erotica written by women, for women, lay next to a copy of the Kama Sutra and and old copy of Alex Comfort's The Joy of Sex . Prominently displayed was a hardback edition of a volume on women's sexual fantasies from a historical perspective to contemporary western culture.
Though Jennifer didn't actually do very much counseling for sexual problems, she liked to stay abreast of all the research. She couldn't wait to see what kind of books Matt brought for their little session.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Jennifer checked her appearance in the beveled mirror hanging over the console table in the small foyer. The short black dress was cut shockingly low. Actually, she'd never worn the dress for that reason. It was perfect for today's encounter.
She sniffed appreciatively. The body lotion and perfume that she'd layered on after her shower wafted gently through the air. It was a definite presence in the room but not overpowering. She leaned over from the waist and shook her head, messing her hair. When she popped up and looked in the mirror, she nodded. Perfect. Her hair looked tousled and sexy as if she'd just gotten out of bed.
When the bell rang again, she quit her primping and hurriedly threw open the mahogany door. "Matt." Her heart pounded in anticipation.
He looked so good that she didn't have to fake the breathlessness in her voice. He wore a black and ivory patterned sport coat and an ivory knit pullover shirt and black slacks. His hair was so perfectly combed that she wanted to run her hands through it, mussing it as she absorbed the silky feel of it.
"Dr. Monroe." His eyes betrayed him as his gaze locked on her chest. He frowned fiercely.
Uh oh. He didn't look like a happy camper. And he was back to the formality of Dr. Monroe. She smiled. "Won't you please come in?"
She led him into her comfortable living room and indicated the plump couch. Matt looked at it and frowned then sat down in the very middle of the scarlet sofa.
Jennifer turned away so he wouldn't see her smirk. He'd obviously thought she'd sit in one of the two club chairs positioned at right angles to the couch. She walked over and sat next to him. Deliberately, she brushed her breasts against his arm as she settled onto the plump cushion.
By the time she'd finished the seductive business of sitting, Jennifer felt curiously breathless. Unexpectedly, her nipples tightened with longing. So rattled by the sensation, she couldn't properly relish the knowledge that Matt had jumped away from her as if jolted by an electrical shock.
Matt slowly let his breath out. Over and over, mentally, he sang the French national anthem La Marseillaise which he'd learned in high school French class in an effort to control his body. Eventually, the muscles in his arm quit jumping. He closed his eyes, glad for the camouflage of the oversized reference book in his lap.
"May I take that?" Jennifer asked.
"No!" His eyes popped open and delighted in what they saw. "That is, I'll hold it for a while," he said, drowning in her beautiful gray eyes. Her messy hair had an odd effect on him. He wanted to muss the short strands even more. He imagined holding her head still as he kissed her.
When she leaned forward, he could see down the neck of the dress she wore. He groaned, unable to help himself. Her breasts were large, perfect spheres, barely covered by black lace cups. Her skirt slid up, and he saw black lace at the top of her stockings peeking out from the hem of the dress. He imagined pressing hot, wet kisses to the skin above the lace band of the stockings. He bit back a groan. Sweat popped out on his forehead again. He wiped it with his sleeve and hoped she didn't notice.
"Would you like something to drink? I opened a really nice white zinfandel. Or I could make some coffee if you prefer."
"No, don't go to any trouble. I'll have whatever you're having." Immediately, he thought of the scene in that Meg Ryan movie When Harry Met Sally where Meg Ryan
Though Jennifer didn't actually do very much counseling for sexual problems, she liked to stay abreast of all the research. She couldn't wait to see what kind of books Matt brought for their little session.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Jennifer checked her appearance in the beveled mirror hanging over the console table in the small foyer. The short black dress was cut shockingly low. Actually, she'd never worn the dress for that reason. It was perfect for today's encounter.
She sniffed appreciatively. The body lotion and perfume that she'd layered on after her shower wafted gently through the air. It was a definite presence in the room but not overpowering. She leaned over from the waist and shook her head, messing her hair. When she popped up and looked in the mirror, she nodded. Perfect. Her hair looked tousled and sexy as if she'd just gotten out of bed.
When the bell rang again, she quit her primping and hurriedly threw open the mahogany door. "Matt." Her heart pounded in anticipation.
He looked so good that she didn't have to fake the breathlessness in her voice. He wore a black and ivory patterned sport coat and an ivory knit pullover shirt and black slacks. His hair was so perfectly combed that she wanted to run her hands through it, mussing it as she absorbed the silky feel of it.
"Dr. Monroe." His eyes betrayed him as his gaze locked on her chest. He frowned fiercely.
Uh oh. He didn't look like a happy camper. And he was back to the formality of Dr. Monroe. She smiled. "Won't you please come in?"
She led him into her comfortable living room and indicated the plump couch. Matt looked at it and frowned then sat down in the very middle of the scarlet sofa.
Jennifer turned away so he wouldn't see her smirk. He'd obviously thought she'd sit in one of the two club chairs positioned at right angles to the couch. She walked over and sat next to him. Deliberately, she brushed her breasts against his arm as she settled onto the plump cushion.
By the time she'd finished the seductive business of sitting, Jennifer felt curiously breathless. Unexpectedly, her nipples tightened with longing. So rattled by the sensation, she couldn't properly relish the knowledge that Matt had jumped away from her as if jolted by an electrical shock.
Matt slowly let his breath out. Over and over, mentally, he sang the French national anthem La Marseillaise which he'd learned in high school French class in an effort to control his body. Eventually, the muscles in his arm quit jumping. He closed his eyes, glad for the camouflage of the oversized reference book in his lap.
"May I take that?" Jennifer asked.
"No!" His eyes popped open and delighted in what they saw. "That is, I'll hold it for a while," he said, drowning in her beautiful gray eyes. Her messy hair had an odd effect on him. He wanted to muss the short strands even more. He imagined holding her head still as he kissed her.
When she leaned forward, he could see down the neck of the dress she wore. He groaned, unable to help himself. Her breasts were large, perfect spheres, barely covered by black lace cups. Her skirt slid up, and he saw black lace at the top of her stockings peeking out from the hem of the dress. He imagined pressing hot, wet kisses to the skin above the lace band of the stockings. He bit back a groan. Sweat popped out on his forehead again. He wiped it with his sleeve and hoped she didn't notice.
"Would you like something to drink? I opened a really nice white zinfandel. Or I could make some coffee if you prefer."
"No, don't go to any trouble. I'll have whatever you're having." Immediately, he thought of the scene in that Meg Ryan movie When Harry Met Sally where Meg Ryan
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