Page 9 of Psycho Therapist

“I- I wanted the man that night to be my boyfriend… And- And the same feeling when I came to your office… I don't know what’s wrong with me, Dr. Schmidt, and I thought you were trying to help me, not tease me about it.” She says defensively but her eyes twitch and shift back down to my lap.

I think she knows exactly how I plan to help her. But in the light of day, as we pull up to her parent’s house, I can see at a glance what’s really bothering her.

6

LORI

His car… His scent up close… The way he's just so damnedin controlof everything… Everything about Dr. Schmidt is a million miles from the feel and decor of his office. He knew about the pepper tree, knows where I live. Hell, I think he even knew which side of the house my bedroom window is on.

Calm down, Lori… You’ve had a shock, remember? It’s probably all symptoms that Dr. Schmidt is going to help you with.

And seeing his huge dick so hard like that in his pants, is that my imagination too?

I must be hallucinating. Seeing things as well as finding odd little coincidences in everything he does and says. But imagining he has a huge erection? I dunno… Looks pretty freaking real to me because no man in his right mind could or would just sit there with that almost smug look of knowing if he was hard down there, and with a patient too. No. It must be some kind of ‘transference-projection’ thingy or some other psychological phenomena with big words.

He maintains his satisfied look until he sees my house when we pull up. Until he joins more dots than a year’s worth of therapy ever could. That’s when I feel like I must be imagining a lot of things. A man like Dr. Schultz could never go for a girl like me. He has no need to, could have any woman he wants just by flashing that smile of his.

In the daylight, our place looks small, poky even. Not the setting for the feeling I still get when I look into the yard and nowhere near the backdrop someone might picture if I told them how all this really started.

We don't live in a slum, but compared to his lifestyle? It’s clear in a moment that my therapy isn't being paid for by my parents or myself. The city’s paying for my therapy and no doubt they’ll be sending my mystery backyard fantasy the bill as well as whatever else they end up charging him with.

Mom and Dad aren’t struggling to put food on the table or anything like that, but like I say. Mr. Fancy pants here with his luxury car and private practice… It makes me shrink into my seat with embarrassment at the prospect of re-living that night. And only because it means Dr. Schultz has to see my bedroom as well as inside our house. Something I never even thought about when I was swooning over re-living the idea in his office.

“Lori…?” he asks, breaking my internal reverie, “You didn't do anything wrong that night, and going over it again is going to help you.”

I crease the edge of my mouth, feeling like I should have when I first met him, awkward. Shy and in the presence of a man way outta my league. “Is it- Is it normal for me to be seeing things, Dr. Schmidt?” I whisper, biting my lip after I ask, helplessly staring at the swelling bulge again. Pushing out a gasp of disbelief when he actually chuckles to himself, more pleased than ever.

“Are you sure we won't be disturbed?” he asks me casually but with an edge to his voice, “How long are your parents away, I mean…” He smiles, but there’s that look again. That feeling rekindles in a second the moment he catches me eying his crotch for the hundredth time.

If he really wanted you he wouldn’t be acting on it… He's a trained professional…It’s a projection thingy… remember?

“Uh… They're gone for the weekend, back Sunday night,” I rasp nervously. Twirling a loose bang and suddenly feeling like I'm in a sauna. My face reddening with a heat that’s nothing compared to the bloom of need in between my legs again. “First holiday in about ten years…”

“And Becky’s not coming-” I blurt out, as if having the whole place to ourselves not just for one afternoon of therapy is what I really want him to know.

“Excellent.” He says sharply, eying the street again the same way he did a few times driving over. And I thought I was being paranoid.

“You think we’re being followed?” I ask in a mock serious tone, trying to break my own mixed-up mood with some terrible humor. But Dr. Schmidt doesn't smile or laugh. He looks intently into my eyes but forces them to look past me towards the house.

“You trust me, don’t you Lori?” He asks. The question making me jump once I realize how much time’s passed. Aware more than ever of just how physically close we are. Aware of his breathing and the pounding in my chest. My head nods automatically but I know there’s something not quite right here but in a way that gives me such a feeling that I know I'm powerless to stop it.

“Good girl…”

The way he says it. The deep, grinding way the words vibrate through me… I don't know how I’m gonna manage walking up the front steps let alone the stairs to my room. “Are you- Are you gonna be in the yard?” I ask, sounding way blonder than I am. Sounding like a five-year-old instead of an adult. But the question only makes him looking more sure of himself than ever.

“I’m gonna be right with you, Lori… The whole idea is for you to re-live how you felt that night, to come to terms with it. To accept it…There is noman under the pepper treeanymore. It’s just you and me… Just the two of us…”

It sounds simple enough but the way he's saying it I could interpret things two ways. But I have to tell myself he's right. It's just therapy in my room instead of in his office and by ‘just the two of us’ he means there won't be a guy as big as he is yanking off under our tree, right?

I just can’t stop replaying that scene in my mind though… The most insanely hot thing I've ever seen. How am I supposed to tell myself that let alone my therapist?

“Are you ready?” He asks, but I'm already unbuckling myself. Fishing for the key in my pocket with a trembling hand. Still confused, still with a million questions but so hooked on this feeling now I don't care what the consequences are. If nothing else I’ve got a ride home. But on the other hand? I wouldn't mind one bit if the doc’s ‘therapy’ broke more than just a few rules today.

I can feel his eyes follow me as I do my best to act natural. Once I reach the door and turn, Dr. Schmidt looks as if he’s taking in a mountain-top view instead of the front yard of a middle-class suburban two-story. His gaze finds me again and he smiles wider, making me think that maybe I like being this way. Maybe I don't wanna get over this feeling.

I mechanically let us in, grimacing a little. It’s home and there’s nothing wrong with it, but seeing and feeling a man like Dr. Schmidt inside… I dunno. I just wish I'd tidied up a little, made an effort. But he seems relaxed and right at home, automatically heading for the stairs as if he knows the way already.

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should let you lead the way…” He rumbles, shooting me a short smile and holding the flat of his palm out in a lady’s first gesture. The stairs are narrow and Dr. Schmidt isn’t. I can feel his body right behind mine every step of the way, making me get out of breath by the time we reach the top. He’s so close behind me all the way into my room that I make straight for the window, not daring to turn when he's so close.

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