Unspoken Truth Perfect Moments: Unspoken Truth, #2

By JT Baxter

Intelligent, quirky, adorable Simon opens the door to truth and decries the falsehoods placed on every woman by man's hand. Baxter delivers another serious and oftentimes humorous insight into human behavior in his usual style. What the mind can conceive, the body can achieve. There has been no greater truth. Seek out the adventure and embark upon a journey where no man has ever been. Perfect moments is the second book, of a two-book series and completes the story

Jennifer Thompson

          I laughed, I cried. I fell in love with Simon. Emmy, Sarah, and Sally would make great friends. I loved the story, loved the characters, fast action. I was breathless at times, keeping pace. Beautifully written, not a dull moment, I was entertained, which is the reason I buy books.

Toni Danzia

          Unspoken Truth is long overdue and ahead of its time. Great story. I could not put it down. Simon is adorable, and you portrayed several women of strong character. I will recommend Unspoken Truth to all my friends. Very enjoyable and well worth reading.

Rita Wilson

          It was a good read all the way through, a good story, credible. I think your explanation of The Complete Mind Institute is very clever. Simon's character comes over very well as does Megan's, well, her dilemma really.

It's a better story than Fifty Shades of Gray and in my opinion, well written.

You are a good writer and storyteller; I'm looking forward to reading Déjà vu.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JT Baxter
• Release date: Feb 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215404751

JT Baxter

Born and raised in a small town in England, he stepped out into the world and became a world traveler. They say my unique writing style has proven to be exciting and compassionate, with an intuitive understanding of women’s emotional desires and what they look for in men. So don’t believe everything you read, I get surprised all the time.

Book preview

Prologue

Simon stared vacantly at the engagement ring where it lay on the kitchen countertop. The sparkle and radiance of every facet seemed to have vanished. The promise, hope, and intention of a future were gone. Megan was gone, taking Matthew and Adam with her. The resounding silence of the apartment was hollow and echoed relentlessly through his brain as the fragmented shards of his heart ached in painful despair.

There was no making sense of it, for it lacked the sensibility of truth, and within that justification, he had been treated unjustly. Wronged, intentionally, or unintentionally, it didn’t seem to matter. He, apparently, didn’t matter. A sobering thought, even to an un-intoxicated mind, was enough to turn his attention away from the ring.

The presumption of what was imagined lay in stark contrast to the reality he now faced. Megan was gone. She was definitely gone. A week had passed, and that fact had to be faced. The emotional impact loomed about him unkindly and questioned his every belief. The unspoken truth never rests, though its silence must be endured.

Chapter 1

Simon, have you got a minute?

Sure, Emmy, what’s up?

I had just sat down at my desk and was about to savor my first sip of freshly brewed coffee when Emmy poked her head around the door.

Doctor Johannsson arrives this week, and I’ve planned a reception for 7 pm on Thursday. Short notice, I know, considering you and Megan will probably need to arrange a babysitter. 

No, I think I can manage that, Emmy. Are we doing penguin suits?

Although you look dashing in a tux, Simon, I think a dark suit and tie will fill the bill on this occasion. We’re flying in senior management from the Complete Mind Centers, and invitations have gone out to doctors and senior staff at the local hospitals and medical facilities. 

Oh, so this is a big-to-do, all the high muckety-mucks. I’d better wear my waders. The shit’s going to get deep.

I felt Emmy looking, closely examining me. Are you all right, Simon?

I tried to smile; unenthusiastically was the best I could manage. Don’t mind me, Emmy. I’m still in need of a caffeine fix.

That was awkward. Thoughts were reeling through my brain. I could sense Emmy wasn’t convinced when she left my office, and I hadn’t suspected the need to attend a social event quite so soon. What was I, sad, brokenhearted, I think I had a right to be? Embarrassed, maybe, had I been a fool? Megan’s fool, or was it of my own doing? Had I been so wrapped up in my own emotions that it hazed over what was really going on, and what was it exactly that was going on? Had I been convinced or deceived myself with a grand delusion of marriage, wife, and family. I felt my need for caffeine, coffee, and lots of it.

My mind was here, and it wasn’t.  There was an acute need to focus, the morning schedule was packed, and I had about thirty minutes to get my shit together—Monday morning blues. What a joke; mine was fifty shades of black and increasing extrinsically with every revolving negative thought, unsubstantiated doubt, and self-recrimination. My personal world, the one we each live within, the one made of glass, had been shattered. The shards were sharp, unforgiving, and cut to the bone, intense and uncaring as to where they struck next.

