Maryanne, once again, was yelling at Mitch. "You're not listening to what I'm saying! Why the hell are we paying you if you're never going to listen."
Her husband, Steve, was, as usual, silent.
This time Mitch wasn't going to suffer her tirade, with an anger equal to hers, he answered. "I've listened to so much of your crap it's a wonder I can hear anything.
"You two go on and on with stupid reasons that have nothing to do with what's wrong."
"Crap? You think this is crap? And, I guess, you also think we're stupid? Is THAT how you solve people's problems, calling them names?"
Mitch was as worked up as she was, and as willing to stand toe-to- toe. "I wish it was that easy. If I could fix your problem by calling you names I'd do it, believe me,
"I'm smart enough to know when people are snowing me and what's happening with you is not for the reasons you're telling me."
"What is it then?" Steve snuck in.
"It's not because of her spending," Mitch answered in a calmer tone. "And it's not because you spend too much time with your friends.
"You two are not telling me the reason, but if I have to guess I'd say it has something to do with sex."
"What sex?" Maryanne asked in a calmer tone. "There's absolute proof you're full of shit, Doc, because we don't have any sex."
Mitch Romer really was a doctor, but it was funny how no one called him 'Doc' unless they were taunting him. He was a Doctor of Philosophy and he earned that becoming a psychologist. Marriage Counseling was a major part of his practice, and these two were in need of that expertise. "Ah ha!" he responded, she had finally opened the door. "Tell me about that. That sounds like what's really bothering you. Tell me what's happening with that."
"What?" asked Steve, as husband and wife re-aligned. "Tell you about what?"
"Don't you two get dumb on me again. You KNOW what! Tell me about why there's no sex."
"Aww. Why do you want to talk about that?" Maryanne asked, suddenly girlish again.
"I want... I want to talk about sex because that sounds like it's really the problem.
"Look. I'll tell you what. The hour's over. You two think about it for a week and if you agree it's about sex, you come back here ready to talk about it.
"If you don't, don't come back, because I can't help you." And with that quiet ultimatum, he proved his resolve by getting up and walking out of the office.
"I am really glad to see you two back," said Mitch. "I would've really felt bad if I never saw my favorite couple again."
It wasn't said totally in jest. Maryanne, 32 years old, was an exceptionally attractive woman. Tall, athletic, long legs tapering towards a lovely tush. When her face wasn't all twisted with anger, it was a delight to just sit and gaze at. Steve was muscular, with a ruggedly attractive face, and not an ounce of extra fat. They were the sort of handsome couple Mitch would enjoyed imagining fucking.
Maryanne was really looking good as she explained what the two of them had decided. "We went back and forth all week. We weren't going to come back here."
"And... " Mitch prompted.
"And an hour before it would've been time to leave," Steve continued for his embarrassed wife, "we looked at each other and we knew we had to talk."
"It is the sex then? You both think that's what's keeping you apart?"
After a pause, and with a look of obvious guilt, Steve answered for the two of them, "Yeah. We want to talk about that. About sex."
"Okay Maryanne, you tell me. Why aren't you two having sex?"
"Because she won't let me," interrupted Steve, "She's the one who's the problem."
"Now,... if my oaf of a husband will let me, I'll tell you why."
"Oaf... ?" the injured husband said, as if he could barely speak.
"Go ahead, Maryanne. Explain."
"Why should she-"
"Hold off, Steve, let her talk and then you'll get your chance."
"It's simple. My husband doesn't have a clue how to make a woman happy?"
"Well that's simple enough, Maryanne. Perhaps you might elab-"
"If she would try to get into it, we would-"
"Me? You're blaming me. You're-"
"If you two would stop interrupting each other, maybe we can figure this out.
"Now! Are you both settled down?" Mitch asked, and when a few seconds of silence followed he continued, "First off, let me ask you both a question:
"Were both of you virgins when you got married? I mean, did either one of you ever have another partner?"
"I understood the question," Maryanne snapped. "Yes! We don't have any experience with sex at all."
"Did you try reading any books,... or watch any videos?"
"Ha!" Steve exploded. "That's like trying to read a computer manual, the program just wouldn't boot up."
They talked for the rest of the hour, trying to come up with a way to solve the problem, but at the end of the session they were no further along. It was mutually agreed that they'd all spend the next week thinking about a way out, and the ideas would be discussed the next time they met.
