The Healer

Deborah

Am I insane? Why am I doing this? I'm a good girl who grew up in the Midwest and good girls don't do what I'm thinking about doing right now. My mom taught me not to show too much skin and always keep my legs crossed and my hands folded in my lap when wearing skirts. I'd pretty much listened to her advice, except during a few rebellious phases, and met a good guy after college and settled down. The typical Midwest girl with Midwest values and I'd done the same sorts of things millions of women before me had, but in reality mine had been a vanilla life. Never in trouble with the law, career straight out of college, and doing all the things that normal society expected of me. Yet here in this moment of time I was laying completely naked on an elevated padded platform, in the center of a large darkened room, illuminated by a single spotlight.

There were two buttons next to me, one red and one green, one of which I was supposed to press when I had made my decision. What decision is that you might ask? Well if I pressed the red button a female attendant would enter with my clothes and I would dress and leave. If I pressed the green button one or more men would enter the room and do as they pleased with me, although there were limits placed on what they could do and for how long. Nothing harmful or painful beyond light spanking and I had a safe-word that all the participants knew. And I should also note that they all had been through rigorous medical and criminal screening.

So here I lay, naked to the world, vacillating between pushing the red or green button and my mind racing over the pros and cons of each button. Then in the slightly chilly air I noticed a familiar sensation. I was getting wet. Sopping actually. My body was sending a message as to what it really wanted and I always listened to my body. My decision made, I quickly reached over and stabbed at the green button.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. How did I get to this point in time, laying naked and waiting to be taken by a bunch of men? If this were a TV show the screen would go all wavy as a flashback in time began and a title on the screen would say, "Two years ago...".

19 June

Deb

It was our 8th wedding anniversary and Mike had been an ideal husband, caring, attentive, and always taking my feelings into consideration. We met shortly after college, dated off and on, and eventually married. Our careers included extensive travel since he is in international banking and I'm a forensic accountant. Pretty funny career matches huh? Neither of us were virgins before we met but we hadn't been promiscuous either. We both had busy careers and still managed to fit in time for romance, well sex anyway. It was great in the beginning but we eventually just settled into a routine, which included our love life. Sex before a trip if we weren't too tired, and maybe after getting back, if we weren't too tired. Birthdays, Valentine's Day, anniversary and scattered through the month as the need arose. Truth be told we were both in a rut but cared about each other too much to say anything about it. Yes I know that doesn't make sense, and we should have talked it out, but that's how it went with us.

So there I sat, across the table from Mike at an upscale restaurant, for yet another anniversary dinner. We would eat, make small talk, and go home and have sex and go to sleep. Please don't get me wrong, I love Mike and he is a great husband, but we were both just bored. And that's the way it played out. We got home, went to the bedroom, undressed, hopped into bed, we kissed a bit, he played with my boobs, I fondled his cock, he fingered me for a bit, entered me, and we both came fairly close together. He rolled off, we kissed, cleaned up, and went to sleep. It reminded me of reruns on TV.

The next day at work I must have looked somewhat sullen because my good friend Jen mentioned it.

"Hey Deb, are you okay today? Are you not feeling well?"

I debated my response and thought about just passing it off, but it was bugging me and so I decided it couldn't hurt to share.

"Well Jen, as you know Mike and I went out for our anniversary last night."

"Did you guys have a good time?"

"Oh sure we did."

Jen picked up on the hesitation and tone of my voice.

"But?"

"Oh I don't know Jen, the spark is just gone. I mean, Mike is great and all but everything is just so routine. I miss the passion of first dates and first sex. I miss being pursued and really desired. And I miss mind-blowing orgasms. Is that wrong of me? Am I just being a selfish bitch?"

Jen looked thoughtful for a moment and then a look of sympathy came across her face as she answered.

"No Deb. It's not wrong and it's not selfish. Everyone deserves those things, even Mike. Have you tried spicing things up a bit?"