But this wasn’t my personal world, even with its integration and infringement. This was my business world, and I was expected to perform. The show must go on without a hitch. The explosion of my personal life required damage control, and unless I did something, it would collide with my professional life and consume everything in its path. I had a choice to make. With no condolence or consolation for the wellness of my emotional being, no consideration or provision was provided for. I must act.

******

Good morning, Ms. West. Please come in and take a seat.

Good morning, Doctor, thank you.

Would you prefer I call you Victoria?

Yes, Doctor, that’s fine.

Please, call me Simon.

Victoria was a tall and slender African American woman in her early forties and nicely proportioned from a man’s perspective, with a delightful tone in her voice.

Tell me, Victoria, what made you decide to visit with me?

Well, Doctor, I’m having some trouble with men, and a friend of mine suggested you might be able to help.

What kind of trouble?

Her eyes searched the room for just the right words as if every possible word was just out there floating around, waiting to be plucked from the air and used. She uncrossed her legs then decided to cross them again. Her hands fidgeted in her lap.

Intimacy? I suggested.

Yes, Doctor, and trust.

Please, Victoria, call me Simon. Why don’t we start with you telling me a little about yourself?

What would you like to know?

Who you are as a person, things you like to do, and something about the environment in which you live.

I live alone with my three cats in one half of a duplex, and I rent out the other half. I like gardening, reading, listening to music, and being active in my church. But, as a person, I think I’m damaged goods having been married and divorced twice.

And what type of work do you do?

I’m a Methodist Minister.

‘Ouch, that’s got to hurt.’ No, I didn’t say that out loud, but I thought it. A female minister would, I thought, scare the crap out of the average man. The chastity belt would remain securely in place until the vows had been spoken and the marriage certificate signed, sealed, and delivered. Unfair appraisal, possibly, but I was talking about your average man.

Living alone with more than one pet could imply DAS, Distorted Affection Syndrome. Not commonly talked about, although there is a lot of research to back it up. It is thought that when a person doesn’t get affection or attention from a fellow human being, they sometimes turn to animals. Distorted Affection Syndrome can run the gambit from mild to severe and is usually accompanied by depression and or repression of feelings.

Victoria, might I inquire as to why you would consider yourself as damaged?

Two failed marriages, I think that more than qualifies me to place myself in that category, don’t you?

Not at all, it’s all circumstantial, and we will talk more about that as we progress. Tell me, Victoria, in what ways do you perceive I might be able to help you?

Well, Doctor, I’m not sure? My friend, who is also my confidante, my only confidante, made certain comments about you and your work. She suggested, no, she insisted on this initial consultation because, as she put it, I’m too closed-minded.

Victoria’s posture might suggest ‘prim and proper,’ as did her choice of clothing. The articulation of her words would suggest ‘educated,’ and the delivery indicated ‘strength,’ a strong personality type.

Do you have siblings?

No, I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young, and my father never re-married.

And is your relationship with your father close?

She thought about that before answering.

Yes, I consider that we have a good relationship. He’s a busy man even now, although I think he should retire and start enjoying what is left of his life. He has been a good father and supported my decisions.

I got the distinct impression Victoria’s answers bore a deficiency of emotional entanglement and were too matter of fact.

Did you attend college?

Yes, Doctor, I graduated from Yale.

Why did that not surprise me? And your field of study?

Law, I have a Master’s in law.

That didn’t surprise me either, although her choice of career did. I wanted to ask why she had chosen to become a Methodist Minister. I refrained, disinclined to listen to a clichéd response like, ‘I heard the calling.’

Your first marriage, when did that take place?

I was still in college, young and naïve. He was much older. I thought I was in love. I was foolish, impressionable, and gullible to the ways of men. One of my college professors; abandoned his wife and child in favor of me. I should have known then that it was only a matter of time before he would do the same thing to me.

Were there any children?

No, thank God for his mercy. I was spared that crisis.

Do you have children?

No, the Lord has not seen me fit to bring a child into this world.

Her answers still lacked any emotional engagement and were tightly controlled.

Victoria, I would like to ask you some very personal questions to do with your experience of intimacy, do you mind?

I could almost imagine the reshuffling of thoughts going on in her head. The determination of what could be considered reasonable, as she looked directly into my eyes searching for clues. Her legs uncrossed, indicating her need to feel both feet firmly cemented to the ground.

