Page 2 of Psycho Therapist

They can’t keep me locked up forever. Not with a girl like that begging for it from the outside… I’ll find a way… Just the two of us, like it needs to be…

“That’s not fair!” I growl suddenly, slamming my hand flat on the table like I’ve busted the doc cheating at his own game. Never expecting to be shown a picture ofher. Since my arrest, there’s been no mention of her. I still don't even know her name. But I saw her. I followed her. I watched her.

I smelled her cunt against my own mouth, underwear I knew was hers hanging in her parents’ yard. Even though they were washed I could then and still can now, smell her sweet little slit. Her panties thick with my own seed that was still pumping white heat by the time the cops showed up just as I was finishing. Already wanting more than just yanking off into her clothes stolen from the line.

Already knowing the only place for my seed is deep inside her. The scent of her like a flare to the powder keg of feelings inside my chest. Inside my aching cock… All of it for her…

That’s how I know she's the one. All those others? They were just eye candy, lifeless dolls in a store window. But this girl…My girl. She’s the main act after all the other girls who auditioned were dismissed.

“You know… This girl, a child really… Only just turned eighteen…” Schmidt croons, his accent stronger than ever. Almost humming the words like he’s the one getting off on this somehow, “…Your behavior frightened her so much that she’s- She’s seeking therapy herself. A patient ofminenow, thanks to evil men like you.” He says in a firmer tone, trying to hurt me with the words.

“…Referred to me by a colleague who couldn’t take her case right now… Dr. Lutz almost had her all to himself.” He laughs, wheezing a little, “But she is my patient now.”

What cuts me inside, what makes me mad as all hell is the thought of him being with her instead of me. The idea of any man or therapist having her. If she needs therapy, it’ll bemegiving it to her. Not some wheezing old fool. She’s mine and she belongs with me!

“You're a monster!” Schmidt suddenly announces, victorious. Slapping his own palm flat on the table as if he’s talking facts. “I have no problems recommending you be placed into my full-time psychiatric care-” He starts to say. But he never gets to finish.

My fist flashes in the space between us, connecting with his scrawny throat before both my huge hands are around it in seconds.

“You want her all for yourself,is that it!?” I snarl, tightening my grip, “You think she wantsyouover me?” I hear myself asking him, bringing his reddening face closer to mine. Watching the lights of his wide, bloodshot eyes going out before I can even begin to tell him just how big a mistake he’s made trying to claim her for himself.

The sharp buzz of an aging intercom breaks my train of thought. My hands snap open mechanically and the good doctor slumps to the floor. He’s not dead, I don't think. But what would I know? I’m no doctor.

“Yes?” I ask, pushing the intercom, surprised at how calm I sound.

“Dr. Your next patient is here early… She says it's urgent… Anemergency.” The static voice of the receptionist says in a near whisper. “And I have to go myself, remember? I’m leaving early today-” She adds, making the edge of my lip twitch into a near smile.

I eye the limp figure on the floor, “I’m still with someone…” I remind her, impressed at how closely I can match the voice to the man. “Give me one minute-” I clip. Easing my finger off the button and surprising myself yet again with how calmly and easily I lock the office door and bundle the crumpled shape of the old bastard into a closet. Shifting a heavy chair in front of it for good measure.

But I’m barely done when there's a rapping knock at the door of his office. An urgent voice. The handle rattling.

“Dr. Schmidt… Oh,Dr. Schmidt!”

The ping in my gut isn’t from fear of discovery. I’m not even thinking about the real Schmidt, bundled up like a pretzel in his own closet.

It’s from recognizing the shrill tone of urgency in a particular female voice. Just like the night I was arrested. It sends a ripple of excitement through me and in two steps I'm at the door. Swinging it wide, I groan aloud for the second time in as many minutes.

It’s her. She’s standing right in front of me. Not a hallucination or a face on a card… It’s her. She’s come directly tome.

Good girl. Clever girl, really.

“Oh, Dr. Schmidt!?” She exclaims, chewing her perfect lip. Actually believing I’m the therapist she’s come to see once she notices my head bobbing nods at the sight of her. Not recognizing me as the huge black shadow that was removed from her parents’ backyard a few nights ago by sixteen police officers.

But I recognize her instantly. And in a second, before the receptionist down the stairs or anyone else can see, I’ve ushered her in and silently locked the door behind her.

Behind us.

“IamDr. Schmidt.” I hear myself tell her. But in my own voice, being myself now. As Dr. Schmidt, I mean…

“Oh, Dr. Schmidt! I’m Lori Finch- Your new patient… I know I’ve come early but it just couldn’t wait-!” She gasps, her face flushed and her eyes wide. That perfect lip of hers quivering now.

Her curvy little body shoots towards mine, her tiny hands grabbing me as she presses her face and mouth into my chest. Sobbing.

My own mouth splitting wide into a smile that’s all for her as I pull her close by sheer instinct but it’s one I can’t show her. Not just yet. And now I have a name to put to this feeling, this knowing inside me.

They’ll be tears of joy soon, Lori. Once we’re together. Properly.

Once she understands how things have to be from now on.

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