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Authors: Kimberly Raye
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and I’m a sex addict,” said the guy sitting to Kevin’s right. “I also sell car insurance on the side, so if anyone needs a quote just see me after the session.”
Sherrie frowned, and middle-aged Frank slid back into his seat as if he’d been whacked with a ruler. She shifted her attention to the next person, and the introductions went on for the next few minutes until we reached the last person, the woman sitting just to my left.
Her blonde highlights had been cut into a stylish bob. She wore a petal-pink tracksuit, white running shoes, and a massive handbag that actually wiggled as she shifted it to the side and stood. “My name is Tammie Mae Hutchinson. I don’t actually work, but I
am
president of the Kingwood Estates Home Owners Association.” When Sherrie gave her a look that said
and?
, she added, “Oh, I’m also vice president for the Fairchild Elementary School PTA and secretary for the Kingwood Little League Association.” She started to sit down, but Sherrie cleared her throat. “I’m also an s-e-x addict,” she added before sinking back to her chair.
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “I was nervous my first time too.”
“Oh, it’s not my first meeting.” She waved a hand. “I used to belong to the Kingwood chapter, but all of our members graduated, so I’ve merged with this group. I’ve been to fifty-nine meetings including this one. I’m just uncomfortable saying the word out loud.”
“Religious issues?”
“Toddlers.”
“Now that everyone knows everyone,” Sherrie announced, “it’s time to share. Please remember. This is a safe place. No judgments. Just acceptance and understanding. And then refreshments.” Heads bobbed around the group, and she added, “Now would anyone like to tell us about any experiences since our last meeting that might have tested your progress in the program? Any instances where you wanted to slide back down the proverbial ladder? Or perhaps you slid and you’re ready to own up to your mistake so that you can shed the baggage and start climbing again?”
Frank’s hand slid into the air. “I met this pretty hot waitress over at this diner out in Clear Lake last weekend. I was giving an insurance quote to the owner—I managed to save him fifty percent off what he was currently paying—and she smiled at me. That was all it took for things to go south. I started having thoughts…”
Frank the insurance guy went on with several descriptive images before Sherrie cut him short, much to everyone’s dismay (hey, it’s the doing that’s off-limits, not the hearing about it).
“So what did you do about those urges?” she asked. “Did you act on them?”
“I almost propositioned her, but then I pictured my wife, Julie, and I ordered a slice of apple pie with two scoops of ice cream instead.”
Go, Frank.
“I’ve got something even more powerful that doesn’t pack on the pounds,” said the PTA mom next to me. “I’ve been on the wagon for over a year now and it’s all because of my poochies. See, my therapist suggested I try nurturing something instead of feeding my own desires and, what do you know? It worked. The only problem is, Candy and Molly—they’re my babies—turned out to be Candy and Mitch, so now I’ve got puppies.” She hefted the bag, which I then realized was one of those chic dog purses, and opened up the top to reveal a half dozen squirming balls of fluff. “They all need good homes if anyone is interested.”
“Well, now, what a lovely offer,” Sherrie said. “I think we should break now and give everyone a chance to check out these adorable puppies.”
The group crowded around Tammie Mae, but yours truly, being the typical dog-fearing demon, headed for the refreshment table.
I was stuffing another brownie into my mouth and trying to ignore Kevin flexing in my peripheral when Tammie Mae came up behind me.
“Rough night?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled around a mouthful.
“Well, I have just the
Sherrie frowned, and middle-aged Frank slid back into his seat as if he’d been whacked with a ruler. She shifted her attention to the next person, and the introductions went on for the next few minutes until we reached the last person, the woman sitting just to my left.
Her blonde highlights had been cut into a stylish bob. She wore a petal-pink tracksuit, white running shoes, and a massive handbag that actually wiggled as she shifted it to the side and stood. “My name is Tammie Mae Hutchinson. I don’t actually work, but I
am
president of the Kingwood Estates Home Owners Association.” When Sherrie gave her a look that said
and?
, she added, “Oh, I’m also vice president for the Fairchild Elementary School PTA and secretary for the Kingwood Little League Association.” She started to sit down, but Sherrie cleared her throat. “I’m also an s-e-x addict,” she added before sinking back to her chair.
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “I was nervous my first time too.”
“Oh, it’s not my first meeting.” She waved a hand. “I used to belong to the Kingwood chapter, but all of our members graduated, so I’ve merged with this group. I’ve been to fifty-nine meetings including this one. I’m just uncomfortable saying the word out loud.”
“Religious issues?”
“Toddlers.”
“Now that everyone knows everyone,” Sherrie announced, “it’s time to share. Please remember. This is a safe place. No judgments. Just acceptance and understanding. And then refreshments.” Heads bobbed around the group, and she added, “Now would anyone like to tell us about any experiences since our last meeting that might have tested your progress in the program? Any instances where you wanted to slide back down the proverbial ladder? Or perhaps you slid and you’re ready to own up to your mistake so that you can shed the baggage and start climbing again?”
Frank’s hand slid into the air. “I met this pretty hot waitress over at this diner out in Clear Lake last weekend. I was giving an insurance quote to the owner—I managed to save him fifty percent off what he was currently paying—and she smiled at me. That was all it took for things to go south. I started having thoughts…”
Frank the insurance guy went on with several descriptive images before Sherrie cut him short, much to everyone’s dismay (hey, it’s the doing that’s off-limits, not the hearing about it).
“So what did you do about those urges?” she asked. “Did you act on them?”
“I almost propositioned her, but then I pictured my wife, Julie, and I ordered a slice of apple pie with two scoops of ice cream instead.”
Go, Frank.
“I’ve got something even more powerful that doesn’t pack on the pounds,” said the PTA mom next to me. “I’ve been on the wagon for over a year now and it’s all because of my poochies. See, my therapist suggested I try nurturing something instead of feeding my own desires and, what do you know? It worked. The only problem is, Candy and Molly—they’re my babies—turned out to be Candy and Mitch, so now I’ve got puppies.” She hefted the bag, which I then realized was one of those chic dog purses, and opened up the top to reveal a half dozen squirming balls of fluff. “They all need good homes if anyone is interested.”
“Well, now, what a lovely offer,” Sherrie said. “I think we should break now and give everyone a chance to check out these adorable puppies.”
The group crowded around Tammie Mae, but yours truly, being the typical dog-fearing demon, headed for the refreshment table.
I was stuffing another brownie into my mouth and trying to ignore Kevin flexing in my peripheral when Tammie Mae came up behind me.
“Rough night?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled around a mouthful.
“Well, I have just the
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