Christy, the Sex Therapist Pt. 10

51

They woke around noon. "Morning, boi," she said. "Or maybe it's afternoon. I can't tell, and I don't care anyway. Good sleeps?"

He yawned. "Yeah. I always sleep soundly when you're next to me, Miss Christy. I hate to say this, but I think you have a very important phone call to make today."

She knew her boi was right. "Yeah, I know. But I need a coffee first." She got up, loaded the machine, and flicked the switch. Five minutes later, she poured two mugs, one each.

"What are you gonna say, Miss Christy? What are you gonna ask him?"

"I don't really know. Probably best not to overthink it. I feel a bit nervous. I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. Probably because I don't know what to expect. I don't think he and I have ever gone this long without some kind of contact."

She procrastinated, and he noticed. "Make the fucking call, Miss Christy. Seize the day."

She sighed. "OK. I'll put him on speaker so you can listen, just don't say anything. Will you stay with me, Marcus?"

"Of course, Miss Christy," he said. "Got your back. And everything else, too."

She took a deep breath, cleared her throat and dialled Alex's number. It rang and rang ... and rang. She got his voicemail. 'Hey this is Alex, leave a message and I'll call you back.' *beeeeeep*

She'd mentally prepared for this. "Uh, hey, Alex, it's Christy. How are you? I hope you're well. Haven't heard from you for a few days. Can we talk? I miss you. Ring me back?" She ended the message and turned towards Marcus. "A little anticlimactic, wouldn't you say, Marcus?"

"Well, if nothing else, the ball is in his court now," he said. "I'm sure it'll be easier for him to reconnect with you now that you've made the first move." He gave her a reassuring hug.

Two hours later, she received a text message from Alex. 'Hey Christy. Thanks for calling me. I'm really busy right now, but call me tomorrow morning at 11am, and we can talk.'

She read the message to Marcus. So officious, so impersonal. Like, as if she's bothering him, and he's doing her a favour by carving time out of his busy schedule to talk to her. It felt like a kick in the guts. "Wow, Marcus. I'm a bit stunned. I don't know whether I want to talk to him right now if that's his attitude."

"I'm assuming he doesn't regularly talk to you like that, Miss Christy?"

"No, he fucking doesn't." She was starting to feel angry. "I'm his wife. He should make space for me. I mean, he's never gonna win the Nobel fucking prize for literature, but come on. Everyone has times where they regret the words they use or the tone they speak in, but right now, I don't think he does. It feels deliberate. It feels like he's trying to psychologically punish me."

"Do you think that's all it is, Miss Christy?"

"No, probably not. I mean, he's probably feeling quite rattled and upset with himself. Like I mentioned, he's not good at talking about feelings and emotions, especially not with other men, and especially the men in his rugby team. He might not have an emotional outlet right now, and he might be bottling it all up. And if he is, maybe that's what came out in his response to me."

Marcus's advice hit the mark. "Well, I suppose he can only punish you if you let him ... so maybe don't let him. The other thing is, maybe it's all too soon for him. I'm sure he appreciates you getting in touch, even if he's probably still feeling too hurt to respond rationally."

She smiled. She knew he was right. "I don't deserve you."

Marcus blushed. "I've been thinking the exact same thing about you for months."

They kissed. "Come back to bed with me, boi."

As if he could ever say no.

*

Marcus undressed Miss Christy slowly. He lifted her top off over her shoulders and undid her bra from behind. She wasn't wearing shoes, but he removed her socks and sucked on her toes. He massaged her feet and ankles, and slowly moved up to her firm calves, making his way upstream.

She cut to the chase. "Marcus, can I ask you for something?"

"You can ask me anything you want, Miss Christy."

"OK, so can you ... can you please ... please eat my ass? I really need it, Marcus. Please eat my ass." She was almost whimpering.

'Fuck yeah,' thought Marcus.

"Roll over, bitch," he said, "you're fucking dead."

She rolled onto her stomach. He yanked her panties down in one single, swift, dominant motion. He kissed her fat cheeks and she drowned in the attention he gave her. His eyes locked onto her delectable target. He pulled her cheeks aside and dived in, french-kissing her beautiful starfish. She moaned and she reached down to touch herself as she ground hard into the mattress. Marcus wasn't very experienced at giving analingus, and while he'd imagined himself eating ass before, this was the first time he'd ever done it, and he was loving every second of it. Miss Christy came, gently, onto her own fingers as Marcus tongued her anus. He spread her cheeks as wide as he possibly could, and he ate her ass like he wanted to get inside her. She came again, this time violently. She loved the feeling of Marcus's wet mouth lapping at her backdoor. Marcus kept going. Fuck, he'd keep eating her hole until tomorrow's breakfast if she let him. Marcus tried tongue-fucking her asshole, she felt it, and in response, she came a third time onto her hand.

