“Lie down on the couch, Lori. Take your time and…. Just…Tell. Me…” He says in a friendly but firm tone. Almost grinding out the last few words as if he's got indigestion or something.
Might explain that growl.
Mind you I haven't eaten anything since last night so I hope my own belly isn't the one making whale songs. But like anything the doc here says, I find myself following his instructions and feeling better already once I lie down. The soft leather and the ticking mantle clock. The low hum of city traffic coming through the open window.
I feel like I can hear it all crystal clear suddenly. And feeling safe for the first time since that night, I even close my eyes. Not even jumping too much when I feel Dr. Schmidt’s warm hands slipping my pumps off my feet but wanting him to slide them way higher than just my feet.
Irregular method 101, I’m assuming. But he’s only helping me out of my shoes. Making me comfy so I’ll talk…That’s all. Don't read too much into it…
“Keep those eyes closed, Lori… Just relax…” The doc says soothingly, “…and whenever you're ready. I want you to go over everything that happened the other night… Every detail as you recall it, no matter how small…”
His voice is so deep. So clear and commanding, but at the same time it’s like a song. A crooning number that just tugs at my heart making me think of slow dancing.
Doing whatever he says…
I feel his huge warm body moving past me, the edge of his pants brushing my arm. My eyes starting to flutter, wanting to open again. To just see him again but my body and mind somehow knows to just do as he says. The feeling from that night is coursing through my veins as if I'm reliving that magic moment over and over, so I have no issue with recall or my memory of events.
The sound of the blinds from the window being drawn is mixed with another low groaning sound. But it’s not Dr. Schmidt and I sure as heck hope it’s not coming from me. But no, it’s coming from someplace else.
“Just…Relax…Just focus on my- voice…” I hear him saying. “…Let the background noise of my office fade away…”
The sound of a door being eased open, another low moan, a dull thud, and then silence. My eyes stay glued shut and I’m trying to relax, wondering if I'm hearing things as well as seeing things but he says it again. Reminds me to relax, focusing only on the sound of his voice and the tell him what happened that night.
And just like some magic spell, the sound of his voice and the feeling of him sitting in the chair closest, it doesn't take too much for me to start spilling my guts. Instead of asking about me or my parents, our life like a regular therapist might. The Doctor here gets straight down to business, and that suits me just fine.
I could start at the end, that’s my favorite part…Before the cops weren’t the only ones who came but ruined everything, I mean. But for the benefit of my therapist as well as myself, I start at the beginning. When I first felt like I was being watched from below. “My bedroom’s on the upper floor…” I begin after taking a shivering breath, my eyes still closed but without the tension in them now I can feel myself ready to tell my secret.
“The left side…” Dr. Schmidt murmurs knowingly, quickly adding the question, “-Or the right side?”. But I tell him he's correct.
“Then tell me something of thisfeeling…” He says swiftly, “…How could you know for sure you were being watched?”
How could I not is the real question, oh my god…The feeling it gave me… Still does. Right this minute!
I shrug as best I can laying down, “A girl just knows, I guess… Like you just feel it when someone's watching…”
He hums low to himself. Another soothing sound pulsing from him at every fresh detail I can recount from nights previous. But I can't quite find the right point to get to what I really need to ask him about. The part that makes me wanna get down on all fours and be fucked like that man was fucking his own hand in our yard.
“But you never saw him… I mean, you wouldn't recognize him if he walked in the door just now?” He asks, making my heart skip a beat at the thought. But the urgency to see that shadowy figure again seems less now I'm here. Now I'm telling a fully qualified, trained professional about what happened.
“No, I- I wouldn't say I'drecognizehim,” I murmur, sounding disappointed I wouldn’t. Couldn’t put a face to the man when I tried to recreate the moment myself. Wondering if I’ll ever get to see that man ever again outside of my own fantasies. But it seems to interest the doc more than anything, who sounds like he's taking copious notes. The scratch of his pencil against a notepad as he listens to my account. His little grunts and hums encouraging me on.
“It’s more like a feeling,” I repeat, noticing the butterflies in my stomach start to rise.
“It’s a-feeling… A feeling I- I don’t think I can switch off a minute longer…”
3
LEE
Not only does she think I’m Dr. Schmidt. Lori is keen to start to tell me just how she feels about what happened. And I can barely contain myself, taking it all in. Taking her in with my eyes that scan the curves of her body as she lays there just inches from me. My natural protective feelings for her make it easy for me to help her relax, surprising even myself at just how receptive she is to my commands.
So it’s hard to keep focused once I can see and hear for myself that the memory she has of that night isn’t a traumatic one. Far from it.
I quiz her about her ability to recognize me, I mean…The shadow of a man who was in her yard. My pencil scratching madly at the paper as I try my best to take notes but end up doodling her, legs splayed open and being fucked by a giant cock - mine.
That’s what she is now, she's mine. ‘My patient’ for the next hour at least, which gives me plenty of time to come up with a plan to make sure we can stay together now she's done the right thing and found me all by herself.
Like I said, she’s a clever girl. I knew she would be. And getting to see her up so close for the first time, I can see that she's as beautiful as she is perfect in every other way. Her mountainous chest does indeed heave and shiver a little… Just like those ink blots. But shifting my eyes from her face to her chest. Listening to her angelic voice with a maddening grin, I can't help zoning in on the one place she needs therapy the most.
