He watches me with a vigour that pins me in place. The temperature increases, as his steely eyes meet mine.

“Riley breathe for me. It's okay. Let's at least discuss this first,” He releases my wrist with an achingly fast pace.

Can he not bear to touch me?

I go towards my previous seat but find that he moves toward the couch instead. I follow his direction, taking a place on the cobalt-tinted furniture.

His eyes glint with amusement at my choice of seating, “You can come closer Riley, It's okay.” He encourages, tapping the seat next to him.

I shuffle toward him. My senses betray me when his scent reaches me, heating my skin further.

He places his arm on the back of the leather couch, his body facing mine. I sink into my seat appreciating the coolness of the leather.

“What you're looking for Riley isn't exactly what I do, I teach people how to become more comfortable with sex. Help them overcome possible fears regarding sex. My role isn't specifically to make clients feel desired, or wanted as you said.” He lets out a harsh breath before continuing, his brows pulling taut as he struggles internally.

“And yet to watch you leave just now felt incredibly wrong, no matter what you're asking of me.” He fixes his gaze on the space between us, battling with himself.

“I don’t understand, that isn’t what you do. I can’t ask that of you.” I say, shaking my head, wanting him to know it’s okay.

He stiffens, finally meeting my eyes, “No it's not what I do. But I cannot allow you to leave discontented in this way. Be it a temporary fix, I can give you that Riley, I can make you feel desired, wanted. But I need you to desire yourself first, otherwise, you simply won't believe me,” his voice is grave, advising me how profound the situation is.

I look away from him, focusing on the marble floor instead of the steely eyes that seem to make thinking impossible. I consider his words, the crypticness of them making me slightly apprehensive. But I didn't come this far to say no now.

“Okay, I can try,” I brace myself for whatever he’s about to suggest.

His hand begins to strain, forming a fist. what is causing him this much discomfort? His eyes burn with something, I can’t fathom, “Describe yourself in three words for me,” he commands.

What? Is he joking? He can’t be serious. However, the look displayed on him currently confirms he is.

I glance toward the window looking out into the city, in hope it brings me the answers.

“I Think I’m, smart, genuine, and kind?” My tone suggests I’m looking for his approval, not a great start.

“Riley that’s good, but I want you to be definitive in those words, you posed them as a question.” He moves an inch closer. “I want to be straightforward with you. I don’t want to waste your time. So I’ll ask you, do you desire yourself?” He questions, tilting his head to the right.

His question throws me, do I desire myself? I mean I like myself I guess but, sexy, and desirable? I’ve never thought of myself like that. But years of being spoken down to hasn’t helped that.

I want more for myself, though. More than shitty comments, and insults. I deserved more.

“I want to.”

“Good girl. I’m certain you can. Do you trust me?” his voice is honeyed.

“Yes.”

My blood warms at his turn of phrase, why did I like it so much?

“I'm going to assign you a task to complete, alone. I want you to touch yourself, Riley. Connect with your body. I just ask that you try, before our next session,” he explains, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

Not to me.

I have never been, I'm not sure how to put it, sexually open.

My mother constantly shamed women for expressing themselves sexually.

Her words never left, I had been unable to let myself feel any kind of pleasure because of her shame.

“I need to be honest, I was ashamed before when you asked if I have ever touched myself. I've never tried. The thought alone brings me too much shame,” I confess, reluctant to meet his gaze.

His eyes widen slightly in shock, before quickly collecting himself.

“Do you think about it, Riley? Is it something you want? Forget the shame for a moment.”

“I'm curious, I do want to experience it, even just once. The shame stems from my mother. She thought that for women to feel pleasure was disgusting. Her mentality never seemed to leave me.”

I want to shake my mother's shame from my life. It was just so ingrained in me, that I didn’t know where to start.

His eyes flicker with irritation, again, for me.

I wonder what he truly thinks, his uncensored view of my situation. I want him to voice his rage, maybe it will inspire me to do the same.

“You deserve pleasure, Riley. I need you to know that.” He pauses for a moment. “Have you ever felt desire Riley, for anyone?”

How he says this stuns me, his earnestness. He truly believes I deserve this.

“I had crushes as a teenager but never really felt desire, nothing that would cause me to act on it. I shut myself off before it got to that. My husband was my first. But I've still never felt it for anyone.”

_Except, for the heat in my belly around you._

But voicing that thought would be a mistake.

A line forms between his brows, “Even your husband? Riley forgive my directness but I must ask you, has he ever satisfied you, sexually?” His voice is clipped, his face taking on a sterner expression than before.

Did this anger him? Why does he think I'm so deserving of pleasure?

I’ve never been a very sexual person but I’m not a prude. I want to experience it, and judging by Tristan's reactions it was very strange that I haven’t.

And so I try and push my shame away, at least in Tristan’s company, because I'm sick of carrying it.

“No, he's never satisfied me, I've never had an orgasm,” I admit, my voice breathy as I meet his eyes.

I sense the irritation coming off of him in waves, feel it even. I know that it's towards my mother and Jason, and I like it.

“I want you to own your pleasure. I assure you we will go at your pace.” His thumb slowly strokes the couch, I begin to wonder how his hands might feel against my skin.

I feel a blazing heat upon hearing his words, the way he empowers me leaves me with such a foreign feeling, a feeling I want more of.

“I think I can do that. It's now or never right? So what’s first?” I rush my words, rubbing my palms against my jeans, smoothing them against the rough material to distract myself.

His eyes crinkle, and humour sweeps across his face, ”First off we’re going to explore your self-pleasure, I will guide you through it the entire time, unless, you know how to touch yourself?” His voice deepens, and the air physically changes.

Once again humiliation hits me, I'm twenty-eight and I don’t know how to touch myself. Ground please just swallow me whole.

When the blush on my face deepens, Tristian has all the answers he needs.

“I’ll help you Riley, we’ll take it slow, but I promise you will get what you need. I want to give you time to digest our session today, so we will delve into this next time okay?” He says professionally, how on earth could he say such things and remain so incredibly calm?

“Okay”, I breathe, unable to say anything else.

“Okay,” he echoes, his voice warm and gentle.