He felt his dick unfurling again. He had never taken Viagra before. What if he’d taken it too early? The thought gave him an unpleasant jolt. His dick stopped getting hard too. He didn’t think to put the two together. Instead he wondered whether he should take a second one.

He messaged his query to Vincent the dealer, hoping for an immediate response. None came. What was the worst that could happen? He’d fuck Lonnie too hard? Would that even be possible?

He dry swallowed a second Viagra and tried to herd his thoughts back to times when he and Lonnie were going at it over her desk. Apparently, this double strategy was effective, because soon he was very hard again.

Abby was reading something on her iPad. She’d barely spoken on the car ride up there.

Spencer didn’t need these guys to tell him what needed to stop, but he’d play it cool and polite, maybe crisp up the accent a little and be that guy that leaves them wondering just why he was there in the first place. It had certainly worked on Lonnie and it would work on her again—well, that and the pulsing truncheon of love currently tent poling the crotch of his chinos.

The receptionist called him back over.

“Mister Burnham, could you take your daughter to the clinical therapist and then return to the waiting room?”

Abby’s time with the therapist was just a routine part of the whole box-ticking brouhaha. Abby said she had to answer lots of questions about school, home, parents, friends.

Spencer’s phone pinged as he returned to the waiting room. It was Vincent. “Call me asap!”

“Mister Burnham, could you go to Room E please. That’s upstairs.”

Upstairs? This is new.

There was a knock at Caitlyn Dunn’s door. It opened before she had a chance to respond. She looked up to see a slim white guy in his thirties closing the door behind him. Slightly too slim in fact. He seemed surprised to see her. In fact, he stopped closing the door and reopened it to check the letter on its other side.

“Mister Burnham?” asked Caitlyn.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“Would you care to sit down?” She pointed at a seat. Spencer looked at it, then at the woman pointing at it. The room was identical in terms of layout to Lonnie’s office. But Lonnie’s room was on the floor below.

“Look, uh . . .”

“Caitlyn Dunn.”

“OK, I think there’s been some confusion here, Caitlyn. I was one of Lonnie Estevez’s cases. And I was signed off like ages ago.”

Caitlyn noticed the accent. British. She checked her notes. “Yes, three weeks ago almost exactly.”

“Like I said, quite a while ago, so, frankly, I don’t know why I’m here.”