research. I'm hoping to get some copy out one day though."

_Sooner than one day, in next month's issue, maybe._

"I generally spend my day researching and looking at trends, celebrity sex lives, sex aids, lifestyles, lots of different things. I read books, tons of other mags, all sorts...there's a never ending supply of sex related material everywhere."

"I guess there is," she smiles, sipping at her drink.

"And what about you, where do you work?"

"In a care home for the elderly."

"God you're brave, that must be really hard work." She doesn't look strong enough to cope with all that lifting and whatever it is the oldies need.

"It's more than hard at times, but they have so much to say and give and just want some time, someone to listen to them and to hear about the world. They're lovely folk."

"Well, it's a vocation, that's for sure." And one I don't think I could cope with. She's got more to her than I thought. A deep caring side, physical and inner strength and devotion. And she's now got my admiration.

"It's what keeps me going."

"And what about your husband, how did you meet and get married." This I am most interested in. How such a shy girl could ever have been married is beyond me.

John was my brother Tony's school friend. We grew up in the same street. We were pushed together by our parents really, because they were best friends. And I did like him. But it was never, well...intimate between us. I felt like I was living and sleeping with another brother. I couldn't ever open up in a physical way and he didn't ever encourage me. I can see now we weren't suited, we didn't have that much common ground or even any spark between us. He wasn't ever passionately in love with me and I wasn't in love with him at all."

"Why did you marry him and why did he even ask you?"

"We were young and inexperienced. We thought it was what we wanted. It was exciting being all grown up and getting our own house together. I never had any other boyfriend and he never had any other girlfriend. We were always together from a young age. Holidays, weekends, going out for trips, Sunday dinner, after school..."

"So, you fell into it."

"Kind of. We were definitely encouraged a lot by our parents. They we're the main reason we got married. It was assumed we would."

"Parents don't always help their kids, do they?" That's a big understatement in my opinion.

"I don't blame them really. They thought we were in love. And we should have realised we weren't."

"So now you're after some hot love are you? Some passion and fire. Something to set the sheets alight?"

"Oh funny ha, ha," she snorts. "I realise I need a lot of help there, but it's not just the sex. Most of all I want someone I feel the right things for. Someone who wants me and a man I really want. Not a convenient family arrangement. Maybe someone in my line of work. Another carer or someone who wants to look after others. Someone I can have something deep and meaningful with. I'm prepared to go through all this stuff here to get my view on sex in a better place. Because I know I've got to. I don't think I'll ever be really hot in bed. It's just not me. I'm too shy. I can't talk about it at all. We never did, John and I. Not once. Well, until he told me about his affair. And that I was so crap in bed it was unreal. That hammered a few more nails in my coffin."

"Awww, don't take it to heart. He wasn't right for you. That's all. He didn't understand you. I think things will change if you find someone understanding and patient who _will_ talk to you about it and get you to relax and enjoy it fully."

"I know, I get that we weren't right for each other. But it still hurts. Hopefully I'll get over it in time. But Sammy, who's right for you? What kind of man would you go for, your ideal guy?"

"No one I've met so far." Nor do I want to meet one, I don't think. The problem is, where does that leave me?

I have to admit, privately, to my strong attraction to Dr Sexy. But I don't think he's up for grabs. Definitely not now he knows what a slut I am. Besides, I'm sure he has a hot girlfriend or two tucked away somewhere. But I can still fantasise about him. I like to fantasise. I can be whoever I like and have whoever I want in my imagination.

"Maybe you should date some guys?"

"Mmm...maybe I should. Unfortunately my urge to have sex with them is far stronger than the urge to date and then afterwards, I never want to see them again. I'm like... I'm done, you're dusted... off you go, boy."

"So you associate men with sex and that's all?"

"Yeah...that just about sums it up."

"Oh Sammy, you need to date and talk first. Get to know each other. The other stuff should follow, shouldn't it?"

I smile at her and finish my drink.

"Maybe I could sandwich a little conversation in between the sex. Some interval pillow talk?"

"Oh, ha ha!" she rolls up with loudgiggles.

I may be joking, but it's a hollow joke. I don't find the idea of my sex life very enjoyable or fun-filled anymore. Not now that private session with Ryan has upset my apple-cart. And I've definitely had enough talking about me. I'm sick of myself and self analysing. It's not something I ever do and it's exhausting. I change the subject. "C'mon missy, let's get your your toy out and have a play, shall we?"

" _What? No! I can't possibly do that in front of you,"_ she squeaks as I remove the vibrator from it's bag and look at the box.

"Don't be silly, I'm not expecting you to use it! I'm just going to explain what to do with it, theoretically, and demonstrate how it works. Then you can go and exhaust yourself orgasming all night long."

She giggles again. "You had me going there."

"I hope you will get going— but in private of course. I expect to see a big smile on your face tomorrow or I'm taking it back for a refund. Look..." I point at some small print on the packaging. "Satisfaction guaranteed, so it says here."

She snorts with laughter, flushing pink.

"You know something? I love you already. Maybe we could meet up now and then, after the workshop?"

"Yeah. That'll be nice." I would honestly love to be her friend.

"I'd really like that too. I don't have many younger friends. It's because of where I work, I suppose. The other carers are much older than me."

I remove the very pretty heart decorated Hand Candy from his wrappings. I rather fancy one of these myself, I should have bought two. I turn it on and it buzzes beautifully. I rub it around my hand in demonstration. Just looking at one of these things gets me going. The soft humming sound and the gentle buzz in my hand is pure pleasure. "There, have a play. Like I did. Switch the levels up and down. Use it in between your fingers. On your face. You can get down and dirty later."

After two minutes she looks confident enough. This will soon be her best friend. I'm dead sure of it. This is going to open her up mind and body in more than one sense.

"Do you use it outside or inside mostly?" she asks.

"Wherever and however you like." I'm not sure how much she wants me to say, but being me I give her some real juice. "It's a different feeling orgasming with it inside you, kind of deep and heavy, whereas the clitoral stimulation is much faster and less intense an experience. But that's just me, you may be completely different. Once you've used it a few times you'll get to know what you like anyways. Rub it everywhere, all over you, and I mean _all_ over _every_ part. Close your eyes and pretend it's your dream guy and he's doing all kinds of crazy hot stuff to you. Indulge your wildest fantasies. Just go with it."

She looks at me directly, no blushing at all...and that's a big step forward.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to this now."

"So you should be. You need it. You must be so frustrated."

She pinks up a little. "I know I do. And I am."

My heart swells at what this means to her. I'm so pleased to be of some help to her. Someone as lovely as Nicky deserves something nice in her life. And what's nicer that the big O?

# 4

I enter the workshop the next day with my stomach churning. I'm not sure how Ryan's going to react to me. I'm wishing I hadn't erupted like that, swearing at him and storming off in a dramatic huff. I should have been a lot cooler but my feelings had kinda run away with me.

I'm the first one in, unfortunately, and I arrive at my chair silently and sit down.

I needn't have worried, he's all smiles and beautifully professional.

"Morning, how are you?" he asks, striding up to me.

"Fine thanks," I answer politely, forcing a smile in return.

"Looking forward to today?"

"Of course, who wouldn't be?" My smile widens.

"And you're enjoying it so far?"

"I really am, yes."

"That's good."

He stands in front of me, his hands on his smart suited hips and his eyes on mine. My stomach contracts almost painfully under his handsome, assessing gaze. "Look Sammy..." he begins, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture, "About our session. Please don't be put off by what happened. It's quite normal to be angry or upset like that. It's all part of the process. Don't worry about anything you said at all, it's absolutely fine... we're fine. Okay?" We're interrupted by the arrival of the others.

"Yes. Okay. And thank you." I wish I could have explained myself in full. But I'm grateful. More than grateful. I love the way he has put me at ease.

"We'll talk some more later, at your next session? Hey, good morning ladies..." he announces with his hot smile striding up to meet them. They all filter in and finally, lastly, Nicky arrives at my side. I examine her, looking for clues. She turns my way and from the warm and very satisfied smile she gives me I don't think I need to get a refund today.

" _Cool_ ," I say knowingly, with a wide grin.

"My God in heaven above," she whispers, her eyes wide with self discovery.

"Mmm... told ya..."

Mr B starts his presentation with the mantra.

"Right... so tell me... _what are you_?" he puts his hand to his ear, encouraging our enthusiastic response.

" _I'm very fuckable._ " Resounds around the room. It's impressively loud, so loud I'm sure they could hear it at reception. That should give the concierge something to smile about.

"Sure you are. And that was a superb response. Now on with the show."

Everyone's smiling and definitely ready for Mr B to get stuck into day two.

"This morning we are going to discuss the female body and the sexual process in depth," he says. "Familiarity with the body is essential. We're going to go into physical issues, mental blocks, those irrational fears about bodies and what goes on between them. Anything goes where bodies and sex are concerned today. I want your participation and input, okay? Much more input than yesterday. I was giving you all some leeway, but now we know each other better, we can _talk_ a little more intimately, can't we? Just remember I've heard it all before. Many many times. There's nothing I don't know about female parts, male parts, and your attitude to them. So with that said...let's start with a big and _very_ beautiful photo to get us going _deep, deep, deep_ into woman territory."

He switches on his laptop and it projects onto the white-screen.

_Wow!_

I see a naked woman lying legs wide apart, everything explicitly displaying, hair free, with her fingers on and in herself. From her expression she looks to be in a wild state of rapture, her eyes are closed, her mouth open and she's arching up likes she's coming. It's such an erotic scene, and I'm surprised that seeing a naked woman in the throes of an orgasm is actually a turn on for me. That was unexpected.

"Who's feeling aroused by this?" he asks.

I put my hand up. Of course, I'm the only one who does.

"You're lying to me, girls," he says seriously. "I know you're all having a girly rush. I've tested this image scientifically on a lot of women. And well done for being honest Sammy."

"I'll ask you again. Who's aroused by our hot girl here?"

I smile as the girls tentatively put their fingers and hands up.

"Oh come on, she's worth more enthusiasm, look at the effort she's putting into it for you," he chuckles.

The hands go higher and a few giggles break out.

"It's okay to admit it. And to look at it. Being aroused by it doesn't mean you're attracted to women. This is a powerfully erotic picture which has been designed to arouse you. You may be imagining this is you. And this can and should be you. On your own or with your partner, whenever you like. Feeling high on the gift God has given you. That is, your wonderful female body. _And holy fuck, isn't it goddamn beautiful_?"

My stomach clenches tightly and I'm mentally calling out to him, wrapping him in my arms. I'm so in lust with him. I'm imagining the two of us together and I can't stop doing it. It would be something way too wonderful for words.

Joanna raises her hand.

"Yes, Joanna," he says walking up to her.

"C'mon... we don't all look like her, though, do we?"

We all laugh in agreement, and it goes some way to ease my sexual tension, thank God.

"That's a valid point. Carla's a hot babe and an erotic movie star," he reveals. "We'll discuss the physical soon. Get that all out in the open. All the nuts and bolts. In my experience, it's a big part of being confident during sex. Being completely comfortable with whatever you've got. It actually doesn't matter that you don't look like Carla," he says glancing at her image. "What you've got is unique, perfect and totally you. There's no need to ever be embarrassed or inhibited about any part of you. Sexuality comes from confidence, it's got nothing to do with looks. To give you my own insight into the male perspective, I love the variation in female form. There's no perfect woman in my mind."

He's stroking all my spots so beautifully. I look at the other girls reactions. I'm totally absorbed in them and how they're softening like butter in the sun. Melting over their seats under Mr B's expert confidence building ministrations. I think we're all having wet daydreams.

He rakes his fingers through his hair and brushes it neatly in place.

_God, I so want to fuck up his hair. It's such a gorgeous, thick mop. I want to bury my hands and face in it._

"So who wants to strip off first? Let's compare," he says, tongue in cheek, with a deep chuckle. We all laugh with him, all except for Nicky, that is. She looks so worried, as if she thinks he really means it.

"Nicky honey, chill...I like a joke with my group, that's all. It lightens the tone now and then," he adds after a glance in her direction. Despite her fun filled toy session last night, she's far too introverted in company. Even here she has difficulty, sitting amongst other sexually dysfunctional women. She needs to relax more. She's hunched up and staring at his shoes right now, obviously having difficulty with what's going on. I'm quite worried about her really, she's the only one who is obviously having problems with progression within the group.

His eyes flick to mine, soft and sensual, and something heady and fabulously wild passes between us. I heat up like a torch.

_What was that? No, I'm imagining it, that's all. It's purely wishful thinking. I'm fantasising. And it's very much in the realms of my fantasy alone, I imagine._

He starts to discuss the female body. In very matter-of-fact terms. Like you would discuss a meal on a plate. It's all ' _here's the peas and here's the meat and potatoes_ ' in style. But so very, very coolly done. Not a tinge of embarrassment in his delivery at all. I'm wondering how he does it. In front of eight women, all staring at him, thinking God knows what. I don't think I could do this in front of eight men and I'm pretty damn confident.

After his general overview he covers our erogenous zones in much more painstakingly minute detail. I'm engrossed as he discusses breast sizes, irregularities, nipples, vaginal, labial and clitoral variations, the subject of pubic hair preferences, the elusive G-spot and everything else you could think ever think of.

A lot of close up images and photos are displayed on the screen. I know what he's doing, he's bombarding us with ourselves, all the possible variations of our physical hangups, and presenting them as normal. I understand seeing things you consider scary, unattractive or abnormal over and over de-sensitises you to them and they become acceptable and therefore normal. I'm beyond absorbed in this. And I'm totally captivated in the amazing world of female parts. I wonder how captivated Ryan is? Surely it must dull his appreciation to see this all so explicitly displayed time and time again.

We move on to an even more interesting subject.

That of foreplay and the sexual act from the female point of view.

It's arousal time. Literally, in my case.

We find out what's actually happening inside us when we go through the build up of sexual pleasure. How all the parts knit together and produce the highs in the brain and how that transmits itself within the body. In short, what pleasure and the pinnacle of pleasure, an orgasm, actually is.

"Arousal techniques...now this is something you need to work out for yourselves, we'll talk about that in a minute, but I'll walk you through the general process," he explains. "Okay, mental and physical stimuli...mental and physical stimulation combines some or even all of the five senses to arouse the body. This can be a very intense experience."

As he continues, the words are buzzing in my head and everything else starts to react madly. The effects of looks and words, fingers, taste and tongues, and the parts the penis plays creating friction and pressure, combine with all that female lubrication to explode in my mind. I'm feeling it all so intimately and so personally, as if he's playing all my senses with _his_ fingers and tongue and penis. I'm so damned aroused and hot I'm about to orgasm on the chair.

I don't think I'm the only one. I can see a few heated faces in the group.

I'm really hovering on the edge and desperately trying to calm myself down thinking about boring things like housework and laundry.

We have Carla projected back on the white screen and he points to her hands in demonstration.

"Carla here's pretty aroused, wouldn't you say?" he grins, flaring his eyes suggestively at us. "Who's brave enough to tell me what's she's doing? What's the proper terminology for the game she's playing with herself?"

We're all silent. Obviously no one is brave enough. I decide to keep quiet as well, even though this subject is something I'm very familiar with.

"Oh I see. It's that naughty, dreadful, dirty activity that's never to be mentioned out loud, isn't it? No one _ever_ does it, do they?" A small smile appears on his face. "Masturbation isn't dreadful or dirty or some illicit practice, although it can be incredibly naughty. But that's half the fun. It's the way you get to know yourself. And your needs change over the years so you should do it regularly. And I'm guessing you do actually want to, don't you?" He grins at us all cheekily. We all giggle, even Nicola does. I'm pretty sure I want to do it. And probably a bit too often. "This is the time to practice what I've mentioned in the arousal instruction. Self stimulation has two benefits, you can relieve yourself if you're feeling a little on the frustrated, or horny side, and you can find out what turns you on the most. Unless you know exactly what you like, you can't tell your partner, can you? Some of you may prefer to use sex toys as well as they make things even more fun, others may not. That's your personal preference. But I'd recommend trying one anyway. We'll discuss sex aids in more detail tomorrow morning."

I turn to Nicky and we have a conspiratorial grin before she turns her usual shade of shocking pink.

I'm completely in awe of the truly amazing sex god before us, as he so calmly instructs us with his great wealth of very graphic sexual information. I'm sighing deeply inside with so much pleasure I'm fit to burst. It's as if I've been watching an erotic sex film and I'm high on it and wanting to watch the sequel already. I'm wondering if I could fit in a quick visit to my room to alleviate my growing arousal. Two minutes should do it.

_God, what a fabulous, amazing, hot morning. This'll keep me buzzing till bed time._

* * *

We make our way to lunch and Ryan catches up with me and pulls me to one side.

"Can I ask a favour of you?"

"Ask away," I reply happily. I'm still buzzing so much I think I'd strip on the spot if he asked.

"I've been watching Nicola closely and I think she needs some more help. I'm going to try a relaxation technique, but I need to do it in her room. I'd like you to sit in with us as she seems to have a bond with you. This is purely for support, you understand? You don't need to participate. I'm thinking she may relax far better with another woman around, that's all."

"Absolutely, yes. That's a really good idea, Ryan."

"I'll speak to her after lunch and fit her in before your session, okay?"

"Whatever you like."

"Thanks Samantha."

"Sammy..."

"I like Samantha much better."

"Why?"

"It's a beautiful name, and it suits you, you should use it."

"You think so?" I'm having one of those intimate connection moments again. His eyes are on mine and I can't look away.

"Lunch, _Samantha_." He takes my arm, linking it through his and leads me off towards the dining room. I'm almost on my knees licking his shoes. He's more than a goddamn sex god, he's something wondrous beamed in from another dimension for the female of the species to fantasise over. Six foot something of dark and erotic masculine enjoyment. And I'm definitely enjoying being on his arm right now.

"Got any more lovely compliments up your sleeve?"

"You've had your daily allowance."

"Maybe you can spare me a bonus one later, over a bottle of wine in the bar. Then I can go to bed happy."

He smiles at my cheekiness. I think he appreciates my light-hearted sense of humour. "Actually, I was going to suggest the bar for our session tonight. Unless you want to sit in the meeting room again. It's up to you."

"Let's forget the therapy and get blasted instead. "

"Oh no, you set me a challenge remember?"

"Damn, I did, didn't I? Me and my big mouth."

We're both smiling at each other and all heads turn at our arrival, arm in arm. That should get the tongues wagging nicely.

We all serve ourselves some food and sit together, at a large circular table. And I make sure I get to sit with _my man_. Not that he's my man in reality, not by a long shot, but I feel he's more mine than theirs. We're a little more intimately acquainted.

He's Mr Charming, paying everyone some special attention and dishing up the compliments during our lunch. I feel less special now. I'm a little grouchy and _unspecial_ by the time we return to the meeting room.

He arrives five minutes later with Nicky who looks flushed and worried. I try to make her feel better.

"Please don't fret. It'll be fine."

"I hope so. Thanks so much for offering to sit with me anyway."

"You're welcome. You're my friend. And listen, I want you to get as much as you can out of this, so prepare to loosen up. You'll be with two people who care about you and do a lot of sex, one way or another, so you can say and do anything and it won't upset or shock or us at all."

"What d'you think he's got planned?"

"I don't know."

" _Oh_ _God,_ " she squeaks.

"Stop it, just enjoy it, whatever it is. I know I would."

I squeeze her hand.

Mr B sets off on his afternoon session with a very graphic and blinding photograph which draws collective gasps around the room. Even I gasp. He's a real big guy and very into his sizeable asset.

"Okay...meet my friend Fred. Another _actor_ in the erotic world," he says turning to us all with a broad grin.

"Got any more friends like him?" One of the girls asks giggling.

"Quite a few," he reveals. "I won't ask if Fred arouses your interest. Because I can see he does from your open mouthed expressions."

Personally, I'm not that interested in or too wildly aroused by Fred's ample charms, I'd take Ryan any day. And I haven't even seen him undressed. My growing interest in Ryan has already eclipsed my long term obsessions with David Beckham and Liam Hemsworth. And that's saying something. My eyes are on him continuously, taking in every movement and every word. I'm way more than fascinated and intrigued. I'm becoming totally besotted. His voice, his deeply penetrating looks and his understanding nature have got to me. It's the first time anyone ever has. That in itself makes me feel strange inside. It's not just his sexual appeal either. It's far more than that. And I know I can't ever have him. That makes me want him so much more. I feel bereft of something, somehow.

