Christmas With the Professor
won’t sugarcoat this. I can’t make you any promises. But I do want to keep seeing you, monogamously of course.”
    More wine. I kicked back the rest of my drink and studied him. His sincere eyes watched me with worry. Knowing he was anxious over my response gave me a sense of power. How strange. I wasn’t used to feeling powerful, but as I gazed across the table at Dr. Taylor, I realized the next step in our relationship — whatever kind of kinky, fucked up relationship we might have —rested in my hands. Did I want to see him again? Hell yes. But what if it didn’t last? Could I survive another heartbreak?
    Images of our afternoon together raced through my mind and my pussy became soaking wet. I squeezed my legs together, cursing inwardly. I recalled all the helpful, and not so helpful, things my therapist said. Take one day at a time was one of her favorites. Could I do that? Take Dr. Taylor, one day at a time, knowing it might not last?
    Yes. Absolutely. My body and stupid heart craved him too much. I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t ask him to leave when the thought of his being a thousand miles away ripped me to pieces. This wasn’t France. I was stronger now. I could handle whatever unknown awaited me on the murky horizon.
    “I want to keep seeing you too, Dr. Taylor. I don’t expect flowers and presents and all that pageantry. Dating sucks.”
    He raised his glass. “To a new beginning, minus the pageantry.”
    Though my glass was empty, I clinked it against his as a shiver of excitement skated up my neck. “To a new beginning, minus the pageantry.”
    After we finished our meal, he helped me clean up the table and I fixed coffee. Having Sangria instead of my morning caffeine was making me sleepy.
    And what we had in mind for the rest of the day definitely didn’t involve sleep. Nope. Not a wink.
    END

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