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Dr. Dangerfield felt like hopping from her seat and smacking Krista upside the head with her folder. “Mrs. Evans, can you tell me where in the Bible it states masturbation is a sin? There is a whole lot more emphasis on adultery, wouldn’t you say? There is absolutely nothing wrong with a married man or woman enjoying both their partner’s sexua
lity while continuing to enjoy their own.”
Krista blinked. Ooh, this bitch really wants to go there with me, she thought. The Bible spoke explicitly about sexuality and sinful lust, so why was this ho trying to go there? And before Krista could give it to her real good with scripture from the book of Matthew, Dr. Dangerfield continued, “Although I do understand that sex and sexuality have intrinsic moral implications for many, there is nothing inherently wrong with a man or woman touching themselves to experience pleasure. And masturbation is not always immoral. Clearly, if Mr. Evans is fantasizing about another woman, then biblically speaking, it can be said he is violating his vows.”
Truthfully, Dr. Dangerfield didn’t whole-heartedly subscribe to the notion of fantasizing being sinful, but from a religious standpoint, she knew how to talk the talk when she needed to. Still, she revered in fantasy. Believed fantasizing was healthy. That it could enhance a couple’s sex life. And—yes, she was probably going to hell in a gasoline hand basket. But she’d go well fucked, and sexually liberated.
Krista turned her attention to Kendall. “Are you, Kendall? Fantasizing about other women when you’re masturbating? Sinning with your dick in your hand?”
Kendall swallowed, but he kept his eyes on Krista’s. Of course I am. “No.” The lie was better than the truth for now.
Krista raised a brow, skepticism now etching her face. “Are you watching porn?”
Yeah—anything with ass play. “No.”
Krista shifted her stare to Dr. Dangerfield. “Like I said, if Kendall wants to play with his dick, let him. No. I don’t like knowing that he has urges to pleasure himself, but I am not going to leave him for it. Unless he’s playing with his dick because he really wants a dick?”
“What the fu—” Kendall stopped himself from going off, but just that quick, Krista had his blood boiling. “My dick is the only dick I have any interest in touching. Period. So whatever crazy notions you have stirring around in your head, get rid of them.” He pinned Krista with a hard stare. “You hear me?”
Krista shrugged. “I’m only saying . . .”
“Krista, you’re not saying shit, okay,” Kendall snapped. He rarely ever cursed at his wife. But goddammit, she was crossing the goddamn line. He blew out a frustrated breath. “Damn, Kris. I love you. But shit.”
“Kendall,” Krista said. “Like I said earlier. It’s your dick. Do with it what you want.”
Dr. Dangerfield glanced at the time. She would have loved to continue the session, but she was drained. Krista had worked her last damn nerve. And now what she needed was a stiff drink and a hard dick to relax her. But it would be none of that. She needed to detoxify and prepare for tonight’s festivities. The couples were being invited to a night of hot, steamy adult fun.
“Okay, our time is almost up,” Dr. Dangerfield announced. “But before we end, I want to give the two of you a homework assignment.” She looked between Krista and Kendall, and then right back at Krista. “Mr. Evans, the next time you have the urge to masturbate, I would like for you to invite your wife to join you. And, Mrs. Evans, I would like for you to sit back and watch your husband as he pleasures himself. Are you okay with that, Mr. Evans?”
No. That was his private time—alone. And no—fuck no, he didn’t want to share it with Krista’s ass. “Sure,” he lied.
“Great. And you, Mrs. Evans, do you think you can do that?”
Krista shrugged. “Maybe.” She was still brooding over Kendall’s narrow-minded remark. So that was how he really saw her. Narrow-minded.
Mmph.
Dr. Dangerfield offered a smile. “Set the mood. Candles. Music. Allow yourself to simply watch for at least fifteen minutes”—she glanced over at Kendall—“Provided you can last that long,” she said slyly.
“Rising to the occasion won’t be my problem,” Kendall said.
Krista shot him a look, but said nothing.
Dr. Dangerfield nodded. “Then, Mr. Evans, I would like for you to invite your wife over to you and allow her to finish stroking you off to an orgasm. No intercourse, however; just your wife stroking you, loving you with her hands. Mrs. Evans, I want you to stay in the moment, focus on pleasuring your husband. Bring him to a happy ending.”
With instructions doled out, Dr. Dangerfield shook the couple’s hands, then sent them on their way, while the nagging voice in the back of her head kept saying, “Krista Evans is going to lose her man to another woman . . .”
Because what one woman wouldn’t do, another always would.
Dr. Dangerfield knew that reality all too well.
Thirty-Three
An oasis of sensuality hidden behind thick mahogany doors awaited the three couples as they climbed out of the chauffeured-driven stretch Bentley. Earlier in the evening, the couples had been told by Dr. Dangerfield in almost a seductive whisper to, “Dress sexy—or wear nothing at all.”
Club Passion was where discreet, horny couples teetering on sexual boredom and a craving for something salacious came to toss their inhibitions to the wind, releasing their inner freaks without judgment, and without care. It was where carnal desires were fulfilled. And the four-floor exclusive club—each floor more scandalous, more licentious, than the next—owned by the same woman who not only owned the island, but owned another adult club back in the States as well—was the only one of its kind here in the South Pacific.
The main floor was available to all who entered. The remaining floors required key-coded membership cards for access. And the only way someone gained admittance inside the club was either by way of special invitation or you had to have a membership. And membership came with a hefty price. But the men and women who participated in the couple’s retreat were always granted a special invite to indulge their desires during their stay on the remote island—on the main level, of course.