"This afternoon, we'll discuss the male form, in exactly the same way as we did the female this morning. Nice and detailed...I want lots of questions and participation. Stop me at any time if you have a question." He stands to the side of the white-screen, in his usual relaxed style. "So girls, give me some other names for Fred's outstanding penis..."

For once I keep my thoughts to myself although they're dying to erupt from my mouth... deep-v-diver, lap-rocket, prick, shaft, love-rod, cock, beaver-basher...and some other very unsavoury ones...I'm sure I know more names for a penis than any other woman in this room. Maybe even more than Ryan. But there's nothing to be gained from showing off but contempt and dislike from the women around me. I take a back seat and observe. Ryan doesn't try to involve me at all although he's definitely finding it hard going getting many offerings from the others. He catches my eye and smiles at me, a little wearily, I notice.

We have a real shocker of a male session that actually does get me going with a bang after all. It's the same type of close up detail in images and description. A long and detailed tour of the male parts and their sizes and mind blowing variations.

Thanks to Ryan we all know exactly how it feels to be a man. What it's like to have a hard on; the kind of stimulation that makes it happen. How men like their nipples being sucked as well as their other more prominent parts and every juicy detail about the male ejaculation process that we'd ever need to know and some we probably didn't.

I'm glowing with super-heated sexual appreciation by the time he's finished. I wonder how the hell he does it? I expect it's like falling off a log to him. Simple and entirely natural.

But for the group it was quite something to be on the receiving end of all that. I've been so deep in the zone today, I'm wondering if I'll be able to zone out again. I'm a very experienced woman, and I'm steaming like a kettle. God knows how the others feel. But then again, I'm assuming they're able to see things my way and have nothing blocking their reactions. Perhaps they don't feel as strongly as I do, with their phobias and hang ups. Or perhaps I'm just over-sensitive sexually. I'm very easily turned on and not very easily turned off again.

* * *

The three of us have a quick 'pre-relaxation' drink in the bar after the afternoon session. Ryan and I discuss the day's workshop and have a laugh about a couple of things he said. But Nicky's quiet and reserved. We make our way up in the lift to Nicky's room. I can see and feel the anxiety in her despite the effects of the alcohol.

We go in her room and I stand out of the way, waiting for instructions.

He takes her shaking hand, as he did mine. It's obviously his technique. He's touchy feely. It doesn't mean I'm special in any way, and in that sense, I'm so disappointed.

"Hey, calm down. You might even enjoy it," he assures her with a warm smile.

She laughs, very nervously.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to do anything, you are. We'll wait in the bathroom. Undress completely and get in bed."

I can't see her going for that and she doesn't.

" _What?_ No way!" she says, very obviously horrified.

"We won't see you naked, but you need to be," he explains.

She takes a deep breath. "Do I really?"

"You do. You're going to relax in your most natural state. Unclothed."

"Okay, I'll do it, but I don't like it."

We go in the bathroom and wait for her call.

"Right, I'm in bed."

We come out and approach her as she lies completely hidden under the duvet, her head visible and her fingers gripping the duvet tightly.

Ryan removes his jacket and tie and places them on the chair.

"Samantha, sit next to Nicky on that side of the bed, please. I'll sit here at the end." We both get comfortable. "Now then Nicky, all I want you to do is touch yourself. Anywhere you like and give us a running commentary on what you're doing. Like so. He gives a demonstration, touching his face. "I'm feeling my face. It's smooth and warm, a little rough around the chin and I like the sensation..."

She copies him, touching her face, describing it.

"Good, now move down, touch your neck a little more intimately. Stroke it. Tell me how it feels, how it affects you everywhere else."

My stomach is rolling. I'm wishing he was doing this to me. I'd love some sexual relaxation therapy. But I push my selfish thoughts aside and concentrate on helping Nicky. She's the first person I've ever helped.

"Like this," I say, stroking her neck softly and sensuously with my fingertips. "So it makes you tingle in those other nice places."

"That does, it's lovely. It makes me feel warm and I want more." She strokes her neck and ears for a while, murmuring her thoughts. She's definitely relaxing a lot.

"Close your eyes and keep going, hands down a little lower now, on your breasts, forget we're here and just say what comes into your head," he says.

"I'm touching my breasts, squeezing a little they're soft and I like doing it."

"Do it some more, whatever you want, try and get yourself going. Are you feeling any heat?"

"I'm glowing, everywhere. And I want to feel more of me."

"That's real good, you do that, feel some more," I say encouragingly, smiling at Ryan at the progress she's making.

I can't help my body begin to react to what he's doing. I'm sweating as I look at him, and his eyes meet mine. I slowly tip over the edge of reason. My skin is alive with heat and sensation, and I'm mentally touching everything while he watches me, wildly losing myself in his expression.

"My fingers are going down, over my stomach, I'm rubbing it in circles and now down to my thighs. I'm stroking them," Nicky says, breaking me out of my wild sweat.

"What do those fingers really want to touch?" he asks pointedly.

"Something else."

"What's it called," he whispers.

"That."

"What's your pet name for that?"

"I don't have one."

"Let's call it _your girl_ shall we. I like that name..."

_Jesus and Holy Mother, he's divine..._

"My girl? Okay, I like that too."

"Good, now carry on, keep the warm feelings going. You want more heat and some excitement and lovely things floating in your head."

"Okay, I'm doing it. My fingers are there. I'm touching my girl."

I swallow a groan as his face breaks into a wide grin and my mind starts to explode. I bite my lip and rapidly calm myself, staring at Nicky guiltily.

_This isn't about me, for crissakes._

She's more than excited. Her face is flushed and her lips are parted. I'm absolutely stunned he's got her do this so fast. Actually I'm amazed she's doing it at all.

"Well done Nicky!" I say with a rush of pride at my small part in this amazing event. She couldn't get any more relaxed than this, surely? It's a fucking miracle.

"Open your eyes," he says and they open and stare at him. Her face breaks into a wonderful big smile. I think she's more than lovestruck right now. And so am I.

"Now remember this moment, when we're sitting downstairs in the meeting room. Nothing I say can possibly be more intimate than what you're doing now, can it? So you can speak up and join in and relax completely in my company. Because I'm guessing you had a little problem with me being a guy?"

"I did, yes. Just a little bit."

"And you don't any more, I hope."

"No, you've made me feel really good and all free and flying," she says enthusiastically.

I can't believe she's the same girl. It's like he's pressed a magic button and she's been transformed.

"Don't get too free, as Samantha can tell you, that has it's own problems," he jokes.

"Oi..." I say. "I'm not sure I like that comment actually."

"You can punish me later," he says with a chuckle. "When you abuse me and bite my head off over everything else."

"Don't push me where I don't want to go, then I won't feel the need to abuse you."

"But that's the whole point, isn't it? To be challenged. You need to be pushed out of your comfort zone. Like I pushed you, Nicky. Getting you to face your problems head on. You've faced it really well. You were too shy to even look at me and now you're touching yourself intimately, naked in bed and smiling at me while you're doing it. That's a huge amount of progress. It's the start of your change. Feeling comfortable with yourself in company, doing normal things, having a normal conversation without feeling self conscious. Shyness with sexual matters is very, very common, you know. But don't you worry, Rome wasn't built in a day, just keeping pushing yourself a little at a time and you'll see the results before long." He smiles at her and she smiles back in obvious adoration.

He turns back to me. "And Samantha, today we're going to push you somewhere new."

My stomach tightens and I feel anxious as I look at him. I've no doubt I need pushing somewhere. But I don't think I'll enjoy my therapy session anywhere near as much as Nicky just did.

"Let's have dinner first? Shall we all meet up together at six thirty in the bar?" he suggests.

"That'll be cool," I reply.

"Yes, and thanks so much Ryan," Nicky gushes.

We leave her room and make our way back to ours. We stop at the lift and I press the button.

"Thanks for helping out. We couldn't have done that without you."

"I didn't do much. I was just there, supporting her."

"And I appreciate it. I rarely do things like that and never on my own."

"Well I was happy to sit there and observe a true sex master at work." I grin.

He laughs at me. Then unexpectedly, he leans forward and gives me a hug. I have a rush of heat flood through me at the feel of his body pressing against mine. His scent is overpowering. I breathe him deeply into my lungs. He's so edible. I just want to eat him, every last tiny piece. How I love his simple act of affection. No one ever hugs me much, ever. I want more of it. My head spins in confusion as a rush of feelings swamp me. Life was so much simpler before he started me off down this emotional path.

"You've a deeply caring nature just below the surface. Let it out more," he says,

My heart lurches for the umpteenth time today. I shouldn't take his compliments to heart so much. I know it's just his way.

He pulls away. "My room's just along here. I'd better be getting along because there's bound to be a ton of emails waiting for me. I'll see you later then." And he leaves, strolling off down the corridor.

My lift arrives and I get inside and press my floor button. As I make my way back to my room I'm feeling concerned. Concerned about what he's going to make me reveal and how I'm going to react to revealing it. Everything about him makes me overreact wildly. I'm like a keg of gunpowder waiting for him to light the fuse and blow my composure to kingdom come.

# 5

We're hanging in the bar, chilling after our meal, drinking a couple of glasses of wine and chatting with Ryan like we've known him for years. We discuss his TV show, his new European workshop project, my magazine work and Nicky's care home. He's very easy going and highly interested in us and what we do. Time flies and it's nine o'clock before he gets around to the subject of my therapy.

"Nicky, I'm afraid we'll have to call it a day, it's getting late and I need to give Samantha her session."

"Oh God, you're right, and I've had enough to drink anyway. I feel a bit drunk actually. I don't ever drink this much."

She stands up and looks a little wobbly on her feet as she says goodnight and weaves her way off, unsteadily.

"See you tomorrow," I call after her.

"I'd better see her to her room," Ryan says and follows her up. I sit thinking about what's coming. I know it's all going to be painful, but that's the price I have to pay. It will probably do me some good to get this out. I've already decided I need to and want to. In Ryan I've got the perfect opportunity—an understanding and genuine person to talk to—and I really do need to talk. I'm very aware that this has nothing to do with research and work anymore. I've lost sight of all that. This is just about me. The real side of me that I need to deal with.

A few minutes later he's back downstairs again.

"I'll get us one more drink and we can find somewhere private to talk." He goes to the bar and I watch him with trepidation building fast. He returns with two more glasses of red and we spot a table and small sofa, away from everyone, in the corner. He leads the way and I follow and we get ourselves comfortable. I've noticed he has such lovely hands. Lovely everything. I'm dying to see all his lovely body parts. But I guess I won't.

I slug a good mouthful of my wine down for some more Dutch courage.

"Here we are then..." he begins and then his phone buzzes. "Sorry, just a moment..." he looks at his phone and huffs out a very heavy sigh." I need to make an urgent call." He gets up and walks over to the far window at the back of the bar. I can see he's not happy about something. It's a little heated. He takes a deep breath and forces a smile as he returns to me.

"Bad news?" I ask, nosily.

"Nothing I'm not used to. Just Naomi, having yet another crisis."

"Oh. And who's Naomi?"

"A close friend."

"Your girlfriend?"

"She used to be until four months ago."

"I see, and she still calls you?"

"Usually when she's upset. Which is way too often."

He takes a deep breath and sucks his lips in tightly.

"By the looks of it she's upset you as well, Ryan."

"Not so much."

He's lying. His face is taut and a little angry.

It appears that even sex therapists have relationship difficulties.

"Drink some wine, you look like you need it," I say sympathetically.

He takes a big gulp and then places his glass on the table and turns to me, his former mood quickly restored, with a small grin forming on his handsome mouth.

"Right, where were we? Ah, yes...delving deeply into your past."

He kicks back, into the corner of the sofa, and I move into the opposite one.

"Not taking any notes today?"

"No, we're having a very _casual_ deep talk. I want to know what your life was like when you were thirteen to sixteen. Samantha the teenager. Tell me all about her. Your friends at school, any boyfriends you had and things you liked to do before the sex maniac phase kicked in." He smiles at me and rubs his stubbly chin. That part of him is something I'm dying to rub as well. Actually I just want to get my hands on all of him and rub him to kingdom come.

I smile in return. The sex maniac comment was quite amusing, and true. "I didn't do a lot, as it goes, I wasn't allowed to. My parents are strict Catholics. Everything was by the holy book." Actually it was far worse than by the holy book, but I need to start a bit lighter than the hell-fire and damnation lecture I got over breakfast every day.

"You had a religious childhood, did you?"

"Yes, very."

"And what about your friends? Tell me about them."

"I didn't have friends. Not really."

"None at all?"

"It wasn't through choice. It just turned out that way."

"Why?"

"My dad wouldn't let me go out anywhere, I had to stay at home, on my own, on the farm."

"But at school, you must have had friends there? Boys or girls... someone?"

"No, I went to a school where boys and girls were kept separate. And I was different to the other girls. No one wanted to be friends with me. We lived in the dark ages at home, I had nothing to talk to them about. I was ignored. A lot." The pain resurfaces instantly. The condescending looks and the laughing behind my back. The cruel jibes and nasty, bitchy comments I overheard. I gulp loudly in reaction, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat. My teenage schooldays were not something I have fond memories of. They were torture.

" _Right._..and what about after school activities?" he probes.

"No. Didn't do that kind of stuff."

"Nothing at all? No drama, tennis, piano practice?"

"I wasn't allowed to stay behind. I was expected to be on the school bus with my brother at four every night."

"So what did you do when you got home?"

"I read, did my homework, I had a radio, the chickens to look after, and a pet cat to play with."

"What about TV? Use of a computer?"

"No. We didn't have those things."

"And your brothers? Did they face the same problems as you?"

"They were allowed out more than me. They did football and Scouts and visited their friends from our church."

"So, why were you controlled so strictly, was it purely because you were female?"

"I never questioned it really, but I expect that was the main reason. But I did something which made it all far worse."

Despite the emotional softening of my drink, my stomach's starting to tighten painfully hard. I rub the velvety sofa cushions trying to draw some comfort from somewhere.

This is the part where it's becoming difficult to talk about things.

"Tell me about that event. And take your time, it isn't a race," he says gently, trying to slow me down.

I take a deep breath and begin, slipping further into my unpleasant memories.

"I was just fourteen. Jake was my brother's school friend. He was staying with us while his mum was in hospital. His dad had died, and there was no one else at home, you see. He was nice looking and obviously liked me, because he kept smiling and looking my way. Although I wasn't allowed to talk to him, of course. One evening, My mum sent me to fetch my dad from the workshop, for dinner. And as I crossed the yard, Jake was walking towards me. He said he wanted to talk to me about something important. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me in the small barn. But he didn't say a word. He kissed me and I let him touch me. It was a really big one for a first kiss. The whole tongue sucking thing. And his hands were everywhere, over my tits, under my skirt. I was quite shocked, but even so, I found it thrilling, and wanted to carry on. And it did, for some time. We both got a bit carried away, I was touching him quite intimately too and he was encouraging me. And suddenly there he was, next to us. My dad. He shouted at Jake to go inside and then he shouted at me, slapped my face hard and called me a filthy little bitch... a dirty worthless slut. He said he'd disown me if he could." My stomach lurches at this point. That slap had hurt me so much, but his words had hurt me so much more. I couldn't stop thinking about it for months and months. I'd cringed inside with self loathing and disgust. "After that I had no freedom at all. Not that I had much to begin with. He was determined to keep me locked up and safe from further corruption. And time went on and nothing changed in my life. The other girls at school were growing up all around me. They were young women. They had boyfriends and went to parties. They had their hair styled and wore make up; had their ears pierced and their mum bought them pretty underwear. And all the while I was kept as a child. Ankle socks. Vests. Long hair. No make up. No phone. No TV. No friends. No life except home and schoolwork."

I grind to a painful stop. The memories still hurt me so badly, after all these years. How I hated my school life. In fact I hated my whole childhood, it was miserable and loveless, full of religion and harsh penalties for minor misdemeanours. I now know exactly why I reacted that way in the barn with Jake. Why I was so open to him. I was craving attention and any kind of affection, because I didn't get any from anyone else.

"And all that happened because of one heated kiss? Your mom and dad didn't sit with you and discuss temptations with you, reason with you, explain sex and all those things?" He sounds a little surprised, taken aback by what I've said.

"No, they never discussed anything like that. It was like it didn't exist in our household. I was completely ignorant about it all. I didn't have sex education at school because my dad wouldn't give his permission. And he always looked at me like I was shit on his shoe from that day onwards. He never spoke to me unless he was telling me off about something. He had more time and more affection for the farm dog than he did for me. He never did have a nice thing to say about me, before all that anyway. I don't think he wanted a daughter. I tried to please him by doing really well at school. I wasn't the greatest academic but I did my very best. I hoped I could redeem myself somehow, but I never did. And my mum was well under his thumb. She wouldn't dare go against him in any way. My mum and I were never close at all, she was run off her feet looking after us to his high standards."

He moves closer to me. I pick up my glass and take a big gulp of my wine to bolster my confidence and dull my growing pain. I turn back to him. His eyes are on mine. They're concerned and gentle. I think I'm in love with his eyes.

"And what was your turning point?"

"Going to college. It didn't take long for me to rebel."

"How did it start, your rebellion?"

"I used to earn a little cash on the farm during harvesting and helping my mum out around the house. It was little more than pocket money really. I told mum I was saving towards my future. But actually I spent it all in my lunch hour in town. I got some cheap gear; sexy jeans; short skirts; cute shoes; low cut tops, like the other girls wore. I kept it in my locker at college and changed when I got there. One of the guys seemed to like my new image. We had lunch a few times and I let him go all the way after class in the woods nearby. I decided it wasn't that bad being a dirty little slut after all. And what the hell did it matter, anyway? It all took off after that first time. Another really good looking guy took me to a party and I had sex with him there. My brother heard about what I'd been up to threatened to rat on me. He said I was showing him up and getting a bad rep. But after a while I didn't care what anyone thought anymore. I started coming home in my gear, Dad tried to lock me in and control me. He even had Father George come round and they forced me to repent my sins in the living room. But I'd no interest in the church either. That was just another way to control me. I was sure it was why my dad was so controlling. He took everything in the bible far too literally. But he gave up trying eventually. I went to clubs and parties and all that stuff. God knows how I got through my exams because my mind was otherwise occupied most of the time."

My mind wanders off, back to all that wild orgy like behaviour I got sucked into. The things I did make me feel such disgust. Smoking dope, drinking whisky straight from the bottle, lying on the bed and letting them come at me one after the other. Whatever they wanted to do. How could I have let them do all that to me?

"So you suddenly became too popular did you?"

"Word seemed to spread fast and I was in demand. It wasn't long before all the guys loved me, and all the girls hated me. Not that they ever liked me."

"And these guys made you feel good?"

"At the time I felt more than good. I loved the attention, all the flattery. I couldn't get enough. And I developed a sexy and flirty way of walking and talking that became my trademark. I was on a permanent high. And I was free from him, my dad. I was all grown up and wanted and desired by all these hot guys. And boy, I discovered I really enjoyed the sex and I wanted a whole lot more of that. As much as I could get. I got myself fixed up on the pill, and got a part time job in a pet store. I used the cash to pay for drinking, partying and all that stuff. I was hardly ever at home which suited everyone just fine."

"Did this behaviour continue all through college?"

"Yes and I caught up with the other easy girls fast. Then I carried on getting easier and faster."

My eyes meet his. I feel a little sick inside at what I've told him. He knows about me. Not everything though, I couldn't tell him the really bad stuff. I don't even want to go there myself.

"Samantha, stop and think about this for a minute. How d'you feel about your past right now?"

I pause as my feelings wash through me. A massive tide of them.

"So sad and sick with myself, and so angry with them. My parents. My dad most of all. My heart hurts so bad I can't bear it." My chest heaves with emotion and I'm feeling that intensely angry, painful, stabbing sensation I used to feel years ago. Feelings I've buried for too long.

He sits up straight and takes hold of my arms. "Now listen to me...none of what happened is your fault, you were counter-reacting after being severely repressed for years. That was a crucial time for you, when you should have been experiencing growth at a steady pace. You literally grew up with a bang and didn't know how to handle it all. You're parents should have helped you grow emotionally, helped you through it, instead of isolating you and treating you as if you'd done something wrong. Kissing one boy at the age of fourteen isn't a crime, nor does it make you a potential slut or dirty in any way."

