The Therapy Appointment (Pt. 1)
Meeting with Dr. Plaisir
He couldn’t pay attention in the meeting. His standing appointment with her was at 3:30, and it was now 2:30. He knew that if he didn’t make it in time, she wouldn’t see him, and he would have to wait until next month to see her.
As the meeting was coming to an end, he decided to leave. He needed to be there on time. He leaned over to the Chair of Neurology sitting next to him.
“I’m leaving. I have an appointment at 3:30 that I can’t miss.”
“Okay. If anything comes up in the next few minutes, I’ll let you know,” she said with a reassuring wink.
He gave her a “thank you” smile and quietly left the board room. He was thankful that he was sitting so close to the door. As he briskly walked to his office, he pulled out his phone to text her a message:
***Leaving the office now. Will be arriving by appointment time.***
It was now 2:50, and he was cutting it close. In an instant, he turned around and started walking towards the elevators. He made a quick decision to come back to the office to get his briefcase and jacket; he needed to be on the road now to make it in time. As the elevator doors opened, he thought to himself, “Thank God I keep my car keys in my pocket…”
He couldn’t get there fast enough. It seemed as if everyone was driving at a leisurely pace just to make him miss the appointment. His appointment was held about 30 minutes away from his office, so he normally could make it. However, today felt different. He felt like he left the office too late, and all the slow drivers were in the way of him get there on time. His anxiety was building.
“Why are you all driving like a bunch of nuns?!” He yelled. “Any other day you all would be driving like fucking animals!”
“Breathe,” he thought to himself, “that’s what she taught you…”
It was now 3:20, and he was about ten minutes away. His apprehension slightly lessened as he believed that he would be on time for his precious appointment.
He barely parked the car as he jumped out and ran up the steps to ring the buzzer for his appointment. He looked at his watch; it was exactly 3:30. He was on time. He let out a sigh of relief and relaxed his shoulders. He had been looking forward to this appointment.
He rang the buzzer again.
His moist hands told him that he was becoming nervous. He rang the buzzer again.
A cheerful voice answered his buzzes through the intercom. “Yes, how may I help you?”
“I have an appointment at 3:30.”
“Hold please.” In addition to his clammy hands, his stomach had begun to churn as he waited for her to return; to buzz him in.
“I’m sorry. You’ve missed your appointment for today. Our policy is that you MUST arrive ten minutes early.”
“Then why schedule me at 3:30?! Why not just schedule me at 3:20 then?” He asked frantically.
“You know our policies. I see you have a standing monthly appointment. Therefore, we’ll see you next month. Remember to be ten minutes early, and if you miss two more appointments, you will be canceled as a client.” He could hear her smiling through the intercom.
He felt his anxiety turning into frustration. There was a fire at the bottom of his feet that was rapidly spreading upwards to the rest of his body. The fact that he had left the board meeting early, drove like a bat out of hell to get here, and was now being told by Little Ms. Cheerful that he had to wait until next month was about to have him burst into flames on the landing.
“Breathe,” he thought to himself, “that’s what she taught you…”
He took three deep breaths to calm the rage that was inside of him.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Little Ms. Cheerful asked.
“Yes,” he sighed. “Are you sure I can’t make the appointment today?” There was a slight plea in his voice.
“No, the policy is very clear. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I’ll be on time next month. Thanks.” As he turned to sulk back to his car, he noticed that she was watching him out of a third-floor window with an ice-cold look of disdain. He knew what that look meant.
Back at the office, his administrative assistant was surprised to see him stop at his desk.
“Are there any messages for me before I head out for the day?” He sighed defeatedly.
“You look like your dog just died. Was your appointment not good?”
“I missed it.” He sounded like he lost his best friend.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know how important those appointments are to you, and how much they seem to help.”
“If you only knew,” he thought to himself.
“Well, there are no messages.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly. He retrieved his jacket and briefcase from his office. He didn’t know how he was going to survive the next 30 days; the appointments were the only things keeping him sane with the amount of stress in his life.
*******One Month Later*******
The monthly appointments were perfect for him because it kept his intense energy and tension from consuming him. He found that this was the only way to keep it under control. However, it was beginning to build, and since he missed his appointment two weeks ago, he was becoming nervous about how he was going to be able to maintain control on his own. As he sat at his desk feeling the energy surge through his body, he thought, “I know I’m not supposed to do this, but I have to release this some kind of way.”
