Clare had her whole life ahead of her. She'd just graduated college and had moved into an apartment in the heart of Minneapolis, where she'd started work as a psychiatrist at a large medical center. Not only was she successful, but she was also very, very easy on the eyes. She stood a little over five and a half feet, with wavy brown curls reaching just down to her 36 C breasts. Her fair skin never kept a tan very well, but it was clear and smooth like fresh cream.
As she strolled into work on her first day, she was introduced to her new coworkers and shown to her small, but appropriate office. It was big enough that she had enough room to see clients and do her job, but not big enough to warrant much jealousy from other workers. Clare sat down at her desk and began sorting through new patients. As she ran her eyes down the list, she happened upon a name that seemed familiar; she had gone to school in a nearby suburb with a guy named Tommy, and it sounded like it might be him. They had been friends for the majority of their lives, but as of late they hadn't had much contact. Her curiosity would be satisfied at 2:00 when the mystery patient would be coming in for a session.
Clare's day was exciting to say the least as she met with her new patients and got to know them, all the while in the back of her head she was thinking about Tommy and if it was really him. As the clock struck 2:15 she began to doubt her suspicions when she heard a knock on the door, prompting her to invite her patient inside.
"Sorry I'm late," the guest came in and fumbled to get his winter jacket off. "I just caught up in traffic, it's very nice to meet you Doctor..." he looked up and saw that it was Clare, his childhood friend and the girl that he had been in love with ever since high school. "Excuse me, Doctor Clare?" he said finally.
"Come in, Tommy," Clare said, smiling uncontrollably. She got up and gave him a small hug, which prompted Tommy to stir. "How have you been? Come, sit, how long has it been?" Tommy was a few inches over six feet, with thick, curly brown hair and big, brown eyes. Back when he knew Clare, he had been slightly overweight, but as of now he was surprisingly fit.
"I guess since graduation," Tommy said. "So you're a psychiatrist now? Good to see you're putting that big brain to use."
"Yeah, I...actually, this is my first day," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You're here for some therapy?" she asked, getting back to work.
"Uh, yeah," Tommy replied, a bit embarrassed that his therapist was his high school crush.
"Well why don't you start with telling me why you need therapy," Clare said. "If you want, you can relax on the couch back there," she said, pointing to a couch behind him. He got up and made his way over to the couch while she sat down in a chair across from him.
"I guess I've just been going through a rough patch," he said, slightly slumping into the soft cushions. "During my senior year at college, my mother suddenly passed away and I was pulled from school for three weeks to take care of her affairs.
"Anyway, it wasn't exactly her death that prompted this; I think it was more of the timing. My brother was laid off from his job and my dad's on welfare, meanwhile I'm neck deep in student loans and then suddenly I've got to find a way to pay for a funeral for my mother because I'm the only one with a steady income."
"So you'd say you're feeling depressed due to the circumstances of your mother's death?" Clare asked.
"Yes, to a degree. To top it off, I of course missed three weeks of class and failed all my classes. I need to go back for an extra semester to finish."
Clare nodded as she listened to Tommy's story. In a nutshell, Tommy was in financial trouble and was starting to fall into a depression because of it. As he went on, a solution, though unorthodox to say the least, became apparent to her. When he finished, she leaned forward to offer him a proposition.
"Tommy, I'm sorry to hear about your mother, and I feel terrible that things happened the way they did. I'd like to help you, of course, in any way I can, but I don't think there is anything traditional I can do at this time..."
"So you can't help me?" Tommy said, slightly worried.
"I never said that," Clare said. "I'm saying that I can possibly pull some strings at my college and maybe get your credit transferred there. As long as you can finish their finals, you'll be able to graduate in a few weeks."
"Seriously," Tommy asked. "No bullshit."
"No bullshit," Clare replied, smiling.
"Thanks so much," Tommy said.
"I'll just go make some calls," Clare said, heading over to her desk...
________________________________________
...Six months later, Tommy had finished college and had started work as a writer at a magazine in Minneapolis. His financial situation had turned around as his mother's life insurance reimbursed him after the funeral, and in addition he had received a sizable amount from his mother's life savings through her will. He hadn't returned to Clare's office ever since that day, mostly because he hadn't needed to, though he had spent many sleepless nights trying to think of a way he could visit her again.
Tommy spent most of his nights writing, trying to catch up on deadlines whenever sleep eluded him. Tonight in particular was excruciating. He had hit something of a writer's block, and spent the early hours of the morning at his computer, looking on Facebook and checking his email aimlessly. Getting up to get another cup of warm milk to hopefully help him drift to sleep, he was alerted to a new message in his inbox.
It was from Clare. Curious as to why she was emailing him so late at night, Tommy clicked on the message. Once the message loaded, it became apparent to Tommy that, for one, Clare was surely drunk. And two, the message was clearly not meant for him.
In her drunken state, Clare had accidentally clicked Tommy's name in her contact list. And now her erotic message, originally meant to be sent to her boyfriend, was now sitting in Tommy's inbox.
Tommy knew he should delete it right away without reading too much into her personal affairs, but he figured one peek would be fine.
I missed your face tonight, Tim, my love, the message said. You know I'm terrible without you. Why have you been avoiding me? I'm sure you just never got around to calling me today. Here's a sample of what you missed:
Below was a picture of Clare on her bed. Tommy would not have paid it much attention if it hadn't been a picture of her with her hands tied behind her back, while she was on her knees and a ball gag in her mouth. With her back to the camera, she was dressed in just a black laced bra and a skimpy thong. This garnered Tommy's full attention.
'My god,' he thought. 'I never knew she was so...kinky."
I'll be waiting for your call...master. The message ended with that interesting statement.
Tommy scrolled back up to the picture and his eyes were locked on Clare. He'd not felt this way about her in a long time. Seeing her in her underwear would've been enough to warrant an erection from Tommy, but to see her in such a helpless and deeply personal example of sexuality caused Tommy's hand to gravitate to his sweatpants. He gently placed his index finger and thumb on his penis and stroked it through the cotton barrier. The soft lining of the sweatpants felt nice against his cock. It had been some time since he'd had sex; a few hook-ups in college with drunken girls had left Tommy wanting more. The image of his high school sweetheart before him was driving him crazy. He'd never been much into bondage, but as the saying goes, there's always a first time for everything. The littlest things made chills run up Tommy's spine. The way Clare's hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. The way her left breast, outlined by the ebony lace, seemed to invite a little touching. The way she had elevated her butt in the picture; prominently displaying her barely-clothed pussy. But most of all was the look of helplessness in her eyes, as if she was pleading with him to ravage her until dawn.
Tommy's strokes quickened and before long he had pulled down the waistband under his balls, allowing his cock to breathe at full attention. His entire hand was working its way up and down, up and down. His eyes shifted back and forth between Clare's pussy and her eyes. Finally, he released his spunk into a nearby trash can, and grabbed a few tissues to clean himself up a bit before saving the picture and deleting the message.
Tommy knew now that he had to see her, but could not, for the life of him, think of a way to do so without it being suspicious. The solution was granted to him when Clare called him a few days later, asking him to come in for a meeting to see how he was doing. Being extra careful to be on time, Tommy arrived at her office the next day to a seemingly distraught Clare. As he walked in, he saw her compose herself before inviting him in.
"Clare, I'd like to start by thanking you, so much, for helping me out a few months ago," he said, sitting down in front of her desk.
"Oh, please, don't worry about it," Clare said sheepishly.