"It's not how things should have been, is it? It's not fair. Why did Dad do that to me? He ruined my childhood. In fact he ruined me completely." I appeal with a breaking voice.

"That I can't say. But all that's happened since is a cycle you couldn't break without wanting to and now you have. That's something positive. Try to draw on that right now. You want things to change, don't you?"

"Yes," I croak as tears start to gather.

His eyes are even softer and I'm drowning in them in my emotional state. My stomach churns and the tears smart at my eyes. Years of misery, pain, and rejection at my fathers hands cut deeply into my heart. The injustice of it all. My brothers' freedom. My mothers unquestioning acceptance of things; she did nothing to stand up to him—my bully of a father. I'm pretty sure she knew how desperately unhappy I was. But he controlled her and me and made me what I am today. A tear trickles down my cheek and I brush it away.

"Do you feel any kind of relief, sharing this with me?" he asks holding my hand.

"I don't know. I can't think straight." Tears start gushing down my cheeks.

"C'mon let's get you to your room. You can let it all out there."

I stand and he leads me away by the hand.

Once inside the lift he hugs me around the shoulders.

"Sshhh, sshhh," he shushes me, trying to calm me down.

"I...can't...shhhh," I say, my sobs building to a crazy crescendo.

He guides my heaving sobbing body down the corridor to my room. I hand him my key and he lets me in.

"Please stay," I say, realising he's not coming in.

"No, I can't."

"Please? I don't want to be alone." I really need some company right now. I take his hand and pull him in and he comes inside my room. I can tell he doesn't want to. I understand it puts him in a compromising position but I need some comfort. And I need it from him.

I step into him and hug him, burying my face in his shoulder. I cry for a while, soaking his shirt, my arms hanging around his waist. And he stands there, a little awkwardly with his arms at his side.

After a minute or two my awareness of him takes over from my distress. The hardness of his body against mine, his warmth and the way he really understands and cares. Everything I've felt over the last two days bubbles up to the surface. My heightened feelings run away with me. I want to do a whole lot more than just hug this wonderful man.

I move my head and breathe in his scent, taking a long deep breath at his neck. I taste his soft skin with my tongue and lick all the way up to his ear.

"Ryan," I murmur his name softly, tightening my hold on him. I'm overcome with need and I'm so hot as a rush of pure desire surges through me.

I feel him tense immediately.

"Samantha, stop that," he says in a hard tone.

I'm so hurt. "You don't think I'm good enough, do you?" I whisper against his ear.

" _Christ,_ " he says harshly, pushing me against the wall. He places his hands either side of my head and stares into my tear filled eyes. "It's got nothing to do with what I think about you. You're my client. I have an ethical code of conduct. I shouldn't even be here." We have a long, deep, tension filled moment. I'm really not sure what he's thinking about me. Or what I'm thinking about him.

"I got carried away and I didn't think. I'm so sorry."

I'm dying of embarrassment.

His voice softens and he tips my chin up. "That's okay, forget it... I'm getting Nicky for you, if I can wake her up."

"No, please don't. She won't understand what I'm feeling. Not like you do. Please stay Ryan. Just sit with me. Don't go." I desperately try to appeal to him, to make him stay. I just want his company, nothing else.

He rakes his hand through his hair as he looks at me. "I really don't want to leave you in this kind of mess, but I've _got_ to go." He seems to be in a real hurry to leave my presence.

"Go then," I snap. "Don't worry about me for a second more of your _expensive fucking time_." My voice rises in distress. I open the door and push him out roughly. As it shuts I sag against it and slide to the floor. My mind is racing and realisation hits me like a ten ton truck.

_Oh my God how could I have done that?_

I've opened up to him, told him all about my less than wonderful, slutty past and then I come onto him.

_Shit and fuck! What must he think? Oh holy hell...Jeesus..._

My stomach churns with self disgust, humiliation and horror. A noisy sob rises in my throat. I give into it and sob myself senseless, falling asleep with exhaustion.

* * *

_I lift my hand and trace the line of his mouth and the curve of his jaw with my finger. I'm holding my breath as I stare into his eyes. I can't see who it is...his face is dark and mysterious and in shadow. His hand wraps around my wrist and he pulls it towards his mouth. He kisses my palm and my fingers one by one and then tells me what I'm dying to hear..._

_I love you, Samantha._

* * *

I awake from my strange dream with a start. It's dark and I'm cold. It takes me a few seconds to realise where I am. And that's on the floor of my hotel room. I ache inside and out and I'm miserable beyond words. I crawl to the bed and drag the duvet over myself. I'm still fully dressed, but I don't care. All I want to do is sleep, to feel warm and to forget.

His rejection stings.

No...it's far more than a sting. It's a throbbing painful kick in the gut. How stupid could I be?

How the hell could I possibly have thought, even for a second, ethics aside, that the famous and exceptionally handsome Ryan Brantwell would ever be interested in me? It's laughable. I'm laughable. In reality, I'm just a pathetic little girl who wants to be swept off her feet by a sexy Prince Charming and he's never going to want someone like me.

I needed a reality check, and didn't I just get one.

As I lie there, desperate for sleep, to escape the thoughts racing through my mind, I'm aware that the events of this evening have shown me something important. I have a change in attitude forming inside me. A new and nicer Samantha is emerging. The real me that's been hiding behind the one my dad created. But to go forward, my whole life needs to change. I must escape my past behaviour somehow. Make a new start. A new job could be the turning point for me. It scares me but in equal measure it appeals so much.

Beginning again, with respect for myself, somewhere no one knows me is my first step forward.

# 6

The next morning I go down to breakfast early with a much hardened heart. I'm not that hungry and force the food down as best I can. After breakfast I venture out for a walk. It's a misty start to the day. The air is fresh and clean and it clears my messy mind. I walk for a half hour in a circuit around the hotel. I'm thinking; things about myself; examining my professional life; my private life. And everything is shit. I really need to escape. To get away. To go somewhere where people don't know of me.

As I return to the hotel I steel myself and muster up my confidence as I arrive at the meeting room.

"Morning," I announce with a forced breeziness to the three people already in the room.

I breathe a sigh of relief that he hasn't arrived yet.

I sit quietly and soon Nicky is at my side. She's a happy girl. I can see she's really buzzing. I wonder if she's been playing with her toy this morning.

"How's things?" I ask her.

"Super. I feel great."

"No hangover?"

"No, I must be getting used to the wild life."

"How lovely for you. I'm glad one of us is feeling good anyway." I reply with heavy sarcasm.

"Oh dear, I'm guessing by your tone it didn't go very well last night?"

Ryan walks into the room and I make sure I respond loudly, for his benefit.

"Not really, I'll tell you later, but my issues are somewhat unresolved." I give him a glare as he looks my way.

He ignores my acid comment and sits down, flipping through a folder.

He starts the day with the mission mindset and the mantra. I hate it all with a vengeance. I refuse to say it. I just scowl at him. This man has upset my equilibrium. It may not have been a great equilibrium to have, but it was all that I knew. Now I don't know where to go from here. Do I go back to my shite job, where my boss sticks his hand up my skirt and probes me whenever he wants. Where I've slept with almost all the men who work there? How can I do that? I'm not me anymore. My whole identity is ripped to shreds and I need a new one but I just don't know how to begin building that.

I manage to rise above my misery when Ryan discusses sex toys with us. I'm pleased to see four of the women raise their hand when he asks if we own one or have ever used a vibrator or something similar. Nicky bravely puts her hand up, with only a slight flush on her cheeks. She's coming on so well. I'm really proud of her. The chat is funny and light-hearted and it does make me feel a bit better. Nicky tries to drag things out of me at break time but I'm not in the mood for a long discussion about me. So we chat about sex toys instead.

After coffee break I half listen and reluctantly participate as all the girls are encouraged to tell their story. They discuss their issues between them. It takes a while and there's a few tears here and there. I manage to last out until we get to Ashley. But I really don't care to listen to her at all. I've got my own hurt to deal with and I know it's far worse than hers. Jesus, I wish I had her huge problems. She goes on and on and on and everyone is so sympathetic and understanding, I want to scream. I know this is the healing side of things and I should stay and go through it myself with the group. But I don't want her to know about me. Or anyone to know about me. I'm ashamed of my past. Deeply ashamed. Suddenly, I've had enough sex therapy. I've overdosed.

I get up, grab my bag and leave without a word. I arrive at the lift fuming, waiting and pressing the button in an angry frenzy, when a strong hand grabs my shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

I turn to face him. "Somewhere else," I grind out.

"I haven't finished with you yet," he says calmly.

"I rather think you have. You made that quite clear. I feel very, very finished with," I snap. He doesn't react, but remains calm and pleasant.

"I've got something in mind that'll help you. Let's talk later, and tidy up your loose ends. Find out where you're going with things from here."

Everything pours out in an emotional plea.

"Oh for God's sake, Ryan. Just let me go home. I feel like I've been pulled through the mill backwards. I've had my face shoved in every shit thing I am and a past that I've tried hard to forget. I'll never be the same again. I can't take any more of your therapy because it hasn't been a great experience so far. I didn't even come here for therapy."

The tears rise again and I sniff them back. My hardened resolve has evaporated in his presence. He places his hands on my shoulders.

"You didn't? So why did you come here?"

"To observe you at work and to understand your clients, to see how they responded. I wanted to write an article about it for my magazine." He gives me a dark and rather concerned look. "Don't worry I wouldn't have mentioned any names I know it's all confidential. It was a general article I was going to write."

"Your reasons for coming aren't really important. What is important is that you really did have problems and those issues are partly resolved. You're half way there."

"Half way is far too painful. And I can't face the other half. I've got to rebuild my whole life."

"I think it could be a very easy half for you. Come back, please. You don't have to tell your story, I understand completely. I'll skip you and Nicky, okay? I don't think she wants to talk about things openly either. Let's finish our day then listen to what I have to say. The new you may be far easier to deal with then."

I take a deep breath and look at him, reconsidering, reluctantly. At this moment I don't know whether I love him or hate him for what he's done to me. A little of both I think.

I try to smile.

Smiling usually makes me feel a little better when I'm down.

His warm eyes light up with relief as he believes he's won me over. But he hasn't really. I'm so wary of him. He's turned my world upside down and although I know it was probably a necessary evil, I'm in two minds, wishing he hadn't.

"That's my Sam. Chin up. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"Oh shut up, Mr Know It All, annoying Dr Sex person you are," I say grumpily, folding my arms and jutting my chin out defiantly.

He cocks his head and stares at me, nipping his lip.

_God I love it when he does that little tooth habit of his._

I'm trying really hard to immunise myself against him, but with his incredibly appealing, heart softening ways and his handsome hot looks, it's damn near impossible.

"It's funny, but you're sweet when you're angry," he reveals. That takes me by surprise.

"Really...sweet? Well, be prepared for a big dose of sugar later."

He laughs loudly, taking my hand and leading me back.

"You can bury me in sugar, if it makes you feel better."

I don't know about me being sweet, he's a great big sweetie himself. I add sweet to his huge list of positive attributes.

We walk in the door and all faces turn towards us.

"Sorry about that girls. He caught me trying to bolt from the stable," I announce as I sit down. A few girls laugh. "Apparently I need some more breaking in." I add.

"What a wit you are," he says grinning.

"It comes so naturally. But that's me all over." I fake smile at him.

He laughs at me, a genuinely amused laugh. I cross my legs and look away, my nose in the air, feigning indifference. Probably not very well.

After Nicky bravely tells her story I feel I've got to. I can't be the only one who doesn't go through healing publicly.

I force myself to give my story, very briefly. I'm not going into much detail with Ashley in the room. There's a bad vibe about her that rubs me up the wrong way. I can't help but feel like she's spiteful and I don't trust her.

Ryan watches me with what looks like admiration in his eyes. Is he impressed with me? That I'm fessing up like the others have? In truth I'm doing this for him just as much as for me. He's helped me get this far and hopefully I can get to the other side without drowning in self pity. The girls are sympathetic. All except her. Ashley sits looking at me with a smug, superior look, as if she's thinking, 'yeah, I knew you were a slut all along.'

_Why does she hate me so much, I don't understand?_

I ignore her as best I can, telling myself she's unimportant and her opinion is irrelevant. From what I gather about the other girls stories, people suffer from all kinds of emotional trauma in life, and these things can affect them very profoundly in the long term. To get over my past, and my trauma, I shouldn't think too much about her judgemental attitude towards me, that's definitely not healthy.

* * *

We all return from lunch happy after a big glass of wine loosens and cheers us.

"Right." He stands at his board and picks up his pen, surveying the line of expectant female faces in front of him. "This is what you've been waiting for girls. The chance to fire your questions."

* * *

NO HOLDS BARRED SEX CHAT

* * *

Okay, I'm seriously interested in this part.

He turns back to us with one of those hot looks he does so well.

"Who wants to start?"

I open my mouth, but I get a 'no' look.

_SO not fair._

Claire puts her hand up.

"Yes Claire, let rip girl."

"Oh ha ha." She giggles. "What do men really want from women?"

"What do we want? ...Enthusiasm...your initiation...some variation on the scene...undressing with the lights on." We all laugh. "The fact of the matter is you don't have to be a whore in the bedroom at all. It's not about going through an ABC of five essential things on a list and performing them to the highest standard. It's more a matter of attitude and approach."

I can almost hear the inner sighs of relief around the room that they don't have to behave like porn stars.

"Looks, touches, a kiss somewhere other than the face, a few appreciative dirty words in his ear. That can get things going like nothing else. It certainly revs my engine. Some spontaneity maybe, if you can fit it in your life. Although sometimes that's not so easy, especially when children are around. But even then you can fit in some fun before bedtime. Jump in the shower with him for ten minutes. Fit a lock on your bedroom door and invite him upstairs for a quick 'massage'. You can work something out to keep things hot and that's so important, girls, and needs to be worked at."

"And how do I refuse advances without upsetting him?" Ashley interrupts.

_God, she's not still going on about her lack of interest in sex._

"Why do you want to refuse?" Ryan asks.

"Not in the mood, tired, whatever?"

"Ashley, I'm coming to understand from all you've been saying that it's not sex you have a problem with. It's your man, period. Come see me later. I have some ideas to help you."

"I don't particularly have a problem with him. I just don't fancy him or want to have sex with him."

"Well that _is_ a problem. And why don't you fancy him?"

"I don't know."

"We'll speak in more depth later and get to the root of this together."

She smiles triumphantly at the thought of getting him to herself at last.

I ask a burning question. On behalf of the other girls, rather than for me.

"What if he suggests something I don't like?"

"Ah yes, now this is a common issue, we've discussed some already...sex toys, masturbation, watching pornography, placing a part of his body in places you don't want or like...those particular things are often cause for female concern. There are so many things you might not like or may find distasteful and each case is very individual. Most couples _are_ experimental to a degree with which they are both comfortable. And there's nothing morally wrong with whatever you want to do. If you both want to try it, try it. But if you don't like it afterwards, just say so. He shouldn't push you to do anything you both know you don't like. And if you don't feel comfortable enough to do it in the first place, tell him why. Communication is key. And by that I don't mean saying, "Fuck off you dirty bastard," he says with a naughty grin. A hot flush rushes through me.

_God, that's one thing I'd never say to him and the things I want to do with this man are very, very dirty._

"What about talking dirty. Can you tell us something more about that? I wouldn't know what to say," one of the girls asks.

"Just whisper in his ear what you want to do to him and then do it, preferably soon afterward. Or better still tell him while you do it. Getting down and dirty with some hot pillow talk. It doesn't have to be full on pornographic detail, but a little base tends to work best. You can usually tell with men if what you're saying hits the spot. We're a little obvious when we're excited. And you may get a big smile and a lot of heated appreciation. And definitely something nice and base whispered in your ear in return."

"What d'you mean by base exactly? Give us an example," she continues.

His face erupts in a smile. "Okay, something like this is very mildly 'dirty'... _I wanna get my hands on you and when you're hard, I'm gonna eat you nice and slow._ No bad words to fret over girls, just base suggestion that you're gonna go down on him. You can make that far dirtier by throwing in some naughty stuff, if you're brave. That's up to you and what you feel comfortable with and what you think he'll like to hear."

My mind wanders off somewhere.

As Ryan talks and reveals more and more of what I imagine is his own self, freely, I'm beginning to understand what I'm missing out on. Sex in a relationship has a lot of things going for it and what I've been doing doesn't. I might know in the practical sense what I'm doing when I'm with a guy, but it's all so functional. Almost sterile. I go down on him; he goes down on me; He puts his dick here and there; I get on top; he gets behind; mutual hand jobs; thumping hard sex; deep tongue twisting. It's like an abstract paint by numbers that don't blend well. Never a beautiful freehand, flowing painting like it should be, because the thing that holds it all together isn't there. Love aside, there's never any real affection in what I've been doing.

At afternoon coffee break Nicky and I finally get round to our chat. I turn my back on Ryan and we stand well apart from the other girls who are surrounding him like he's the sultan of his little sex harem.

I tell her some half truths and tone it all down.

"I ended up in tears and went to my room."

"Oh dear. I'm sorry."

"He thinks I've got daddy issues. My dad and I don't get on that great." Kind of a lie. But I don't want to go into it all.

"Well that's something to work on maybe? Getting on better with him might make you feel better about yourself?"

"Perhaps," I say with a sickening lurch inside. There's no way I even want to look at or speak to my dad let alone get on with him. "Anyway I'm trying hard to get past last night now, we've cleared the air a little this morning and he's finishing things off with me later this afternoon. I have to say, however upset I've been, Ryan's a really okay guy. He's a genuine, caring and lovely person."

"I couldn't agree more. He's way more than okay in my opinion. And you know what, I think he really likes me." Her eyes are obviously glued to him over my shoulder. Although she's been listening, she's hardly been looking at me at all during this entire conversation.

"Errr Nicky..." I try to think of some words to let her down gently.

"He definitely looks at me in that way, haven't you noticed?" she continues with sparkling excited eyes.

"He looks at _everyone_ in that way. He's a bit of a flirt. I'm sure every girl in the room feels special when he looks their way. He wants you feel special, you're his valued, special client, but not _'that'_ kind of __ special. Please don't get hung up on him."

But she doesn't seem to be listening to me. She's well away in the realms of Ryan and Nicky fantasy. She's probably imagining him proposing at the moment.

"I can't stop thinking about him. He's my ideal man. He's a carer. He helps people. He's so good looking and he already knows how to make me relax and what I need, doesn't he? And my God, I'm still stunned at what went on in my room. I'm getting over my sex problems so fast... and it's all down to him."

"Now listen...Ryan isn't going to get together with you. Ever. It's his ethical stance, you see. He's full of professional integrity. Forget him and find someone more down to earth, not a TV sex therapist. It's not your kind of lifestyle really, is it?"

Her face takes on an indignant expression. I'm disagreeing with her, messing up her new fairy tale sex life, and she obviously doesn't like it.

"I don't know yet Sam, but it could be. I'm a lot more open than I was. I'm going to talk to him at the drinks later and see what I think then. I'm seriously considering asking him if I can attend another one of his workshops. I know he's booked solid and I was lucky to get on this one, but maybe he'll fit me in somewhere now that he's more interested in me. I'll get even more out of it the second time around and spend some quality time with him. I want to get to know him better."

_Oh no...she's delusional._

It's time to be more blunt. "It's fifteen hundred quid and hotel expenses on top. Have you got that kind of cash to blow on something that's not going anywhere?"

"I've got savings and it's worth a try. And I really, really like him so much Sammy." Her face is wistful and dreamy.

"Nicky, please, get real. Read my lips. We ALL really, really like him. _It's not gonna happen Nicky_." I raise my voice a little.

"You don't know that," she snaps. "Look, I'm not banking on it, but maybe I'll become more than just a client in time. I'm prepared to give things a go."

I sigh a long sigh. She's obsessed and more than a little naïve, I feel. Not that I was much better last night. Wasn't I thinking just the same thing. That Ryan must really like me, in that way? And just because we had a highly emotional moment together in therapy. I'm still cringing at my desperate come on and his blatant rejection. I'm blaming the wine. I had quite a few glasses. Any thoughts I have about him are staying deep inside my head. I hope and pray Nicky does that too once she's thought things over more.

# 7

He finally wraps it up, in a wonderful Ryan style that has everyone panting adoringly at his feet.

