The Sex Surrogate(10)By: Jessica Gadziala
So, not only did I have stuff with Dr. Chase to think about, I have whatever the fuck just happened with Jake to consider to. I mean... what the hell was that? Never once had he ever even come close to insinuating he would sleep with me. If he had, he probably would have been out on his ass a long time ago. It was my name on the lease, after all.
But his offer was almost... sweet.
Jesus. Did I just say that anything, literally anything, related to Jake Summers was... sweet? This was the guy who once told me that the dress I chose to wear to my work's New Year's Eve party was going to inspire a thousand flaccid penises. The guy who once announced, to an apartment full of people I didn't even know, that I hadn't gotten laid in over a year... and asked if anyone was up for ending my “drought”.
He was a grade A fuckwad ninety-nine percent of the time.
So, seriously, why the sudden pep talk and sex offer? Just because it was a challenge? Because I wasn't, like he thought, just some uptight bitch. That I had actual issues. And, what? He wanted to try his hand at fixing them? Like the other four guys who had tried? Probably. That was very likely exactly why he was interested. Because I was an anomaly. Because I didn't make sense. Because he wanted to prove his manhood by trying to get me all hot and bothered.
Unfortunately for him, I couldn't think about him without thinking about the pile of clothes sitting right in front of the freaking hamper. Not in it. In front of it. Or the shakers full of dried protein powder smoothies from his workouts sitting on the counter. Or his steadfast refusal to take the full garbage bag out of the can and put a new one in.
I would be laying in bed with him silently seething about the water marks his beer left on my coffee table.
Like a freaking resentful, unappreciated wife.
And that wasn't sexy at all.
Chase was the poster boy for sexy. What had even led him into psychology in the first place? He could have made a fortune just posing for pictures. Or reading the phone book to women who would drool over every last number coming from between his lips.
I mean... he would have needed to go to college and then grad school. Totaling at least nine years in education. He must have had some strong interest in the psychological field, not just sex therapy. And then after graduating with such a lofty degree, and the potential to earn all kinds of money, why would he decide to become a sexual surrogate on the side? Had he, himself, suffered from some sort of sexual dysfunction at one time? Did he see a surrogate that helped him? How does someone come to work in such an odd field?
Nine years of education. Which meant he would have graduated, at earliest, around twenty-nine. He couldn't be much older than... thirty-five or thirty-six. He hadn't even been practicing for very long.
Unless he became a sexual surrogate before he graduated. As a way to make money to get him through his schooling. And he just... continued it because he liked it. Or was good at it.
Which I hoped, for my sake.
From what I read online, there is no law stating a sexual surrogate needs to have any kind of license or certification. Dr. Hudson did. Along with his doctorate. Which made him the best possible choice for me. I had the highest likelihood of success with him.
It had to work. Because I was out of other options. And I couldn't pay to go through the program again.
“Yo,” Jake's voice called through the door, making me start and slip slightly, arms flying out to brace myself. Just what I needed, to break my ass, naked in the shower with only Jake around to help me. “You've been in there long enough. You're gonna have to let your surrogate get the cobwebs off that pussy with his mouth. Soap and water ain't gonna cut it,” he called, making me take a slow, deep breath. The asshole was back. And that was good.
“What the hell do you care how long I'm in here?” I growled, angry that I had settled on an apartment with one bathroom.