He called his administrative assistant. “I’m going to be on a conference call for about an hour. If I’m finished before then, I’ll let you know.”
After he hung up the phone, he went to his office door and locked it. Returning to his desk, he used his remote to pull down and close all the blinds in his office. He turned around to look out his office wall window that overlooked the city. He thought about keeping the shades up, but then pressed the button on the remote to have them come down. He turned back to his office desk, picked up the receiver on his office phone, and laid it on his desk.
“The light next to my number should be lit like I’m on the phone,” he thought.
He took a deep breath to try to release some of the pent-up tension, but it didn’t ease the powerful pressure that was building inside of him. He knew that the only thing that would put him completely at ease would be to make his next appointment. He walked over to the dark blue couch in his office that he often took naps on during the work day and plopped down. He took another deep breath and sighed.
“I have to do something! This is just gonna have to do,” he thought.
He laid his head back on the couch, closed his eyes, and began to gently rub his dick through his pants to awaken it from its slumber. It was already patiently waiting for his acknowledgment, like a customer waiting to ask a question to a sales associate in Target. It felt so good; he could feel some relief, just enough to feel like the valve had been loosened but not opened. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, reached into his boxers, and popped out his dick which was now standing at attention and throbbing. The popped veins and radiating heat gave his dick the look of irritation because it had been waiting too long to be addressed, to be touched.
He finally gave his dick the attention it had been wanting. With his eyes still closed, he started from the base and began to stroke himself. The up and down motion of his hand on his dick felt good. Although it was not pussy, the skin to skin contact of his hand to his dick was still a great replacement; it was doing the job it was meant to do.
As his hand was moving up and down, up and down on his rock-hard shaft, he envisioned fucking from behind, watching a voluptuous ass create mountainous waves each time he thrust his dick into the waiting and wanting pussy. He imagined hearing the suction sounds of his dick exiting the wet, sloppy pussy, and a female voice moaning in ecstasy. He could see himself firmly smack the big, beautiful, round ass and the handprint he left indicating that he was there. He could see the pussy getting wetter as he dived deeper and deeper into it.
He felt his own intensity building as he imagined fucking the pussy into submission. His release was approaching, and there was no way to stop it. The pussy in his mind was quietly coercing him to release, and he gladly responded to the mental pressure and let the pent-up energy go.
“Ahhhh,” he quietly sighed. “I feel somewhat better even though I’m probably gonna pay for it.”
He took a moment to relax in the post-coital atmosphere of his office.
Still feeling as if he had only relieved himself of twenty percent of his tension, he felt as if he could make it through the rest of the workday. He looked down at the mess he had made, grateful he didn’t get any of his liquid love potion on his suit pants. He went into his office bathroom, cleaned himself up, and washed his hands. He looked at himself in the mirror and studied his face. He could see the burgeoning lines in his face, the streaks of gray hair, and the lack of sexual attention and thought to himself, “My missed appointment is showing in my face. I CAN’T miss the next one.”
When he exited the bathroom, he began to return his office to normal; to appear as if he had finished his conference call. As he was replacing the phone receiver back on its base, he noticed that the red message light was blinking indicating that someone had left a message.
***This is a reminder that you have an appointment scheduled for April eighth at three thirty. Please remember to arrive ten minutes early to ensure your appointment is kept. If you have any questions or need to reschedule, please call 315-729-3819. Thank you.***
It was Little Ms. Cheerful reminding him of his upcoming appointment.
The energy that he released previously had returned, but this time, in the form of excitement, like a child on Christmas Day.
“Thank you for the reminder, Little Ms. Cheerful, but I’ll be there at two-thirty if I have to! I will not miss this appointment for anything in the world!”
He looked at the clock and thought to himself, “I learned my lesson from last time.” If he had to leave now, he was not going to miss this appointment, especially for the second time in a row, however, he needed to pay attention in the meeting a few minutes longer.
“I’ll give this meeting another five minutes and then I’m out,” he thought.
While Dean Johnson continued rambling about clinical sites, all he could think about was the appointment. He just so happened to tune back in when the Dean stated that the meeting was going to be extended by ten minutes so that they could discuss graduation rates.
He took this as his opportunity to silently walk out of the meeting.
Once again relying on the Chair of Neurology, he leaned over to her and said, “I have my 3:30 appointment again today. Can you…” but she interrupted him before he could finish.
With her hand up to his face, she said, “Yes, I always do, but you might want to reconsider moving your standing appointment. You know Dean Johnson loves being the center of attention at these meetings.”