"...Sex should involve all the senses intensely and combined with love it can become a mystical experience. There's no right or wrong way to do it. No perfect body parts to do it with. It's an expression of emotional and physical adoration. I'm hoping you all leave here feeling you are gorgeous, sexual and very fuckable and as a result you can begin to have the best sex you've ever had. That makes my job worth doing..."

I'm sure each and every one of the girls present is imagining him in her arms, and is currently kissing his hot and handsome face in a frenzy.

"So girls, if there's anything you still need to resolve, please come and see me privately. I'm all ears and available to you wherever I am for the next three months. You have my email address, so use it. I'd love to hear how things go for you after this event. And remember I'll still be here in the restaurant at breakfast tomorrow until ten, for your goodbyes, and for anything else you want to say."

A round of thank you's fills the air and the group gather their things together.

He approaches me.

"If you wait in the bar, I'll see Ashley first, okay?"

She gives me another of her superior looks. I smile back, trying very hard to be pleasant. Thank God I don't have to see her for very much longer.

The rest of us leave the room.

I don't want another heated Ryan discussion with Nicky, so I tell her I'll see her at the drinks later, that I'm having a lie down after my last chat with Ryan. It's bound to be draining. Then I go into the cloakrooms to make myself presentable for my last drag through the therapy mill.

Despite the fact I'm dreading it, I need to get this done and dusted. To face everything head on and move on with my life.

I buy myself a large gin and tonic and sit in a very soft and comfortable armchair, in the bar, with my mind racing. My phone has a few messages from my two guys. I text them back, very briefly. I haven't spoken to them for days and I don't really know what to say to them.

I pluck up my courage and send a text to my boss. It's got to be done and there's no time like the present.

_\- I'm leaving. Notice already worked. Don't expect me back, filthy creep._

I breathe a sigh of premature relief. Dirt-bag Smyth is now history The new Samantha is rising like a phoenix from her dirty past into the self-respecting, clean air above; spreading her wings and flying away to her new life. Wherever that is. And it's a big question mark.

He texts me with a shocked reply.

_\- What's the problem? Want a pay rise? Just ask, OK_

_\- No thanks. termination of employment. With immediate effect. Send me my full outstanding pay. And I'd better get an excellent reference. Or else._

_\- Or else what?_

_\- I've got you on my iPhone -Youtube-Facebook-Twitter. It could go viral....._

I haven't 'got him' on anything. But amazingly that little bit of blackmail works a treat.

_\- OK. Give me 24 hours_

* * *

I sit quietly thinking what to do about the very real problem of money. I've got two thousand saved. But it won't last long. My apartment isn't cheap to rent. I'm not going home, that's for sure, I don't think they'd have me anyway. I'll have to start looking straight away for another job. Even a bar job would help the money last longer while I trawl the employment scene. I sip at my drink, steadily, deeply absorbed in mental calculations in my finances.

Ryan touches my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Sam, are you ready?"

"Yep, take a seat."

He sits down opposite me. Straight away I'm sensing something. Something different in his demeanour. His eyes are darting about nervously and he's agitated. It's so out of character. He's normally calm and collected. I wonder what Ashley's session was like. Maybe it was rather difficult, although I can't imagine her ruffling his feathers for a minute.

"You looked miles away," he says, finally focusing on me.

"Yeah, I was thinking. Or worrying, more like. I've just resigned from my job actually."

"You have?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "But why?"

"My boss has been abusing his position for a long time, in a very unwelcome physical sense, I've given him the boot with immediate effect."

"You probably should have done something about that before now. But your resignation is a very convenient development."

"Convenient? Why's that?"

"It means you're available and I was prepared to buy you out of your current position."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'd like you to tour with me."

_"What_? But you don't even know me," I say in shock.

"Come now, I think I do. All that I need to, anyway."

"But surely there must be someone else you can take. Someone you know much better?"

"No. There's no one like you, Samantha Ellis."

My stomach flips wildly with pleasure at those simple words.

"Right... and what do I have to offer that's so special?"

"A lot of things. You're sympathetic and very intuitive. You bonded so well with Nicky, picking up on real problems she had, helping her in the way she needed it and you can help others in similar ways in the future. I'm sure your presence could put the group at ease so much faster than I can alone. You've got humour, a good knowledge of sex, a lack of embarrassment about the subject and I love the way you project your thoughts in the workshop. The fact you've worked as an editorial assistant, on a sex magazine is an added bonus. You've already covered so much in the sex field that we can put our heads together and come up with some great ideas. Plus you've been through some therapy with me, so you know exactly how I do things. I'd like you to work with after-care, with personal sessions and for you to partner with me directly in the workshops. That's what I want from you most of all. Someone who understands me and can buffer between me and the groupies. Although it seems like I'm having a ball with the girls, it can be really hard going at times. I've been thinking about employing a female partner for some time and having you in the workshop has made it so much clearer. All the characteristics I thought would be helpful, you have."

I'm flying inside with this revelation. He makes me sound so useful and talented. And nice. Am I a nice person, I wonder? It's not something I've ever thought about much. Up till now I've never got on with many girls, but I can see I could. And working with him would elevate me to a whole different level.

"But I'm not qualified in therapy of any kind." I point out the obvious big hole in my CV.

"I don't want a qualified partner. I'm the qualified therapist. I want the right personality to share the tour with me. Someone with fresh ideas and attitudes and an ex client like you, with all your positives couldn't be a better choice."

"Excuse me while I pick myself off the floor, will you." I say as I stare open mouthed at him.

"It's not such a shocking suggestion is it? You've dropped into my life with such perfect timing and credentials, I simply can't believe it. I'd really like to take you with me. What do you say? Three months on the road with me. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

"God no, who the hell would be interested in that?" I say with a deadpan expression. But my insides are fit to burst with excitement.

"Yeah, well...I though _you_ might. Isn't this right up your street after all?" He looks so disappointed that I can't wind him up for long.

I touch his hand. "Ryan. I'm joking. I'd absolutely _love_ to go on tour with you. It's just what I need right now. To get away from my fucked-up existence. I'm completely thrilled to bits you've asked."

"Well that's great, Samantha." He smiles so widely I'm dazzled by his smile. Actually, I'm just plain dazzled by him, period. "Let's keep this strictly between ourselves tonight, okay? I'll sort out the details with my agent in L.A. How much did your magazine pay you?"

"Twenty-five grand a year. UK pounds obviously."

"Right, fifteen grand in UK pounds for three months plus all expenses, hotels, personal grooming allowance, and whatever you need to spend on top. What d'you say? It's a good deal."

I'm starting to feel my value. I really am valuable to him. "Make that twenty."

He stares at me, straight-faced for a long moment and I'm concerned I've shot myself in the foot. I stare back equally hard, and grin at him, cheekily, praying it works.

His face breaks into a warm smile. "So you like to drive a hard bargain do you? Okay...I'll go to twenty."

"Damn, that was far too easy. I should have said twenty five." I grin at him even more cheekily.

"Don't push it too hard," he says seriously. "Twenty tops."

"How many workshops and what about time off?"

"Thirteen more. Four days a week. Three days off."

"And what will I do exactly?"

"As I said, just support me, in any way you feel you can, in and out of the workshops. I've got a lot of admin for starters..."

"Oh ha ha, I guess you have. Okay. You have a deal. I accept the position. Whatever it is I'll be doing." I laugh, putting my hand out and he takes it in his and we shake on it. My stomach is churning like never before. I'm over the moon. In fact I'm over Mars.

"What you'll be doing is a great job, I'm absolutely sure of that. So, Samantha Ellis, you are soon to be my partner."

"Your employee you mean."

"No, like I said, you're my _partner._ We're sharing the fees from the workshops so you can consider yourself to be my junior partner for the duration."

"Omigod...I'm a mini Dr Sex."

"No, it's not a Dr Sex tour. But I guess you are a mini Mr B. Personally, I think you'll make a damn fine Miss E." He chuckles.

"Awww, you think?"

_God, he thinks I'm fine? That means hot, or does it?_

Sometimes the American terms he uses can be ambiguous. I need to tell him about that. There were more than a couple of instances in the workshop where what he said was a little off, because of terminology.

"Let's go have a drink to celebrate our union, shall we?"

"Sure but just a quick one."

He leans forward and kisses me briefly on the cheek and then stands offering me his hand. He pulls me up and we approach the bar.

I'm floating. My feet aren't touching the ground. I'm stunned, stunned and even more stunned. But I'm also a little anxious. I sincerely hope I meet his standards. He seems to think I'm able to relate to this world. Maybe he knows me better than I know myself? Up till now I've only ever been invested in me, me and me and now I'm suddenly a carer of others? It's a whole switch in mindset and one I'm very interested in pursuing. How I helped Nicky really made me feel good inside. I want to do this and feel good about my life. This kind of work has a purpose to it.

_Oh dear...Nicky...hmm._

I don't think she's going to be very understanding about this development. How the hell am I going to tell her. Maybe I won't. I push all my concerns out of my mind. I'm having a happy drink.

"What d'you prefer?" he asks.

"Another G&T, please."

He buys us both a G&T and we stand at the end of the bar.

"I've got a ton of essential admin to do, so this has to be a real quick celebration. But we'll talk later, after the get together."

"God, I'm so excited."

"I'm buzzing myself. I'm looking forward to having you around, because to be honest I was beginning to feel that three months on my own could seem like forever."

"Didn't that occur to you before you started out? Don't you have a PA or someone you could have brought along?"

"I did, until three months ago. She gave birth to her first baby and I haven't got round to getting a replacement. Things were kinda busy for me, personally and professionally. I haven't had time to interview anyone yet."

"Oh, I see."

"There was no one else I wanted to have along, to be honest. This tour is something I've been meaning to do for a while. To break out of the US and see how my style of therapy works with European culture and views."

"Are we that different?"

"Yes, from what I have seen this week, the English are more timid in talking about sex. It's as if it's a taboo topic. In the States, sexual experimentation seems to start much younger. But, I can't and won't make final assessment on that until a few more workshops have proven my theory. From research, the Scandinavian countries are far more relaxed than the British. In any case, we have two minds on it now. And I look forward to your opinion. Whatever we find out will be put to good use in my ongoing promotion."

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be really interesting and great fun. You know, I still can't believe it! I hated you this morning. You were an evil bastard making me face up to my past."

"It's the 'blame the therapist' syndrome. I'll have to fill you in on all that kind of thing. Sometimes it's not plain sailing, doing this. In fact it's often very problematic and now and then quite distressing. But it can also be so rewarding. Emotions run high and you need to learn to deal, because you'll see it. Lots of it. And Sam, I didn't _make_ you do any of that. I just asked the questions you needed me to ask. You didn't have to answer any one of them, did you? You faced up to things all by yourself. You've coped a lot better than some, opening up so fast and easily. In fact, your reactions are rare. Sometimes I get a string of long silences and they won't help themselves at all. You've got a lot of courage and I like that."

It's true that I found it easy to talk to him. It all came out in a waterfall. But I'm guessing that was because I'd found the perfect person for me to talk to. And he says such lovely things. He makes me sing inside. But there's something I've just got to say to him.

"Umm, Ryan about the emotional event in my room last night..."

"No problem. It's the other end of the spectrum, the 'love the therapist' syndrome."

I laugh out loud.

"Does it happen a lot?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"I guess having me around might help."

"I'm counting on it. I want you to sit in on all my private sessions. I'm going for zero tolerance as far as hitting on me is concerned."

"It must have been hard having to deal with it. Saying no to highly emotional women like me, in a way that doesn't hurt them."

I put my hand on his arm in a gesture of understanding.

"It can be, and sometimes I really don't want to say no." He puts his on mine.

There's a lot of tension between us. My stomach's tight. I have to lighten the atmosphere.

"Stop flirting with your junior partner, or she'll hit you over the head with your whiteboard."

"That I'd really like to see." He laughs.

"You may well see at some stage, I've got a bit of a temper."

"Yeah, I noticed...I don't think anyone has ever pushed me out of the door quite so hard before. It took me by surprise."

"I'm rough and tough when I'm angry. I'm warning you, watch out for me Mr B, okay."

"Don't worry, I've got my eye on you Miss E."

I've never seen such a blasting wonderful hot smile. He may be flirting like hell, but I'm guessing that's because he's so very happy right now. I'm sure my smile is just as hot because I'm really happy too.

# 8

I stand quietly in the background, with Nicky and the girls, waiting for our host. He arrives at eight fifteen, a quarter of an hour late looking very hot and more casual than usual in a fitted shirt and trousers.

"Sorry I'm late everyone, I was finalising some last minute details with my agent in L.A." He casts a meaningful look in my direction.

He buys us a couple of rounds of drinks and we all congregate in the corner. I chat with two of the girls who haven't joined the Ashley gang. I'm just thinking to myself, I'll have to tone my attitude down, when I realise, actually, I already have. And Ashley aside, I really do want to get on with women now, which is half the battle. The bitchy girls of my schooldays are in my past. I really do want some girlfriends, to share things and have a laugh with.

Everyone seems really positive about what the workshop has done for them and I can see there's a huge difference in the women's attitude. Everyone is so open and free in their conversation. I'm so pleased for Ryan. I'm hoping I can make the whole experience even better somehow. He seems to think I can.

Some time later, I'm dragging Nicky away from Ryan's side before she makes a real fool of herself. What the hell she's said so far, I dread to think, but his face is looking more than strained. She's struggling to shake me off as I steer her towards the lifts. But I hold firm and escort her up to her room. She's a little tanked up. The way she's wobbling all over the place as she walks is a real giveaway.

I'm incredibly tired. What a day it has been. I think I might just turn in early. I've got a lot of organising to do. I need to make a list of essential phone calls and work out what to pack.

Our first workshop is in Manchester next week. I've got four days to sort everything out.

But I've got to sort Nicky out first. I guide her to bed and take her shoes off as she protests about everything, and finally, she gives up the fight and crashes. I make my way back to the lift to say goodnight to whoever's left. As the lift door opens, Ryan steps out in front of me.

"Everyone's off to bed. Is Nicky okay?"

"A little pissed and even more pissed off at being sent to her room, I guess."

"What's with her? She was saying some very odd things tonight."

"She's keen on you."

"I thought she might be."

"You've done amazing things for her, really you have. But she seems to think your attention is more than professional."

"Well it's not."

"I know that, but she doesn't and she ain't listening when I try and change her mind."

"This could be difficult. We don't want to ruin all that good work, do we? Her confidence has developed so fast."

"Tell her you have a girlfriend waiting in L.A. We'll pop that slice of information in the toaster tomorrow morning. Just start talking about her."

"I'll think about it. I don't like lying. Anyway, you want to talk a while?"

"I'm really tired, sorry."

"Just for a few minutes, I want to update you on things."

"Oh come on then. Let's get another drink in the bar."

"I think you've had enough drinks tonight." His voice has a hard edge.

"Have I now? And who's been counting?" My hackles are rising.

"Five doubles," he says pointedly.

_Why the hell was he counting my drinks?_

I'm hardly falling over or in the state Nicky was.

We get in the lift and I turn to face him as he presses the button for my floor.

"Is that a lot? Am I borderline alcohol abusive? Maybe I've had a thrilling few days one way or another and I'm letting my hair down tonight. And maybe I want to have fun before I get all serious and therapist'ish. Besides I enjoy a drink. I rarely get that drunk..."

"Samantha...will you please shut up..." he interrupts, snapping at me.

_What the hell have I said?_

I'm seeing another side to him emerging here. He's a little bit controlling.

"I beg your pardon? Shut up yourself! I think we need to set our professional boundaries, don't we?"

"Absolutely, I'm putting professional boundaries on the top of the agenda."

I feel angry with him for telling me off like I'm a child. I've had enough of that in my life, sitting quietly and behaving myself, with my head bowed and my hands in my lap.

The lift door opens and he walks ahead of me down the corridor, stopping by my door and leaning against the wall. His eyes roam up and down me. He looks so damn sexy, a little bit bad and rakish. Despite my annoyance with him I can't help but respond. How could I not? It's the kind of look that makes my underwear go up in sizzling flames and the buttons pop off my blouse with the wild heaving of my bosom.

I let us in and kick my high heels off. I stand before him, hands on hips and full of heated, passionate, drink fuelled attitude.

"So, what d'you wanna say?" I begin. I must admit my voice is a little slurred. Perhaps five doubles was a little too much after all.

He produces an envelope from his back trouser pocket and places it in my hand. "That's your contract. Read everything and sign both copies. Let me have one back tomorrow."

"God, you don't waste any time, do you?" I say in surprise.

"No. When I want something done. It gets done. And I really wanted this done."

He puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back against the wall and then places his hands either side of my head. It's almost exactly where I stood the night before, in this exact position.

"Oh, funny...this rings a bell." I say, looking into his eyes. They pull me in fast and deep.

"About ethics," he says simply, leaning closer. I can feel his breath on my face.

"What ethics?" I whisper with a pounding heart.

"You're not my client anymore. And neither am I your boss. You're my partner. Are we clear?"

I'm not entirely sure I do understand what he's getting at, I think my head's too fogged by alcohol, but I know what I want to say.

"Clear as crystal," I lie. "So from now on treat me like one. Don't tick me off like I'm a child."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just saying my piece. I don't suppose many women stand up to you do they?"

"You don't seem to have a problem," he snaps back.

I poke him in the shoulder and smile a really wicked G&T induced smile. "No I don't. And isn't this a great start to our first partner meeting? I'm dying for the next item on the agenda."

"I can't explain it, but your smart-ass mouth does things to me," he growls deeply.

His eyes flick down to my currently open mouth. His head moves closer.

_Omigod! What's he doing?_

My stomach flips as his lips touch mine. I close my eyes with a deep sigh. I've never had such a soft kiss as this. Nothing else is touching but our mouths. He gently caresses, back and forth like an exquisite brush of velvet. Everything within me goes up in a sheet of flame. He whispers my name and strokes my parted lips with his. His hot breath scorches me like a torch. My heart is thumping so crazy mad I'm sure he can hear it. I feel faint with heat and the massive blood rush that's tearing around my body.

He smells and feels so delicious. I'm reeling with aroused shock and wanting him so damn bad I could scream. I gasp as his arms wrap around my back and he squashes my breasts tightly to his chest.

_Please, please take me, right now, I'll do anything for you, anything..._

He pulls his head away, breaking the erotic spell between our mouths and looks down into my heated face.

"Very __ serious things," he murmurs.

" _Ryan,_ " I whisper softly, appealing to him to carry on, I want so much more.

And we stare, a long heart pounding stare. Our chests heaving in reaction.

"I'd better go, I'll see you tomorrow, and make sure you bring your _signed_ contract."

He picks up my hand and dots kisses across my knuckles as he looks at me. Then he extracts himself from me and leaves the room. I'm shaking against the wall. My stomach is tied in hot excited knots. Everything else is steaming out of control.

I take a few steps and drop on the bed, stunned and overwhelmed with raging desire.

I didn't think I could get any more stunned today after all that has happened. But I was so wrong.

After I calm down, I'm so full of confusion. What does he really want from me? And what do I want from him? I start to examine things in depth. I hope he's not playing with me. A man of his experience could easily do that, but the way he has expressed his admiration for me, in lots of ways, including intellectually, makes me believe he isn't that kind of man. I don't really know him that well yet, but my God, I really want to.

# 9

I call for Nicky the next morning. She's looking okay, for her second successive night of over indulgence.

"How's things?"

"I don't know. What did I do last night?"

"Nothing really. I got you out in time."

"Oh thank God! I thought I might have said or done something really bad."

"Nope. Don't worry. You didn't." I'm not going to tell her anything about last night. I'm hoping she's seen the light this morning and is over her delusional phase.

"Thanks Sammy. So I don't need to feel embarrassed then?"

"Not at all. No problem."

We arrive in the restaurant.

We both say "Good Morning," to Ryan as he sits reading 'The Times' with some rather sexy glasses on.

Then we help ourselves to the mouthwatering breakfast buffet and sit at his large round table.

He folds his newspaper up and removes his glasses.

"Sleep well?"

"Not really," I say flaring my eyes. "It must have been all those doubles I had, I was way too hot last night and couldn't sleep at all."

I get a raised eyebrow and a loaded look .

"What about you Nicky?" he asks.

"I slept fine," she mumbles staring at the tablecloth and playing with her food with her fork. "And you?"

"I had a lot on my mind, but I managed to get a few hours." His eyes flick back to mine.