"Yes we've tried those theme hotels with the heart-shaped tubs, porn, lingerie, role-playing, and toys. They work the first time but then it's back to routine after that. I know Mike feels the same way but we are just uncomfortable even broaching the subject. I know he loves me and he knows I love him but we're at a loss as to what to do. We aren't going to leave each other and I dread being this way the rest of our lives."

She stared at me for a moment, as if she were mulling over a decision about what to say next.

"Deb, I'd like to share something with you but I'm afraid that you will think I'm some sort of freak."

"No please Jen, I would never think that, at least I don't think I would. We've been friends a long time and you know I don't judge people anyway. Please go on."

"Well, you know about Rob and how we've been together for a long time, and we found ourselves getting stale as well. Long story short we got hooked up with an alternative lifestyle group."

"You mean wife-swapping?"

"Some of that goes on Deb, but there are all sorts of other flavors of things. But I'm not suggesting you get involved in that at the moment."

"So where are you going with this Jen?"

Again she paused and was a little tentative.

"Early on I heard about this guy and he came highly recommended by people in our group. From what I understand he and his organization are well-known all over the world."

"Guy? What do you mean guy? What does he do?"

"Well it's hard to explain. He's a relationship specialist, sort of a therapist but more hands-on. Sometimes a lot hands-on if you know what I mean. He took me on and was a god-send. He helped me work through some things and showed me stuff I didn't know. Things with Rob and me couldn't be better now and it's all because of what he did."

"What do you mean Jen? What sort of stuff does he do? Sex?"

"Sometimes yes, but not always. It's different with every person. He seems to figure out what's needed and then repairs or enhances it. He is amazing and it requires commitment to his plan to get the most out of it, but you are strong and could do it."

I thought about it for a bit. Jen seemed so positive about it and I was desperate to heat up my marriage. On top of that I felt myself getting wet. Words then came out of my mouth that I didn't remember commanding.

"How do I contact this guy?"

Jen smiled and fished around in her purse and handed me a business card. It just had an e-mail address and a name which simply read, "Mr. J. Guerisseur."

"Jen, I studied French for a number of years and I think guerisseur is the French word for healer."

She just smiled and nodded.

22 June

Deb

I got home at about 6:40 after dropping Mike off for an evening international flight, threw on some sweats, and plopped down on the couch with a glass of wine. He was going to be gone a little over a week so I had the place all to myself. Absentmindedly I picked up the TV remote and began surfing through the channels. How in the hell can there be 1,165 channels and nothing to watch? The images kept flashing as each channel clicked by. Wait! What was that? I pressed the back button a few times and the screen was filled with a woman who was tied up in some sort of garage and a guy who's face was covered with a mask walking around her with a flail. It was a cheap horror movie and the acting was atrocious but in the plot the woman was a willing participant. I turned the sound down and just watched the action unfold.

In its' own right the show was erotic and it created a familiar stirring within me. Now, I could make up a whole big long masturbation story for you involving a bubble bath, candles, and music, but the reality is that I just rubbed one out. I played with my boobs and ran my fingertips over my tummy, and then fairly quickly went to my clit after a quick dip in my wetness for lubrication. It didn't take long, which was a surprise, but even more surprising was the strength of the orgasm. I hadn't come like that in eons.

As I lay there in the afterglow I started to wonder why it had been so strong. There was very little buildup and the past week had been hard and I was tired, so none of it made sense. The movie was even badly acted, filmed, and written. So what was left? The subject matter? When I thought about that a little flutter passed through my pelvis. Then the conversation with Jen replayed about alternative lifestyles and I had another little flutter. All on its' own my hand reached into my purse and retrieved the business card she had given me. I sat and stared at it for what seemed ages. What could it hurt to just send the guy a message? And anyways, I trusted Jen as a friend and knew she was a good judge of character. My email was already open on my phone so I composed a quick message of inquiry.

"Hello Mr. Guerisseur. My name is Deborah and I got your business card from my close friend Jennifer Whittaker. She told me that you helped her with some issues in her relationship and recommended you highly. I'd just like to know a little more about you, what you charge, and how you might be able to help me and my husband. Things have just become stale and we've tried everything. Thanks very much. Deborah."