She rolled onto her back, completely satisfied. "Kiss me, boi," she demanded. Marcus stuck his tongue in her mouth and she tasted her own ass. "Mmm, yeah that's so fucking hot," she moaned. She reached down to grab his erect penis, but Marcus was still wearing his pants. She unzipped him, fished his cock out, and continued kissing him as she stroked him to climax. His cum dribbled all over his crotch. "Those pants are going in the wash, boi."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together in peace. They sat in the backyard. Marcus sat on the grass under a tree and read a book in the sunshine, while Miss Christy lay in his lap.

Marcus cooked dinner for Miss Christy. After they ate, he retrieved his makeshift bong from underneath the back steps and he ripped a couple of cones while Miss Christy cleaned up. They sat on the couch, leaned into each other, fired up Netflix, and watched a couple of movies.

It felt like they were always meant to be together, yet they were both conscious of what might happen tomorrow morning at 11 o'clock. Neither wanted to speak of it, neither wanted to bring tomorrow into today, but tomorrow still loomed large, refusing to be pushed away.

The first movie they watched was hilarious. Marcus went out back to pull another cone in-between movies while Miss Christy went to the bathroom. The second movie was a little slow, and Marcus's mind wandered. "Hey, Miss Christy?"

"What, Marcus?"

"Do you like cats? I really like cats. Maybe we should adopt a cat," said Marcus.

She smiled bravely. And then her lower lip trembled. And then she burst into tears.

Marcus paused the movie. "Oh, Miss Christy, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" He hugged her tightly and waited for her sobs to slow. "If you don't like cats, that's totally OK with me! It was just an idea, that's all!"

"No, no, Marcus, it's not that. It's not that at all. I love cats too. My parents loved cats and I grew up around them. They've always been a part of my life. Well, until recently, that is. They're such sensitive and perceptive souls, and I always found that whenever I wasn't feeling so good and there were things on my mind, my cats would always listen, and I always felt like they understood me. I've always wanted to adopt a cat, but Alex is allergic to them. One of the many compromises of marriage," she said.

"Oh, fuck, Miss Christy, I'm really so sorry for bringing this up." He hugged her.

"It's not your fault, Marcus, you weren't ever to know," she said. "But to answer your question, if Alex doesn't come back, then yes, I'd love to adopt a cat with you. I miss having a cat around."

They gazed into each other's eyes, and Marcus wiped the tears away from Miss Christy's cheeks. "Would you like to watch the rest of the movie with me, Miss Christy?" he asked.

"Yes, boi. But can I rest my head in your lap again? I felt so calm and peaceful this afternoon under the tree."

Marcus nodded. She lowered her head into her boi's lap. He pressed play on the remote and the film rolled on. The film was terrible, but it didn't matter. He stroked her beautiful hair until she fell asleep.

*

52

Marcus was the first to awaken on Sunday morning. Through sleep-encrusted eyes, he glanced across at Miss Christy. He knew this was going to be a seismic day for her, potentially changing the course of the rest of her life. Marcus has been in a similar position earlier in his own life where his relationship seemingly dissolved right in front of his eyes, despite him doing everything possible to protect and defend it. In his own case, he had no influence whatsoever in how events unfolded. His ex was obviously troubled with something about their relationship. It was probably the fact that she and Marcus had stopped having sex, but if was anything other than that, he was still completely in the dark. She'd moved out of their home into temporary accommodation, discussed the state of her relationship with everyone under the sun except Marcus himself, and returned to announce her unilateral decision. Nothing Marcus could've said or done from this point could've ever changed her mind. It felt like he'd been emotionally ambushed, and there was nobody he could rely on for support. When he learned that his ex was seeing someone new a month after she'd left him, he knew he'd been deceived, lied to, and stitched up. But at least Miss Christy and Alex were still willing to talk, which was good. And he knew that if Alex pulled the rug out from under Miss Christy's feet, he wouldn't let her fall over.