“I know… I’m going to try and see if I can move them today. The anxiety of Dean Johnson breathing down my neck and making it to my appointments are killing me.” And with that, he gave her the same “thank you” smile from two weeks ago and quietly left the board room once again.
Unlike last time, the roads were relatively clear. Instead of people driving at a snail’s pace, the few cars that were there were moving with purpose. This time, he knew he would make it by 3:20. In fact, he would probably be early.
It was now 2:50, and he was around the corner from the building where his appointment was held. Since he had some free time, he decided to stop and get an iced coffee. As he drove off with his drink, he breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he was going to release all the negative energy he had been storing up for a month.
He pulled into the parking lot and thought to himself, “Since I have the time, I’ll just finish my drink before I go in.”
He turned the engine off and kept the radio on, listening to the streaming music. The music, the warm spring breeze, and the smell of the spring flowers seemed to somewhat open the valve on the container of what he had been waiting to release again.
“Okay, let me not miss this appointment.” As he walked towards the door, he felt someone staring at him. He looked up at a third-floor window and noticed that she was staring at him again. This time, she was watching him with a pleasing look, as if to say, “good boy.”
He stepped onto the porch and rang the buzzer.
Little Ms. Cheerful answered. “Hello, how may I help you?”
“I have a 3:30 appointment.”
He stood there waiting like he did the last time. He always wondered what she was doing each time she kept him waiting outside.
“Why not just buzz me in?” He wondered aloud.
“Yes, your appointment has been confirmed. Listen for the buzzer; then open the door. Come to the top of the stairs.”
“Thank you,” he said rolling his eyes. Little Ms. Cheerful annoyed him every time she gave those instructions. “I know where I’m going,” he thought to himself.
He reached the lobby of the office where Little Ms. Cheerful greeted him once again.
“It’s good to see you again! Sorry about last month, but you know how strict Dr. Plaisir is with the policies. But at least you made it on time today!”
“Yeah, I made it,” he said dryly while signing in, still annoyed from the repetitive instructions.
“Well, have a seat; Dr. Plaisir will be out shortly.”
He nonchalantly nodded “thanks” and took a seat. He had been seeing Dr. Plaisir for a few years, and she had been helping him cope with the stressors in his life: the demands from his job, his marriage, his sexual needs…
His body stiffened as he heard her heels clicking down the wooden stairs coming for him. He knew why his body responded in that manner when she was near. He quickly inhaled and exhaled to relieve some of the tightness in his body before she rounded the corner… and just as he exhaled, there she was.
“I’m ready. Come on up,” she smiled sultrily. He smiled back at her as he got up from his chair to follow her; his heart beating at one thousand beats per minute. He still couldn’t control his physical reactions to her after all these years.
He followed her up the stairs to her office and couldn’t help watching her as she walked. She moved as if sex was pulsating from her body. Her legs were wrapped in sheer black stockings with a black seam up the back. Her legs were already long but the seam of the stockings made them seem even longer; so long that they seemed to have no ending up her skirt. They made her skirt seem as if it was the tiniest skirt in the world. Her ass was a perfectly rounded peach that slightly bounced with each step. He felt his dick begin to stir and took a brief second to calm him.
“Not now,” he silently whispered.
She opened the door to her office. She had created a comfortable atmosphere with couches, plants, books, and lavender aromatherapy.
“Please have a seat. How are things going?” She took a seat in her black leather Queen Anne winged-back chair across from the couch. He sat down and took a second before responding. Her black lace bra that was peeking through her semi-sheer white blouse was struggling to hold her breast captive; it was quite distracting.
“Um, since last month things have been stressful as usual. I’ve been using the breathing strategies that you taught me, especially when it comes to the job. I’ve been doing more deep breathing and have been utilizing the medical school gym.” He gave a half-ass smile.
“I’m glad you’ve been going to the gym. It definitely shows.” She gave him that same sex dripping smile. “How are things with you and your wife? Do you wanna say anything about that?”
She stared at him like she was peering into his soul. She knew he wanted to say something about it; he just needed permission.
“Well, we’ve been doing more talking, especially about our needs. Since the kids and my job, it seems we never find the time to sexually connect. It was good that we were open about our needs and what we could provide for each other.”
“What did you tell her your needs were?” Dr. Plaisir asked in her therapist tone.
Embarrassed to share this part of the conversation, he looked down at the floor. “Don’t be ashamed; saying it out loud acknowledges your needs and makes them a priority for you,” she coached.
