Hearing the pen scratch against paper was a bit unnerving, as if I was being graded on my performance. Curiosity made me want to ask what he was writing, but I was too shy and embarrassed, and part of me feared it wasn't something I wanted to know anyway. With me dressed and his notes taken, the session was over. Like the professional that he was, Damien walked me to the door, going over what time he'd like me to come over the following day. My brain went wild, trying to imagine my next lesson. Apparently, I had used up all of my boldness during the striptease and self-pleasure session, because I could barely utter out more than a few words before I found myself standing outside of his house, staring at my Miata, my mind replaying the afternoon's events while my body automatically walked to my car and got inside. I picked up my cell phone and realized I was shaking. Adrenaline was still pumping through me, and I wondered how long it would be before I calmed down. The session had been so intense; the memory of it would stick with me for a while.
