I had been a very successful Psychiatrist with a thriving practice for a number of years. I'd worked hard for those initials behind my name, John P. Edwards, M.D. And for a good many of those years, I really thought I was providing a worthwhile service. Then, Ms. Emily Fredrickson walked into my office.
When I'd initially begun my practice I had visions of treating people with some interesting neuroses, and really getting involved in some deep inner issues. What I found however was that I was seeing nothing more than a bunch of board lonely housewives with a lot of money, and nothing better to do than lie on a couch and vent. For the most part, none of them needed anything more than a little excitement in their lives, or at the minimum, a good hard fuck from someone other than their spouses. But this isn't exactly the kind of advice I was supposed to be giving them. So instead, I went through all the usual typical Dr. stuff to try and find out the 'why' they were feeling that way.
Most of my clients were referrals from other patients. All of who swore that I was one of the best, if not thee best in my field. When I first met Ms. Fredrickson I was already so busy treating and seeing people that I nearly turned her down sight unseen. However, at the prompting of one of the women I was counseling, who'd asked me as a BIG favor to take on one more client, I reluctantly agreed.
Once the initial preliminary's had been taken care of, I invited Ms. Fredrickson to make herself comfortable. Though I have both a chair and a couch, surprisingly the majority of my clients prefer to sit as opposed to lying down. Ms. Fredrickson, Emily, was in the minority and immediately crossed over to where the couch was, kicked off her shoes, hung up her jacket and laid down.
Emily was reasonably tall for a woman at just under six feet. She had coal black hair that was long, but had been pinned up giving her that professional woman's look that seemed so much in vogue these days. But the most startling feature had to be her eyes. I'd even attempted to try and figure out without asking, and thus seeming unprofessional on my part, in trying to determine if she was wearing contacts or not. Her eyes were the most beautiful cobalt blue I had ever seen. And with a milky white complexion, offset by those eyes and her unusually dark hair, she was with out a doubt one of the most striking women I had ever seen.
As I began delving into what some of her issues were, trying to get a feel for why it was that she thought I could help, I noticed as I sat slightly off to one side and behind her head that she would occasionally reach up and seemingly finger with the buttons on her blouse, one or twice even brushing her fingers across her nipples as we continued our discussion.
The thing that was odd was that there was nothing sexual in our discussion whatsoever. Everything we discussed or went over seemed to be either job related, or as I was already beginning to determine, as issues dealing with stress.
I'd barely noticed her the first time when I thought I had actually seen Emily finger one nipple. She'd continued talking to me, had already moved her hand away, but sure enough, there stood a very hard firm nipple protruding through the white business blouse she was wearing.
The discussion continued, and rather than sitting there taking notes as I usually did, I found instead that I was gazing at her more and more often, wondering if I had actually seen what I thought I had, and secondly, if she would do it again, which she did. The second time, she reached over and actually pinched her nipple through the material of her blouse, all the while continuing on with the mundane every day issues we are all faced with.
Frankly, I was truly puzzled for the first time since I'd been in practice as to what exactly WAS happening, and where all of this was leading. I'd only had one or two women actually proposition me during the course of my treatment with them. Neither of which I of course allowed anything to happen with, and not simply out of fear of losing my license. And it wasn't as though I wasn't attractive either. I've had my fair share of attractive looking women. And though I wasn't seeing anyone at the moment, I wasn't looking to get seriously involved with anyone.
Soon after that, our first session ended and Emily and I said our good-byes and scheduled an appointment for the next week without so much as a hint as to what had taken place or why. She remained calmly professional in her attitude and demeanor beyond that, and so we set up a weekly day for her continued therapy.
To my surprise, I found myself anxiously curious about our next meeting and could hardly wait until the day finally arrived. As before, Emily was similarly dressed with her hair once again done up in a tight bun behind her head. Taking her place upon the couch, we began.
As I began to review with her what we'd discussed the previous week, I found myself glancing over in her direction a little more frequently than normal. Once again there was nothing of a sexual nature even remotely discussed. Yet, I noticed that as Emily lie on the couch, she had bent one of her legs slightly which effectively hiked her skirt up a little more than what I felt was normal for trying to be simply comfortable.
In the next instant, I watched as Emily actually placed her hand down near her groin area, and as the subtle movement of her hand confirmed to me what she was doing, I watched saying nothing to her about it as she obviously began masturbating.
There was no change in her speech pattern to indicate she was becoming aroused or excited by what she was doing, almost as though she were playing with herself absentmindedly as she continued telling me about some of the more stressful situations she'd been having to deal with at work lately. The entire hour was consumed in this fashion, and I was once again left confused as well as curious as to what her motives and intentions truly were.
As the weeks came and went, our discussions remained professional. Yet with each passing week, Emily became bolder and bolder in her obvious masturbatory fantasy, if that's indeed what she was doing here. I, on the other hand refused to acknowledge what she was doing, or mention it. My thoughts being that this was some sort of test, or manipulation on her part which was the actual root of whatever problems she was actually dealing with. I was of the opinion that this blatant display of touching herself in front of me, all the while maintaining a total and complete professional-like conversation was finally going to result in one of those really interesting physiological evaluations that I had not had the opportunity to really get into up until now.
Admittedly, seeing this very beautiful woman lying on my couch, occasionally touching and caressing her breasts, or reaching down to bunch her skirt up, sliding her hand down inside her panties to finger herself was having its affect on me. I would find myself staring at her, forgetting what it was we'd been discussing for a moment, and worse, realizing that I would quite often be sitting there with a raging hard-on.
After nearly eight full weeks of this, I decided to change direction and confront her directly on the issue. Figuring that perhaps bringing it out in the open after all this time, that we'd finally begin discussing the real reason she was seeking therapy.
And... after the previous week I felt it was time anyway. It had been the first time that I'd seen Emily actually reach orgasm. And though I was fairly certain she hadn't faked it, I wasn't THAT positive she simply hadn't escalated this weird little game she was playing to a higher level, and I wasn't about to let her continue to try and control our sessions in this way any further without getting to the bottom of it.
I allowed Emily to make herself comfortable as she was now doing before each session began. She'd hung up her jacket, taken off her shoes, and had even reached up and undone a couple of the upper buttons on the blouse she was wearing. I waited until she'd positioned herself on the couch, expecting her to once again begin touching herself at any moment.
"Emily?" I began. "I think we need to discuss your masturbating during our sessions together."
For the first time she actually turned on her side and looked over the armrest at me. Something she'd never done before in all the weeks we'd been together. I saw a very wide, very beautiful smile spread across her face.
"Well Doc. It's about time. I was starting to wonder when you were finally going to ask me about it."
Frankly, I've had one or two patients in the past who've tried to put one over on me. But usually I figured it out long before they ever realized I had, and removed them from my active client list. In this instance however, I hadn't seen it coming, probably because I'd been so damn distracted by what had been going on, in addition to her being so fucking beautiful.
Emily had the upper hand for the time being, as I continued to ponder how I was going to respond to that. And the last thing I wanted to reveal to her was that she really was the one in control here at the moment.
She didn't give me the chance to respond as she suddenly sat up on the couch swinging her legs back around and placing them on the floor which put her facing me.
"It's very simple really. And don't feel bad that you were having trouble trying to figure out what was wrong with me. To be honest with you, nothing ever was."
"I'm not sure I understand." I told her truthfully. "Why don't you explain it to me?"
.... There is more of this story ...