Chapter 37 (18+): The Counselor's Game

Chapter 37: The Counselor's Game

The evening sky bled into hues of amber and violet as Ryan Carter stood before his full-length mirror, a towel wrapped low around his waist. The soft hum of city life beyond his window barely registered in his mind. Beads of water still clung to his chest and shoulders, the warmth of the shower lingering on his skin. He looked relaxed—sated, even. After all, it had been a day free of surprises.

A rare one.

He brushed damp hair back with his fingers and let out a long sigh.

OverallFitness:86Overall Fitness: 86%

Charm:79Charm: 79%

LibidoManagement:StableLibido Management: Stable

NewMILFEncounterUnlocked–ProfilePendingNew MILF Encounter Unlocked – Profile Pending

Ryan squinted at the hovering notification in his peripheral vision.

"Pending?" he muttered. "What, are we doing surprise DLCs now?"

The system didn't respond, and honestly, he didn't expect it to. After everything he'd gone through over the last few weeks—from steamy mornings with Vanessa to the double-night chaos involving Selena and Yui—he'd learned not to question the system's timing.

Still, "pending" left him wary.

He dressed casually, slipping into gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting black t-shirt. His stomach growled as he made his way to the kitchen, his bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The scent of garlic, butter, and herbs filled the air as he reheated leftover pasta in a pan. Creamy, rich, and sinful—just like the person who'd introduced it to him.

"Vanessa's influence," he murmured, smirking at the pan.

Just as he began plating the meal, the doorbell rang.

He blinked.

No text. No warning. No "on-the-way" message from one of his regulars.

An old-fashioned doorbell ring.

Wiping his hands on a towel, Ryan approached the door cautiously. He unlocked and pulled it open—

—and found himself face-to-face with a woman who instantly commanded the room, despite not even stepping inside yet.

Mature. Composed. Unflinchingly confident.

She wore a fitted black blouse tucked neatly into high-waisted charcoal slacks. Sleek black heels clicked softly against the hallway tiles as she stepped inside, uninvited but not unwelcome. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a sharp bun, and rectangular glasses framed intelligent, calculating eyes. There was no playfulness to her presence—only precision. Her perfume carried notes of jasmine with a grounded musk, subtle but assertive.

"Ryan Carter?" she asked, her tone even and practiced.

"That's me," he said slowly.

"I'm Dr. Celeste Moreno. I just moved into 4B upstairs. The building manager said you knew your way around the heating units. Mine's acting up."

Ryan blinked. That wasn't quite the MILF encounter he'd been expecting, but then—

SystemNotification:TargetIdentified–Dr.CelesteMorenoSystem Notification: Target Identified – Dr. Celeste Moreno

Age:41Age: 41

Occupation:PrivateTherapistOccupation: Private Therapist

Personality:Dominant,Analytical,EmotionallyGuardedPersonality: Dominant, Analytical, Emotionally Guarded

Compatibility:89Compatibility: 89%

ObjectiveActivated:"CracktheMask"–UnlockherhiddendesiresObjective Activated: "Crack the Mask" – Unlock her hidden desires

"Of course," he muttered under his breath. "A therapist MILF."

He retrieved a small toolkit from his closet.

"Old units," he said aloud, masking his internal commentary. "They tend to short-circuit around this time of year."

Without waiting for a response, Celeste turned sharply and exited, expecting him to follow. There was no flirtation. No attempt to soften her presence.

She didn't need to.

Ryan followed her up the stairs, curiosity piqued.

Celeste's apartment was almost surgical in its minimalism. Neutral tones, sparse furniture, and a faint scent of vanilla and sandalwood. A large wall of bookshelves stretched across the living room—psychology manuals, clinical case studies, and darker academic tomes that hinted at her professional intensity.

"The heater's in the bedroom," she said, arms folded.

"Of course it is," Ryan muttered.

The bedroom was equally controlled—king-sized bed with gray sheets, no personal décor, no photographs, not even a plant to break the monotony. He knelt beside the wall-mounted heater, toolbox open, as he began unscrewing the cover.

Celeste remained behind him, silent. Watching.

"You live alone?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah."

"Family?"

"Out of state."

"Relationship status?"

He glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Is this a therapy session now?"

A small smile curved her lips, the first hint of warmth in her otherwise calculated exterior. "Force of habit."

