***This is an excerpt from Embracing Calla by Tamara Mapstead.
Chapter Five
Calla: Wednesday, June 16th, 2021
This entire room smells like Benedict, musky and salty like the sea. It’s so intoxicating and unbelievably sexy. I refrain from opening my eyes. I want to lay here and breathe in his scent.
In all my years of being a therapist, I’ve never once maybe—kind of—sort of developed a crush on a client. I think it’s normal to have an attraction to someone, but in all my years with Benedict, the challenge he always presented me with in every session might have made my heart flutter a little—just a little.
He wasn’t the kind of client I was used to anymore. He was difficult, he made me have to think and restructure my “normal impotent clients with nagging wives” strategy.
I had to work and figure out how to be a therapist again. I mean, I am a therapist, but I became so scripted because it was the same old, same old. Just different clients. Benedict was not that, and he reminded me what it really feels like to help someone in life, not just to help them have better sex.
I couldn’t really tell you when I started to get the flutters for him. I thought I was immune to puppy love. I was such a late bloomer that I had my first real boyfriend when I was nineteen. I always put education first, so I didn’t have time for boys. And I wasn’t looking for Luka either, he just happened and I fell hard. So hard that I’m still trying to get up.
I brush my nose against the pillow only to realize that it’s not my pillow, it’s Benedict’s shoulder. The room doesn’t smell like Benedict. Benedict smells like Benedict. How did I get this close to him?
He has beautiful eyelashes that are long, thick, and fanning out perfectly. His moles mesmerize me. I don’t like the word ‘mole,’ so I’ll call them cute little freckles.
Why am I watching him sleep? I’m so weird. I just want to smell him some more. I drape my arm over, gently palming his chest. I’m so close to him that his nose bumps mine when he turns his face toward me.
He opens his eyes. Wow! I’m breathless. I don’t know if it’s the way the golden sunrise is lighting up his face, or if he’s just breathtakingly gorgeous. Those eyes; I’m so lost in his eyes. So mysterious and sexy.
“Hey,” he murmurs. Is he calm? Why is he not trying to get away from me like he usually does? He twirls his fingers around the curls that escaped my topknot.
“I seem to have found you in this large bed,” I say. Smile, you know he likes that.
He rubs his eyes. “Can I make you some coffee?”
Oh my God, he speaks my language. He shifts a little and I catch my breath. Something hard just brushed against my hip.
Whoa! Good morning to me. “Do you need to take care of something first?”
He semi-pushes away from me, sitting up, and brings his knees up to disguise his morning excitement.
“No.” His voice trembles.
I saw the tent. He will quickly learn I have no shame in discussing anything sexual. You wanted to be friends, but you’re going to probably regret that decision.
I take a deep breath. “Take your time, Benedict.” I smirk, whispering, “I’ll make you some coffee.“ The heat radiates off his cheeks. People pay good money for that shade of pink.
I roll out of bed, probably showing more butt than expected, but everyone has one. I have to admit that making him blush was perhaps the most adorable thing ever.
Maybe the fact that I have no filter will break him out of his shyness. I don’t like small talk or ‘beating around the bush,’ to the point that if you have morning wood and I see it, you bet your ass I’m going to tell you.
At the tiny Keurig machine, I fill it up with water and start brewing coffee.
I’ve not been in the presence of many penises in my life, but that looked like a tall tent. I wonder how big it is?
His coffee is ready. If I was a betting woman, I would bet a million dollars that he wants sugar in this coffee. I hear the door open. That was quick. Maybe I ruined it for him because I embarrassed him? If he can’t handle that, we’ll fall apart in a day.
Keep it casual. “What would you like in your coffee?” I ask.
“Cream and sugar, please.” He’s too calm.
If I turn around and his pants are down… things I think about while stirring his coffee.
I turn around to hand him his coffee. His pants are still on. It would’ve been nice. “Here ya go, Mr. Benedict.”
He’s biting his lip. “What are you thinking about?”
Your tent. I’ll make sure. “Do you really want to know?”
He shakes his head. “I’m going to take a shower.” He goes into the bathroom and quickly shuts the door.
I just made him coffee; it’s going to get cold. I stand here staring at the closed door. Maybe I should drink it. I take a sip and gag a little. I don’t like sugar in my coffee.
I know what I did; I forgot boundaries. He isn’t down with the talk of morning wood. Maybe I should work on my filter.
He cracks open the bathroom door. “Hey, I forgot to grab my stuff.”
Did he take a shower already? “Did you want me to grab it?”
“No, I wanted to warn you that I was coming out of the bathroom.”
That was a shower. Thirty seconds?
“Oh, okay, I won’t look.” I kind of want to. I close my eyes and turn away to make sure I don’t accidentally peek. I hear the door slam. I think I pissed him off. I open one eye and see that the bedroom door is closed again.
I honestly don’t know how to be a normal friend. That’s why I don’t have any. It’s so easy to be Calla the Therapist, but I messed my confidence up last night when we became friends.
He comes out of the bedroom dressed and looks professional. “You look handsome.” Keep it cool, Cal. His hair is wet, still slightly dripping down his temples.
“Thanks.” He’s not enthused. Crap, I already need to apologize and we just woke up.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I forget that some things I might not find to be a big deal may be a big deal to others,” I explain.
His hands are in his pockets as he lifts up and down on his tiptoes. “I would expect a sex therapist to talk about sex.”
“It’s not because I’m a sex therapist. When I was sixteen, I met my sister’s boyfriend, and instead of saying, ‘Hi, I’m Calla,’ I said, ‘Are you having sex with my sister?’” I hand him his coffee and he takes it. “So, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Since it didn’t seem to faze you, I think it made it less embarrassing for me.”
“Nothing shocks me anymore. I’ve heard it all.”
He drinks his coffee. “You’re a good coffee maker.”
Those eyes are heavenly.
Should I tell him I drank some? “I’m glad you like it.” I do not like small talk. “When do you have to go to work?” I ask…
