by Cassy Roop
Progress.
She recognized my emotions through repetition. Maybe this was something that we needed to progress with further in order to find our breakthrough.
I finished reading the notes my uncle had taken. I could hear the excitement in his writing after discovering her recognition of certain emotions. Even though he had made an ass out of himself and the family name by becoming involved with the Cardinelli family, he was a very good doctor. He was very intuitive, smart, and could often have found a solution to his patient’s problems after one session, but the man lacked common sense. I lifted the page I just finished reading to find another note written just three days after.
Nicola missed her appointment today. Called to leave messages at her home, but the phone was disconnected. I called her school, but they said she had been removed due to circumstances they weren’t allowed to disclose.
I looked over at the chart on the inside flap of the folder, where we kept an attendance of when the patients came to their sessions. I noticed that Nicola didn’t return for nearly seven months after the session she found out about her parents. My brows furrowed together as I wondered what it was that could have kept her away from her therapy for so long. Nine years was quite a long time, and probably one of only a few constants in her life.
I looked at the gold Rolex watch on my left wrist, a present from my grandfather when I graduated. My first appointment wasn’t due for another twenty minutes, so I decided to run out to the lobby to refill my coffee cup and stretch my legs before I was stuck behind my desk all day.
I motioned for Laura Lee to sit back down when she saw me pass by her desk.
“I got it,” I smiled and she smiled back quickly before going back to work with preparing the files of the patients who were to be seen in the clinic today. Picking up one of the little coffee cups that we kept on a neat little stand, that housed several different flavors and brews, I inserted it into the machine and closed the lid, pressing the button. I watched as the steaming liquid poured into the cup and the great aroma filtered into the waiting area. Dumping in my required amount of six sugars and four creamers into the steaming liquid, I gave it a quick stir before taking a long draw. I didn’t care that it singed the tip of my tongue. The only thing I needed was the jolt of the caffeine as it fired into my system due to my late night.
I vaguely remembered the bell of the lobby room door ringing, signaling the arrival of the day’s first patient. A middle aged man wearing plaid golfer’s pants and a pastel salmon colored shirt, approached Laura Lee at her desk. I was getting such a kick out of how someone could walk out into public wearing such attire, that I didn’t register the bell ringing again. I began to walk towards the door, that would lead me to my office, and had my hand poised on the knob when I heard a familiar voice. One that haunted my dreams all night long as I tossed and turned in my oversized luxurious bed, alone. I had memorized every shape of her body, every line and curve that made up the beauty that invaded my thoughts. I could still smell the soft scent of her skin and the way that her arm burned into mine as she walked beside me.
“Nicola Forbes to see Dr. Gunn please.”
I turned around, not quite sure if I had heard her correctly. My mouth went instantly dry and I had to mentally coerce my cock not to stand at attention from the electricity of her beauty shocking my system.
She signed a clipboard and then handed it back to Laura Lee, smiling politely. I was jealous of her teeth. The way that her lips framed them, just barely touching the rims of the plump redness. I noticed the way her ruby lipstick made her teeth beautifully white, and how her high cheekbones made her eyes squint slightly as she smiled. The coffee cup in my hands nearly plummeted to the floor as my hands began to slightly tremble from the nearness of her.
In an instant, she looked up, as if sensing me, the smile still present on her face. It only faltered for a fraction of a second before she scanned me from head to toe.
“Sinclaire?”
“MISS LANE,” Sinclaire nodded at me. The lady sitting in the reception chair flicked her eyes rapidly back and forth between me and him as we all said nothing for several long seconds. I wished I could explain what happened when I saw him standing there. It was almost like someone had taken a car battery, hooked it to cables and touched every single place on my body. I could feel every tiny, nearly invisible hair on my body stand on its ends, as tingles ran unobstructedly throughout.
“Well, Sinclaire,” the lady behind the reception desk stated with a hint of humor in her voice as she said his name, “Your first appointment is here.”
“Right this way, Miss Lane,” he said as he pushed open the door leading back to a set of offices, all in which I was familiar with.
“Forbes.”
He stopped, turning around as his dark eyebrow arched in question.
“My name is Nicola Forbes. Jericho is something I use for…”
“I understand, Miss Forbes. Follow me please.” His short, clipped tone caught me slightly off guard.
Was he new to the clinic? But more importantly, why was he the one who led me to my client last night? A plethora of questions circumnavigated their way through my brain on our short walk to his office. He paused at the door, gesturing with his hand for me to enter. The smell of his cologne overtook my senses as I walked past him. I walked in, familiar with the same bookshelf, and nearly the same table of blocks that sat in the corner from the time I was five years old.
“This was old man Gunn’s office,” I stated as I removed my purse from my shoulder and sat down in a chair in front of the desk. I crossed my legs, sitting tall with my chin held high—a move that I had perfected over the years.
