Uncensored Passion (Men of Passion) by Bobbi Cole Meyer

Kayla could mentally escape into what she knew was waiting for her at home. It only took an occasional “really?” or “please go on” to keep the woman satisfied and talking.
    The patient was the whining multimillionaire heiress, Lucinda Rainey, whom Kayla managed to tolerate—but just barely, because the narcissistic woman was boringly predictable. She always spent her hour lamenting the fact that she had reached that “line-in-the-sand age,” as she called it.
    Divorced for twenty years and obviously having extensively played the sexual field in her younger days, Lucinda had never had trouble attracting men until a few years ago.
    So she always said.
    And after declaring that, she would tearfully repeat, every time at every session, “Guess I’ve reached that stage in life where men no longer whistle at me. That makes me feel old even though I’ve spent a fortune on liposuction, tummy tucks, collagen injections, and face lifts.”
    And then came the inevitable question. “Do you think I look my age, Dr. Saradon?”
    Kayla managed to maintain her smiling facade as she answered the way she knew the client expected. “No, not at all. You are still very striking.”
    When, in fact, she thought Mrs. Rainey’s collagen-injected and rigidly over-stretched skin lent her the look of an aged and surprised storefront mannequin.
    More than once during the session, Kayla had to bite her tongue to keep from saying, “You crossed that line in the sand at least ten years ago. You’re seventy-six. Buy yourself a young stud or, if you don’t already have one, get an artificial vibrating cock. ”
    But then again, Kayla suddenly wondered in a flash of stark clarity, will I be like this at seventy-six? Is my resentment of her fueled by my own unspoken inadequacies and fears of aging and becoming just another frustrated nonentity? Will my gorgeous mates no longer want me when I turn her age? Maybe they’ll be long gone by then and I’ll be just like her—alone, horny, and unsatisfied.
    Lost in morose thoughts, Kayla got through the hour-long session without realizing it. Mrs. Rainey herself glanced at her diamond-studded watch and declared, “Guess my time is up. It sure helps talking with you, Dr. Saradon.”
    “I’m glad you find it so, Mrs. Rainey. Shall I pencil you in for the same time next week?”
    “Yes, indeed. Talking with you makes my day.”
    As she walked her to the door, Kayla was thinking, sure doesn’t make mine. And it’s happening more and more lately.
    On her way home, Kayla let her mind run ahead to her night with Harm. He always could sense when the day had overwhelmed her, and he always knew just how to make the unsettling, almost depressing moods disappear.
    She pulled her Lexus into the driveway, activated the remote garage opener, and rolled into the enclosure. As she switched the engine off, Kayla was horrified to find herself almost tearing up with self-pity. What is wrong with me?
    For a minute she just sat there, pushing the dreary day to the back of her mind, trying to tamp down her emotions and struggling to keep the stark realities of the outside world from robbing her of the joys waiting inside her home.
    No sooner had she stepped inside, than all of her partners were there to greet her, as always, repeating the ritual of taking her shoes and suit coat and giving her welcome-home hugs and kisses. She accepted their comforting with a relieved sigh.
    As though he had read her troubled mind, Harm immediately handed her a glass of her favorite wine.
    “Bless you, Harm,” she said as she took a long swallow. “Um, just what I needed. You always seem to know.”
    “Purely selfish on my part,” he confessed with a grin. “Want you relaxed and ready for our night.”
    “I’m always ready for our night,” she stated as she gave him a quick kiss before turning to the others.
    Addressing them all, she asked, “So tell me, how was your day?”
    One by one they related what had happened