The Lessons by Elizabeth Brown Page A

mean, you’ve kept doing it for eight years…” I said, still trying to suss out why exactly someone goes into this for a profession.
    “Well, I guess so. I mean, I enjoy the work, but honestly it’s not about the sex— it’s actually pretty rewarding to see people through the process, to see people get better. That’s what’s kept me doing it. Although I probably won’t continue once I start my practice.”
    “The other clients; do they all achieve penetration?” Not that I was asking about myself or comparing myself to the other students in the class. Nope. Not at all.
    I heard Josh ring in my head: Such a fucking Virgo.
    Ryan chuckled as he smiled over at me with something new— something I recognized, but didn’t expect. Was it, dare I say, warmth? God, that warm, dreamy smile. It was a panty-dropper for sure. I pondered how he might react if I asked to take a picture of him with my phone. Okay, no that would get me reported, a definite red flag. Calm down, Reese.
    “Actually, Natalie, people come in with a wide variety of concerns—you’d be surprised. It’s not all about penetration.”
    “Ah, so I could achieve penetration, go out into the world, fuck myself up and then have to come back to SFCS again? There’s no guarantee policy on the work?”
    This made him belly-laugh. “I suppose so, Natalie. All the more reason to get things right the first time. Which, in this case, I mean quite literally.”
    We both laughed at that one.
    “So, Ms. Reese,” he said getting up and putting on his pants, “Shall I leave you to dress?”
    “Uh, sure. Thank you, Mr. Andrews .” I pursed my lips and smiled. The mock-formality felt incredibly silly, given I’d just orgasmed with his head between my legs.
    “Feel free to use the shower. Extra towels are in the wardrobe,” he said, throwing on his shirt. “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

Chapter Eleven
     
    Natalie
    My phone vibrated, causing me to turn my attention from my computer screen. I’d been holed up in my now perfectly unpacked apartment, killing time before my next appointment with Dr. Lerner by guiltily researching Ryan Andrews online. I’d run his name through Google, searching for any clues to his life outside our work together. I’d found his Facebook page, which was set to private, and the website of a comic book artist. My Ryan Andrews was not a comic book artist.
    Yes, I called him mine. He’d put his mouth on my vagina, and I was feeling a little territorial about the whole thing. Sue me.
    I unlocked my phone.
    I’m done at 12:30 and don’t fly out until six. Do you want to meet for lunch?
    It was Josh. It was his last day in San Francisco, and the time had flown by. I felt like I’d barely been able to see him.
    Yes, definitely. Anywhere in particular?
    He texted back a link to a Mexican restaurant in the Tenderloin neighborhood. Josh always did have a knack for picking out the best places to eat, I missed that about him. I texted him to confirm before grabbing my purse to leave for Dr. Lerner’s office.
    It felt like a million years had passed since I’d last seen her, since that day Ryan caught me in the hall and pulled me into the restroom. I already felt so… different. Not in a way I’d expect, not more worldly or wise, but more… something. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.
    It starts with an R and ends with an – yan Andrews, my subconscious hissed aggressively. Humph. One taste of the tongue and she was now quite the pushy little thing. Argh, I sighed, trying not to let myself be distracted by this. I had to keep my eyes on the prize— this, all of this, was part of a much bigger plan. The plan for my life . I needed to stay focused and keep moving forward. This strategy had worked when I was young, and it was going to work now.
    As I approached SFCS, I was acutely aware of how much I had to talk about since our last meeting. Armed with that list of accomplishments, I also had a list of