This was gonna be a big day. He steeled himself. He prepared himself to be her emotional rock, to reassure Miss Christy 'no matter what happens, I got your back, you're never gonna be alone, I love you' and so on, but nothing he could say or do would change the basic, fundamental fact: she was the one who had to go through the emotional pits of hell today, and not him.

He watched her sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall as she slept. He didn't ever want to lose her.

*

He quietly got up and switched the coffee machine on. Miss Christy had set her Sunday morning alarm for 10am. Shortly after, and bleary-eyed, she entered the kitchen. "Hey, Miss Christy, good morning," he said.

"Hey boi," she mumbled. She rubbed her eyes.

"Gonna make you breakfast, Miss Christy. Coffee's already on." They could both hear the machine percolating away. She was still half-asleep.

He poured her a bowl of cereal and added some milk. "Breakfast is served, Miss Christy." A bowl of cereal was Marcus's go-to breakfast every day. She ate it enthusiastically, and when she was done, she went to put her bowl into the sink. "Hey, Miss Christy, what are you doing? You're not done yet!"

She was confused. "What do you mean? I ate all the cereal. It was good. And thank you!"

"But the bowl isn't empty," explained Marcus. "There's still milk in it. You need to drink the milk."

"But why?" asked Miss Christy.

Marcus couldn't find an intellectually satisfying answer to that question. "I don't know, Miss Christy. I used to drink the remains of the milk out of the bowl when I was a kid, and I still do it, but I don't know why. I just do. Breakfast isn't complete until you've finished the coffee, and you've drained the milk out of the cereal bowl."

"So what do you want me to do, Marcus? I can't drink the milk with a fucking spoon, can I? Do you want me sitting here finishing my breakfast until it's time for lunch?"

Marcus was slightly exasperated. "Haven't you seen me finish my breakfast? Drink it out of the bowl."

Miss Christy lifted the cereal bowl to her face and drained the milk dregs into her mouth. Nothing escaped her, and she put the bowl down on the counter with a satisfied 'aaaah'. "You happy now, boi?", she asked.

"Very," he replied. Now, onto the important business of the day. "So I know you've got an important conversation at 11 o'clock. I can leave the house for a while if you'd prefer to be alone, or I can stay here with you."

"Stay here with me," pleaded Miss Christy.

Minutes passed like quicksand.

11am arrived. They sat on the couch and Miss Christy dialled Alex's number. The call was on speaker so Marcus could listen. It rang for quite a while before Alex answered.

"Hello, Christy," answered Alex.

"Ummm, hi, Alex. How are you?"

"I'm OK. Busy getting ready for the season. How are you?"

"I've been better, Alex, but thanks for asking."

"Is Marcus there with you?"

"No. No, he isn't," she lied. She wondered whether Alex could tell. She thought about extending the lie by adding something like 'I haven't seen him for quite a while,' but she wisely stopped herself.

Alex abruptly got to the point. He appeared to be in no mood for small talk, not even with his own wife. "What did you want to discuss, Christy?"

"I wanted to talk about our future, Alex. My future with you," she said.

The line went quiet. She could hear Alex breathing. "Do you think we still have a future, Christy? I'm honestly not sure at this point if we do," Alex responded. He could hear her sobbing at the other end of the line.

This was what Christy feared. She took a deep, settling breath. "Is it because of Marcus, Alex? Is that why you feel this way?"

Alex didn't answer the question directly. "You cheated on me."

"What the hell, Alex? We 'cheat', if that's the word you want to use, on each other all the fucking time. We agreed on this,' she challenged. "Besides, partners cheat on each other all the time. I see it every day at work. Part of my job is to help people forgive each other when they've been unfaithful, to recommit to each other and to move on. That's what I'd like to happen for us, too."

"Our agreement was only ever about sex. You told me you loved Marcus. That's the difference," he said.

"But I love my mom, and you love yours, Alex. I can't just love one person. I love many people for many different reasons. Everybody does."

Alex wasn't impressed with this line of argument. "Don't fucking bullshit me, Christy, you know that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the fact you told me you'd fallen in love with someone other than myself. I'm totally comfortable with you fucking whoever you want to fuck and I always have been, but when you told me you loved Marcus, that changed everything for me."

There was silence at the other end. Eventually, Christy spoke, almost in a whisper. "I never meant for that to happen, Alex. I swear it. But I can't undo it, and I can't deny my feelings."