"Any ideas? You start, Steve."
"I only had one thought, but I don't know if it's legal."
"Let's wait on that," Mitch said cautiously. "We'll get to illegal ideas when the legal ones get used up.
"I have only one idea too. I'm pretty sure it's legal... But I don't know if it's ethical."
"You guys are a lot of help, I swear," Mitch bantered. "Only one idea each and both have questionable value.
"I'd be annoyed if I wasn't in the same boat. I only have one idea. It's not illegal. It may be unethical but not by my ethical standards. But it certainly is questionable.
"If I tell you, you must both promise to keep it between us."
A chorus of "Sure!" gave the signal to continue.
"I mean... " Mitch hesitantly continued, "even if you don't like my idea it stays between us. Yes?"
Maryanne answered "Yes," promptly. And Steve, after a few seconds thinking, said "I think I know what you're going to say. At least I hope I do. I think it's the same as my idea."
"So we have a deal?" Mitch persevered.
"Of course," Steve agreed.
"What's your idea?" Mitch asked.
Steve grinned at the dancing around before answering "I think you ought to demonstrate sex with Maryanne. I'd like to watch."
"Steve!" exploded Maryanne.
"You hate the idea, I guess?" asked Mitch.
Maryanne, grinned broadly, dropped her head in a classic shit-kicking posture, and, at last, mock-shyly answered. "That was my idea too!"
"Mar... y... anne! You Too? I'm shocked," Steve teased. "You can't mean you want to fuck Mitch?"
"Fuck Mitch? Gee, I wasn't thinking about that," she playfully mused. "I was just thinking of it as 'sensual training'.
"But now I think about it. It could be a lot of fun. God knows I must deserve it. Yes... Yes, come to think." She giggled at her little joke. "Come,... to think,... Yes, that's exactly what I want! To FUCK!!!"
Whatever reservations still remained for Mitch, evaporated in the glow of Maryanne's excitement. As a psychologist he should have thought of the physical pleasure his patient might have wanted; he'd been so wrapped up balancing the danger to his career with the benefits for the couple, that he hadn't thought it might be a lot of fun. The couple didn't know why his face lit up into a huge grin, and he was glad they didn't ask. "Here's my home address," he said as he was writing. "Go home, relax, take a shower together, and show up around eight, bright, eager and clean. We've got a long night ahead of us."
So, promptly at eight the couple arrived, ready for a night on the town. It was a study in contrasts. After taking a shower, Mitch had dressed like Mister-At-Home, barefoot, with jeans and a western shirt. Maryanne looked like a school-marm, stern-looking eyeglasses, hair up in a bun, sensible shoes, and business attire including a long, sensible, skirt. Steve looked like an out-of-town businessman, wearing the correct business suit, and holding, what looked like, an expensive bottle of wine. Judging by the nervous-looking tone of the couple at his door, Mitch felt like he was being courted.
"Come in, Mister and Missus Stern," he intoned, using a spontaneously created name, "I've got those documents ready for you to sign."
Maryanne jumped right into the role-playing. "Thank you, Mister Cowflop, I trust this won't be taking long."
"Yes. Yes. Yes indeed," supplied Steve. "We've got a thrilling evening planned at the hardware store."
"Well. Come in. Come in."
They took a seat on the couch, which they could see in the living area as they entered the front door. Mitch took the wine bottle to the kitchen to open it and returned with the wine and three glasses. "Here's to a wonderful evening together," Mitch toasted, sitting in the overstuffed chair, looking across the coffee table at them. "Have you guys discussed how you want to do this?"
As Maryanne started to answer, Steve interrupted, I thought you were going to show us what to do. Isn't that-"
"No. No!" Maryanne adamantly shouted. I want this all to be for me. I want to say what I want you guys to do."
"Well," responded Mitch calmly. "The boss has spoken. I'm all for Maryanne calling the shots. I'll just speak up if you need me to."
"Alright, Mary," asked Steve, his voice a little tense. "What's your plan?"
"MY plan is that I want you guys to do whatever I ask... Wait, that didn't come out right. I don't mean, like 'domination'.
"What I mean is... Well,... I want to do my fantasy things.
.... There is more of this story ...