Secret Games

“No. Foreplay isn’t going to mean diddly to someone who has never uttered the words long, term and relationship in the same sentence when she’s referring to herself.”

“What does that mean?”

Lyn rolled her eyes. “Be real. You’re talking about knowledge bases and you don’t have one. When have you ever been involved in a relationship long enough to hit a lull?”

Maggie winced. Her immediate impulse was to defend herself, but Lyn’s raised brows forced her to drop the pretense. After losing the Weatherbys, Maggie had no pride to be salvaged. Not tonight, at any rate.

“All right, so I haven’t been involved in many long-term relationships. What can I say? I’m unlucky in love. That’s why I kick yours and Charles’s butts at poker every other Saturday night.”

“Many, ha! Name one long-term relationship you’ve been in, and I’ll up the ante from silver to bills the next game.”

Maggie certainly wouldn’t mind winning that pot. Finances had been tight all through school and didn’t hold the promise of loosening up any time soon with all the college loans she had to repay. She mentally reviewed the list.

“And I don’t count,” Lyn said, as if Maggie needed the reminder. “I’m talking about a relationship with a male.”

Maggie frowned, discarding name after name of the ex-boyfriends who’d contributed to her unfulfilling relationship experiences since her first ill-fated romance at seventeen.

Hmm. Not good. She couldn’t come up with a single one who might plausibly qualify as a contender in the long-term department…. Then, with an inward sigh of relief, Maggie latched on to someone, the only someone she could think of.

His image sprang easily to mind. He was tall, dark and irresistible, judging by the way females had been throwing themselves at him ever since middle school. Not only was he athletic and charming, he was gallant, never casually availing himself of the multitude of feminine opportunities at hand.

“Sam,” she said proudly.

Lyn tossed her glasses on the desk in obvious exasperation. “Cheater. Sam’s just your friend. He doesn’t count.”

“Why not? I’ve known him since the fourth grade and we’ve been living together since my third semester in college.”

“The only reason you live with him is because he had the second floor of his house renovated into an apartment after his parents died so your sorry butt wouldn’t end up in the street. Unless you can tell me with a straight face that you’ve slept with Sam Masters, he doesn’t count.”

Argh! Maggie would have given their next poker game’s entire pot of real money to wipe that look of superiority from Lyn’s face with one emphatic yes, but not even for the sake of her pride could she tell such a whopper.

She’d never dream of sleeping with Sam…. Okay, she may have had a few dreams through the years, but they were very private dreams that would never see the light of day.

Sinking back in the chair, she avoided Lyn’s smug smile. It was one thing to admit a deficiency in the long-term relationship department to herself, but entirely another to admit it aloud. She wasn’t about to explain that most of her sexual encounters had been wanting.

Making impulsive decisions had gotten Maggie into more trouble during her life than she cared to recall, but there was one area where she was never impulsive—in bed. She never had sex with a man until taking the time to become acquainted and see if there was chemistry.

And all her uncharacteristic caution hadn’t made one bit of difference. Sex was invariably the kiss of death for her relationships. The minute sex became involved, expectations followed, then the push for unrealistic promises, then the inevitable disappointments and hurt feelings….

“All right. All right,” she finally said. “I concede the point, but this isn’t my therapy session. What am I going to do to help Angie and Raymond?”

“Not observation and research.” Lyn reached across the desk and flipped through the brochure.

“Then what?”

“If you’re serious about visiting this superclub, you need practical application.”

“Practical application? But how does that translate into—”

“Test out the theory behind the place. Look, they’re talking about fantasy role-playing and other sexual fun stuff. Try this superclub out, then let me know what you think. Maybe I’ll book a room, too.”

“Lyn, I’m trying to increase my knowledge base here.”

“There’s no reason why I can’t benefit, too. This place sounds great, and Charles has a thing for leather.”

Envisioning the very dignified and well respected Dr. Charles Milhausser doing anything that involved leather proved too much for Maggie. “Stop! I don’t want to hear this.”

“But you need to. There’s a whole world of sexual experiences you’ve been missing out on because you never keep a guy around long enough to get comfortable. Trust me, Maggie. Go to this superclub for practical application. You won’t be sorry, and not only for your patients’ sake, either.”

“But I’m not involved in a long-term relationship, and if I wait until I cultivate one, I’ll lose Angie and Raymond.”

“Improvise.”

“I’m not even dating at the moment.”

“Anyone in the queue?”

“No.”

Maggie wished Lyn didn’t look quite so surprised. Sure, she’d had her share of casual relationships, but she really hadn’t had that many.

“Well, what about Will Reynolds? If I remember correctly, you parted on decent terms.”

Maggie shook her head, not quite certain where Lyn was going. Surely she wasn’t suggesting that Maggie call up an ex-lover and invite him on vacation to act out sexual fantasies. “He met someone shortly after we broke up. Last I heard he was looking for groomsmen.”

“Mike Jacobs?”

“He came out of the closet.”

“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Maggie grimaced. That answer should be obvious.

“What about Troy Carver?”

“He found God. He’s almost a preacher.”

Lyn’s eyes opened wide. “Oooh, that good-looking man. Well, he won’t work then, either.”

Maggie leaned forward, propped her elbows on the desk, and stared hard at her friend. “Exactly what do you think I’m going to do with an old boyfriend? Say, ‘Excuse me, would you mind dropping your drawers and hopping into bed, so I can test out some different positions?’”

Lyn chuckled. “Theory isn’t the same as application. You need experience to identify the problem and talk the talk.”

Maggie would be the first to admit there was a world of difference between reading about sex and actually participating, but this was therapy, for goodness sake. She didn’t actually need to become depressed to know how to help someone who was suffering depression. “Observation will work fine. I’ve already figured out I’m misdiagnosing relationship lulls, so I’ll read up on the subject and keep my eyes open for the symptoms. Now I need ideas to help my patients through their lulls. Especially Angie and Raymond.”

When Lyn frowned, Maggie asked, “What’s the option? I’m not involved in any relationship right now, let alone a long-term one.”

“What about Sam, then?”