No, Doctor, although I do feel somewhat embarrassed, after all, you’re a man.

Try not to think of it in terms of gender. It’s just you and me together, as two beings having a meaningful conversation. 

Easier said than done.

I could go into the next room and put on a dress and wig, Victoria, if that would make it easier?

A quizzical expression crossed her brow. It took a few seconds for her to realize I was joking, then she smiled. Victoria was wound up tighter than a spring. It was my first real indication that she understood humor, and it was yet to be discovered if she had a sense of humor.

In your experience of sex, did you enjoy it?

Uncertainty filled her face; hands latched tightly onto the armrests of the chair, feet still firmly planted on the ground.

Sometimes.

I waited for her to say more. The lingering silence grew. The severity of her stare gave a warning not to push my luck. She was uncomfortable with this, and it would require much more acquaintance between us. I backed off.

You mentioned you had a trust issue with men. Damn, before I could finish that line of questioning, the thought grabbed me. After the weekend, before last, and Megan walking out on me, I could certainly see where I could have trust issues with women.

Doctor?

"Huh, sorry, I was trying to decide how I wanted to phrase my question.

Doctor, let me lay it out for you. I haven’t been with a man in almost ten years. I would like to be with a man, but I’m not sure how to go about doing that.

Chapter 2

Session 3 Sarah.

Hi Sarah, how was your weekend?

Quiet, I spent most of it sorting through more of Steve’s things.

Was that tough for you?

Not really. I had no idea just how much stuff he, or should I say, we, accumulated over the years. I’ll be glad to be done with it.

Did it bring back any old memories?

Yes, some were good, some not so good. He wasn’t always a raving sex maniac. I can remember when he cared for me, and I’ll hold onto some of those memories. But the last four years, well, let’s just say there is nothing worth remembering.

By the way, the dinner party was excellent, my compliments to Megan. You have surely found yourself a good woman there, Simon, and your proposal, you are so romantic. I didn’t know that about you. It made me think I married the wrong Riffraff; I should have married you. Guess I screwed up big time on that score. I was trying to remember what you were like back then, in college.

You’re not the only one who screwed up Sarah.

The words came out without hesitation. I hadn’t intended to say anything. But it was like puking with little to no warning. It just happened. And it was out there. It would have come out eventually.

What, what do you mean, what has happened? The concern in Sarah’s voice was very evident.

I fucked up. What else can I say? Megan took the boys and moved out that Sunday afternoon.

No, Simon, what on earth did you do?

I’m not really sure what I did right and what I did wrong, but the result is the same, Megan moved out.

Have you spoken with her since then?

I don’t see that as an option, and besides, what would be the point? She has made her decision.

Simon, I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?

I gave out a laugh; it felt good in a strange sort of way. Well, there’s the irony, the therapist needing therapy.

Sarah wrapped her arms around me. Simon.

It felt good to be held yet alien to my heart’s desire. Sarah wasn’t the person I wanted to be held by. Not the woman I wanted to feel next to my body, comforting me. The truth was, what I wanted, I couldn’t have, and after that, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Emotionally, I was well and truly fucked up.

Simon, let me take care of you like you took care of me.

I pushed Sarah back, untangling myself from her arms. Sarah, I don’t need a pity fuck.

What! I wasn’t offering one. I meant, spend time together, have dinner, talk.

Then, as if a different conclusion had been reached, she pulled back away from me.

Are you saying what you gave me was a pity fuck? There was an angry fire in her eyes.

No, I’m not saying that.

Well, from where I’m standing, it sure as hell sounded like that.

Sarah. The door slammed shut after she stormed out of my office.

Oh boy, way to go, Simon. You’ve now had two women walk out on you in less than a month. I had to wonder if I was setting some kind of record. Maybe I should call Guinness and check. It can’t go on like this; I didn’t have a lot of friends, especially female friends, and, at the current rate, I’d have none before the end of the month. Maybe I should go and find Detectives’ big dick and little dick and ask them to lock me up, before I do any more damage.

There was a knock on my door, right before it opened.

Simon, I just ran into Sarah in the hall. She was upset. Said something about you and Megan having split up. It didn’t make sense.

Emmy, it’s all a misunderstanding, I said something, and Sarah took it the wrong way.

So, you and Megan haven’t split up.

Well, no, that part is true.

What? Simon, I’m confused. Which part is true?

The part about Megan.

Simon, what the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t go getting engaged one day and throwing it away the next.

