Chapter 4. Her Therapist

Keira’s POV

I groaned at the annoying ringing of my cell phone. Blindly reaching for it on my bedside table, I peered through one eye to see it was my best friend calling me up at 7:45 am on a Monday.

Usually, when it is a school day, and my classes are in the afternoon, I always sleep in. Natasha knew this, so I wondered why she was calling me this early.

Begrudgingly, I slid my thumb across the green icon. “What?” My groggy voice questioned.

“Do not tell me you are still in bed, Kiera,” Natasha’s calm voice sounded over the phone.

“Okay, I will not,” I responded sleepily.

Natasha heaved a frustrated sigh before reminding me. “Kiera, your appointment with the therapist is today by eight thirty.”

Sleep instantly vanished from my eyes. Those words woke me up. “Oh shit.” I shot up from my bed, putting my friend on speaker phone as I scrambled to the bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush and brushed my teeth.

“Did you really forget? I thought this was supposed to be a big day for us. The day you take the first step to get help.” She continued.

My mind immediately thought of Clint at her words. Did I really need to get help? My condition had led me to an amazing guy on Saturday night. Getting help might mean I may never see him again, as I was sure one major step on this journey would be to cut all ties with my sexual partners.

“Are you listening to me, Kiera?” Natasha pulled me out of my reverie. “You do not have to be scared. You can get better. All you need to do is make it to the appointment today. One step at a time.”

Listening to Natasha root for me was wholesome. As much as I knew my friend meant well, I was not so sure I could be helped at this point. Everyone at school already knew about it; my high sexual drive had no boundaries. I would gladly fuck any guy who showed even a little interest in me.

I rinsed my mouth and returned the brush.

“I will give it my best shot, Natasha. Or you will not let me hear the end of it. Now I have to go get ready.” I said, stripping out of my pyjamas.

“Alright. I will keep in touch.” She said and hung up.

I zoomed in and out of the shower, and while I towelled my body, a maid called from my bedroom. "Breakfast is served, ma'am. Your father awaits you in the greenhouse." She informed me.

I stepped out of the bathroom just as she opened the door to leave. “Do inform him that I am leaving for school and will not be able to make it to breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am. Will you be home for dinner?” She enquired while I scouted my wardrobe for something sexy yet befitting for a Monday.

“I will be at my apartment the rest of the week. Relate that to Papa too.” I informed her. She hummed in response, and I heard the familiar click of my door as she exited.

I opted for a black top with a plunging neckline, a black mini-leather skirt with matching net leggings and black stiletto heels. Donning light makeup and a plunging necklace, I raked a hand down my auburn hair and picked a white purse. It was 8:10 when I marched out of my room to the garage.

The valet held the door to my car as I got in and handed me the keys. Quickly pressing the button, I smiled smugly as the Ferrari’s engine roared to life. Then I sped out of the compound onto the highway, hoping that LA’s morning traffic was not as bad today.

I soon arrived at the clinic and briskly walked to the receptionist, who smiled on seeing me, and I returned the gesture.

“Good morning, ma’am. What can I do for you today?” She asked.

“I have an appointment for eight thirty,” I responded.

She checked her watch. “Lucky you. You almost missed it. Your name, please?”

“Kiera Temple.”

She mouthed my name as she typed it into her system. “Okay. Your therapist will see you now. The third floor, third door on the right.” She pointed to a wide hallway.

I expressed my gratitude and hurried down the hall to the elevator. I clicked on the floor and tapped my foot as I waited patiently. Natasha was the only reason I was doing this, I reminded myself as the doors dinged open.

I took my right and knocked on the third door. Not waiting for a response, I pushed it open and walked in. The office was moderately sized and tastefully furnished in white. Several catalogues on topics about sex lined the walls. On the shelf were different books as well as various vagina and penis dummies of different sizes. I blushed at the sight and directed my eyes to the man in the room.

The man behind the desk was intently studying a folder before him. His brown curls reminded me of a certain someone, and I immediately tucked the image away. I was here to get help, and that was what I would do.

“Good morning, doctor.” I greeted, going further to take a seat.

I was, however not prepared for the surprise awaiting me as the man raised his head to look me in the face.

My therapist was none other than Clint fucking Homer!