I'm feeling awkward. There's a big secret hovering between us. I indulge in some small talk.

"Nice glasses."

"I normally wear contacts."

"And glasses today."

"I give them an airing now and then, and it gives my eyes a rest from the plastic. I only really need them for reading tiny print like that newspaper."

"Yeah, it is a bit tiny," I agree.

"Speaking of tiny print, did you read your contract in full, the last para in particular?"

I glare at him. Why is he bringing this up? Nicky really didn't need to know. I can't look at her.

"Yes, everything's fine. I've signed it," I mumble.

"What contract's that?" Nicky asks him curiously.

"Samantha is going to be touring as my partner for the next few months," he answers.

I definitely can't look at her now.

" _Your partner?_ _What? Why her?_ " her voice rises dramatically.

_Oh God..._

"Why not? And why should that bother you?" he asks quietly, leaning forward, resting his arms on the table.

She turns to look at me and I manage to face her; the teary eyes and her reddened angry face.

"Oh I see. You and him...all you said yesterday was to put me off, because _you_ and _him_ are already..." she pauses, breathing fast, staring down at the table.

"Samantha and I are already what?" Ryan asks her quietly.

"Together."

She looks up at me accusingly.

"Not in the way you're suggesting," he says.

"Don't lie. I know what she's like," she snaps back at him. "But I'm surprised _you'd_ want someone like _her_?" she says, gesturing at me with her head in a very derogatory way.

"Excuse me? Samantha is a wonderful girl and she's been a good friend to you, hasn't she?" he says, obviously making an effort to stay calm.

"A good friend? Huh," she scoffs, with her nose in the air, as if none of that matters anymore.

"Let's change the subject shall we? I don't want it to spoil our breakfast," I say wearily.

"I'm suddenly not hungry any more. I feel sick," Nicky says nastily. It's amazing how rivalry over men can bring out the unpleasant side of women so fast. Even sweet little Nicky has one.

She gets up and leaves the table storming out of our lives. I'm hurt and upset. Whatever is going on between Ryan and I is nothing I planned. She has no claim on him and neither do I. I thought we were friends.

She stops in the doorway as Ashley and two other girls arrive in the dining room. She has a few quick words with them, glares at us and then leaves. Their looks are icy cold as they pass us by. They don't sit at our table, leaving us alone with our thoughts.

"Oh God Ryan, now look what's happened, you shouldn't have mentioned it."

"It's not a secret is it?"

"It was last night."

"At the get together you were still very much my client. Until the moment I put that contract in your hand, when to my mind, you ceased being that. As you've now signed it, it's official. We're partners. I had no reason to keep it a secret from Nicky."

"I couldn't be more pleased about that. I really couldn't. But Nicky's so upset. You know she liked you."

"She just insulted you or didn't you notice?"

"It's not a problem."

"Yes it is. I don't like it and neither should you."

"She's obviously thinking she's a far nicer girl than I am. Why would you want to choose me with my slutty ways?"

_There, I've said it. Voiced my thoughts out loud._

My stomach sucks itself in and I look down at my plate. I'm not hungry anymore either.

"Look at me and listen." I give him my full attention. His eyes are understanding and kind. This is the deep and empathic side of Ryan which I'm coming to know so well. "I'm treating you with respect, because I think you deserve it. You should start to think that way. This is the new you."

"But she has a point," I interrupt.

"No she doesn't. Stop thinking about all that's gone before. There was a reason for that. And that reason wasn't your fault. You're on the way to becoming a new woman. One who I like. I don't know anyone who could possibly complement me better than you. And you appeal to me, in a lot of ways, professionally and personally. I have to admit you're growing on me personally, very fast. So, I'm asking you, please stand up for yourself, I don't want to waste my time being respectful, if you don't take it to heart and respect yourself."

_Oh God, no one has ever said they respected me before, and he really means it._

He holds me in high regard and isn't afraid to say so. And he's right, I need to act that way about myself. My feelings for him take a leap forward. And the fact that I appeal to him personally? I wonder if that's purely as a very good friend or a potential girlfriend?

"Your respect means a lot to me. Thank you," I say in a small choked voice, holding his gaze.

Something so good rises from deep within me and a smile bursts forth on my face. I discover I love being respected by him. Even more than I love his compliments.

"That's better. Much nicer than a self-pitying scowl." He chuckles and winks at me. My heart starts beating fast with joy.

He picks up The Times, puts his glasses on and continues to read, with a little smile on his face.

We both ignore Ashley and the two girls on the other table who finish their breakfast and leave wordlessly.

I don't care about Ashley, but Nicky really hurt me and I'm a little angry about that. But I'm not able to go there just now. I'm building my self esteem first. I'll think on that, for a while.

The final few turn up ten minutes later and join us. We chat for a while and finally they leave too.

We're on our own.

"I need to extend your reservation for another three days, until we leave for Manchester on Sunday," he says, rising from the table.

I follow him to reception where he arranges a room next to his and pays on his credit card.

It all suddenly starts to feel very real. I'm actually on tour with Mr B.

_Oh My God...._

"What's happening today?" I ask as we go up in the lift.

"We'll run through a few things for next week. Nothing too urgent today. But you do need to fix up your wardrobe soon."

"I have some suits and things at home. And I should go to my place for a while anyway. To sort my life out."

"What d'you need to sort?"

"My utility bills. Giving notice to quit my apartment. Redirecting my mail. Putting my things in storage."

"Keep your apartment."

"It's expensive."

"You're getting everything else paid for. You can afford your apartment surely?"

"I suppose I can," I concede. "It would make things simpler."

"Treat it like a long holiday. We'll review things after that."

"Review what things?" My minds starting to race where it has no right to go.

"I don't really want to talk that far ahead."

"But I still need to get my stuff."

"How far away is it?"

"Not far, a half hour on the tube."

"We'll take a cab, you can go pick up your essentials, beautiful."

"You're so full of it aren't you? _Handsome._ "

"Full of what, Sam?"

I laugh as he pats my backside. I kinda like that. A lot.

* * *

We arrive at my old room and I pick up my things and move them to my new one, next door to his.

I feel a sudden burst of happiness and give him a spontaneous hug. "Mr B, you're the partner from heaven."

He presses a playful kiss to my cheek. Our eyes lock and I see something in his that looks like longing. The muscles of my sex clench tightly with wanting him. I watch his eyes close with an instant pounding of my heart and a rampant burning rising in my belly.

_Oh please, yes...let it happen..._

His face is a blur. He smells divine and the touch of his warm lips drives me insane. I can't breathe, my stomach sucks itself in so tightly.

But it's only one softer than soft kiss. Even so it's wildly arousing and sexy. My hormones seem to be high on the sex drug he's drip feeding me.

I run my hands up his back. I can feel how hot he is through his shirt. Shivers of anticipation and desire shoot all over my body. He holds my head against his shoulder and picks up a strand of my long hair winding it round his fingers.

I'm aching for real intimacy with him. That kiss doesn't seem to be the prelude to anything more. But it was so very hot and affectionate. I look up at him in confusion and he smiles at me.

"C'mon, let's go pick up your gear."

* * *

We arrive back at the hotel a couple of hours later with my suitcase, my passport, some personal belongings and various casual clothes Ryan allowed me to bring.

_God, what a fussy dresser._

Everything in my work wardrobe got a no, no, no, no... two dresses and two pairs of shoes were all he liked. I was getting really wound up with him until he explained his thinking more clearly. He was simply saying, I needed a new image for the Groupie workshops, to compliment his smart and professional style. And nice as my stuff was, it wasn't quite right for that. I appreciate his sense of style is a lot more polished than mine and agree to be guided by him.

He's taking me out tomorrow to get me 'outfitted' in a manner more befitting my new station in life.

I leave everything in my room to sort out later and follow him into his room.

"I'm going to sneak a look inside your wardrobe now."

I open it up and after a quick gasp at the amount of pristine suits and shirts he's got hanging inside, I nosily poke around. Then I discover his tie collection and stand there stroking the silk through my hands, sighing with delight.

"Oh, lovely." I pick out a finely striped black and white and hang it over my shoulder kissing its soft smooth sexy surface. "Cool....I just love pale icy blue," I tie that one around my waist. "Mmm, yummy." His lilac one gets a really big kiss, and after I've wrapped it several times around my neck it gets a touch of my tongue on the small pointy end.

"Are you really kissing and licking my ties?" he asks, coming up behind me and unwrapping them.

"I love ties. I've got a bit of a tie fetish actually."

"Please tell me about it. This is a real getting to know you moment."

"Well I love wrapping and tying them around me, and I know it sounds odd, but I really do want to lick them."

"I have to admit this isn't something I've come across before."

"I'd have thought you'd have seen everything by now."

"I'm quite sure I haven't," he chuckles.

What about you? Got any strange 'likes'."

"Nothing like yours, but I do have one special thing I particularly like doing."

My heart's suddenly pounding. I'm dying to hear this.

"What is it?"

"Lying in bed in the dark, listening to heavy rain outside."

I'm surprised at his simple special thing. "Really?"

"I thought it always rained in the U.K. But so far it's been sunny every single day for the last week. It's real disappointing."

He grins at me and I have to laugh.

Are we really discussing the weather?

* * *

That afternoon, I sit at the table in his room and he instructs me in the essentials of my new job. I scan through his mass of emails and see the type of questions he is asked.

"I'll forward all my workshop emails to you. I'd like you to answer them. A lot are common sense and after you've dealt with a few you'll know exactly how to reply. There's often requests for more information, payment options, follow up questions, future dates, all that kind of thing. I really need a new PA because there's way too much admin for me to manage right now. I don't want to be a slave to my computer for hours on end. But for the next three months I'm sure we can manage this fine between us."

"Sure, I'm okay with that. No problem. I'll take it all off you if you like, all I can anyway. I'm used to doing a PA type role and admin."

"That would be much appreciated. Thank you. Now then - just so you know, I'm not looking at making any profit on these workshops. This is a profile and brand building exercise and a fact finding mission. I'm advertising myself and finding out all I can about how I'm received in the different countries. Plus I'm doing some sightseeing in between. It's kind of a working holiday. I'm hoping to get the Dr Sex series aired on European TV, although that project lies sometime in the future. That's where the big money lies, that and my private practice in L.A."

"It's a good concept. Are you doing any more of these tours?"

"Next year, I'll do the same tour. I may even open a short term practice in London eventually. But that's looking much further ahead."

We talk some more about his business, his growth plan and I'm feeling really excited to be part of his professional life for a while. He obviously has a high degree of business acumen as well as all his other talents.

As we sit at dinner in the Dorchester restaurant later that evening, I'm aware of the envious looks from the other female diners. I feel very proud to be with him. Not only is he the smartest most sexy man in the room, he's very pleasant company. He's intelligent, warm, entertaining, enthusiastic and he seems to be very interested in me. I keep thinking about him kissing me.

I want him to do it again, to hug me tight, and make me breathless with desire. I'm hoping that's what's coming.

But I'm out of luck. After dinner I'm escorted to the door of my room.

"I'm having an early night, so see you tomorrow. I'll text you when I'm ready for breakfast in the morning."

"Oh, okay, 'night then."

"Night Sam."

With a quick peck on my cheek we both go to bed. Separately. I can't deny I'm highly disappointed. I was desperately hoping he'd leap on me. I'm confused and don't understand him. Is he taking things slow and respecting me or not really interested in me in that way? I do know one thing, and that is my interest in him is growing faster than I could ever have imagined.

# 10

I twirl for him, for the hundredth time. Actually it's not a hundred, it just feels like that. I've probably tried on a dozen suits so far.

"And?"

He looks up from his phone and his eyes sweep up and down.

"That one's a yes."

_Hallelujah!_

"Is that enough yet? There's four in the basket now. It's a bloody suit fortune you're spending. Austin Reed is on the expensive side of expensive."

"My partner deserves the best and for the record you need at least twice as many outfits as that," He says and nods at the basket. He sits comfortably on the sofa, smiling smugly to himself, as the very helpful sales assistant passes me a two tone pencil dress and a classic black fitted dress with cap sleeves, both with matching jackets. They look lovely, but I'm getting hot, tired and bored dressing and undressing so much, considering only one in three outfits seems to meet with his exacting standards.

"Wonderful," I reply with a sigh of resignation.

"I thought women liked shopping for clothes," he says, his eyes flicking up to mine as he taps out another quick message on his phone.

"I do, but I'd rather be buying designer jeans, sexy shoes and hot underwear."

"You can shop for sex next week. I'll look forward to it."

I laugh at his dry sense of humour.

"We're concentrating solely on professional image today, are we?"

"That's the plan."

I return to the changing cubicle and undress once more, re-emerging in the pencil dress and twirling yet again. This one is tight fitting, and in my opinion, rather sexy for work wear.

His eyes flare with obvious delight. "Samantha, you're such a pleasure to spend a fortune on."

"This one is very me, don't you think?" I put the jacket on to finish the look.

"Mmm, that's one's a definite."

I'm back in the changing room, stripping off again. Wishing I was stripping off elsewhere, for more pleasurable reasons.

Finally we've chosen enough suits and dresses to meet my needs, plus a stack of shirts and three pairs of shoes. When we arrive back at the hotel, at his room, with our multitude of highly expensive bags, I've had quite enough smartness for one day. All I want to do is to slob and chill. I decide to try his bed out for size, and kicking my shoes off, I crawl up it and flop on it face down, burying my nose in the pillows, sneakily breathing in his scent. What a pleasure it is, getting off my feet and sinking into his intimate space. To my delight he flops alongside me.

_This is a very nice development._

He picks up my hand and squeezes it.

_Even nicer._

I turn on my side and absorb his profile. It's something I enjoy looking at a lot.

"I've said it a few times already, but thanks for all my clothes. I know I got a little bored in the end, but I really do appreciate them. I've never had such lovely clothes. Now I can look even smarter than you."

"You think so?" he snorts, with the clear message that he doesn't.

"Why not? Got the monopoly on smartness as well as sex have you?"

"Absolutely."

"You're not that smart, you know," I lie, "you don't shave very often and your hair's everywhere." What am I saying? I love his stubble and his fucked up hair makes me sigh with lust. It's the sexiest smartest messy mop ever.

"My hair's fine. I control it as best I can, it's wavy."

I mess it up.

"Now look at it. What a wavy old mess. Definitely not smart. Have you ever thought of having a crop? That'll solve your problem." I'm trying not to laugh.

To my surprise he messes mine up, even more thoroughly.

"You need a haircut as well, something more stylish and for God's sake get your roots done. You're obviously not a natural blonde are you?"

I laugh out loud at his rude comments, but I'm really annoyed.

"Oh shut the fuck up, will you?"

"Just pointing out a fact. You're not perfect either."

"Ooh...you're such an egotistical bastard, aren't you? I think we need a partnership break already," I say huffily.

"Please yourself, you know where to go for your timeout," he snaps, pointing at the door.

Our special little moment on the bed is obviously spoiled over nothing much more than hair.

I get up and put my shoes on and grabbing all my new bags I leave, saying, "See you later then, _scruffy bastard,_ " just to annoy him more.

For the next fifteen minutes I distract myself, and get my new stuff sorted out, hanging everything up in the wardrobe so it doesn't get any more creased in the bags. Then I line up my shoes. My wardrobe is just as neat as his now. In fact it's even neater. I think he's a tidy freak. Hopefully that doesn't make me one.

I smile to myself. Not only am I going to be smarter, I'm going to be permanently tidier. Not that I'm competitive. Much.

I have a quick shower and put my robe on. It's four in the afternoon when I sit on the bed and call James, my best guy-friend. I'm dying to tell him my news.

"You'll never believe this babe, I'm now a famous sex therapist's business partner."

"You're _what_?" he splutters, breaking into hysterical laughter.

"A sex therapist's business partner..." I repeat, " _isn't that nice!_ " I snort. In seconds I'm almost wetting myself.

It is a highly amusing development in my life, I must admit.

There's a knock at the door, and I'm guessing it's Ryan. I open it and there he is, all smart and completely fuckable and gorgeous. As soon as he smiles, I forgive his insults about my hair and his ego trip completely. He's allowed to have a few faults. God knows I've got enough.

"Come in..." I usher him inside and finish my giggling phone chat. "Gotta go babe, the partner's arrived and duty calls, talk to ya later." I make a kissing sound down the phone and tap end call.

"Who was that?" Ryan asks me. Do I detect an edge to his voice?

"One of my guy friends."

The expression on his face changes to not very happy.

"What's the matter? I was only having a chat with my friend," I explain reasonably with my hands on my hips.

"And what were you talking about with your 'friend' exactly?"

"Nothing much, just having fun and stuff."

"D'you still want to sleep with him?"

The question takes me by surprise but I answer him honestly.

"I don't think I ever did much. I was just there when he was lonely. He initiated it."

"Tell me all about that. Exactly how many times were you _just there_ for this lonely guy, huh?"

_My God, he's so intense and personal. But is that only with me?_

"That's none of your damn business, is it? But it was twice actually, if you really must know."

"What I'd really like to know is how much of a 'new you' you intend to be, Samantha?"

There's no humour in his voice; he's way too serious. My stomach tightens in anxiety.

"I don't know that, but I'll do my best." I'm trying to be as honest as I can.

"What is your best? I need a better answer than that."

"Well I'm sorry, but I can't give you one."

"Make a commitment to yourself in front of me, right now."

"What d'you mean?"

"Tell me that any relationship you enter from this moment forth won't be purely sexual."

"Ryan, I don't know...I can't." I simply can't commit to that at all. I don't know how changed I am.

The new me is far too new to be put on the spot this way. And maybe some of the old me is still hanging around in there somewhere just waiting to screw things up.

His eyes haven't left mine. My chest starts to heave wildly with my breathing as we look at each other. I'm full of longing for him, but he damn well annoys me so much. He overwhelms me with his personal questions. His much too handsome face is so close to mine. He's looking at me with such a deeply probing unblinking gaze, as if he's evaluating every breath I take and assessing my thoughts and answers and reading something very important into them. It's like I'm in therapy. This isn't a conversation or even a discussion, it's the Ryan sex inquisition. I don't want to be under this level of scrutiny. I have a dire need to escape from him again.

Despite the fact I'm in my robe, and naked underneath it, with nothing on my feet, I rush to the door.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere."

His hand grabs my wrist and he swings me around, pulling me into his arms.

My need to escape and my irritation with him evaporates instantly, the moment he holds me close.

_Oh God, how wonderful this feels. I want it far too much._

His breath is warm on my forehead and I can feel his heart beating against my hand.

"No more running away, okay?"

I close my eyes and savour his arousing scent, the hardness of his body and his warmth as it presses against mine. I sigh as his hand strokes up and down my back. It's comforting and affectionate.

I try to explain my friend situation to him.

"James is my friend. I need my friends, don't I? I've only got two."

"Two _male_ friends whom you've slept with," he says pointedly. This fact seems to bother him for some reason.

"James has a girlfriend now, she lives with him. My other friend Simon has relocated to Cardiff with his job. We don't see each other very much, but I like to chat on the phone and find out what they've both been up to. We get on well. They're really okay guys, despite the other stuff."

He seems to lighten up after that is made clear. His eyes search mine and a small and very appealing grin appears on his mouth. I'm so pleased to see some humour returning to his face. He can be so heavy at times. My stomach flips more than pleasantly when I realise why he's smiling.

I know I'm only his partner, plus two brief kisses, but Ryan seems to be highly possessive of me. Despite myself, I quite like that fact actually.

"I'm taking you out somewhere special for dinner tonight, it's our official partnership celebration."

"Oh! That'll be nice."

"Will seven suit you?"

"Whenever you like."

"Ever been to the Ritz?"

"No, but it's supposed to be very upmarket and beautiful, I'll have to find something posh to wear."

He holds me at arms length and runs his eyes over my short white satin robe and bare legs.

"I'd like to see that _,_ although what you have on now has a lot of appeal."

My breathing is taking off into crazy mode again. How long is he going to tease me like this? Hopefully not for a whole three months.

His eyes come back up to mine, slowly. He runs his tongue over his lower lip sensuously. His eyes are burning. I know with absolute certainty he wants me.

"I'm going to work off some excess energy in the gym. And after that I'm having a long hot steam in the sauna."

That idea appeals to me greatly. "I'd like to have a hot steam with y..." He places his finger on my lips, silencing me mid sentence.

