Richard nodded. “But you did it.”
“Yes.”
“And the other thing you did that made you happy?”
“Well, I didn’t make it to the beach this week, but I did see a film at the cinema. At the Palace, where they have those big, comfortable seats that recline and you can order wine.”
“Sounds like you really pampered yourself.”
“I did. It was nice.”
“And the movie?”
“I saw The Favourite. Historical dramas are a guilty secret.”
“Great,” said Richard. “I think I’ll get you to do this again. Find something else that makes you happy and go ahead and do it.”
Caleb nodded and was already wondering what else there was that made him happy.
Richard smiled. “Now, for today, I want us to explore the negative self-image you have of yourself. Please remove your clothing.”
Caleb did a double-take. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”
Without batting an eyelid, the psychologist repeated his instruction.
“I don’t think you should be asking that,” said Caleb. “It’s not very profession…”
“And where did you get your degree in psychology, Mr. Taylor?”
Richard’s tone was stern, and Caleb felt chastised, like a schoolboy being scolded for not doing his homework. “I just meant, I don’t think removing my clothes…”
Richard leaned forward and placed his pad and pen on the coffee table.
“Okay, then I guess that’s it,” he said. “I can’t help you if you’re not going to help yourself.”
Caleb was flabbergasted. He sat speechless, his mind working a mile a minute to comprehend what he was being asked to do. “Wh-why do you want me to take my clothes off?”
“You’ll find out when you do it. Now, are you going to do as I’ve asked, or can I devote my time to someone who actually wants to be helped?”
Caleb pulled off his shoes and socks, then his T-shirt. He laid it on the chair, then undid his belt buckle. As he slid his jeans down to his ankles, he glanced at Richard, unashamedly watching him. He stepped out of his jeans and placed them with his T-shirt. He turned slightly, facing Richard directly.
“These?” he asked, hooking the tops of his thumbs into the elasticated band at the top of his underpants.
Richard nodded.
Caleb pulled them down and stepped out of them, but didn’t place them with his other clothes. He kept hold of them, letting them hang from his grasp so they covered his genitals.
“You can put them with the rest of your clothes,” said Richard, indicating with a flick of his hand.
Caleb tossed the underpants onto the small pile of clothing and turned back to face Richard, his hands clasped together, hiding what the garment was no longer able to hide.
Richard stood, and Caleb immediately noticed the large protrusion at the front of his pants.
“Come over here,” said Richard, taking Caleb by the shoulders and guiding him to a full-length mirror on the wall in one corner. “Now, hands by your side.” Richard gripped Caleb’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his cock. “Look at that. What is there to be ashamed of?”
Caleb felt on the verge of tears. He blinked madly to stop them from making an appearance. He felt humiliated, though he didn’t want Richard to see it. The session would soon end and he’d never come back again. He had a good mind to report the man.
“Your face,” said Richard. “It’s a handsome face. Very good looking, in fact. Especially your eyes. Look how large and beautiful they are. Big pools of dark chocolate. And your lips. So full and pink. A long slender neck. And broad shoulders. Were you a swimmer at some stage?”
Caleb nodded. He had represented his high school in backstroke. He had also swum competitively for his hometown, winning dozens of medals and trophies. Swimming had been the only sport he’d ever excelled at, and therefore the only one he’d ever enjoyed doing.
“You have a broad chest, nice firm pecs.” At this point, Richard wove his hands beneath Caleb’s arms and ran them across his chest. “Nice pert nipples. And look at this flat stomach.” His hands slid down Caleb’s torso. “Not too defined, but flat.”
Caleb could feel Richard’s erection poking into his left buttock, and that, coupled with the fact Richard now had his hands in Caleb’s pubic hair, soon had him erect.
Richard gripped it. “And this is a big thick muscle.” He gave it a couple of tugs. “Nothing to be ashamed of here.”
Richard crouched, moving his hands over Caleb’s thick, lightly-haired thighs. “And these are very manly legs, solid and hairy.” He swept his hands to Caleb’s calf muscles and to his feet, before standing again. “Is there anything in the mirror that you aren’t proud of?”
Caleb had to admit, there wasn’t.
“Now, when you get to my age, things don’t look so good.” Richard began to undo his tie.
Caleb felt his cock twitch.
Richard removed his tie completely and began to unbutton his shirt. “It’s a lot more work just to maintain your weight, let alone build a body anyone would find attractive.”
He pulled off his shirt, revealing a V-shaped torso covered in sandy-blond hair. His nipples were very pink and stuck out from amongst the thick chest hair that got darker further south.
“You have the benefit of youth. And will have, I daresay, for a few years more.”
Richard kicked off his shoes, then undid his belt buckle, pulling off his trousers and underpants in one smooth movement. He left his clothing in a pile on the floor and stood beside Caleb in front of the mirror. His erection, thick and rigid against his belly, leaked pre-cum.
“You see, with age comes flab. My waist, which used to resemble yours, is slowly losing the battle to maintain its curve. My pectorals are losing their tone and are looking more and more like tits.” He cupped his balls. “These continue to drop, though, so it’s not all bad news.” He laughed, and despite himself, so did Caleb. “I was never a swimmer. I have some structure to my shoulders, but see how they slope at the ends? They aren’t broad and strong like yours.”
