Chapter Notes: I'm having a crappy day and I figured it'd help to have my ego stroked, so I'm posting. Thanks to my amazing beta, Missy, for the time and effort she takes to fix my crappy writing up, as well as her overall concern for my wellbeing; thanks to my lovah, Hannah, for always reading the horrible unedited versions of every single thing I write and giving me her feedback and never-ending support; and, of course, thanks to you all in advance for reading/reviewing. Enjoy. xx
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or their location, but I do own the concept, so don't steal my shit. Kthx.
-B-
I sat at my desk, tapping my pen against the wood as I waited for my assistant to buzz me and let me know my 9:30 AM appointment, and possible new client, was here.
Edward Cullen.
I'd almost told him I couldn't help him when he called – I'd just finished up the last file on one of four clients I'd been seeing that day, and I'd planned on taking a week off as I'd not had a vacation for two and a half months. He'd sounded so nervous, though, with a hint of dejection in his voice, and so my compassionate side won out and I agreed to do an evaluation.
My knee began bouncing up and down nervously of its own accord. I was always anxious before meeting a new client. My fear of failing them in the end was always present, even though I had yet to actually do so. Quite the opposite. I kept in contact from time to time with my former clients, and they always gave me exceptional reports. Well, except for Peter, who had gotten divorced because he felt his newly acquired skills "shouldn't be confined to just one woman." Ah, well. They couldn't all turn out good.
My intercom buzzed, snapping me out of my reverie, and I pressed the correct button on the phone.
"Yes?" I asked.
"Edward Cullen is here to see you," Alice replied.
"Thank you, Alice. Send him in."
I released the button and quickly made sure the intercom was indeed off. As I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose slightly, a timid knock sounded from the door, and I called, "Come in!" The door opened to reveal a tall, lean man in jeans and a blue, long sleeve thermal. My gaze traveled up to his face and I inhaled sharply. He had honey brown eyes and messy bronze hair, a drool-worthy jawline, and a beautifully pink mouth. I'd had generically attractive clients before, sure, but this man was above and beyond picture-perfect, and it was incredibly intimidating. I almost considered telling him to get the hell out right then. His eyes and body language screamed, "Help me!" though, and, once again, my stupid compassion won me over.
"Hello," I said, standing up and smoothing out the front of my skirt, "you must be Edward. Go ahead and close the door behind you, then take a seat."
I gestured to the chair across from me, plastering a smile on my face, and watched as he closed the door and hesitantly made his way over to the desk.
"I'm Isabella Swan," I said, holding out my hand to him. He took it into his, shaking it firmly, and my hand immediately felt like it was on fire. I pulled my hand back quickly in shock, staring down at it incredulously. I chanced a glance at Edward, and his expression wasn't far off from mine.
"I'm sorry about that," I apologized, "the heater's been on the fritz lately."
"It's okay," he replied, looking around the office as he fidgeted in his seat. I could relate to his nerves.
"So, as I said on the phone, this is an initial evaluation. Everything that is talked about here doesn't leave this room, at least on my part. I don't have any other associates, and I keep my files locked away – I'm the only one with a key. Everything is safe here."
He nodded and pursed his lips, still not looking directly at me. That was always how it was in the initial meeting; the men felt inadequate and insecure, hating the fact that they even needed to be here in the first place. Many of them ended up saying they couldn't do it and leaving, but they always came back at some point.
"Why don't you tell me why you're here," I pressed, giving him an encouraging smile.
"Same reason anybody else comes to you, I'm assuming," he replied with a nervous chuckle. I continued staring at him with a smile, silently urging him to continue.
"Okay," he sighed, "well, it started with a text I received by accident from a girl I hooked up with..."
He launched into his story, still looking uncomfortable. I listened to him intently, but my gaze kept drifting down to his mouth. Close up, I could see that his bottom and top lip were about the same size. As he'd been looking around, I noticed that, from the side, his nose had a slight bump near the bridge, but those imperfections only enhanced his beauty. God, it really should be illegal for a human being to be so gorgeous. It's a damn shame he needs help in –
I cut myself off mid-thought. I could not think of a client this way, it would ruin the entire process. Well, I could only assume it would. I'd never found any of my clients particularly enticing...until now.
"...So, yeah. I just need help, because I can't go through life knowing I'm crap in bed," he finished.
"Understandable," I replied, trying not to laugh at his bluntness. Truth be told, all I'd really caught from his explanation as to why he was here was "jackrabbit sex"; that was essentially all I needed to hear.
"Can I ask you something?" he questioned, finally looking at me.
"Anything," I replied.
"My friend said you don't actually...you know, have sex with your clients," he started.
"That's correct," I nodded. That was a rule that would never be broken. I was simply an educator, not a prostitute.