My hands were shaking as my finger paused over the send button. Oh what the hell. I hit send and tossed my phone on the couch and I decided he probably wouldn't reply since I wasn't a part of Jen's group. It was time to pay some bills so I opened my laptop and took care of that, and then just looked at a few blogs I follow, and randomly surfed a few sites. Maybe it was the wine, the TV show, or the orgasm, but whichever it was I typed "bondage pics" in the search bar and was rewarded with hundreds of images. As I scrolled through them I felt the flutter numerous times in my pelvis and a release of hormones. You know the ones. That flood that happens when you meet a guy you are really attracted to. I was really considering masturbating again when a notice popped up saying I had new mail. I clicked on the notice and it went straight to the message.

"Hello Ms. Deborah. I was very pleased to receive your message and yes I remember Ms. Whittaker. Rest assured that I am properly accredited and licensed in my field for the services I provide. It is much easier to discuss what I do in person so I would suggest a face-to-face meeting in a public place of your time and choosing. I await your response. J."

I stared at the message and must have re-read it twenty times. There was a whirlpool of emotions circling inside my head. Was this insane? Am I excited? What would Mike say? What would my friends say? Can this guy help me and Mike? Then I thought about what Jen had said and how much I trusted her judgment and how much I wanted things to improve with Mike. There was a bistro that I often took clients to since it offered enough space for discreet conversation and yet was popular enough not to draw undue attention. I shot off the address and a suggested meeting time for lunch for the following day. A little later he responded and accepted, and I must say it was one of the more nerve-wracking hours of my life. Again I questioned my sanity, which would become a common occurrence in the coming months. My thoughts drifted to what I had just done, and the things that Jen had shared and I started feeling warm and excited. My hand dropped to my waist and slid under my panties as I escaped away into fantasy.

23 June

Deb

Admittedly I was very excited because I arrived at the bistro twenty minutes early and most of my morning had been spent getting ready. It was quite silly really since I was acting like it was a date and spent hours agonizing on what to wear but I eventually settled on a blue silk polka dot skirt, white tank, and heels. Before I was seated at my table I gave the hostess my name and told her that a Mr. Guerisseur would be joining me. I fidgeted and sipped at my ice water with lemon and nervously watched as customers arrived and were seated.

Right at the agreed time a very stunning man in a very expensive tailored suit walked in and stopped at the hostess station and she pointed in my direction. I managed a smile and a clumsy wave and I cringed inside at my nervousness. As he walked towards me the hostess got that "I want him" look on her face, and for good reason. He commanded the room as he moved and had an air of complete self-confidence. The romance novels always talk about tall, dark, and handsome, and he was all that and more. He flashed a smile that made me melt inside as he offered his strong, but well-manicured hand in greeting. His handshake was firm but restrained and didn't crush my hand like so many men are apt to do. Thankfully it wasn't weak and limp-wristed which is the other end of the spectrum and a real turn-off for me. I like my men to be men and not metro-sexual or effeminate and this guy was the complete package. (Ok, no dirty thoughts yet dear reader, not 'that' package, but I should admit that the thought entered my mind for a brief moment)

"Hello Mrs. Anderson, it's so nice to meet you."

"I, uh, how did you know my last name? I didn't use it in my e-mail and please call me Deb."

He must have seen the look of surprise and concern on my face because he chuckled a bit.

"Oh don't worry, I'm not a stalker, your friend Jennifer told me."

"Well I wasn't worried Mr. Guerisseur, I was just surprised."

"Yes I can see why it might surprise you, and please, my first name is James. No need to be so formal if we are to be working together."

"Working together? No offense but I thought I just paid you some money and you gave me some tips on my marriage or something."

"No offense taken Deb. What I do is so much more than just relationship counseling, sex therapy, or psychological therapy, although I am fully accredited and licensed in those fields and many others. And I should mention that I will send you full documentation on all my qualifications. In any case, what I do is very much a holistic and blended approach which is customized for the unique needs of the individual. It's a very personal, detailed, and emotional process, but it's also a professional relationship."

