Sex Addicts Anonymous

Scene opens with Marlene, Laura, and Bianca clutching coffee cups, nerves kicking in as they sit in a tight circle. They give each other sideways glances, then their eyes land on Robert—smooth, good-looking, looking like he gives a damn. "Name's Robert... and yeah, I'm an addict," he says. Sex addict, just like them. Five years clean, running these meetings for three. He mentions the small group tonight. "I picked you three because your stories hit different—messy as hell—and figured you could use some extra time." The women trade curious looks. He thanks them for showing up, says they'll share stories if they want. Sharing's not required, but it can crack things open. "Let's start with you," he says, nodding at Marlene. She swallows hard and tells it straight: her boyfriend and stepdaughter ganged up on her, tricked her into bed with both of them. It wrecked her head, made her link family with fucking. Robert's face stays kind. "Thanks for that. Loops like that feel unbreakable—believe me, I know—but there's a way out. I'm proof." Marlene forces a thin smile. Bianca jumps in next. Nineteen, blackmailed into cheating while her clueless boyfriend listened on the phone. A quick flash of hunger crosses Robert's face, tongue flicking his lip, but the women miss it. Ever since, she says, she's ditched the whole "one-guy" thing, chasing strangers to feed the itch. "Appreciate you sharing," he tells her. "Past doesn't stick a label on you. You get to pick fresh every damn day—that's moving forward." Laura goes last. Lost her cherry at eighteen, a crowd watching and filming the whole ride before posting it online. Robert's hand drifts to his crotch as she talks, subtle squeeze while she keeps going, none of them catching it. She says the exposure turned her into a risk junkie; she's been chasing bigger thrills ever since. He smiles. "Admitting you're powerless is step one. Only way past it is to quit running and own the urge—together." He eyes them, tongue sliding over his lower lip like an offer. It clicks: he's not talking therapy anymore. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bianca snaps, already reaching for her bag. Laura's on her feet too, calling him a sicko. Marlene stands without a word, face frozen. "Wouldn't do that if I were you," Robert says, voice even. They freeze. Laura sneers—what's stopping them? "People say careless shit these days. Tech makes it stick forever," he answers, all smarm. Realization hits. "World already knows every inch of me—I don't scare easy," Laura shoots back, turning for the door. "No, you don't have to be scared," he says softly. "But you want an excuse. That's why you're here." The three shift, half-hearted denial showing in the way they linger. "I'm giving you that excuse," he adds. "Stop fighting who you are. I can help." They swap shaky glances, teeth sinking into lips. "Fine," they mutter—defeated, quiet. One by one, they drop to their knees in front of him, giving in.