"No. I'm going to steam alone. I wanna think."

Then he runs his finger around my chin, my throat and into the low V of my wrapped robe where his fingertip comes to rest. My heart is pounding out of my chest, everything I'm made of is heaving with want, and I'm steaming up so fast I don't think I need a sauna at all. I desperately need him to touch me like this. To go further. All the way further. I want his hands and mouth inside the robe, to feel him holding my bare breasts and kissing them and to hear him say he wants me. His eyes are like torches of desire as they burn into my soul. I reach up and stroke his jaw with my fingers, brushing his hair roughened skin. I'm imagining the feel of that, rubbing against my tender places. I crave all of him so badly. I'm aching for him to do something. He takes my hand and kisses my palm and places it on my breast.

"Later then. Go get swanky." And he leaves me standing in a pool of desire. Ryan has the ability to move me way beyond a normal reaction. I've never been so aware of my feelings as I am with him.

As I flop on my bed I'm overcome with the need for sexual release. I've been such an emotional wreck I haven't touched myself for days, but right now, it all bubbles up and overflows, and I'm in dire need of it. As I probe myself, my fingers slipping into my heated, wet sex, my head is full him, I'm desperate for his touch, more than desperate. I'm aching for it with everything I am. I think of the way he looked at me, his touch on my face and neck. It doesn't take long for me to come, his name a long sigh on my breath. Will that ever happen when he's with me?

_Oh my God, Ryan - if only you knew what I'm feeling about you right now_.

# 11

I'm poshed up nicely in my above the knee black cocktail dress and high heels. I check myself in the mirror. This is perfect for the Ritz. It's smart but sexy and chic and hopefully _swanky_ enough for him. I've curled my hair into loose ringlets and applied a heavier dose of evening make up. I hope this look tips him over the edge although I'm not holding my breath it will. I would have imagined, being a sex therapist, that he would be much less reluctant to have sex with me than he was. But one thing I've discovered about Ryan is that he was not a man who wanted the quick thrill.

I hear the knock at the door and my heart flutters with anticipation.

"Please God. Help me out here?" I whisper to myself before I open the door.

There he stand, the object of my desires, his eyes shining with admiration. I bask in his long devouring look as it travels from my head to my toes.

"Mm-mm, I'm _very_ impressed. And I just love those curls."

I'm thrilled and flattered. Ryan knows how to set the tone from the off.

"Well, you steam up pretty damn fine, don't you?" I admire his smart suit, and his glowing clear complexion, as my eyes glaze over with desire.

"I had an extra long steam with you in mind."

I place a kiss on his very soft clean-shaven cheek and drink in the wave of sublime male fragrance that he's thoughtfully splashed on for me.

_So gorgeous and wonderful. I wish he was really mine and not just my partner. I want this intense, deep thinking man all to myself._

I try not to let my thoughts run away with me. I'm going to be myself, enjoy his company and let him take the lead. He takes my arm and links it through his and we set off down the corridor toward the lifts.

* * *

He holds my hand across the table as we drink our wine and wait for our starter to arrive. There's definitely something different in the air tonight. If I'm not mistaken, this is a very hot date. He's looking at me more intimately and flirting openly - far more obviously than his usual brand of teasing.

_Will my prayers be answered tonight?_

I'm suddenly nervous at the prospect of being with him. Butterflies are going crazy in my stomach. I've never wanted anything so badly in my life as I want him. Yet part of me wonders whether he would enjoy me? As I have only ever been about physical love, am I capable of giving more?

We talk about the food and the wine. But not what could be happening between us. I'm scared to go there. I don't want to assume anything or ruin our evening.

"I'm so full up, I just can't move," I say, giggling with the effects of the wine.

"I'm sure you can manage to shuffle your feet. Up you get, I want a dance with you."

He stands up and holds out his hand and I join him very willingly. We step down to the dance floor. His arm slips around my waist and pulls me in.

_Am I dreaming?_

I lean against him, lay my head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. We move together slowly and I look up at him. He's looking at me in a deep, puzzled kind of way. I smile nervously wondering what's really going on in his head. As my eyes lock onto his, my heart flutters wildly in my chest.

He kisses my forehead and my legs go weak. I have no idea what my feet are doing, they seem to be moving, but I can't feel them anymore. I feel like I'm floating on air.

* * *

As we get in the cab to go back to the hotel, the air is thick with tension. He leans over me and gently kisses my lips and my face. I've not felt this way before, like I'm precious in some way. I more than love the feeling. I want to be held tightly in his arms and to be cherished and wanted by him.

I've never had anyone special like this.

He pulls me close, his arm wrapped around me, anchoring me against his side.

"I had a really lovely time tonight, Ryan."

"So did I, you're good company to be with. More than good," he says, dropping a kiss on my nose.

My stomach clenches tightly.

_He's adorable and dear God, I want him so badly. Please?_

"I need to ask you something," he says.

"Go on."

"If you don't want our relationship to develop any further, please say so right now. It's your decision."

I'm stunned into silence for a moment.

" _What?_ You've got to be kidding me?" I'm almost dying for things to develop.

"I'm not pressuring you into more than you're willing to give."

"Ryan, please...you're not pressuring me. I want you like crazy. You must know that?"

He smiles at me, with the softest expression in his eyes and I'm melting inside.

"You want me like crazy? What does that mean?"

He tucks a wild curl behind my ear.

"It means I want three heated emotional months with you." I feel a great deal of pleasure telling him this.

"You want to get emotional? Are you ready for that?"

"I'm not _that_ girl any more. I want more than just sex."

"Earlier today you weren't willing to commit to that. Look Samantha, I know there's a strong attraction between us, but are you sure you're not just physically motivated here?"

"This is all new to me, but I'm sure there's more going on inside me than physical attraction. I like you a whole lot, you know I do, Ryan. I feel something very special when I'm with you."

"I guess I'll have to trust you, not that I have any choice."

I wonder why he's so concerned about trust and my motives. I'm a small part of his life. Three months as his partner and then I'll be gone. What does it matter really?

"I already trust you, like you and want you. But I want more than that," I say with all honesty.

"That's good to hear, because I want all of you. Straight up, trust and total honesty is what I'm about. Don't screw me around, Sam," he says slowly.

"No... no, I won't, I promise." I feel a rush of the sweetest sensation as expectation waterfalls down my spine. He kisses me gently, his lips teasing mine.

My body burns and my stomach flips wildly in reaction.

I can feel it flowing from him...like an emotional wave...but I already knew that he had feelings for me. All the signs were there.

He wanted me to stay with him, enough to buy me out of my old job, if need be, and to place a contract in my hand in a few short hours; the way he's been looking at me with an intimate, soft expression; his possessive streak where my friends were concerned; the beautiful clothes he's bought me; they were really expensive gifts - he wanted me to look and feel special; taking me out to dinner at an exclusive restaurant and treating me like I'm worth waiting for.

He has a deeper interest in me and this is why he's been holding back. He was giving me a little time to see him in the same way. And I really do. I appreciate him, all of him. His sense of humour, his quick wit, his honesty and intelligence, and his deep understanding of who I am. I'm nervous as I've never allowed my feelings to develop and be connected with anyone like this before sex muddied the waters, but I'm so willing to do this.

Totally willing... to be with him... and so ready for us.

Whatever we are about to become.

* * *

We enter the hotel and go up in the lift. His arm wraps around my waist and he squeezes me against him.

Then we enter his room and he removes his tie and tosses his jacket on the chair. He turns towards me and we look at each other. The air is sizzling between us and all the oxygen is sucked from the room. I can hardly breathe with excitement.

He pulls me to him, and into his arms. His eyes are on mine.

"Sam, stay with me tonight?"

"There's nothing I want more." Thrills flood through me.

And this time there's no soft hesitation. No gentle sweeping of his lips. It's urgent. His mouth finds mine, and his tongue probes inside, roaming harshly and deeply, winding against my own. I gasp in response. Before when he kissed me my legs felt weak and my stomach contracted with lust, but this is a whole different league of kiss. My entire body is melting; pooling in molten desire. As his hands cup my ass, drawing me closer against him, I can instantly feel how much he wants me. His erection presses into my hip and it's so hard. The thought of that hardness pumping inside me is driving me insane. His mouth leaves mine and he draws back a little watching my expression as he slowly moves his hips over mine. The throbbing between my legs is sending me crazy.

"Do that again." I'm gasping with need and dying for it.

He grinds his hips into me really hard.

" _Oh Christ_." Such a surge of heat rushes through me I feel faint. I'm staring into his eyes. Eyes that have darkened with intense desire. His face is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I could look at it for hours.

"I don't know how I've kept my hands off you," he says and his mouth finds mine again. My head reels as he pulls me in, up against his whole body, and into his heat and scent. I wrap my arms around him so tightly. Every gorgeous inch of him is pressing against me everywhere.

Within seconds, the passion is beyond overflowing. The tension between us has been building to the point where I'm ready to explode; to rip his clothes off and suffocate him with my overwhelming raging desire. I'm guessing that's what he wants and what he's planned. To have me dying for his touch and desperate for him. My God, I am. So completely desperate.

Every rational thought I have flies away as his mouth roams around my face, kissing my eyes and my nose. Then he peppers a swathe of little kisses around my jaw and down my neck. I tip my head back inviting more, desperate to be smothered with his kisses, everywhere. All over my body. His hand slips into my hair at the back of my head and he massages my scalp with his fingertips. The whole of my head tingles in thrilled response, my scalp tightening in pleasure. As he kisses and caresses me my feet are leaving the floor. My whole body is floating high with such heated reaction, it's almost too much. His tongue licks at me, probing all around my ear, sending shivers of aching desire up and down my spine.

" _Oh Ryan.._." I whimper. My shaking hands roam all over him pulling his shirt up and sliding underneath. I've never felt desperation like this. A wild need to get my hands everywhere. On everything. And to have his hands all over me.

Feeling my way around, I trail my nails up and down his back, inside his trousers grabbing his ass in a tight grip and massaging him roughly, grinding myself into him.

"Keep doing that _,_ " he groans loudly in my ear.

My nails dig in harder, raking his back and ass in a frenzy. Strange little noises are emerging from my open mouth as he kisses my neck and ear and rubs at my sensitive head, pulling at my hair. My fingers are burning against his hot skin.

Suddenly, my dress is unzipped and it's tugged down my arms and body, falling to my feet. I'm lifted off the floor and thrown across the bed. He arrives above me a second later, his hands either side of my head.

As I lie there in a state of shocked euphoria, I'm completely sure he's even more desperate for me than I am for him.

_"Jesus_ , __ you set me on fire _,_ " he groans. His eyes rake me up and down in a frenzy. The very see through black lace underwear has more than captured his heated attention.

But not for long.

Within one minute he's dispensed with it, wrenching it off, and my shoes fly away across the room. These fast shock tactics are working so well on me.

There I am, naked beneath his gaze, and what I see in his eyes makes me burn hotter than a white flame.

_"Samantha..."_ My name is like a soft caress on his lips. I don't dare breathe and stare unblinking as his eyes fasten on my breasts. His head slowly descends and I cry out as his mouth closes roughly on my nipple. It's already so sensitive, tightened and hard as he nips at it with his teeth.

" _Oh yes.._." My back arches up towards him as wave after wave of sensation shoots down my body and gathers in my sex. My muscles tighten in response, desperate with longing – wanting him inside me with every fibre of my being. He teases that one point of my body mercilessly until I just can't think straight. My mind is focused so intently on the pleasure he is drawing from it, I'm blind to everything else. My breathing is out of control, I'm lost.

Until he moves on and I really start to unravel.

He releases me and his mouth trails down, hovering, breathing, licking, so slowly. It's beyond a wonderful sensation, it's a sublime, soft and wet torture.

"Mmm," I murmur constantly as his mouth works its magic. It's soft and sweet and the most lovely sensation.

He licks and kisses and scrapes his teeth gently over the sensitive softness of my stomach. And then I moan loudly as the tip of his tongue circles around my navel, over and over, sending me spiralling in both pleasure and mad frustration. Everything tenses up hard deep within my sex. God, I want him to do this, to take it slow and to keep feeling this building of delicious heated desire, but at the same time I need more, right now.

He blows a stream of hot breath across the top of my pubic bone, as I lay prone, my arms above my head, unable and unwilling to move.

"D'you like that?"

"God, yes, breathe all over me."

He pushes his nose lower against the seam of my sex and breathes heavily into it.

The sensation is electric.

A loud gasp leaves my mouth. He breathes once more and flicks his tongue over me, the warm wet tip stroking my skin. My mind is reeling, dying for this, whatever he's going to do.

"Mmm, you're gorgeous," he says and dots kisses all around my sex, light fleeting touches of his mouth everywhere. My hips instinctively rise towards him and I open my legs further, subtly telling him I need some really intimate oral contact.

My eye catches his. I feel faint with the heat that rages through my body as we look at each other.

He's hovering an inch above my sex, his tongue running across his lower lip. A hint of a smile appearing.

_Could a man be any sexier, ever? Not possible._

I wait desperately with a pounding heart for his mouth to devour me, widening my legs as far as I can, dying for it to happen. My eyes close as I feel his breath all over my hairless sensitive skin.

Pleasure hits me as a slow, hot sweep of his tongue makes its way down my pubic bone, into my slit, slipping over my clit and probing just inside my vagina.

I can't speak or think, but just heave deep breaths and moan and pray his tongue goes in further. He laps up and down and around, and in between he takes mouthfuls of me, sucking and biting softly. Every part gets attention.

_My God, he's eating me so intensely and beautifully. I feel like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted._

His tongue delves in deep. The feel of it probing inside makes me burn. White light flashes in my brain.

I'm begging him silently to tongue fuck me to death. I'm beyond myself, writhing against him.

" _Yes_...do that." I manage to croak. His mouth and tongue are sending me into a frenzy, I'm feeling so aroused, and I'm peaking. I could easily let myself come right now, but I'm trying not to, I want more of this first.

But he stops and moves away, tantalising and torturing me with his lips and tongue as they brush around my thigh. I'm desperate for his tongue to go back where it was as it laps its way up my stomach and then back to my nipple.

He nips me hard and then sucks and I cry out with pleasurable pain and need. My whole body's going crazy, craving him everywhere.

"O _h God, oh God,_ " I moan, my back arching and my hips rising up to him in need. I desperately have to have a part of this wonderful man inside me or I'm gonna die.

My stomach tenses up so tight as his fingers walk down my body slowly and deliberately and slip into the slick wetness in the folds of my sex. He circles his fingers, brushing my clit gently round and round, bringing me back to my moaning breathless, high state of arousal, and then those gloriously hard fingers sink deep inside me in one gorgeous movement.

"Yes _..._ " I breathe in a wild state of excitement. Heat pours from me. I grab handfuls of his hair as he sucks at my nipple and fingers me slowly and very deeply.

_God in heaven, he knows just what he's doing._

Everything is on fire. I close my eyes and savour the feel of him probing and exploring me. He's making soft appreciative sounds, stroking my clit and feeling inside my wet silky heat.

"I love that." I writhe up to meet his hand.

"Come for me, baby..." His voice is low, and so aroused.

"Yes," I groan, as he thrusts his fingers inside me again and again. I arch against him and writhe around in abandon, absorbing the throbbing heated sensation that's building fast. I'm wild with need, with want and desire. Every cell in my body crying out to get there in desperation. I'm transfixed at the sight of him, still dressed and all over my naked writhing body. His handsome dark head on my breast, sucking, his fingers plunging hard into me. It's much too erotic a scene and he's primed me so damn well.

Then I come hard and fast and lose control of myself.

" _Ryan... God... Baby..._ " I almost shout.

It flows through me like a huge wave crashing on the shore.

As my mind and body fill with pleasure I just can't believe I'm here, and he's doing this to me. Are we really together? Ryan and me? It's all beyond my wildest fantasies. He's beautiful. He's adorable. Actually, he's far more than that, but I just can't think of the word. My brain is sizzling and in a state of overwhelm. I clutch his head in wonder, as I lay there, in ecstasy, pulsating wildly around the hardness of his fingers.

My mind has ceased functioning. And it's a beautiful state of suspension. There's just one thing missing. The feel of his body against mine. The feel of that part of him inside me. Despite my pleasure, everything aches for that, almost painfully.

"I want you. I mean all of you, Ryan," I say dreamily.

Suddenly he stops, slowly withdrawing his fingers. My body is protesting at the loss of their lovely hardness, and in dire need of them back inside me again. I open my eyes. And my eyes widen more and more as he strips off, revealing everything I've been dying to see and touch so badly. He's lean and muscular. There's not an ounce of fat anywhere and I need to feel all of that male hardness against me. My hands are crying out to touch.

"Oh God...you're so hot! Are you for real?"

"This is all me and it's all for you."

The final items of clothing are taken off and he stands before me naked. He's way too gorgeous, and as for his cock...

_Holy...Mother...that just cannot be real._

I kneel up and watch, closely, as he puts a condom on. Where he magically got that from I have no idea and neither do I care. What a glorious sight stands before my eyes.

I grab at his large, hard erection in a state of euphoric arousal, rubbing my face and hands up and down his piece of hot perfection.

I'm thanking God with every breath in my body for giving me three months of this most wondrous thing to play with. I feel above and beyond blessed.

He pushes me back on the bed, a little roughly.

"Oh fucking hell, Sam, I need you, gorgeous thing.." I pull him hard towards me as I lay back.

He leans over me and centres himself. His head is prodding at me, I love the pressure. Once...twice...three times. He's teasing me, making me wait for him. I'm so overexcited I really could faint, my heart's pumping so fast.

His eyes lock onto mine and with a long hard push, he slips inside.

His eyes close and his lips part and a groan of pleasure escapes.

As I look at him, I'm floating away in wonder, I think I've left myself, I'm having an out of body experience with the divine.

He brings me back to earth with a few rocking, adjusting movements against me, and he's right in there, inside me; all the way inside. I'm absolutely full up and the sensation is indescribable. I squeeze at him, clenching my sex muscles in sublime pleasure.

"What a beautiful, tight, fit," he says, opening his eyes, a curve of a smile appearing on his lips.

And then I melt all over as he kisses me long and slow, and it's all the way beyond lovely as he thrusts with long, deep, hard strokes. I'm full to the brim with Ryan. And not just my body. Every part of me is full of him. If this is a dream, it's the best dream I've ever had or ever will. He pauses and thrusts, again and again. It's slow, sensual, and so wonderful. As I rub his back and squeeze his ass and grab everything I've been dying to touch for days, my heart flies so high above. I mess his gorgeous hair madly, caress his smooth face, stroke and kiss his shoulder, neck and ear. The feel of him makes me want to burst with pleasure; the smooth feel of his skin beneath my hands. The masculine body hair. The way his cock is buried deeply inside me and his mouth breathing hot against my ear.

Could anyone or anything be more perfect than this and him?

I squirm up against him, letting go, gyrating my hips in free-flowing ecstasy.

We twine together like a pair of vines and roll over and over. He's leading me somewhere, and I so want to go. Wherever he's going, I'll follow without question because I want to know what's there and to feel everything he wants to give me. I'm sure I won't have experienced any of this before, not in the same way as I will with him.

His hands roam around me and mine around him. His eyes are staring into mine the whole time. It's beyond exciting. And more than that, it's so moving and completely stunning to be watched so intensely.

I kiss him like a crazy woman. His tongue pushes hard against mine in response, probing inside my mouth, wildly, tasting and lapping.

This man is my saviour. He's pulled me out of my pointless cycle of sex and into another blissful realm. This is something I feel is going to change my life forever. He wants me, all of me, more than I've ever given before, more than I even knew there was to give. He's raw and hard and more than a little dominating. And I couldn't love it more.

My legs wrap tightly around his hips as he starts to go harder at me. I absorb his thrusts with so much pleasure inside, I'm stunned and dazed. I can feel him deeply - pushing and pushing - hitting my physical limits over and over. I don't think I've ever enjoyed anything so much in my life as being fucked senseless by Ryan. His scent, his feel and the base, hard way he's pounding at me like he's possessed. He's moving me, twisting me, pushing at my limbs and taking me everywhere, out of myself. We're both moaning, steaming with desire, and the wave approaches fast. The tingling signs of my orgasm rising.

" _Ryan, Oh God...I'm coming..."_

In seconds I explode. Hitting my peak I spasm hard and fast around his cock, as the pleasure swamps me from head to toe. A sublime pressure takes over my sex as he strokes deep inside, on and on and on through my ecstasy...

