Jennifer Mills was reading Aubrey and Roman’s letters again:
Letter #28
(As filed by Jennifer Mills, Office Manager)
My Dearest Aubrey,
Thank you for sending me the selfies you took while you were getting ready for your date night! I wanted to pass them around and let the boys see what they are missing, but I am keeping them for myself—for the moment.
I noticed there were no nudes.
Just pictures that teased.
But I guess that’s how it has to be. We aren’t allowed to get anything pornographic from the outside.
Those kinds of pictures could start a riot, although considering the inmates here, it would be polite and well-mannered.
It would only be a matter of drawing straws to see who got ownership of them first.
I have an idea! We’ll play poker for them, and since you are mainly dressed, I don’t think it will cause much of an uproar among the troops.
Thanks for sharing,
Love Roman
Letter #31
Dear Roman,
I’m frightened. I have my first appointment with Ian coming up, and I don’t know how to conduct the therapy session.
What if he gets angry? I know I’m seeing him in an office setting, but that might not stop him from acting out.
What do I say to him if he does? I’ve seen him socially at the country club. He flirts with me aggressively, and I don’t like it. I think it’s because Foster either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Worse, Ian’s wife hovers in the background, watching to see if I will steal her man.
I think if I flirted enough with Ian, he would take me home.
Please advise.
Love Aubrey
Letter #32
Dear Aubrey,
I wish that I were there to comfort you, but I am not. But I will tell you this: Always ask him easy questions, like ‘How’s the weather?’ Then tread very lightly. Ian is like a bull. You don’t want to annoy him.
He’s not coming to therapy because he wants to.
Daddy made him, so consider him hostile.
Also, you don’t need to take the whole hour with him. Let him go when he wants to.
And for God’s sake, give Ian Sr. a positive report on the session.
No need to rock the boat there.
I wish I had more to give.
Love,
Roman
Letter # 33
Thanks for the letter, Roman.
Just knowing you are there makes me feel better. Do you mind if I drop your name in one of Ian’s sessions? You know, if I said your name—casually hinting that I know other, more powerful men than him. If he continues to flirt with me at the country club, maybe I’ll do it then. Make him back off when we are in public.
He’s so snide and smug when he talks to me.
And Foster can’t help me fight him off. He’s a sopping wet pussy when it comes to this kind of thing. All Foster knows is which fork to use or what wine pairs well with the meat being served.
Love Aubrey
Letter # 34
Dear Aubrey,
I did some digging, and I found out that Ian has a secret. If he doesn’t shape up and fly right, Ian Senior is going to liquidate his entire empire and donate the money to a university. If his two boys (Ian and Trent) can’t run such a huge conglomerate between the two of them, he wants his name on a building at a prestigious university.
Better than bankruptcy.
Can you blame him? So, if I were you, I'd stay tight with the old man and get what you can out of him while everything is up in the air.
Otherwise, when the dust settles, you might find your book going down the drain along with the futures of Ian and Trent Henshaw.
Love Roman
Jennifer was becoming increasingly hooked on these letters between Aubrey and Roman. She was a little jealous of Aubrey. The fact that she had two alpha males fighting for her was such a turn-on. How exciting it would be to have the kinds of problems the good doctor was going through.
The letters were making Jennifer feel worse, though. Whenever she read them, she was painfully reminded of her own semi-engagement to her boyfriend, Garson.
Rich, yes.
Good-looking, yes.
Bad in bed, yes.
But his wanting to make Jennifer a housewife took the wind out of their relationship.
Aubrey’s two men were fighting for her, yes, but they both wanted a woman, not a baby machine. This was the main difference between her romances and Aubrey’s.
So Jennifer made a decision. She would find a rival for Garson. Someone more handsome and someone with a future.
Someone who wouldn’t stand in the way of her career, but rather applaud it.
Jennifer was startled when the office phone rang.
“Psychiatry office,” Jennifer answered.
“It’s me, Garson,” the voice on the other end said.
“I told you not to call me at the office,” Jennifer said.
“You won’t pick up your phone.”
“That’s because I’m busy.”
“Too busy to look at some houses?”
“You really don’t have a clue, do you?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t want to look at houses until we are married, asshole.”
“Set the date, and I’ll be there!”
“Garson, stop being such a jackass.”
“It’s only because I love you, babe,” Garson said.
Jennifer was through with the conversation.
“Fine,” she said and hung up.
She would deal with Garson later.
Right now, she had some late-night homework to do.
And while she was doing that, Aubrey, speak of the devil, was meeting her two alpha males at the Orchard Park Country Club.
She was on a date with Foster, while Ian was there with his wife Hope (the former exotic dancer). Hope and Aubrey would never speak, but the guys were a different story.
Foster and Ian didn’t want to talk either, but there they were at the bar, both ordering drinks.
Ian postured and turned to Foster.
“Nice evening,” Ian said. “You’re Foster Prentice, the sanctimonious planner of Orchard Park.”
“Yes,” Foster replied, “and you are Ian Henshaw III, the smug guy with the billion-dollar inheritance. Good to meet you.”
Foster held out his hand to shake Ian’s. Ian responded with a too-strong grip that lasted longer than necessary.
“You have a beautiful wife,” Ian said. “I’m going to be meeting with her soon.”
“Oh,” Foster said. His tone had changed. “What about?”
“It’s personal,” said Ian.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s going to be my therapist. You know, me and her alone in a room sharing my deepest feelings.”
“Why are you telling me? That’s between you and Aubrey.”
“Doesn’t she ever bring her work home?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, she might be thinking of me when she’s talking to you.”
The bartender handed Foster his drink.
“What about your wife?” said Foster. “Does she strip for you when she gets home? Or is that just for the paying customers?”
“You have crossed a line, Foster Prentice,” said Ian Henshaw III. “You better watch yourself. I may steal your wife from you, but you can have my sloppy seconds.”
Ian pointed to Hope.
“You better be careful, Ian,” Foster said. “My wife can hold her own when she needs to. And she’s a little chatty. Better not tell her any secrets you don’t want everyone at the Orchard Park Country Club to know.”
Foster raised a glass to Ian and coughed sarcastically as he walked off to meet Aubrey.