"I'm not seeing anyone seriously. Life's… unpredictable these days."

"I like unpredictable," she said softly. "It keeps people honest."

The hum of the heater filled the silence as he made a few wire adjustments. The silence was no longer awkward. It was charged. When he finished, he stood and flicked the switch. Warm air began to fill the room.

"Should work now," he said.

Celeste stepped closer. Much closer. The scent of her perfume intensified, mingling with the warm air and Ryan's still-damp skin.

"Let me repay you," she said.

"You don't need to."

"I insist. Tea… or wine?"

Ryan hesitated for only a second. "Wine sounds good."

They sat on her couch, the soft glow of a floor lamp casting elongated shadows against the walls. The wine was deep red, smooth. Celeste's heels were off now, and her legs crossed elegantly, her maroon-painted toes peeking out beneath pressed slacks. Her blouse had been unbuttoned slightly at the collar, revealing the delicate curve of her collarbone.

She studied him like a subject—quiet, careful, curious.

"So, Ryan," she said, voice silky. "What exactly do you do?"

He sipped his wine. "Odd jobs. You could say I freelance."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't strike me as a man who fits into boxes."

"I could say the same about you."

Celeste's lips quirked upward. "Flirtation or deflection?"

"Little of both," Ryan said, smiling.

She leaned in, just enough for her knee to brush his. Her gaze didn't waver.

"You know," she said, swirling her wine, "three men have flirted with me this month. You're the first who hasn't asked to kiss me."

Ryan took a slow sip. "Would it work if I did?"

"Try and find out."

He leaned in—not aggressively, but confidently. His hand slid to her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her lips. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory. Her lips responded with a controlled hunger, and when she finally pulled back, there was the faintest flush on her cheeks.

"You kiss like a man who doesn't beg."

"Never had to," he whispered.

Celeste stood and began unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time. "Then show me what else you don't beg for."

The bedroom was warmer now—emotionally and physically. The heater hummed softly in the background, barely audible over the growing tension between them. Her blouse slid off her shoulders, revealing a lacy black bra that framed her chest with elegant precision. Her slacks followed, revealing toned thighs and a perfectly poised demeanor, still intact.

But only barely.

Ryan approached slowly, kissing her collarbone, hands settling on her hips. She gasped—quiet, controlled, but genuine. He laid her down onto the bed, fingers tracing her ribs, trailing downward as she looked up at him, her therapist mask starting to crack.

She pulled his shirt off, her hands firm. Her nails skimmed over his chest, and her breathing deepened.

"You like control," he murmured.

"I like to give it…" she whispered, eyes smoldering, "and take it back."

He kissed her again, mouth moving down to her chest, unclasping her bra with deft fingers. Her breath hitched as he sucked gently on each nipple, her hands threading through his hair. Her skin was warm, flushed.

He trailed further down, planting kisses along her stomach, then thighs. Slowly, he slid her panties off—black lace, just like her bra—and settled between her legs. She was already wet.

Ryan took his time. He teased her with gentle licks, alternating tempo, building her up and then pulling back. Her fingers tangled in the sheets, then his hair. Her legs trembled around his head as her composure unraveled.

When her release came, it was quiet—more gasped than screamed—but no less intense. Her body tensed, shuddered, then softened beneath him.

"Ryan…" she breathed. "That was…"

"Just the start."

He moved up her body, lips meeting hers as he slid inside her in one smooth thrust. The moan she let out was involuntary.

She met him thrust for thrust, her movements instinctive now. Gone was the analytical professional. In her place was a woman consumed by sensation.

He set the rhythm, slow and deep, kissing her between each movement, watching her come undone. Her hands clutched his back, her breath ragged.

She came again—and again—before he finally released with a low, primal growl.

Their bodies collapsed together, slick with sweat, their breathing the only sound in the room.

SystemUpdate:"MaskBroken"CompletedSystem Update: "Mask Broken" Completed

Celeste'sAffection:48Celeste's Affection: 48% → 67%

SkillAcquired:"Therapist'sEdge"–Yougain+20Skill Acquired: "Therapist's Edge" – You gain +20% persuasion during emotional dialogue.

Minutes passed. Then, Celeste rolled onto her side, brushing strands of hair from her damp face. Her usual calm had returned, but her gaze had softened.

"That was…" she murmured, "more effective than most therapy."

Ryan chuckled. "Glad I could be of service, Doctor."