“It was,” he replied as he undid the buttons on his jacket before sitting down in the overly large leather chair behind the desk. I may not have been able to feel or have a solid understanding of those feelings, but I had learned to read facial expressions and to be able to label emotions through them. As I watched Sinclaire, I noticed the dark blue rim of his eyes blended in with the darkening blue of his irises, making them look like pools of navy ink, or a starless sky. His jaw was firm as he chewed on the inner side of his lip, debating with himself over what to say next. I sat there, not breaking eye contact, partly because it was how I had been bred, and partly because I didn’t want to. His eyes were something I could stare into all day. They were beautiful, something to appreciate, a masterful work of God. I watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, following it down the line of his jaw to rest on his perfect lips. I admired the gentle wave in his hair and how a few tendrils seemed to always fall just above his brow.
“Miss Lane,” he said in a rush of breath.
“Nicola. My name is Nicola,” I corrected him. He closed his eyes only for a brief second and then re-opened them.
“Nicola, my uncle, Robert Gunn whom you are familiar with, is retiring as of next week. I will be taking over the clinic as well as becoming the doctor to oversee your therapy.”
Right down to business, like there wasn’t a giant elephant in the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a doctor? More importantly, that you were going to be my doctor, last night?”
“I had no idea who you were last night. You were introduced as Jericho Lane, I assumed that was your name. I had no knowledge that you were a patient here at the clinic, nor did I know that your name was Nicola Forbes.”
“Not even when you read my file?” I asked gesturing with my eyes toward the manila folder on his desk that had my name scrawled across the top.
“No, I didn’t put two and two together, until I saw you standing at the reception desk.” I believed him, especially if his reaction was any indication.
“I can always turn over your case to one of the other doctors in the clinic if you feel like the situation of last night would compromise your care.”
His eyes darkened when he spoke about last night and I felt the surface of my skin flush, sending a wave of heat thro
ugh me. The physicality that I felt while in his presence last night wasn’t like any other sexual experience I had ever had. My senses were heightened on so many levels when my mind and body were both taken possession from him.
My mystery client.
The fire in his touch. The graze of his fingers along the swell of my breasts. The expert way he made my body come alive as if awakening me from a deep slumber. All of those things encompassed with the sensations I got to feel with intimacy were nearly too much for me. Then there was the fact that Sinclaire was watching the entire time, instructing me on how to move and what to do, and it only made the night that much more intense. I was turned on not only from the man who was physically manipulating my body, but also by the man watching him do so.
“That won’t be necessary. We are both adults. What goes on in the privacy of our personal lives doesn’t have to affect our professional relationship, Sinclaire. But my question is this, if you have this fabulous job here, why do you work for…whoever it was that sought the services of my agency last night?”
One hand brushed against the small amount of stubble that graced his jaw, while his other tapped a rhythmic cadence against his coffee cup in front of him.
“I help a friend who needs my assistance to satiate his desires. A friend who has difficulty when it comes to the opposite sex.”
“What kind of issues?” I asked, trying to gain more knowledge about my client. I still hadn’t responded to his request for my services over the span of the upcoming twelve weeks. Lexie blew up my phone last night with a thousand text messages telling me how important it was to the agency to remain on this client’s good side. She stressed the importance of how I needed the income as well as the guaranteed release I would have on a weekly basis. All of those factors worked together in a case that was damn near difficult for me to want to turn down.
“I’m afraid I cannot discuss that with you. Patient-doctor confidentiality.”
“So he’s a patient of yours?”
“I guess you could say that. Now, how about we talk about you.”
Here we go. The same shit. The same conversations that I always have when someone knows about the trait in which I suffer.
“You look like you’re aggravated,” he noted, arching an eyebrow as if asking a question instead of making a statement. That was something that both the therapists before him did. They would tell me about an emotion or feeling that they “thought” I had to help me try to identify those emotions.
“I guess. It just feels like the same conversation that I have had for the last twenty-four years. Tell us about you, Nicola. How are you feeling? What does this make you feel? It is the same thing over and over again, so if aggravated is what it makes me feel? Then yes, I guess I am aggravated.”
“Then you should know that as your doctors, we try our best to help you recognize those emotions so that you become more familiar with them, in hopes that you will recognize them when you feel them yourself.”
He crossed his fingers underneath his chin as he rested his elbows on his desk. I watched the fabric of his coat stretch across the muscles of his broad shoulders. The things I recognized the most were the motions of the body. I could tell if someone was turned on by a look in their eyes, or a way in which they presented themselves. The way Sinclaire kept fidgeting and changing his sitting position, told me he was uncomfortable. The deep smolder of his navy eyes told me that he liked what he saw in front of him. But it was how my body felt at that moment that was different to me. Usually I had to have some sort of physical contact in order for my physical emotions to turn on, but with Sinclaire I was turned on just by the way he looked at me.
It was amazing. Something that I have never had the pleasure to experience before. I looked away, glancing around the familiar room. I tried to look everywhere but directly at him as the wetness between my legs began to form, signaling my growing desire. It was then that I saw the documentation of his doctorate degree.
Andris S. Gunn.
“You told me your name was Sinclaire.”
His eyes followed my gaze to the certificate on the wall behind him.
