The Fallout (The Therapist #3) - W.S. Greer Page 0,58

to know me better, I’m willing to take things as slow as you want to take them. I would never pressure you into anything, so you don't have to worry about that. I promise.”

Evelyn tilts her head to the side and looks at me with intrigue written all over her face. My goodness she’s beautiful. I would love to fuck her in the backseat of my truck right in the parking lot.

“Well, I do want to get to know you. It’s the least I can do since I did fire you.” She giggles again before her face turns more serious as she looks at me.

“What is it?” I ask.

“You really have a sex dungeon in your basement?”

I let out a chuckle. “Well, I don't call it a sex dungeon, but I guess you could say that. I call it the Black House.”

“The Black House,” Evelyn repeats. “Wow. Can I see it?”

My eyes bulge. “What? You want to see it?”

“I do,” Evelyn says, but she immediately corrects herself. “Not to have sex in it, just so you know. I don't know if I’ll ever be ready for that. I just want to see what it looks like. I'm just curious.”

“I understand. Okay. When do you want to see it?”

Evelyn’s face shifts into a sneaky smirk. “How about now?”

30

~ Malcolm ~

Well, this evening turned out better than I thought it would. There were no police waiting for me at the Greene Turtle, just a gorgeous Evelyn and the surprise that she wants to get to know me the same way I want to get to know her. I can understand her apprehension when it comes to the BDSM part of my life, and I wasn't lying when I told her I was willing to go at the pace she set. Yes, I have an absolute need to fuck the way I fuck, but I would never put pressure on anyone to do what I do. Hopefully, Evelyn can work her way up to my level, and I’m willing to run that race as slowly as she wants. To be honest, I’m intrigued by the challenge of breaking her in slowly. Her desire to see the Black House tonight is definitely a step in the right direction.

The therapist in me sees Evelyn’s desire to see my basement as a curiosity she can't pull herself away from. While anxious, she's intrigued and interested. If she was mortified by my desires to be dominant, she wouldn't be following me to my home right now, she’d be speeding in the other direction. I assume Evelyn is trying to work her way past her fears by taking baby steps. She wants to see the Black House and everything in it so she can be aware of what she would have to work her way up to. Doing it this way is a lot easier than trying to get over her fears while her head is full of terrifying torture devices. Our imaginations are often much scarier than real life, so she’s pulling her imagination out of the equation and making the Black House real. If I’m right about this, it won't be too long before Evelyn is on her knees atop the black carpet.

When we arrive at my house, I park in the driveway and Evelyn parks directly next to me. I offered to give her a ride, but she insisted on bringing her own car.

“Nice house,” Evelyn says as she climbs out of her Mercedes and meets me on the walkway leading toward my front door.

“Thank you,” I reply with a smile. It’s hard to contain my excitement of having her here, but I don't want to look stupid, so I keep it tucked in like an undershirt.

We step inside my home and Evelyn does a quick look-around, nodding her head in silent approval as we walk past the library and dining room into the kitchen where the door to the Black House is located. The door is painted black, and although all of my appliances are black as well, the door stands out like an ominous portal in the kitchen. When Evelyn sees it, her head nodding stops and she looks a little timid.

“Black door,” she says, her eyes trained on the dark wood. “You really went all out.”

I smile as I enter the key into the lock and turn it before pulling the door open. “You ready?”

Evelyn sighs. “Yeah.”

I flip the light switch, and with each step we take down into the Black House,