Page 28 of The Therapist
A single tear slips down her cheek. She brushes it away roughly, like it offends her. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“You just did.”
She lets out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sob. “I hate that you’re good at this.”
I smile softly. “That’s what they pay me for.”
For the first time since she walked in, her shoulders ease—just slightly, just enough. She isn’t healed. She isn’t whole. But today, she let herself speak, let herself be seen. And sometimes, that’s the bravest thing of all.
Tessa leaves our session over. And I wonder, what would it be like to let myself be seen? To have my secrets out in the open.
I shake the thought away and plop in the chair behind my desk.
From my bag, I pull a page from his letter and let myself read it. Just one more page.
Fate struck hard and fast. When you arrived, I was…confused. I thought perhaps it was a joke. A test. But when the color in your face drained, I knew it was serendipity working its magic.
Your professionalism and poise had me convinced that you would leave. All the obvious reasons screamed so loudly in the silence.
Ethics, morals, boundaries. You should have left, and you know that. I should have turned you away.
But I didn’t.
And you didn’t.
You stayed.
My heart nearly stopped when you made your decision. I couldn’t breathe. The greatest opportunity was laid at my feet like an offering from the Gods, and like a child on Christmas morning, I felt giddy with anticipation.
You bit your lip when I showed you to your room. The smallest gesture, but so indicative of your mindset.
You let me watch you. I couldn’t tear my eyes from you that night. The show you put on changed me—my desires.
I like watching strangers, there’s a distance—a comfort in that. As if I’m allowed a brief glimpse into their private life—as if I’m special. And as you know, the watching isn’t centered on sexual behaviors alone.
I’m satisfied watching any interaction. Your show caught me off guard. Made my head spin. I had others to visit that night but you captured my attention and held it prisoner.
My heart raced as you looked over the accommodations, the way your eyes scanned the room—floor to ceiling—looking. My breath caught in my lungs when you fixated on the vent near the ceiling, bedside.
I felt caught—like a child, sure your gaze was focused on mine, ready to be chastised. Instead of scolding you praised—you made me feel watched.
It turned my stomach; this new sensation of being seen. It turned me on, took my proclivity to an elevated level.
And then you began. I nearly choked on the breath I held in my throat. You see, there’s one force more powerful than free will.
Lust.
You told me “desires can be dark, shameful and wrong,” but for me, that’s what makes them so right. My chest heaved. My fingers itched to touch you, touch myself, touch skin. Blood rushed in my veins. The sound of it deafening.
That was quite possibly the beginning of the end. In hindsight, our foundation was built on a fault line. But, I think that’s where I became excited to share my world with you. To bring you into the fold. I became hyper-focused on the idea that someone might be interested in sharing my lifestyle with me.
What I’m trying to say is that as we erased lines, I became careless. Less vigilant.
I should have turned away. Respected the ethics and boundaries that existed. I should have done many things that would have altered the course we traveled.
I regret none of it. It was a signal; a beacon in the night that I was not lost in the darkness. That I was where I belong. I couldn’t have predicted your secret just as you didn’t know all of mine.
Robin, that night changed everything for me, and I think it did for you as well.