I'm floating away in his arms, crossing into a world of sweet oblivion.

_It's the most perfect moment in my life. An amazing feeling I'll never, ever forget. Having my first orgasm with Ryan inside me._

It's indelibly printed on my brain for evermore.

We're full of scorching heat, passion and so much affection is flowing in the air that my heart is swamped with him.

I'm praying for so much more of this. This wonderful thing we're doing together. I want to give him everything I can and I want everything he has to give.

I want it all.

I'm scared at how strongly I'm feeling about him.

He raises his head and looks into my eyes.

As I watch his face, I see the passion and pleasure build like a wild storm. My stomach contracts so tightly at the burning look in his eyes. No one has ever looked at me like this before. No one has ever wanted me in this way.

It almost does me in. I'm lost in him and he looks lost in me. It makes my heart fly.

We connect in one blast of such intensity, and he groans deeply as he comes, squeezing me tightly to him.

" _Baby, you're heaven,_ " he whispers, in such a low and soft tone, it makes my heart soar.

I may be his heaven, but I'm fast realising, he's my very own god.

He sinks down, heavily onto my body, his fingertips pressing into my ass roughly, pulling me up against him so hard, penetrating as deeply inside me as he can. He's taken me, and now I know I want to be taken and possessed so damn badly. I never knew I was capable of feeling this way. My stomach, heart and mind reel with wonder and fear of the unknown.

His head slips down to the side of mine and his breath is hot, loud and ragged in my ear.

I listen to it, absorbing every steamy breath and gulp like it's the life blood for my ears.

The pressure of his fingertips eases and his arms move up and wrap around me. He holds me so tightly, his mouth against my neck, hot and wet as he licks me.

I'm floating - weightless, limbless, it's more than wonderful.

"Mmm, you're too beautiful."

I've never felt more special. Everything I consist of is on a high. It's the sweetest drug of words. A drug made from everything beautiful in the whole world mixed together with him.

We don't move or say a word for what seems like an age. I close my eyes in wonder.

Neither of us want to break the spell. Because that's what it was. Spellbinding. Magical.

"I don't think three months is going to be long enough," he says kissing my ear sweetly.

"Mmm, no...definitely not..." I murmur kissing his.

_I'm going to overdose on him. Never leave his body or his bed. we can do intense sex therapy all on our own. Hopefully, permanently._

He reaches across to the house-phone and picks it up, pressing the room service button.

"Room 455. A bottle of your best champagne as soon as possible, please."

I smile very happily at him. I like being looked after in such style, celebrating our first sex with champagne.

"Drinks are on the way, baby."

He slips out of me and off to the bathroom. I cover myself and slide inside the bed. I hear the shower running for a minute or two, then it stops, and a short time later he's back with a white towel wrapping his hips.

I smile with visual pleasure. "You didn't need to wrap me a present." I reach out to pull it off.

"I need to be wearing something when I open the door," he points out reasonably, keeping himself tantalisingly, just out of my reach.

"I suppose so. I just hope it doesn't take too long getting here." I'm impatient to continue with our sexual games and I'm not about to stop mid way.

Fortunately our room service arrives in five minutes and we sip our champagne rather decadently, naked in bed. I manage to get a glass down me before the temptation to do things to him becomes too strong.

He may be Mr B and very knowledgeable about his subject, but I have certain talents of my own. And he's about to get a taste of my talented tongue and a little verbal appreciation thrown in.

I turn to face him and kiss his chest.

"You make me wet just looking at you. I want to kiss everywhere."

I have a long and very thorough kiss, lick and suck, paying special attention to his nipples as I now know he likes that. He's so responsive as I rub and nip at them, he's making deep mmmm sounds, playing with my hair and winding it around his fingers. I slip down his stomach, kissing and licking all over. And then, I arrive at _the_ spot. It's the best spot in the world right now because I'm about to take him somewhere special.

I know he's dying for me to do it. And so am I, equally so. I can see and feel his stomach tensing hard beneath my hands and mouth and his breathing has picked up to a faster pace with his excitement. I run my finger up and down his inner thigh and gently stroke his balls. This is dreamy, he's dreamy. His body is addictive, like a drug, and I'm getting so hooked on him already.

"Ryan, you have the most gorgeous prick," I say staring at it hungrily. "It's extremely edible."

"Go ahead and eat me _._ "

"Mmm." I give him a teaser and slow lick all the way up from the bottom to the tip.

He grabs handfuls of my hair and gives them a little tug. He's telling me he wants me to do more, subtly, as in, get on with the main course, girl.

I smile to myself and make him wait for a few seconds. I breathe on him and rub my tongue over the top. I can tell he's getting to that point where it's hard to keep still as I lick and tantalise. He wants me to take him in.

"D'you want to know when my head's about to explode?"

I laugh at his humour and appreciate his thoughtfulness with a kiss on his stomach.

"No, you can come whenever and wherever you like."

I stop teasing him and let him have what he wants.

I take his hard swollen head in my mouth.

_Christ..._

I don't think there's anything more sublime than what I'm feeling against my tongue right now. I have a long hard suck and his stomach tightens with a deep breath in. Shivers run up and down my spine. I look up at him and our eyes lock. There's nothing more thrilling than having him look at me while I do this.

It's a powerful feeling. A feeling of control, and I like being in control of Ryan right now.

It flows through my body like liquid fire. I can feel the blood pulsing in him, forcing through the veins. My heart's pounding like mad as I run my tongue around and around. I'm taking my time, loving every exploratory moment before I start on him, but I can feel his need so strongly. His body's telling me he's getting impatient and desperate.

Circling my hands around him, I start a slow pumping action in rhythm with my tongue and sucking. I'm lost in what I'm doing, giving it my all, and he's moving up towards me, rising off the bed.

My hand wraps around his balls. I want to feel that delicious tightening up when he comes.

My teeth graze over him and I change my rhythm and he rises even more, I'm sucking a little harder and pumping faster.

"Keep that going, don't stop." His hands are rubbing all over my head, stroking, feeling, pushing.

I'm beyond thrilled to be getting him off like this.

" _You're almost there_ ," he gasps.

He finally loses it. His whole body heaves up wildly at me, his hands gripping my hair hard. I keep going for a few seconds more bringing him right up to the edge.

He tenses all over and I wait for the flow. He sinks back inside my mouth and throat, as far as I can manage.

" _Ahh_ , _fucking hell,_ _baby..._ " I feel the pulsing of his balls and cock in my hands and the first heated rush hits the back of my throat. The soft jerks of his cock as he spills inside me make me flame inside. I can't imagine I could feel much closer to him than I do at this moment. I strain my eyes up to his face. His are closed in rapture, his lips slightly parted, his chest still where his breathing has stopped momentarily. The expression on his face and the little gulp he's just taken move me. Right now, he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I don't want the moment to end.

He finally sighs and opens his eyes and smiles at me in a glazed and very satisfied way. I stroke his balls gently. I've given many a blow job before, but his reaction has moved me off the planet. He seems to be awestruck over what I've done for him. I'm sure Ryan knows all about sexual satisfaction and I'm overwhelmed and quite humbled to be able to make him feel this good. This isn't just about physical skill, it's all about sharing and connecting. How could I have denied myself this wonderful feeling for so long?

I release him and lick my way up his lean muscular body in delight, rubbing him everywhere with my hands..

"Well that was rather lovely, wasn't it?" I say sweetly with a tender kiss on his lips.

"I don't think rather lovely is the right term for that experience."

"Tell me what you'd call it then."

He sighs contentedly and hugs me to his side tightly, kissing my forehead.

"I can't think of anything."

"God, no? The great Ryan Brantwell is speechless after a blow job? Let me call the BBC and CNN right now, this is world breaking news."

He laughs and his hand strokes and massages my breast. He teases my nipple brushing it lightly with his fingertip, watching it harden in a mere second. My nipples are exceptionally responsive. In fact everything on my body is. Especially when he's close to me.

"Simply amazing," he says, his eyes holding mine.

"I made you feel that good?"

"It was so amazing, so powerful, there really aren't words to describe it. My head really did explode. I can't tell you where I went."

I continue to stare in wonder. He's not joking. I really made him feel that good? I have a rush of joy and pleasure flow through me. I lean over him and kiss him long and slow. I'm sure I'm melting into him.

His fingers slip inside me, possessively, probing, exploring and arousing. I love feeling him in there. I adore every little touch on or inside my body. Ryan has shown me so much in such a short time I still can't really believe it.

* * *

We wake up the next day at noon. We'd been up half the night getting to know one another in very intimate detail, so it wasn't surprising we slept in.

His phone buzzes and he picks it up from the bedside table.

I see his face drop.

"Oh no, not Naomi again?" I say.

"No, it's not. _Jesus!_ "

"What's happened?" his face is drained of all colour. "Ryan, tell me. You're worrying me."

He passes his phone to me. "You'd better read this, it explains it very well. It's from my agent."

I read the message.

\- My pal just text me this MIGHTY BIG FUCK UP >> On FB and Twitter >> Famous US Sex therapist beds his sex mad client during a UK therapy session.

I drop the phone. All the blood rushes from my head with shock and then back again in an angry rush.

_"God no!...The bitch..._ It's Ashley, I just know it's her. Sue her. She can't say that about you, can she? It could ruin you."

"I know, and although she's not mentioned us by name, I'm not having you slandered like that either. I'm taking this very seriously. But legalities take some time. We've got workshops lined up and news travels fast. I don't want them to cancel."

"I'm so sorry. I feel like this is all my fault somehow." I feel dreadful. If it wasn't for me he wouldn't be in this situation.

"No it's not. How is it your fault? I offered you the job. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have mentioned it to Nicky. In general I like to be upfront about things. That's the way I work... but sometimes it's obviously better to keep things quiet. I've learnt my lesson."

"What are we going to do, Ry?"

"I don't know yet, I'm still can't see past the _MIGHTY BIG FUCK UP_."

I watch his face. I can see his mind ticking over behind the deadly serious façade.

"We can put up a more interesting announcement to drown that one out."

"But people always believe the worse, Sam. What could we possibly say?"

"I'm sure people will be very interested that Dr Sex has a partner."

"People already know. It was announced yesterday morning."

"You didn't tell me."

"My agent did it. He felt it was newsworthy. To be honest, I didn't intend to make an announcement for our short term venture."

"D'you think that's what made her do this? Ashley could have seen it and wanted to hurt us?"

"Possibly. I don't know. The timing's a real coincidence."

"I never liked her and she made it plain she never liked me, but why would she want to hurt you, Ryan?" I'm wondering out loud. Why the hell would she want to ruin him? Everyone loved Ryan. I thought she did.

"I don't think she got what she needed from me at the workshop. It happens now and then. I can't help everyone."

"What did she need exactly?"

"An instant solution with no work on her part."

"What was her problem?"

"Despite what we think she's done here, I can't tell you. You were a client then and I don't have her permission. It's confidential."

"Ryan please, come on. I won't tell anyone, I swear. I'm bound by your confidentiality agreement, anything you tell me about clients, blah blah...small print stuff. I read the contract fully you know?"

"I guess you're right on that point, actually. It's only my opinion, but I think she's lost her libido, that's all. I think she might need medication... HRT."

"Oh, so it wasn't her partner then?"

"It could be partly the cause, I get the impression they don't have a great relationship. But I feel the hormonal issue is the main one here. She has no desire for sex at all. She's not even self satisfying. At 37 that's not normal. She could be going through an early menopause or something. It's quite common. I told her to visit her doctor to get checked out, and if tests proved normal I'd look into things again for her."

"Well that's more than you needed to do Ryan. She should be happy with that."

"I think so too. I was very pleasant and understanding with her, but I couldn't give her a solution on the spot. I don't think she liked the fact she didn't get an instant return on her investment."

"Ryan believe me she got a lot out of that workshop. We all did. It was worth every penny. We all loved it... It was fantastic. I thought I knew a lot about sex, but believe me you taught me a damn lot. It really was fantastic."

"That's the first time you've said that. I appreciate your feedback, I really do, I know that it's going to be even better with you on board. If there are any workshops in the future, that is..."

"I guess that's the point, isn't it? We're stuck then, unless you can think of a good comeback to her lies."

"Sex and scandal speak so much louder than anything else, there isn't anything that can top it."

"I don't believe that. There must be something?"

"Well nothing springs to mind." He pauses. "Actually... yes there is... we could announce our engagement. How d'you feel about that?"

_WHAT THE FUCK!?!_

" _Don't be ridiculous,_ " I gasp. "Why on earth did you suddenly think of that?" My brain is white hot with shock at the suggestion.

He doesn't look too impressed with my initial reaction and gives me a look of reprove.

"It's not ridiculous at all. Unethical sex leads to true love and a marriage proposal. Reputation restored, hopefully."

"No one will believe that. No way. Ashley, Nicky and the other girls won't. It's crazy!"

"I don't give a fuck what they think. We can be very convincing to the rest of the world. That's what I'm most concerned about. I've let this monster loose and I'm going to cage it. Obviously our engagement would be a fake one, but it's your decision, Sam. The ball's in your court."

"Hmm, and what a decision! _God!_ Let me think about it for a minute."

His eyes are on me, his expression unreadable. Heaven help me, I'm coming around to his way of thinking very fast indeed. The prospect of being fake engaged to Ryan is more than appealing.

_Being entirely honest with myself here... I'd LOVE to be fake engaged to this man. And who wouldn't?_

"A personal relationship might work even better than a partner in the workshops too. It's more intimate.,, Mmm... okay then.... I'm up for it. Let's do it. This could well be the answer, Ry," I grin, very modestly, feeling far happier than I can tell him.

"Baby... you're a wonderful woman." He gives me a big, very thankful kiss, which curls my toes to the point of orgasm, and then follows up with a dozen more little pecks all over my face.

"How long would we need to continue with it? Being engaged, I mean?" I murmur through the haze of kisses.

"The three months we're together. Maybe you can come to L.A. for a while after the tour. Let's see how it goes, shall we?" He leans up on his elbow and draws circles on my stomach with his fingertip.

"I'd love to visit L.A. But I agree, we can't make plans that far ahead. We might hate the sight of each other by then."

"I hardly think I'll ever hate the sight of you," he adds pointedly, dropping a kiss on my bare breast. Then he suddenly stills. " _Oh fuck.._.there's one big problem with my idea... what about her? The thorn in my side..."

"Who...?"

"Who do you think...? Naomi."

I'm bristling at the sound of her name already, but try to keep my cool. "Ryan, is she your ex girlfriend or not?" I ask him calmly.

"Of course she is. But she's not going to like this. It's too soon after we've broken up to announce I'm engaged to someone. I'm concerned enough about her as it is."

"Were you engaged to her then?"

"No, but we did discuss it, but that was before things went wrong, or to be more precise, before she went all-out wrong." His face takes on a steely expression, which quickly shifts to pained. Every time he mentions her name he gets angry and hurt. I'd really like to know why.

"Can you tell me what happened between you and Naomi? I'd like to understand... you know...?"

He brushes my question away with a sweep of his hand.

"It's complicated. I will tell you, but another time."

My mind is definitely whirring away about the two of them. What they were to each other and what went so wrong with her? It was obviously a very serious relationship if he was considering marriage.

I sigh deeply. "Look, isn't this situation a little too important to worry about your ex's feelings?" I point out.

"Yes, but despite everything, I'm still worried about her. I don't know what she'll do."

"And you might be finished professionally, through no fault of your own. How worried will _you_ be after that?" I remind him in a stronger tone of voice. He gives me a dark look and purses his lips. I know he's struggling. It must be really hard for him to make this call. I don't want him to stress even more. I concede the issue, begrudgingly. "Okay, let's think of something else then. We can't do anything that might cause Naomi problems, can we?"

He pauses, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes on mine. He's assessing the risk, and I think, seriously considering his standpoint.

"No, you're right... it's our only option short term. I can't be responsible for her forever. She's made her own bed and I guess she's got to lie in it. Naomi will have to learn to deal. That may be a new concept for her... " he drags his fingers through his hair, "Shit... why am I thinking about her anyway? She really doesn't deserve any consideration from me."

He's suddenly turned a full 180 and is full of bright enthusiasm. The way his emotions change so fast gives me whiplash at times. One minute light and flirty, the next insanely jealous. He's a complex man with many sides to him and I know I'm just scratching the surface of Ryan. I wonder how deep he goes?

He gets up and pulls me out of bed. "C'mon, let's get showered and go buy you a ring. We can get the news broadcast on the media in a couple of hours. I'll ask my agent to do a press release and fill him in on everything."

# 12

It's actually quite sad that I'm now in Tiffany's, choosing a diamond for my fake engagement, and enjoying the occasion so much. But what the hell, at least I'll experience having a rock on my finger and a few months of blissful fantasy with my fake fiancé. That's my method of thinking, I'm drawing on the positive here. Who knows, it may be the only chance I'll ever have to be engaged.

The sales assistant has laid out two royal blue velvet trays of platinum and diamond solitaires before us. Ryan asks if we can have a private minute to choose. He leans on the counter, his arm around my waist, hugging me closely and pecking at my cheek constantly.

"Okay, don't overdo it, babe, one kiss will do for this part of the show," I say, with a calm I don't feel, enjoying every kiss and hot breath on my ear and neck.

"It's not for show...I just like doing it."

I smile at him, as actually I like being kissed constantly for no real reason whatsoever.

He watches as I run my finger over the diamonds and try a few on for size.

"I quite like this one." I pick one up and offer it to him. It's a fairly small diamond, but probably still horrendously expensive. I feel a hot flush of shock run through me as I dare to look at a few price tags.

He takes it from me and examines it and looks at the price. "No, not good enough. We need a better one. You're _my_ fiancée and I wouldn't do that on the cheap."

I'm very pleased he doesn't want me on the cheap. I pick another one I really do like a lot more, trying it on and staring at it in awe. It's a very big rock. A 3 carat-beauty that is calling out to me louder and louder 'I'm the one' with every twinkle of light on it's perfectly cut surface. I try not to look at the price, but fail and gasp out loud.

_Jeee...sus...thirty grand...!_

I place it in his hand, tentatively.

"What about this one?"

"That's more like it. That's what I call a _real_ diamond. It'll look far more convincing in the photos."

"Can I keep it?" I ask quietly. "You know...afterwards?" I expect him to laugh at my cheek and say 'NO, and _what the fuck, woman_?' But he doesn't.

"Sure you can, it's yours, for doing this for me. I appreciate it far more than you realise." My heart squeezes tightly at his lovely words.

Unceremoniously, he takes my hand and slips it on my finger. "Sooo... were engaged." His face lights up as he smiles. God, will I ever get over that completely heartstopping smile. My stomach flips everywhere and my heart thumps so hard, I'm almost breathless.

"So when's the wedding?" I mutter, trying to pull myself together. I'm telling myself it's ridiculous to be getting so emotional over a fake engagement.

"Don't be funny."

"I'm not, I'm being serious, Ryan. People will want to know."

He rubs his chin. "Yeah...I guess they will. Let's say six months time, in L.A. Now let me take a photo of that splendid finger."

"But you haven't paid for it. It's not even ours yet!"

"Never mind that minor fact, speed is f the essence." He takes a photo on his phone, and I watch as he uploads it to Facebook, tapping out a quick engagement announcement on his status update.

"So, what d'you think, baby?" he says, passing me the phone to read.

_\- Samantha Ellis: My ex client. My new partner. My beautiful fiancee. We're ENGAGED!_

"Awww, that's so sweet. I wanna cry."

My eyes really do mist up, momentarily.

Then he Tweets it and finally whips out his platinum American Express card.

"Don't forget your website," I remind him.

"I'll do it later, it'll be easier on my laptop. And you make sure you do _your_ announcements, baby. Call your friends, and whoever else. We want to make it sound real, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will," I assure him.

A message arrives with a bleep.

"My agent has submitted the press release. I'll just share that as well."

" _Fuck,_ just look at that! I've got 125 likes and comments my photo in the last minute. This is working a treat. The congratulations are coming in faster than I could have hoped. Your finger's gonna be famous, baby. And maybe the rest of you, too."

"Infamous, you mean," I say, with a brittle laugh. Inside my stomach's churning at the prospect. I hadn't stopped to think this through when I agreed to his plan. I was trying to save his reputation, and blindly rushing in. Never mind what came afterwards. Now I'm worried about what'll happen when the news gets around and everyone I know, also knows. Being his business partner's one thing, his fiancée is quite another. Maybe I won't tell anyone. Perhaps I can get away with it.