“You told me your name was Jericho. I guess we both have secrets, don’t we?” He asked, tilting his head to the side before running his hand through his hair.
“I guess we do. So the “s” stands for Sinclaire?”
“Yes. Why did you choose Jericho Lane?”
“I didn’t want to be associated with my mother and father.”
The people who left me with nothing. I thought silently. He nodded, as if seeming to understand my reason that no further explanation was warranted.
“I know some of this may be repetitive, Nicola, but instead of focusing on the emotions that you don’t feel, how about you tell me the ones that you do recognize in others as well as yourself.”
I smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in my dress pants, letting my palms slide across the smooth and perfectly pressed fabric.
“Pleasure. Physical contact.”
I looked up to find his eyes upon me, narrowing in assessment. This therapy session was completely different from all of my others. First off, the psychiatrists were old and had no inclination of my profession. Second, they didn’t affect me the way the man sitting before me did. It was damn near impossible for me to sit still in his presence, especially when he was moving his dexterous fingers across the flesh of his bottom lip, as he was presently doing. It was hard for me not to stare at his beauty or to control the need for him to fuck me on his large antique desk.
“You saw exactly everything I do feel last night.” I pointed out to him. A small surge of energy ran through me as the memories from the night before came flooding back to me. The desire to know more about the man in front of me as well as the mystery man who physically touched me while Andris’s voice filtered through my ears was becoming more prominent with each moment.
He rose from his desk, stalking in my direction, quietly assessing me the entire way. It was something I should have been used to by now; being assessed was something that occurred every day in my life. People always wondered why I was broken, why I had no filter, or why I was distant and uncaring. But being under the scrutiny of Andris Gunn was different. It created reactions within me that no other therapist, or acquaintance in my life, had ever brought out in me. It was also quickly becoming my new addiction.
He sat on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. My eyes trailed down to the dark leather of his belt before following the lines of his muscular thighs hidden by the expensive material of his pants.
“So I did. But what I want to know is how it made you feel.” I smiled coyly at him. This is where the no-filter, don’t care, Nicola got to come out. He wanted to know how it made me feel? Then I would tell him, and maybe feed him with the desire he had created in me.
I licked my lips, coating them in moisture as I looked towards the floor briefly before I batted my eyes up at him. He continued to sit on the edge of his desk in front of me, his position giving him height over where I sat in the chair. His demeanor and posture displayed an air of control or dominance. I brought a hand up towards my neck, letting it rest on the skin exposed from my button down blouse, before trailing two fingers down towards the swell of my breasts.
His reaction didn’t go unnoticed. The small hitch in his breath. The way he shifted himself on the desk, and the way the arms crossed over his chest came down to grip the edge of the desk, causing his knuckles to whiten.
“He made the room warmer, just from his presence, creating a static charge. When he touched me, it was like a jolt, a sharp zap that made my stomach feel like it had bottomed out. You know, like the feeling you get when a car goes over a hill too fast? Well, I felt like that car, the incline steadily increasing pressure until it crested over the top and free fell towards the bottom,” I replied crossing my legs, trying to suppress the ache I felt between them from the memories.
“I felt hyper-aware of him, focused o
ne hundred percent on the man I couldn’t see, yet my brain felt foggy at the same time.”
He shifted again as I brought my fingertips to my lips.
“When his lips pressed to mine, it was like I couldn’t get enough. My heart was beating wildly in my chest, the pulse felt all the way down…” I said stopping to nibble on the pad of my thumb.
Andris cleared his throat and I opened my eyes to look up at him, my vision cloudy with desire. I noticed the slight flush to his face and the way he had his jaw tightly clenched.
“Please, continue,” he instructed. Taking a deep breath I did.
“My palms began to tingle. I ached to touch him in return; to pull him closer to me when my body sought for some part of him to be between my legs. It was a rush of adrenaline when he bound me to the bed, leaving me open and bare to him. I felt him stake claim in ownership of my body with each caress, each touch.”
I was chewing on my lip now, amazed at how turned on I was with my mystery man not even in the room. It was new, welcomed, and completely euphoric. My body buzzed to life and it made it hard to sit still in front of Andris. I felt the bite that my teeth made into the flesh of my lip and I licked them, tasting the metallic presence of blood. Instantly, his hand cupped my jaw and the pad of his thumb brushed across my bottom lip.
“You’re bleeding.”
He got up from the desk and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. I lifted my hand to my lips and pulled it back to find the pinkish red hue of blood on the tips of my fingers, rubbing it between them. The door to the office opened and Andris reappeared carrying a towel and walked right up to me before lifting the towel and placing it on my lips. Even though he wasn’t touching me with his skin, I could feel the heat through the towel making my lips pulse in accordance.
Gently, he patted the warm compress and the red soon became pink and then nothing as the bleeding stopped. I couldn’t help but look into the deep blue of his eyes, noticing how vibrant they were up close. From far away, they looked dark and brooding, but up close, I could see the tiniest of gold flecks around his pupils.
