I stood there after the door closed, my body still humming from the orgasm, my ripped underwear up around my waist, the warm trickle of se**n starting to flow down my thigh and listened. The rap of footsteps following his retreat was a sound not to my liking. Not one bit.
8
Dr. Roswell always writes in a notebook during our sessions. It seems very old-school to me, but then this is England and her office is in a building that was standing when Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence back in Philadelphia. She uses a fountain pen too, which impresses the holy hell out of me.
I watched her very beautiful turquoise and gold fountain pen scratch words into her notebook as she listened to me talk about Ethan. Dr. Roswell is a great listener. In fact, it’s pretty much the gist of what she does. I don’t know what our sessions would consist of if I didn’t tell her stuff she could listen to.
Sitting behind her elegant French desk table, she was the picture of professionalism and genuine interest. I’d guess her to be in her early fifties with beautiful skin and white hair that did not age her one bit. She always wore unique jewelry and bohemian outfits that made her look cultured and approachable. My dad had helped me find her when I’d first moved to London. Dr. Roswell was on my necessities list along with food, clothing and shelter.
“So why do you think you reacted by leaving Ethan in the middle of the night?”
“I was afraid of him seeing me like that.”
“But he did.” She wrote something in her book. “And from what you’ve told me, he wanted to comfort you and for you to stay.”
“I know, and it scared me. For him to want me to tell him why I have the dreams…” And this was my biggest problem. Dr. Roswell and I’ve discussed it many, many times. What would any man think of me once they knew? “He asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I told him no. He’s so—so—intense; I know it will be a matter of days probably before he pushes for more.”
“A relationship is like that, Brynne. You share and help the other person know about you, even the frightening parts.”
“Ethan is not like that though. He’s so demanding all the time. He wants…everything from me.”
“And how does that make you feel when he demands things or wants you to give him everything?”
“Terrified of what will become of me—Brynne.” I took a deep breath and said the words. “But when I’m with him, when he touches me or when we’re…intimate…I feel so safe and cherished, like nothing bad will happen to me with him. For whatever reason, I trust him, Dr. Roswell.”
“Do you think starting a sexual relationship with Ethan is the reason your nightmares have resurfaced?”
“Yes.” My voice came out tremulous and I hated the sound of it.
“Brynne, that’s a very normal thing for abuse survivors. The intimate act of sex is vulnerable for a woman by its nature. The female accepts the male inside of her body. He’s stronger and typically more dominant. A woman has to have trust in her partner or I imagine there would be miniscule few of us having any sex at all. Add that to your history and you have a very stirring mix brewing inside your subconscious.”
“Even when you don’t remember it?”
“Your brain remembers, Brynne. The fears of waking up to that betrayal are in there.” She wrote another quick note. “Would you like to try a medication for sleep? We could see if that suppresses the night terrors.”
“Will it work?” That sure got my attention. The suggestion of something so simple as a pill made me laugh nervously. The idea that I could stay with him all night…or he could stay with me, gave me some hope too. That is if Ethan still wanted to try sleeping with me. I remembered him walking out of my flat last night after the crazy sex-up-against-the-wall and how I’d not liked him leaving. My emotions were so confused. Part of me wanted him and part of me was terrified of him. I really had no idea what would become of us. He made you tell him you were his.
Dr. Roswell smiled at me. “We won’t know until we try, my dear. Courage is the first step, and the drug is merely a tool to help you take more steps until you’ve made it down your path. Solutions don’t have to be complicated every time.” She reached for her prescription pad.
“Thank you so much—” My phone started vibrating in my purse. I checked it and saw the text from Ethan. “Ethan’s here. He’s in reception. We agreed for him to collect me at my appointment before he takes me to dinner. He said he wanted to talk about…us.”
“It’s always good for two people to talk about their relationship. The honesty and trust you give now will make it much easier to sort out your differences later.” She handed me the prescription. “I’d love to meet him, Brynne.”
“Right now?” Nerves began dancing in my belly.
“Why not? I’ll walk you out and meet your Ethan. It helps me immensely to put faces to names when we have our sessions.”
“Oh…okay,” I said, getting up from her comfy, floral, chintz chair, “but he’s not really my Ethan, Dr. Roswell.”
“We’ll see,” she said with a gentle pat on my shoulder.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw him looking at the art on the wall while waiting for me. The way he stood there reminded me of him seeing my portrait at Benny’s show and wanting it. Wanting it enough to buy it.
Ethan turned when we walked into reception. His blue eyes lit up his face and morphed into a softened smile as he came toward me. A burst of relief shot down through my heart. Ethan looked very happy to see me.
“Ethan, this is my therapist, Dr. Roswell. Dr. Roswell, Ethan Blackstone, my—”
“Brynne’s boyfriend,” he interrupted me yet again. Ethan offered his hand to Dr. Roswell and probably gave her a smile that would melt her panties off. As they exchanged pleasantries I got a glimpse of her reaction to him, and I must admit it was satisfying to see women of all ages being intoxicated by his male beauty. And I would remember to use it during a future session too. So, Dr. Roswell, you think Ethan is off-the-charts sexy don’t you?