"Come here my sexy little fiancée. Let's seal the deal." He pulls me close and in the middle of Tiffany's we have the hottest, longest, public kiss ever. We receive a round of applause and a few wolf whistles from the staff and customers. Obviously it's a very convincing engagement kiss, I'm almost convinced myself.

I'm floating, in my own little heaven. From now on I'm pretending it's real. I have the widest smile on my face as we leave the store, but in the back of my mind I'm praying my sordid past doesn't come back to bite us both somewhere painful. My past isn't something I'm particularly proud of and most definitely something I try not to think about.

* * *

After the Tiffany experience, celebration is in the air and he takes me to a very late lunch at the Savoy. He makes it clear to the Maître D' why we're there and with a lot of fuss and attention we get a special table and a complementary bottle of red wine.

"I could really get used to your kind of life," I say with a long sigh. He squeezes my hand over the table, his eyes glowing warmly as they search mine. The way he looks at me makes me melt inside with such intense longing for him. I could never explain just how much being with him means to me and how he has rescued me from myself.

"This engagement could prove to be a very enjoyable experience."

"Well, I'm going to love every minute."

He sits back and cocks his head, his eyes lazily sweeping over me.

"Not as much as I will."

All the blood rushes to my head.

_Is he kidding?_

I love it all the more after a glass of red has hit my empty stomach and when my salmon steak arrives. I'm salivating with pleasure, for a number of reasons. I beam at him with lust and admiration thinking just how much enjoyment we're going to have in his room later. The way we fuse together between the sheets kind of stuns me.

Ryan is such wonderful company. He makes me feel like a princess.

After our celebratory engagement meal, we hail a cab outside the Savoy and take a ride to Hyde Park. It's a beautiful afternoon and we take a very slow walk around the Serpentine, in the warmth of the late August sun. We stop every few yards so he can kiss me passionately, and we have a long hug while we watch the swans gliding across the surface of the lake. I'm making sure I enjoy every second of this whole amazing day and log it in my memory bank forever.

It's early evening when we finally arrive back at the hotel after wandering back by foot.

I kiss his neck as I stand crushed tightly in his arms in the fading light of his room. I'm twisting the diamond ring on my finger. I look at it over his shoulder, turning my hand, and watching as it picks up the low light, glinting and twinkling beautifully.

"Are you going to look at that all night?" he asks turning his head towards me.

"I can't help it. It's so pretty and the most expensive thing I've ever owned."

He takes hold of my hand and examines it thoroughly in the semi darkness.

"You deserve it, and expensive seems to suit you." He kisses my finger and then he pulls my face towards him and brushes his lips against mine.

Everything I'm made of ignites.

I want him so much. Too much.

As he sinks his tongue into my mouth and we hold each other close, our desperation resurfaces. We're so needy. It's almost like a mad craving. A raw primal need. Something I've never felt before. For anyone. The feeling scares the hell out of me. He begins to undress me, tugging at my clothes in a rush until I'm naked in his arms.

"I've been aching to do this for hours," I gasp, as his tongue flicks over my breast.

"Only aching? I'm dying here."

I help him strip off and we fuse together hot skin against skin, our mouths devouring one another's.

The way he makes me feel is more than amazing. And I know he loves what I do to him, because he tells me all the time.

My heart lurches painfully. If only things were different. My ring catches my eye again. I love this ring, because _he_ gave it to me. I know we're not really engaged and this is all going to end in a flood of my tears at the end of the tour, but at least I've got something special to keep, to remind me of him and our time together.

Something precious and totally wonderful.

I'm not fooling myself. Sure, I can keep my ring, but I know I can't keep Ryan. It hurts because for the first time in my life I've found someone I really want; someone who I could care very deeply for.

I know Ryan feels _something_ for me and that we'll have a wonderful time, especially in bed. We complement each other in many ways. Our personalities spark and there's real fire and passion. I'm sure we'll keep each other on our toes. I'm really looking forward to all of it; everything we do together.

Ryan's done so much for me already, getting me out of my unhealthy lifestyle and offering me the perfect opportunity to break that cycle forever. And to break it with him, which so far is proving to be an earth-shattering experience. I owe him more than he'll ever know. I thank everything that's holy for sending me to his workshop and for all that's happened since... the good _and_ the bad.

But I know, with stark reality, I'm not good enough for him. My past will always haunt me. And I wouldn't want to bring him down.

I may have a beautiful exterior, but inside, I'm not beautiful at all. I've seen and done disgusting things I just can't bear to think about and I don't know how to wash that dirtiness away.

I try to harden my heart, just a little, and distance myself from him.

I can allow myself to care for him. I already do. But I can never allow myself to fall in love with him.

He has the ability to crush my heart.

I can crush his whole life.

I can't allow either of those things to happen.

We'll have our special time together, but this needs to end in three months. However hard it is, he _has_ to return to his life in L.A. and I must start a new life of my own.

A surge of heat flows through me as he lifts me up, against the wall and slides inside me. I'm impaled on him and loving every second. A soft moan of pure delight escapes my mouth. It feels so good when he's deep in there. And he couldn't get any deeper.

I wrap my arms around his neck, and tighten my legs around his hips possessively. I'm overtaken by need. He drives hard into me, noisily, forcing my body against the wall. Delicious little puffs of air escape my mouth with each hard stroke.

We're so lost in each other.

I never realised it could be like this. The closeness overwhelms me at times. All the sex I've had in the past has never come close to how it feels with him. He takes me out of this world.

I'm going to live for the now, in the present, and not think about what's coming next.

Because I know, that much too soon...

it's going to be...

the end.

***

# Dr Sexy - Consort - Book 2

CONSORT : Ryan & Samantha begin their 'partnership' tour where things really start to heat up....

**Extract from Consort**

CHAPTER ONE

His eyes scanned the familiar planes and curves of her face and body. A body he already knew so well. She lounged at his side, her head resting on his shoulder, dozing peacefully. His gaze was held hypnotically by the gentle rising and falling of her breasts.

_Was it really only a week ago we met?_

How unsuspecting he'd been as he'd walked into the meeting room and turned to face the group. There she was, this woman with the sweetest smile and bright blue eyes which could likely hook the devil. He felt something stir inside him and all his male instincts rushed to the surface in rapt attention. He'd been unusually distracted and unfocused that first morning, until he'd pulled himself together.

He picked up a strand of her hair, playing with it, wrapping its long silky smoothness around his fingers.

He touched his face to her head, his nose caressing the soft expensive fragrance. The underlying scent that was totally feminine, and all hers, gently aroused his mind.

He sighed with satisfaction and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Their relationship was developing very well. But he'd known it would, from the moment the idea first entered his mind. And the partnership aside, they were together for very good reason. Not just in the physical sense. Much more than the very physical attraction between them, he wanted and needed her company, and most of all, some of her affection. It would be three months of regeneration for him and a first real relationship for her. He needed someone new to care about, because his emotional state wasn't in great shape. It was time to move on and put some real distance between himself and to forget Naomi, if that was ever possible. He'd felt so alone since their relationship had ended. She'd taken so much of his time and energy. He'd been far too absorbed in her and now he felt a distinct lack of purpose in his private life. And Samantha seemed lonely too. They were ideal partners to his mind. A short term relationship was the perfect opportunity for them both. They were going to be good for each other, extracting only what they needed, in a satisfying and rewarding give and take.

Her eyelashes fluttered and she stirred, moving her head. With a small and very cute yawn, she stretched herself out. She had a feline grace about her, sometimes a sweet kitten and other times a lively tigress. He liked the contrast between her softer side and her sharp claws and had to admit he pushed her a little so he could see it. The passionate flare in her eyes, the annoyed set of her head and mouth and the baring of her teeth at him. It made his blood run hot to pull that out and set her free. But he equally liked to stroke her softly and gently, to please the other side of Samantha ―to make her purr sweetly in his arms―to see her eyes light up with innocent joy and delight when he indulged himself and treated her to something special.

"Feeling better now?" He smiled as he observed her sleepy face and tousled hair. He kissed her nose. It was near impossible keeping his mouth off her.

"Mm, yeah, apart from the stiff neck I now seem to have." She rubbed it and circled her head trying to remove the stiffness. "Are we nearly there?"

He glanced at the time on his phone, 5:30 pm. "Another forty minutes at a guess. I'm going to get a coffee, you want anything?"

"Yeah, that'll be lovely. A large tea please."

"I'll be back in a minute." Rising from his seat. He left the first class carriage and made his way to the buffet car.

There were three people in front of him and as he waited his turn to be served, he scanned his cell while he waited, spotting a text message and two missed calls from Naomi. She could wait, he wasn't up to dealing with her yet. Actually, he didn't have to deal with her at all, she'd had enough of his time since they'd split, and way too much beforehand. It was more than she deserved. His stomach churned with a mixture of guilt and acute bitterness toward her. He pulled himself up short. In stark reality, she didn't deserve anything from him anymore. He deleted her text without reading it. She could get on with it. Whatever mess she wanted to make of her life wasn't his problem anymore, he didn't want to be a part of it. She never listened to a word of sense anyway.

After ordering Samantha's tea and his Americano he carried them across to the empty side of the buffet car, where he leaned on the narrow counter, gazing out of the window. He loved seeing the English countryside; the villages and the farms, the wheat fields and the masses of ancient oaks dotting the hedgerows they'd been passing by. It was so beautiful here. He'd like to settle down somewhere beautiful and serene, out of the city, away from noise and the fast pace of life. And one day he would. Although it wouldn't be here, not in England. He had no connection to the country, not like he did with Italy. His choice would be somewhere close to Milan, where his mother's family lived. In the rural Lombardy region. It had everything he enjoyed. Amazing scenery, food, culture and history, wonderful hot weather, and of course, the Italian essence of being. He was in awe of their passionate nature and their love of life. It was just so him. But he supposed it would be. He was half Italian.

He took a small sip of his scalding hot coffee, swore to himself as it burned his mouth, and put it down again to cool.

He mentally calculated the time in L.A. and determined 9:30 am. was an acceptable hour of the day to make a quick call to Ted, his agent. He had to admit he was missing the guy already. But that was to be expected. He was his best friend after all. He tapped his contact number and waited as the call connected. A few seconds later he answered.

"Hey, Ry."

"Morning, Ted. How goes it in L.A.?"

"I'm having a long lie in with the wife, the kids are at a slumber party. How's the fiancée? Got any wedding plans going yet?"

Ryan could see his expression clearly in his mind. The bastard had a wicked sense of humour.

"Ask me in three months. Maybe I'll have something to tell you then," he replied shortly, but he couldn't help but smile to himself, reluctantly.

"We're kinda busy. What are you calling for? Not to chat for long, _I hope_?"

He got the message loud and clear and pressed on. What he wanted to say wouldn't take long at all.

"How's it going with the lawyers chasing Facebook?"

"Haven't heard anything, I'll let you know."

"I'm still not sure how to proceed with that yet. I don't know, I'm in two minds wether to go to court, what d'you think?"

"I don't know either. That's your call. In any case, it may not come to that, we have to prove identity first and then an intention to harm reputations. That's a long way off, it'll take a while."

"I expect it will. Everything legal always does." He sighed.

"While I remember, I've been checking Samantha out on Facebook, she's real cute, by the way. Remind her to post up the engagement announcement."

"Hasn't she done that?"

"Nope. Not that I can see."

"I'll remind her then." He was a little annoyed about it, but then again, she wasn't high profile like he was and probably hadn't thought much about it with everything else that had been going on. He smiled to himself. They'd been rather wrapped up in each other. However, it would seem odd to anyone looking her up that she hadn't mentioned being engaged to her friends on Facebook.

He heard a familiar laughing noise in the background. He smiled. "Say hi to Suzy from me."

"Ryan says hi, sweetheart."

He heard her reply loudly from close by. "I'm sending you a big kiss Ryan honey, 'cos I _really_ miss you," and a kissing sound followed by a low and dirty giggle.

Ryan loved Suzy, like a very close sister. She'd been so good to him, listening to his constant, mad ramblings, when he'd hit rock bottom.

"Hey, save some of that for me," Ted said to her in objection. Then he heard her squeal and a long silence ensued.

"Ted?" he prompted.

"Sorry about that, got a bit carried away," Ted said with a long chuckle.

A sharp pang of envy shot through him. Ted had everything. Job satisfaction, money, love, a wonderful family.

"You're a lucky guy, two beautiful daughters and a real hot wife like yours. You should thank your lucky stars."

"Oh I do, in fact I'm gonna thank my lucky stars very soon. Once you get off the goddamn phone - hey honey, will you stop that now, I can't think straight."

More muffled giggling sounds reached his ears. It seemed Ted and Suzy were revving up. After fifteen years of married bliss they were still completely into each other. It was awesome. And so inspiring.

_Perhaps I could use them as a case study for the longevity of passion?_

"It's okay, I'm off now, Ted. Just touching base, that's all."

"Speak tomorrow maybe, 'bye now."

"Yeah, 'bye." He ended the call and left them to their hot lie in.

He turned his cell off. There was no pressing need to be in contact with the outside world this evening, it was just the two of them. And some room service thrown in.

Picking up the drinks, he returned to their carriage.

A wave of perfume swamped him as he entered the door and put the drinks down on the table.

"Oh there you are. I was about to come and look for you."

"I had to wait to be served and then I called my agent about the Facebook progress...there's no news yet."

He felt a real buzz as he looked at her, smiling at him happily.

She was more than appealing, with her brushed shiny hair and a newly applied, glossy pink pout. He was thinking how good it would look and feel, tight around him, and the way her eyes held his provocatively, when she performed her oral assault on his mind.

She deserved a kiss or ten for her seductively feminine efforts and simply for being her. He pulled her up, off the seat and sank his mouth into her warm and luscious neck, kissing his way around her ear, and breathing in her fragrance. His cock stirred.

"Mm, someone tastes and smells pretty damn good," he murmured.

"Do that some more, rub me with that lovely rough chin, nice and hard."

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He cleared his mind of all thought and relaxed into her. She felt so good pressed up against him. She fit him perfectly, every curve and angle flowed softly into his body.

She shivered at his touch, the thrill of excitement running through her as he grazed at her neck, a little too roughly. He turned her on so fast. And she had an equally blinding effect on him. He needed and wanted her, constantly, like water and air. A certain part of him wanted her a bit too much.

He released her, very reluctantly, before things got out of control. They sat down, side by side and sipped at their drinks, calming themselves and smiling all over their heated faces. He slipped his arm around her waist and squeezed her.

"Ryan...you know I'm really looking forward to our tour, don't you? And I know it's stupid, but I'm getting a bit nervous about tomorrow. What d'you actually want me to do in the workshop? I can't see how I can help. You have it all sewn up and off pat already," she said.

He could hear the tension in her voice.

He understood it was a whole new world and that was bound to concern her. But knowing what he did about Samantha already, he was pretty sure she'd be well into her stride by workshop number three. He stroked her bare knee with his finger reassuringly.

"Look baby, don't be nervous, there's no reason. I'm not expecting anything. There's no pressure. Your presence will be enough to begin with. I'll introduce you as my partner and fiancée and you can contribute in your own way, as you see fit. Give out the questionnaires, explain what to do about those. You can help me by encouraging the girls if they don't seem too talkative. Don't overtake the proceedings, kinda move them along with you, reword my questions, have a joke and respond to me. Loosen them up. Just be your charming self, that's all I ask."

"Aww, you really think I'm charming? That's so sweet of you," she said, and touched his cheek with her fingertips. "And I think I get you. You want encouraging but subtle support, room-wide. And do you do the same thing every time, format wise?"

"Same format, because it's very well tested and works, but I vary the content up a little so it doesn't get repetitive for me. You'll see that tomorrow."

"Can I suggest things to you?"

"Yes, you do that, it's what I want, to improve the experience, I know there's probably a few holes here and there but I'm too close to it to see them."

"You won't get all precious and uptight if I offer my constructive criticism?"

She had a point there. He _was_ precious about his subject. "Probably, but ignore me if I sulk."

She laughed at his honesty. "Okay, I'll do my very best anyway. I feel more confident now. I'll be low key the first one, suss things out, and contribute more next time, when I see how I can fit around you."

_God, I'm so looking forward to working with her._

He somehow knew she was going to be so damn good at this. From what he'd seen so far, she was efficient, full of energy and enthusiasm. Having a female mind like hers, to use in his business, was a huge step forward. They were going to make a great team. An awesome team. He'd almost been dreading trailing around Europe on his own, but now he was fired up like nothing else. He wanted to show her his world and share the whole experience.

"That's just fine, baby. As I said, just having you there to bounce ideas off, to discuss things, and someone to be with when I'm not working means a real lot to me."

"And having someone to keep you warm at night...does that mean a lot as well?" She was twisting her ring, batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

In all honesty he didn't think he could do without her, period. As he looked into her eyes, his heart tugged hard with the need for something. At the same time, one of his darker thoughts invaded his mind. He wondered how good it would feel, breaking her down, real slow. He dragged himself out of his dark thoughts, they were best kept well hidden, where they could do no harm. Locked away in his inner sanctum.

"More than a lot. You know you don't have to ask that," he chided her playfully. He squeezed her to him and kissed the side of her mouth. "Which reminds me, I've assumed you want your own room, although you're welcome to share mine, if you prefer." He smiled to himself secretly.

"If you don't mind, I'd like my own space, babe. Besides, I don't want my suits to outshine your half of our joint wardrobe, which they no doubt will. I know how you feel about that." She gave him a cheeky but very sweet grin. He smiled at her in return and she pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Sure, we can spread out more. Have some quiet time alone. And as long as you sleep with me, your hot suits can hang wherever and however they damn well like."

She had so many positive things going for her. Humour, wit and intelligence, a kind but fun-filled nature. He loved the way she took no nonsense from him, kicking his ego in the ass now and then. She could be a deliberate wind-up and a little challenging at times but he found he really liked to be challenged, by her. All that added so much depth to her physical beauty and a body that could only be described as goddess-like.

Oh yeah, she had everything he could ever want physically, and so much more. And the way she used her body on him was mind-blowing.

He had to admit, she kinda set him on fire.

And that was becoming a problem. He was always on fire and having to constantly monitor and douse his flames. The two of them definitely needed cooling space and he needed to keep himself under control with her.

"Ryan, you're _so_ sweet, babe. I'm going to kiss you to death for a change."

He definitely had a sweet side, but the other side was something else entirely. He knew it would be impossible to hide it for three whole months, but for now, at this stage, he was keeping his other self to himself.

She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him in. He felt heat flow through him as her glossy lips touched his, sweeping back and forth, and finally her tongue entered his mouth. His eyes closed. Feeling that rush as his tongue met hers was one of his favourite pastimes at the moment. The soft heat of her tongue massaged his and the sensation tightened everything in his pelvic region as a heavy surge of testosterone flooded through him. His endorphin levels hit a euphoric high. He thanked those wonderful neurotransmitters for firing off in his brain the way they did. He circled his arm around her body and crushed her to him. His fingers twirled into her silky long hair and he gathered a handful and wrapped it tightly around his wrist, tugging at her scalp persistently.

_So much for keeping things cool. It's too fucking difficult._

They were interrupted by a noisy family group, making their way past their carriage to the buffet car.

He broke away and gazed into her eyes, breaking into a wide smile.

"I'm really looking forward to tonight."

"I really look forward to every night, Ryan. And the bits in between."

"Oh, I almost forgot, you haven't posted our engagement on Facebook, why's that?"

Her eyes glanced down to the floor, a little guiltily. "I guess you've been distracting me. Did you look me up on Facebook just now?" Her eyes raised themselves to his again, and he could see her mood had changed notably, drastically cooling.

"No, my agent Ted told me when I called. So when are you going to do it?"

"Soon. Today."

"Why not now?" he pressed.

"Okay, okay. I'll do it, already." She said testily. She got out her cell, tapped out a message and posted it. She didn't seem very pleased about it at all.

"What's up?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just a bit ratty and tired after last night. " She smiled at him as she put her cell away. "Everything's just fine Ry, honestly."

The therapist in him didn't quite believe her excuse and found her negative reaction strange. But he put his concerns to one side. He already knew enough about Samantha to realise probing would only make her rattier.

***

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