He took a deep breath to relieve his anxiety. With his eyes still on the floor, he softly stated, “Besides having my dick sucked each time we have sex… I told her I would like to invite someone to play with us.” He still didn’t look up after the words spilled out. There was a pause between the two of them that created electricity in the air.
“Good for you! How did she respond?”
“She said she would think about it,” he said quietly.
“That’s it?” She asked surprisingly. “I’m sure she said more.”
“Honestly, she said she couldn’t believe that I asked her that when I’ve never once asked her what she needed. I tried to explain to her that I can’t know what she needs if she doesn’t tell me, but then it turned into a huge argument with me sleeping on the couch with my dick…” He abruptly stopped midsentence.
“With your dick what? Go on.” She instructed.
And with the smallest voice he could muster, he responded, “…in my hand.”
He watched as Dr. Plaisir’s emotionless face mulled those words around in her mind. “And what were you doing?”
He didn’t respond.
“Okay. We’ll come back to that later. So, your wife’s needs, please continue.”
He sighed knowing that they were going to revisit the “couch” conversation later.
“She said that I don’t focus on her, all that she does for me and the kids, and the fact that she likes sex as much as I do, but she’s tired by the time I get home. Then we got into a heated discussion about the fact that we made the decision that I would work, and she would stay home, which turned into a nasty shouting match to see who could yell the loudest, and that’s when she told me to take my dick and sleep on the couch.”
He looked at Dr. Plaisir with pleading eyes hoping that this explanation would ease the return of the couch and his dick conversation that was going to happen later.
“Do you love your wife?” She asked softly.
“Then you should know her needs. I want you to make a list of three things you can do to start focusing on her now. What do you think you could do?”
“Well… maybe we could go away on a trip together? Without the kids?” He asked unsure of his answer.
“Okay, that’s a start. What else?”
“Ummmmm,” he stared blankly.
“Let me make a suggestion. How about once a month taking the kids for the weekend and giving her ‘time off?’ Like a ‘Mommy Free’ weekend.” She smiled at him knowing that this was going to be a challenge for him. Because of his job, his interaction with his children was limited.
He looked terrified at the idea. “Ummm, sure… I can try that too.”
“Okay, now I need you to come up with the last suggestion that can be implemented,” she said definitively. “Let me remind you that this exercise is about you focusing on your wife and family, not yourself. You should be able to identify the things that they need from you.” She was beginning to get impatient with his ignorance.
The fire at the bottom of his feet was starting to rumble again. This time it was not from frustration but from Dr. Plaisir’s seriousness. He knew this was strike two.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then, after a second, he looked at her as if he had won a million dollars. “I know!! In college, she used to love when I cooked for her. Her favorite meal was shrimp scampi. I can start cooking for her again!”
“How often?” She asked.
He was caught off guard by her question; he hadn’t thought about the frequency of cooking for his wife.
She cut him off before he had a chance to guess another response. “You’re gonna do it once a week.”
“I’ll try. Sometimes I have to stay late…”
“No, THIS, you are going to do once a week,” she stated matter of factly. “If you can make these appointments an important part of your life, then doing this once a week for your wife can be just as important. Make the changes to your schedule.” He knew this was not up for discussion.
Dr. Plaisir picked up her little notepad and pen that was sitting on a small table next to her chair. “So, let’s review. You are going to do the following: you both are going to go on a trip without the kids to a place of her choosing, you are going to give her a ‘Mommy Free’ weekend once a month, and you’re going to cook for her once a week.”
The fire that had started in his feet was slowly moving up his legs. He hated when Dr. Plaisir ordered him to do things, but he knew it was for the best. He took another deep breath and slowly exhaled as he contemplated his tasks.
“We’ll discuss how you’re doing with your responsibilities at our next appointment.”
There was a pause between them that created electricity in the air.
He then heard the leather of her chair speak as she shifted her legs to rise. He quickly noticed her black lace panties and her stockings that were attached to black garter belt suspenders. He felt his dick starting to stir again.
She walked over to him and stared at him with a dominating glare. Standing over him, she firmly stated, “Now we need to address some other issues such as the lateness of your appointment last month and the couch and dick conversation, shall we? Follow me.”
This walk was second nature to him; he could walk it with his eyes closed. It was only 18 steps from the couch to the door. He counted each time, and each time his breath hitched with anticipation with every step. It was the walk to begin the second part of his therapy session.