unforgettable.

Chapter 1

By

New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author

Aleatha Romig

Disclaimer

The INDULGENCE series contains novellas designed to bring out the harbored fantasies often buried deep inside. If you're ready to give that a try, enjoy this fun, sexy journey into the world of exploration and find your happily ever after.

Marji

“The client blushed as she recalled the setting, describing the scene as she entered the cabin. With each implement she recalled, her cheeks grew redder until she finally apologized. I questioned as to whether talking about their encounter made her anxious or embarrassed. With a sly grin toward her husband, the client replied, 'It makes me want to go back.'"

Pulling the earbuds from my ears, I shake my head, pushing the visuals from my mind. With a quick save, using the clients' identification number instead of name, I close out their records and complete the transcription of Dr. Kizer's appointment notes from the day before.

Looking down at the corner of my computer screen, I see that it is nearly seven at night, almost time to leave work and live. That's what is supposed to happen at this time of night. I know that it is because I've read about it in the novels on my k****e. I've seen the images on television or in movies. I even transcribe a therapist's detailed notes telling me that is the way it should be.

They're all the same.

They're evidence that not everyone lives for work, novels, and Netflix.

The images and stories are of people shedding their work or career responsibilities, and like a butterfly, freeing themselves from their daytime cocoon, the drab outer layer exfoliating and the bright, colorful wings stretching until the butterfly is free and able to take flight.

“Thank you, Dr. Kizer," Mr. Williams says as his wife smiles, her cheeks blushed from whatever discussion has been happening behind Dr. Kizer's closed office door.

The discussion I will be turning into records tomorrow.

That knowledge causes me to straighten my shoulders, not wanting to give away my connection to the clients' intimated details.

As the couple comes to a stop in front of my desk, I can't help but notice the admiration and adoration they share. It radiates off of each of them. There's no hidden anxiety or concern. It's pure, unadulterated trust and esteem, as if they're the only two people in the room. Forget that. They're the only two people now in the world.

Mrs. Williams's head shakes as she tilts her forehead against her husband's shoulder with a soft giggle.

“Um," I say, clearing my throat. “Would you like to schedule your appointment for next week?"

Mr. Williams looks my direction. “Make that two weeks. We're following Dr. Kizer's advice and taking a week away..." He looks down lovingly at his wife. “...just the two of us."

Mrs. Williams nods. “I sent my mom a text and she's going to stay with the kids. I didn't think I was ready for an entire week, but I am."

Please no details.

That's my thought as her cheeks again fill with crimson.

“Then, two weeks," I say, pulling up Dr. Kizer's schedule on my screen. “Two weeks on Thursday at six p.m.?"

“That's perfect," Mr. Williams says as he enters the appointment into his phone. “Oh Marji, do we talk to you about the use of Dr. Kizer's cabin?"

“For next week?" I ask a bit wearily.

“Yes."

I sit taller. “I'm sorry. The cabins are all booked in advance." I hit a few keys on the keyboard, suddenly feeling the same disappointment that is now emanating from the two people before me.

“Dr. Kizer said there was a recent cancellation," Mr. Williams says. “Can you please check?"

“Next week is our anniversary," Mrs. Williams adds with a hopeful grin. “Seven years and it is better than ever." She sighs. “Better than I could have hoped for."

“If this doesn't work out..." Mr. Williams's words to his wife disappear as I type upon the keyboard until the cabin rental schedule appears before me.

To my surprise, there is an opening. “Well, Dr. Kizer was right."

“She always is," Mrs. Williams says, her smile returning bigger than ever as she still holds tightly to her husband's arm.

I don't want to think about what will be happening at the cabin—the scene and the implements: crops, gags, and restraints to name a few. It's really none of my business what two consenting adults choose to do in their spare time. I mean, it's their decision.

I could pretend to be naïve, tell myself that they're going to rent the cabin for a week to hike the trails or picnic near the lake. I could tell myself that it's no different than any other rental, a Vrbo or a time-share.

If I did tell myself any of the above stories, I wouldn't believe me.

Along with scheduling Dr. Kizer's clients, seeing them come in on the verge of marital or relationship collapse and observing their transformations, singularly as well as a couple, as I was doing a few minutes ago, I also transcribe her notes. With an earbud in my ear, I listen to the details as my fingers type, creating a printable record of words of thoughts and feelings that should only be discussed in private.

Of course, what I do is confidential. I wouldn't share a word.

I'm bound to the ethics of my job. That doesn't mean I don't retain the information, sometimes think about it, and sometimes imagine what it would be like to be one of these wives.

Please don't assume I am out to wreck a marriage. That's the farthest thing from the truth. I don't want any of the husbands that come in here for counseling.

No, I want my own.

I'm not even looking for a husband, just a man who is capable of indulging in a few fantasies I can't seem to unimagine.

I write the six-digit code on a card and hand it to Mr. Williams. “Here's the code to unlock the cabin. The address is on the back. It's very isolated. There are directions online at the website on the card. Many GPS receivers have difficulty finding it. Please notify the number on the front of the card if you have any specific requests prior to your arrival. Your rental begins on Saturday. Be sure to notify the rental company of those requests by Friday."

“Specific requests?" Mrs. Williams asks. “I was under the impression it's fully...um...furnished...stocked..."

“Yes," I say, working to keep a neutral smile plastered on my lips. “The cabin is furnished with everything Dr. Kizer has mentioned or you mentioned and more. It's the food and drink that you can either bring or it can be stocked." I take a deep breath. “Perhaps you have diet restrictions? And if you want anything particular that hasn't been mentioned, the number on the front can help."

“Do they...?" Mrs. Williams swallows. “...know our names?"

I shake my head. “No, ma'am. This is part of Dr. Kizer's therapy. It's completely confidential. I also wrote your ID number on the back. That is how they know you."

She nodded as she looked up at her husband with her eyes wide. “We should talk...about things. I read about something once..."

Mr. Williams stands taller. His action silences her words, yet by the gleam in his gaze, it's obvious that he's more than interested to hear her thoughts. Turning back to me, he nods. “Thank you, Marji. We'll see you and Dr. Kizer in two weeks."

“Bye." Have a great time. I don't say the last part, trying to squelch any images of their future before they take root in my mind.

As the door to the front office closes and the Williamses disappear, I lean back in my chair and exhale. I've been working here for over two years. You'd think those conversations would get easier.

“Marji?"

I turn as Dr. Ami Kizer steps from her office. In a gray pencil skirt, white silk blouse, and closed-toe high-heel pumps, no one would know that this proper lady spends her days discussing and encouraging s****l exploration.

“Yes?"

“Can you please close up? I have to leave early."

“Sure thing. Do you need today's notes transcribed tonight?"

“No," she says with a wave of her hand. “I have them all recorded. They can wait until tomorrow. You deserve to enjoy your night like everyone else."

Like everyone else.

“Okay."

“Is everything all right, Marji?"

I force a smile. “I'm your office manager, remember? I'm not a client."

“No, but you're also a friend. I couldn't keep this place running without you. If you ever want to talk..."

“I'm not exactly eligible for couples counseling." I make a scrunched face. “I'm minus the part about a couple."

Dr. Kizer shrugged. “The world is filled with halves of couples waiting to find one another. It's a matter of looking in the right place."

“And where would that be?" I ask.

“Sometimes where you least expect it. Have a good night, Marji."

“You too, Dr. Kizer. See you tomorrow."