“How old are you?” asked Caleb, who, under the circumstances, thought he had a right.
“Forty-six,” replied Richard. “Soon to be forty-seven.” He turned to Caleb, his arms open. “Give me a hug.”
Caleb stepped into Richard’s embrace, the warmth of his body comforting. The thought occurred to him that he no longer felt uncomfortable, but it was a mere flash, and he soon lost himself in the moment.
He could feel Richard’s thick cock pressing against his own and enjoyed the sensation of their two organs sliding over each other as Richard began to gently rock him back and forth on the spot.
“This is nice,” said Richard.
Caleb nodded, his cheek pressed against Richard’s furry chest. “Yes.”
When Richard finally stepped away, Caleb noticed a thin strand of pre-cum keeping their cocks connected until Richard moved too far back and it snapped.
“How are you feeling?”
Caleb walked back to where he’d been sitting. “Strange. Not as strange as when you first asked me to take my clothes off.”
“Anything else?”
“I feel kinda good,” said Caleb. “I feel surprisingly good. Liberated. Relaxed. Almost at peace.”
Richard laughed. “Why do you think that is?” He sat without dressing and watched Caleb follow suit.
Caleb shrugged. It was a bad habit his mother had always told him off for doing. “I don’t know. I guess it was unexpected. Exhilarating. Still not sure how professional it was.”
It was Richard’s turn to shrug. “It did the trick, though, didn’t it? I could have told you that your negative self-talk was untrue, but now that I’ve showed you, the message has really hit home, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I would say.
Richard stood and began dressing.
Chapter 4
The following week, Caleb
was late for his session. He called ahead and Richard explained that it wouldn’t be a problem.
“I’ll get the next client in early and you can take her four-thirty session,” explained Richard. “The last one of the day.”
Caleb heaved a sigh of relief. The traffic was horrendous, but at least the pressure was off now.
He arrived half an hour later, which meant he had another fifteen minutes to wait until his session. He flicked through some magazines, but, as always, they were never magazines an ordinary person wanted to flick through. The copies of Psychology Today, Interiors, and Architectural Digest were obviously Richard’s since only a person who charges a hundred and eighty dollars an hour would read them in the first place.
As four-thirty approached, Caleb felt strangely tense. What did Doctor Johannsen have in store for him today? More nudity? His cock began to stir at the thought. If only. The minutes ticked by more and more slowly. Caleb kept looking from his magazine to the closed door and back again. Finally, he heard a click. The door opened and there were voices. First, a middle-aged woman appeared, all smiles and gratitude, and then Richard, who winked at him. They walked to the small reception desk, where the woman paid her fee. They made an appointment for the following week and Richard escorted her to the door.
“Caleb,” he said as he turned. “You made it.”
Caleb got to his feet and shook Richard’s hand. “I did. Thank you for swapping my appointment.”
Richard guided Caleb into the office.
“You seem happier this week,” said Richard, gesturing for Caleb to take a seat.
“I guess I am. Slowly it happens.”
Richard laughed. “I’m glad things seem to be working out for you. Now, tell me what you did over the past week that made you happy.”
“Well, I did two things. First, I went to the cinema again, but it ended up not making me happy. It ended up being stressful.”
“Why was that?”
“People talking. People using their mobile phones. Someone was throwing popcorn. A bunch of kids were up the back, screaming at all the scary parts. I mean, exaggerated screaming. It ruined the whole experience for me. I like to lose myself in a movie. Lose myself in the story. There wasn’t much chance of that happening with an audience like that.”
Richard, as always, was making notes.
“Then on Sunday, I drove out to the hills and took a walk in the forest.”
“And that made you feel happy?”
“It always does. In fact, if I had enough money, I’d buy a place somewhere in the country and move there for good.”
“That sounds like a goal to me. It’s good to have achievable goals.”
“I don’t know how achievable it is.”
“You’re still young. Work hard and save your money. You never know what you can achieve.”
Caleb wasn’t convinced. Not in the current economic climate.
“Today is going to be difficult,” said Richard. “I want you to sit for a moment and think about what I’m about to ask you, then I want you to speak. I want you to tell me your most painful memory. The one thing that’s perhaps too painful to talk about is the thing I want you to talk about.”
Caleb had so many to choose from, though it didn’t take him long to come to the one memory that could still have him sobbing like a child; still conjure up feelings that were raw and severe.
“When I was five-years-old, I was given a dog. A little corgi. I called him Tango. I can’t remember why. I think I’d read a book where the dog’s name was Tango.” Caleb inhaled deeply. “Anyway, Tango was my responsibility. I had to feed him, with my mother’s supervision, and she and I would take him for walks around the block. Tango and I became as close as two friends can get.
“One day, years later—I think I was about eleven or twelve-years-old—my family and I went away on a shopping trip. Naturally, we left Tango at home. We usually took him with us to the seaside on our summer holidays, but this was just a day trip and we’d be home in time to give him his dinner.”