Well, apparently, I did.

And why is Sarah so upset? What did you say to her?

As I said, it’s a misunderstanding. I....

Simon, fix it. We will not have internal problems and hurt feelings, especially with Doctor Johannsson scheduled to come on board this week. I’m sorry about you and Megan, and I wish I had more time to talk with you, but I’m late for a very important meeting. Take care of Sarah. I’ll catch up with you later.

I could have easily thought I was very unimportant right about then, but that would be like wallowing in self-pity. I knew Emmy was charged with keeping the gears oiled and the engine running smoothly, and I didn’t envy her task. But, on the other hand, Sarah and I were cogs, and for the entire mechanism to work properly, we all had to work together. So, I went looking for her.

She was in the lab. I saw her as soon as I walked in. She saw me and rushed toward the rear exit; the stairwell used for emergencies. I chased after her, feeling frustrated. I was fed up with women walking away from me.

Sarah.

She continued down the stairs; I gave chase and caught up with her on the landing between floors. Then, taking hold of her arm, I turned her to face me.

Sarah goddamn it, listen to me. She turned her face to one side.

I took a breath in an effort to recompose, but the frustration remained.

Sarah, you are going to listen to me. That night we spent together was no pity fuck. Watching you orgasm was amazing, and then making love with you was incredible. So, no matter what you think it was, I will always have that memory.

Sarah turned her face to look at me, searching for truth in my words. My frustration summoned satisfaction. Using my body, I pinned her against the wall and kissed her with intent. Within seconds she responded with urgency. Her hands were everywhere as I grabbed for her skirt and hiked it up to her waist. My belt buckle was released, and my pants unzipped. I ripped the panties from her body, took hold of her thighs, and raised her off the ground. It was one hard, intensive, determined fuck. We both wanted it, needed it, and demanded it from each other.

I felt paralyzed. Weak all over as we slowly collapsed to the floor, propped up only by the strength of the wall. I had never experienced anything quite so forceful in my life. Now, I have a new understanding of that saying, ‘been ridden hard and put up wet.’ We were a shambles and looked as if we had been pulled through a hedgerow backward. Sarah was the first to break into laughter, and I quickly followed suit.

Simon, that’s what you call an anger fuck. Was it good for you?

Can’t you tell, I mean, look at me?

Of course, you do realize Simon; you can’t end it here?

What are you talking about, Sarah? I’m done for. I couldn’t do it again if you paid me.

No, but you owe me, and I intend to collect.

I sensed the implication and her intention when she continued. Dinner at my place tonight, eight sharp, and plan to stay over.

Only God knows how I managed to straighten up, look halfway presentable and walk back to my office without drawing attention to myself because I don’t. Sarah had drained every ounce of energy from my body. I even checked my neck for puncture wounds, just in case. But, anger fuck, that was a new one for me. All I wanted to do, was lay down on the proverbial couch and go to sleep. But my next client would arrive in twenty minutes, the time needed to get cleaned up in the restroom and down some strong black coffee.

Chapter 3

Good afternoon, Mrs. Coleman. Please come in.

That’s Ms. Coleman.

I re-checked the name on the file folder.

I’m sorry, Ms. Coleman, my mistake. Please have a seat, and would you mind if I call you Anne?

By all means, please do.

Thank you.

Anne looked to be a few years younger than me. A very pretty, blonde, blue-eyed woman with a cute nose and a warm smile.

Tell me, Anne, how can I help you?

My last ex-husband told me I’m emotionally unattractive and have no feelings. I’m not sure about that. But when you’ve had as many husbands as I’ve had, and they all want out of the marriage. Well, I started to wonder about it. So, what do you think?

Think, think about what?

Am I emotionally unattractive?

Are you asking me to guess, or would you prefer I ask a few questions and we get to know each other? So that I can make a reasonably intelligent assessment?

Sure, I understand. You have to do your thing.

Thing, what thing?

Examine my body, like the other doctors do, you know, just to make sure everything is in the right place and working properly.

Anne, I’m confused. What other doctors?

The doctors at the other place they sent me to.

Other place? Who sent you?

My other doctor, he sent me to see the three doctors, and now he’s sent me to see you.

Would you excuse me for a minute?

Sure. Should I take my clothes off while you’re gone?

No, Anne, that won’t be necessary. Just sit tight, and I’ll be right back.

I could tell from our conversation that Anne was not very well educated and not the sharpest tool in the shed. But