"So then how do you actually...?" he trailed off, but I knew exactly what he meant. It was a common question, and I'd be a bit worried if nobody asked.
"We'll meet once a week, for a minimum of eight weeks," I said. "Most of the 'work', per-se, will be done at home as assignments, but in general, I use videos and various sex toys. It doesn't sound like much, I know, but in my experience they work the best."
He nodded, staring at the top of my desk with slightly furrowed brows. I had an inexplicable urge to reach over and smooth out the creases, and the thought made me tense up. Client. He's your client.
"Why do you do this?"
Ah, the most common question. You'd think I'd get tired of answering it, but I never really did. I felt a lot like Sarah Jessica Parker's character, Paula, in Failure To Launch, especially when I rehashed my history.
"One of my ex-boyfriends, who is still a very good friend of mine, had issues in the bedroom. I was the first woman who had been honest with him about it, and he begged me to help him. He was an eager student, and listened to everything I said. There was fast progress, and the next relationship he went into was his last. His wife, who is a friend of mine, assured me that my efforts were not in vain.
"He had a friend who was having issues, and he confided in him that he'd gotten my help. His friend asked if I would help him, and my friend then asked me if I'd be willing. I was hesitant at first – I'd been sexually involved with him when I was helping him – but I agreed to try. Obviously, I had to use different methods, but inevitably the outcome was the same.
"A friend of his turned into an acquaintance of that person, which turned into three other friends, and soon, I was essentially running a business in, more or less, an advanced course in sex education. I was getting enough clients from word-of-mouth, and making a generous amount of money, so I left my job as a sex therapist, bought the office, and dedicated my time to this."
He'd relaxed exponentially since he'd entered my office, but he still seemed uneasy.
"I've had a one-hundred percent success rate, Edward," I assured him. "If you decide to do this, it will work."
"I believe you," he sighed, "this is just really embarrassing," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair awkwardly and making it even more of a mess – a beautiful mess.
"It'll get easier," I said with a smile. "Are we set?"
He sat in contemplation for a few moments, and I let him have his silence. I folded my hands neatly and placed them on the desk, staring at him as I waited for his response.
"Yeah, we're set," he sighed. "I haven't got anything to lose, right? Except my money, of course."
"Naturally," I replied, my lips twitching into a smile. I would never deny that I didn't run cheap – my set rate was $2500 for the full eight weeks – but I felt it was well worth it, given the end results. I never charged for the initial meeting, though. It hardly seemed fair.
"Alright, then. If we're set, you can go up front to Alice and make your next appointment and payment arrangements," I smiled, standing up. He followed suit, nodding at me with a smile. I outstretched my hand and he took it; once more, the burning sensation was immediate, but I dealt with it, as he did, then let go of his hand as he turned to walk away.
Once he was out of my office with the door shut behind him, I collapsed ungracefully in my seat. How I was supposed to work with that man for the next two months and pretend like I didn't find him delectable was beyond me, but I'd have to figure out a way. This was my job, and I wasn't about to fail at it now.
-E-
I wanted to fuck my therapist; that much was undeniable. From the moment I'd walked into her office - smelling warmth and vanilla; seeing her big brown eyes staring at me, a smile on her beautiful mouth and her brown hair pulled back elegantly - I was a dead man. Then I saw her black pencil skirt and fitted charcoal gray sweater, and it was all over.
I shouldn't have even sat down. I should have turned right around and walked out of her office, but I was apparently a masochist. It was the most awkward thing of my life, having to explain to her exactly why I was there. I hadn't wanted her to think any less of me because my sexual skills were less than desirable, but just the notion that, after all was said and done, I could potentially fuck her properly – meaning not like a jackrabbit – kept me glued to my seat and willing to dish out $2500 of my mutherfucking hard earned money.
God, I felt pathetic.
After making an appointment for two weeks from today, I took the walk of shame out into the breezy Seattle air, got in my car, and headed to the restaurant to start my day.
The second I settled down in my office, Emmett ambushed me. He shut and locked the door behind him, then turned to me with a questioning look and a grin.
"Well?" he asked.
"Well, what?" I replied with disinterest, shuffling through papers on my desk, trying to find the one with potential new items to add to our menu, proposed by the head chef.
"How did it go, man?" he pressed, sitting on the edge of my desk.
"It went fine," I murmured, staring down at the paper with furrowed eyebrows. "Get off my desk before you break it, please."
Spicy eggplant salad, foie gras - Emmett huffed and sat down across from me - chicken parmigiana, filet mignon...
"Dude, come on. I practically set this shit up for you, you have to give me a little more than that."
"Couscous?! What the hell does Freddy think this is, some five-star restaurant? This is a bar and grill;none of our customers would eat this shit!" I huffed, throwing the paper down on the desk and rubbing my hands over my face.
