Being privy to Dr. Prentice’s project gave Jennifer a whole new interest in these working-class men and their sexual habits. Their patient files were filled with so many explicit details that when Jennifer read them, she found herself blushing at first, but later became aroused and eager to read more.
But today, she was reading a letter from Roman:
Letter #31
My dearest Aubrey,
I heard about your plans to bed Ian Henshaw III through the prison grapevine. I know you are planning on treating him, but an affair?
What are you thinking? I know you love me. I know you are obsessed with me. I don’t question that. And I know it’s been hard to wait for me, so I forgive you for needing love like anybody would.
I’m sorry you are having a mind-numbing experience with Foster. I thought life with him would be a sort of placeholder until I was released.
I know you are keeping up appearances with him. There is a value to that, and if it makes you so melancholy, maybe you should let him go. No one should have to suffer through that.
Now, back to Ian. I’ve learned a lot more about him since I last wrote you.
He is not one to have a casual fling. I would allow you a short affair for fun (I know how you love your Alphas), but this billionaire is a lot of trouble that you don’t need.
The guys here who have met him cower at his name. They call him ‘The Psycho.’
Please keep it clinical with him. I know you need him as a test subject for your book, but please keep it at that.
He is bad news for you, and you can’t possibly think that any relationship with him could be healthy. He is mean, calloused, and thoughtless. Don’t tell me you are retreating to the girl you were when your mother abused and abandoned you.
The awkward girl who thought she didn’t deserve anything, including true love.
I wish I were there to hold you, be a shoulder to cry on, and then take you back into my bed. It won’t be long before my return, and I understand what you are going through; everyone needs to be loved.
I took out the wedding announcement you sent to me when you married Foster. You were a beautiful bride, and I envied him so much that he could be so close to you, touching and making love to you.
Then I read your letters (I look at them every day), and I think what a lucky man he is.
Sorry I can’t say that for you. I really wanted this to work. I’ll be going now—I’ve been challenged to a tennis match this afternoon.
Take care, Aubrey. I’ll be home soon.
Love, Roman
Jennifer finished reading the letter and sighed. She thought how wonderful it must be to be wanted by such a handsome and powerful man. She had seen pictures of him in the paper, and he was much more virile-looking when compared to other men.
Ian, on the other hand, was a bad boy who no woman could resist.
With or without his money.
Jennifer thought about her own boyfriend, Garson (who was much more like Foster). She sighed deeply at her one-sided relationship with him.
Aubrey had left a sealed letter to Roman in Jennifer’s inbox to be mailed. Jennifer wondered what it said. She wanted the complete picture of what was going on between them. The only way to find out was to open and read it.
She could reseal it and send it out later.
Dear Roman:
I have a slight problem. My first patient (Jake Andrews) didn’t come back after his first psychotherapy session. I tried to get him to tell his story in the most provocative way he could so I could take notes and put them in the novel later.
I must have come on too strong. (I was like a high-class call girl coaxing the deepest sexual desires out of a man so I could fulfill them.)
Maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Please advise.
If I am going to write a book about my whole psychiatric endeavor, I will need as many case studies as I can get.
Believe it or not, I am working with my gardener, Calder, as a test subject. He thinks he is doing the seducing, when it is really the other way around. Or is it?
P.S. I am determined to tame Ian Henshaw. These boys are just practice for the big event.
Love, Aubrey.
Jennifer smiled at herself. She resealed the envelope and took it to the mailbox herself. It didn’t matter if it had been opened. The prison guards were going to do that anyway. \