"Do you still love him, Christy?"

Still, silence.

"Well, do you?" More silence. "Please answer me, Christy."

Christy sobbed as she owned her truth. "Yes, Alex. Yes, I do."

She heard Alex sigh. "Well, I've never heard of a properly functioning relationship with more than two people in it," he said.

"What do you mean, Alex?"

"I'm saying if you love Marcus, then this won't work for me anymore."

"Don't you love me anymore, Alex?"

"Yes, I do, Christy, and that's what makes this so difficult for me. I love you, and you tell me you love me too, but you said you also love someone else." Alex paused. "I don't want to share you with someone else. That's not how marriages work. I don't want to have to compete with someone else for your affection. Especially not Marcus. I can't do it."

Christy's breathing was shallow and erratic. She waited for Alex to continue.

"I think we need to get a divorce, Christy."

She cried. "OK, Alex. I see what you mean. If you think that's best."

Alex took a deep breath, aware of the gravity of what he was saying. "Yeah, Christy, I do. I can hear you're upset, and I am too."

Christy clutched at straws on the riverbank as she sank. "What about a trial separation, Alex? Let's not rush into this. We could stay married, but live separately for a while. What do you think? It'd give us both some time and space to think things through."

"What would a separation achieve, Christy? Would it change the way you felt about Marcus?"

She knew it wouldn't. "I'm not sure, Alex. But probably not. I do love him. I love you, but I love him too."

"I can't be in a relationship with you under those conditions. It might work for you, but it won't work for me. I think we need to get a divorce," he said.

Christy felt like she'd been snapped in half. "OK, Alex."

And it was done. "OK. Thank you, Christy," said Alex. "You probably won't hear from me for a while, but eventually we'll need to decide what happens to the house. Besides, the season is about to start, and I need to be committed to it. I would still like for us to be friends in the future, Christy, but I can't be friends with you right now. I need some time to deal with this. I still find it hard to believe. It doesn't feel real."

"OK, Alex." Tears poured down her cheeks.

"It feels like you've deceived me, Christy."

She cried. She never meant to.

Alex's mind went to logistics. "I need to move out. Our house isn't my home anymore. I'll need to come to the house to pick up a few other bits and pieces, and hopefully I won't need to come back again after that. I'll let you know when I'm planning to come by. If it's a bad day or time for you, I'll reschedule to something that works for both of us. I don't want to inconvenience you. Just please do me the courtesy of not being in the house at the time we agree on. It's too hard for me to see you right now."

"Yes. OK, Alex. I understand," she whispered.

"I'll be in touch. Goodbye for now, Christy. Look after yourself," said Alex.

"Goodbye, Alex. I love you," weeped Christy.

The line went dead. She collapsed onto the floor, curled into a foetal position, and cried so hard it came out as a scream. She was shaking, almost convulsing, in a state of sheer emotional trauma.

Marcus had never seen a single person express so much raw emotion in his entire life. He knew this moment would be etched onto his memory forever. He lay on the floor and hugged Miss Christy tightly from behind. Even though he held her as tightly as he could, he knew she probably wasn't even aware of his presence. Maybe she couldn't even feel him holding her. Maybe she couldn't feel anything at all.

*

53

Miss Christy screamed herself hoarse. Marcus continued holding her. Eventually there was no more energy left within Miss Christy to drive her emotion. She slowly stopped crying, but grief was replaced by a feeling of numbness. He helped her back up onto the couch.

"I'm gonna make you a mug of tea, Miss Christy." He wanted to make some kind of gesture of love towards her, and this was the first thing he thought of. He went to the kitchen, boiled some water, and brought her a mug of peach, pineapple and lemongrass tea. "Here you go, Miss Christy. This'll be good for your throat."

In just about any other situation where there was a comment about throats, Miss Christy would've made a wisecrack about blowjobs, but not now. She smiled weakly. "Thank you, Marcus. I appreciate it." The tea was still a little too hot for her, and they sat in silence for a few minutes while it cooled. She concentrated on her breathing.

She looked at Marcus through puffy, bloodshot eyes. She looked down at her mug of tea and shook her head in disbelief. "What have I done?"

Marcus thought this was a rhetorical question. At least he hoped it was, because he didn't think he had a response to it.

"I don't know what I've done." She paused and took a sip of her tea. She looked up at him. "What have I done, Marcus?"