"Fire him," Emmett replied nonchalantly. I snorted; Emmett didn't like Freddy. I'd never quite figured out why. All I'd managed to get out of either of them was something about San Diego and a thug named Paco.
"I'm not going to fire him, Emmett," I drawled, rolling my eyes. "Besides his lovely personality" —Emmett scoffed so hard, I thought he might blow boogers out of his nose— "he's a good employee and, despite this crap," I said, smacking the paper I'd been reviewing, "he comes up with good shit."
"Yeah, whatever," Emmett muttered, clearly not wanting to hear any praise on Freddy's behalf. "Tell me how your meeting went, then."
"You're a fucking woman, you know that, right?" I glared at him as he stared back at me, completely unfazed. "What do you want to know, asshole?"
"About her," he said in an obvious tone. "What does she look like? For some reason I pictured Angela Lansbury in her younger days – you know, her fifties. Oh, and she'd have one of those wooden pointer things. Definitely."
It was moments like these where I wondered why I was his friend, much less why I had gone into business with him.
"Sorry to disappoint," I replied, turning on my computer and waiting for it to load up. "She's no Angela Lansbury."
He sat, completely silent, as I logged onto windows and pulled up the internet – I needed to go through the food orders.
"You bore me," he said finally, pushing back the chair, standing up and making his way towards the door.
"She's young, and incredibly hot," I admitted upon hearing the door open, a smirk on my face, though I never looked away from my computer screen.
"That's what I'm talkin' about," he whooped, letting out a bark of laughter as he exited my office. I shook my head, still smirking, and focused on the web page on my screen. Suddenly, a pop-up came on the screen; bare asses and boobs, accentuated by a hot pink background, were flashing in my face.
"What the...?"
I clicked out of it, but three more replaced the one, and within seconds there were at least ten porno ads littering my screen.
"Goddammit - Emmett!" I boomed; this had him written all over it. I stood up quickly, bounding towards the door and throwing it open. "Emmett, you bastard, get in here and fix this shit!"
I could hear his laughter from inside his office and grabbed the handle, but of course, it was locked. I kicked it as hard as I could manage, cursing internally as my foot began to throb – bad idea.
"Are you gonna punch me in the nuts?" he asked through his laughter.
"I will if you don't show your face in five seconds and fix my computer!" I shouted, accentuating the last few words with three more kicks to the door.
"Okay, okay, chill out," he sighed, opening his door cautiously. "Back it up about five feet and I'll come out."
I clenched my jaw and backed up, my eyes in slits as I watched him slide out of his office and walk down the hall, towards mine, backwards; a lazy grin played on his face.
"You stay out here and I'll go fix it," he said quickly, before darting into my office and closing the door behind him. I leaned against the wall, folding my arms across my chest as I waited and waited, then waited some more for him to exit my office.
"Will you hurry the hell up?" I barked, startling one of the morning cleaners, Magda, that was passing by the hall entrance. "How're you doin'?" I asked, giving her a tight lipped smile and a nod. She simply hummed and grimaced – although I think it was supposed to be a smile of sorts – then continued on her way, shooting a few cautious glances my way before completely disappearing.
The sound of a door opening directed my attention back to my office, where Emmett was now hesitantly tip-toeing back to his office.
"I swear to God, Emmett, if more of that crap pops up on my screen..." I trailed off, clenching my jaw as I shook my head warningly at him.
"Hey, I was just trying to be a supportive friend," he insisted, his hands in the air, declaring his innocence. "I figured you'd need some proper material when you get your first assignment."
He lowered a hand to the front of his pants, mimicking the motions involved in jacking off, then cackled, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I made a quick movement towards him and he ducked into his office quickly, slamming the door shut though I could still hear his cackles.
"You can't stay in there forever, asshole," I grinned, pounding on his door as I made my way towards my office.
"No, but I can keep my ass safe in here for the remainder of the day!" he argued.
"It's all good," I replied calmly. "I'd be careful if I were you in regards to what I ate. I don't think I'd have a hard time convincing Freddy to slip some X-lax into your drinks from here on out."
His snickers cut off abruptly and, with the taste of victory on my tongue, I went back to my office to continue what I'd been so obscenely interrupted from doing. I opened a few web pages, surfing random pages to make sure no more inappropriate – for work, at least – pop ups were going to surface, before feeling safe enough to continue the food orders.
My life couldn't possibly get any more absurd.
End Notes: Review, please. Oh, and send me lots of money 'cos it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm broke. lol. Oh, and for all youBreaking Bella readers, remember, it's up for 2 Moonlight Awards. Voting has already begun and round one ends 10/24, so vote! Info on my profile page.