I'm not as good as her, Rachel thought. I'll never have a figure as good as hers, or her looks.
She watched her husband flirting with the office secretary near the bar. James didn't seem to care that half his coworkers could see him embarrassing his wife. And he wondered why she'd scheduled a couples counseling session for tomorrow. Rachel imagined what he'd be saying to the slut if she weren't there. Would he be scheming to get an invite back to her place, or trying to take her to a motel? She let her mind wander. The young secretary down on her knees, waiting eagerly, her husband looking down at her, unfastening his belt. A flash of shame and excitement shot between her thighs.
The barroom lights kicked on, breaking the daydream. Rachel downed the last of her drink. The party was coming to a close. Roger, the man of the hour, had called it a night two hours ago. Not a bad sendoff, as far as retirement parties go, in Rachel's opinion. The fact that Roger was being forced out of the company against his will didn't seem to be bothering anyone. That's how it goes around here, she figured. You put all this time and effort into something you care about, but in the end someone younger and better still comes along to take your place.
She looked back toward the bar. James was standing alone now. His pursuit had ended unsuccessfully, apparently. Having his wife around probably hadn't helped his chances. He was scanning the room, looking for Rachel. Their eyes caught and he headed over.
"Ready to go?" he asked, grabbing his blazer off the back of the chair.
"Yep."
They headed for the exit.
James held the door open, which Rachel found hilarious. As if he hadn't just spent half the night hitting on some whore barely out of college. She stepped outside into the muggy summer night.
"Did you enjoy your conversation with your little girlfriend at the bar?" she asked.
James sighed. "Jesus, seriously? We're starting this again? I was just talking to her." He smashed his thumb into the key fob several times, something he always did when he was on edge.
Rachel opened the car door and slid in. "No, really, I hope it was a great conversation. All your coworkers seemed to think so. It should make for some great material at counseling tomorrow."
"Whatever."
Rachel looked out the window as they drove home, trying, and failing, not to imagine her husband with the secretary.
***
The couch in the therapist's room was dark brown leather. It matched the large mahogany desk and the ceiling-high bookcase beside it. Rachel gazed out the window at the pine grove. She knew therapists did well financially, but judging from the decor, this one did quite well. It was almost comically luxurious. The fully-stocked mini bar in the corner was the cherry on top. She half-expected Don Draper to stroll in smoking a Lucky Strike.
Rachel fidgeted on the couch. Couples counseling was her idea, but now that they were about to do it, she couldn't help being nervous. This doctor came highly recommended, but no one had shared any details on what to expect. James played on his phone, seeming bored already. She imagined him texting his secretary right now, getting dirty selfies from her as she tried to fix their marriage.
They both stood when the door opened. A woman walked in. If Rachel wasn't already intimidated enough by the decadence of the office, this woman sealed the deal. She looked to be in her late 20s, with long straight black hair, pulled into a tight ponytail. Her bust was about to bust through her white button-up, and the tight pencil skirt she wore showed off her obnoxiously seductive curves. The black-framed glasses completed the slutty librarian male fantasy look. Rachel was instantly jealous.
"You must be Dr. Westen," she said.
The woman flashed a smile that Rachel thought looked both welcoming and threatening. "Please," she said. "Call me Jane."
"It's so nice to meet you, Jane," said James, extending his hand. The enthusiasm in his voice sounded like a child meeting his favorite sports player.
Jane gave James a feminine handshake, looking him directly in the eye. "James, is it? Well, I could not be happier to have you here. I'm so glad you decided to give me a try. I know you won't regret it."
Rachel cleared her throat. Was this woman hitting on her husband, in front of her, at couple's counseling, as their therapist?
"Welcome," Jane said to her, taking a seat at her desk without extending a hand to Rachel. She opened a file on her desk as the couple returned to the couch. Rachel watched her read over whatever was in it.
"Ah, yes," she said, not looking up. Jane flipped through several pages like that, seemingly ignoring Rachel and her husband while she read. Finally, she set the folder down and looked up, smiling again. "So, after reviewing your file, I feel very confident-"
"I'm sorry," Rachel interrupted. "Our file? How do we have a file? We've never been here before."
"We do a very extensive background check on all our prospective clients Mrs. Jennings," said Jane, taking off her glasses. "And, as I was saying, I believe your situation is well-suited to our expertise here, mine specifically."
"Which is what, exactly?" asked Rachel.
"Unfulfilled desires."