Caleb could feel the emotion building in his chest, tightening and threatening to explode. He could feel the tears ready to flow. He inhaled deeply and the breath came out in shaky instalments.
“When we got home, Tango was nowhere to be found. Mum said he’d probably dug a hole under the fence somewhere to go looking for us and that he’d soon come home when he was hungry.” Caleb paused. “Only he never came home. I could barely sleep that night, thinking about where Tango was and wondering if he was alright. I imaged he’d been hit by a car and was lying injured by the side of the road somewhere.
“The next morning, I was up earlier than I’d ever been up before. I think the sun had barely made it over the horizon. I got on my bike and began searching for Tango. I rode up and down the surrounding streets, calling his name as loudly as I dared. I didn’t want to wake anyone. It was a Sunday, I think.
“When I had no luck on my bicycle, I returned home. At the back of our place was a large area of bush. It’s been developed since then, but back then, it was natural bushland and I often used to play there.
“I don’t know what made me think to look there, since I’d never taken Tango with me into the bush, but I went anyway. It didn’t take long for me to find him. As soon as I saw him, I could tell he was dead.” Hot tears spilled from Caleb’s eyes and streamed down his cheeks. “His eyes were open and his little tongue was hanging out of his mouth. His fur looked matted and there were traces of blood.”
For a moment, the emotion overtook Caleb and he found it difficult to go on.
Richard remained silent, a sympathetic expression on his face.
“I knelt and began to stroke his fur and talk to him. I told him I was sorry. I began to shake my head. I couldn’t comprehend why people hated me so much that they’d kill my dog. There were sticks nearby and the grass had been trampled. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what had happened.” Caleb took a moment to blow his nose and wipe his eyes. “What had I ever done to anyone, anyone at all, to deserve this? I wasn’t a bad person. I didn’t hate anyone. I didn’t harm anyone. I just couldn’t comprehend it.
“All I wanted to do was lie down next to him and die. I knew it was my fault he was dead. I felt as guilty as if I’d done the deed myself. If I hadn’t been so hated, so outcast, this would never have happened.”
Caleb sniffed and blew his nose once more. “You know, I never told my Mum. I dug a hole right there in the bush and buried him. I picked some wildflowers and covered him with them. I said a prayer—the only one I knew—The Lord’s Prayer. I told him how much I loved him and how I was going to miss him. I was so upset, I could barely see well enough to bury him.
“I sat with him a while longer. I guess I didn’t want to leave him alone in the bush. And when I felt ready, I returned home.”
“And you never told your parents?” asked Richard.
Caleb shook his head.
“Why do you think that was?”
“I was ashamed. I didn’t want them to think their son was a loser, and if I told them what had happened to Tango, I would’ve had to tell them why. It would’ve been too humiliating.”
“What would you say to the people who did it?”
“I know who did it,” said Caleb, hearing the hatred in his voice. “The next day at school, one of the boys, Darren, asked me how my dog was. He’d barely ever spoken to me before, and the way he’d asked, with that…that stupid bloody smile, told me he’d been involved.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. What could I do? It was my word against his. And God knows what hell I would have copped if I’d got him into trouble.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Powerless. Angry that they’d get away with what they’d done.”
“But that was your choice, wasn’t it? Not to tell anyone. Perhaps you could have got justice for Tango. If not from your parents or the teachers, then from the police.”
Caleb glared at Richard. “I just told you, I couldn’t tell anyone.”
“And that was your choice.” Richard leaned forward. “I don’t mean to antagonise you, Caleb. I mean to help you think about things in a different way. Whether you like what I say or not, I say it only to help you.” He sat back in his chair. “What would you say to those boys, or the men they’ve become, if they were here right now?”
“I’d ask them why they did it. I’d ask them why they hated me so much that they’d do such a vile thing. I’d ask them if they were sorry.”
Richard nodded. “Good questions. What do you think they’d say?”
Caleb considered the question carefully before he answered. “I don’t think they’d remember why they did it.”
“But imagine they could. What would they say?”
Caleb shrugged. “They probably did it because they knew it would hurt me. Upset me.”
“And it did”
“Of course, it did!”
“And still does, by the looks of things.” Richard placed his pad and pen on the table and crossed his legs. “I want you to imagine that I’m one of those boys. Darren, wasn’t it? Tell me what you’d tell him. Don’t hold back.”
Caleb felt silly, but he could see Richard wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
“You fucking arsehole! I hate you for what you did,” he growled.
“What did I do, Caleb? Tell me why you hate me.”
“I hate you for killing my dog, you low-life motherfucker! For killing an innocent animal because you hated me. I hope you feel bloody guilty. I hope you carry that guilt for the rest of your life and that it eats away at you and makes you bitter and unhappy. You were a nasty, nasty person. I hate you.” Caleb thought he had cried all his tears, but more came, rolling down his cheeks and spotting the fabric of his shirt. “How could you kill someone’s dog? How could you take it away and do God-knows-what to it and still live with yourself?”
“And what do you think Darren would say in return?”
“He’d say he was sorry. He’d say they were only kids and they didn’t know any better.”
“Would you believe them?”
The Psychologist Page 2