What he said was not at all what I was expecting and I needed a few seconds to digest it. Thankfully the waiter came at that moment and took our orders. Once he had gone I felt a little more collected in my thoughts.

"I have to say James that it all sounds very expensive and we do okay for money but I'm not sure we could afford this."

James smiled warmly which I have to admit put me totally at ease and there was something about this man that was magnetic and disarming. I felt like I could totally trust him with anything. Yeah I know what you are thinking, that I was just being an infatuated female and taken in by his charm because I was bored in my marriage. But I am just not that sort of person and I'm normally very cynical and untrusting of people.

"Let me put your mind at ease Deb. There are no fees for what we do. We are funded by a number of endowments and many people place our organization in their wills."

"I'm sorry James. We?"

"Oh yes, there are many specialists and generalists within our organization and many of us are self-funded. We are world-wide, have very stringent affiliation requirements, and have been in existence for over a fifty years. We are not a secret organization and I will send you some information so that you can research us yourself."

"Thanks. I trust Jen and she highly recommends you so I'm comfortable with things so far. So what are the next steps?" I smiled and reached out and touched his hand. He didn't pull away.

"I'm happy that you want to proceed Deb." There was that killer smile again. Oh man! "There will be an agreement which is really just a hold-harmless, some questionnaires and a few personal exploratory sessions. All of it is designed to help determine what your individual needs are, and then create a custom program just for you. Are there any other immediate questions that I can answer for you?"

There was a question foremost in my mind but I debated asking. He must have read my body language and hesitation.

"Was there something Deb?"

Oh what the hell. I had come this far so why not ask.

"Well I was just wondering who my case manager, or whatever it's called, is going to be?"

James looked at me in a slightly amused and yet electric way.

"We refer to the role as "Donner des Conseils" and I will be assigned to you. In fact I asked for the privilege."

I blushed a little at that and I could see from his expression that he saw my reaction. I stumbled to recover.

"Isn't that French for a guide or to give advice?"

Again with the smile and this time he touched my hand. I have to admit that I was a little turned on.

"You must have studied French extensively because that's an uncommon word. And yes, you are correct with the meaning. I'm impressed!"

Again with the blush. Deb you're not a naïve school girl! Get a grip on yourself!

We talked about what I expected from the program and how I just wanted to revitalize my marriage, and he mentioned some more of the details of what he could and couldn't do. We finished our lunch and said our goodbyes with a promise from him to get in touch within the next day or so. There was palpable excitement coursing through my body as I made the drive home. Excitement of the unknown and excitement over working with James. But please understand, my main goal in all of this was to help my marriage and get me out of my rut.

That night as I lay in bed I replayed the day's events and especially the images of James Guerisseur. He was a stunning man, with a smile and a touch that made you melt. His eyes were the same but also in a strange way a little unsettling. Like he was cutting deep into your soul to find your innermost secrets and desires. The room all of a sudden got warm. Well actually I got warm and then there was the familiar tingle and ache between my legs. It was quickly followed by wetness and that's always a turn-on to me. Pavlovian response I guess. My hands went to my neck and lightly brushed the skin. Then I pulled up my tank top above my breasts and ran my fingertips over them, my sides, and my tummy. I pulled on my nipples and rolled them between my fingers and alternately squeezing my breasts with my hands. Soon my right hand dropped and slid under the waistband of my shorts. I traced around my inner thighs and around my mound then with my middle finger I tested my wetness. Holy shit! It was like a river! I got two fingers wet and transferred it to my labia and clit, which I might add, were already engorged and erect. Hooking my thumbs into my shorts I pulled them off and tossed them on the floor. Instinctively my legs went wide as I touched my clit. I transferred more wetness from my pussy and began making small circles on my clit. More wetness to be transferred but I was really horny and the fingers in my vagina felt so good. Two fingers thrust rapidly in and out while my clit was being worked by my other hand. The speed at which my orgasm built surprised me and within just a few minutes I was screaming and shaking in ecstasy. My pussy clamped down on my fingers, my back arched, and I kicked my legs out straight and rigid. Wave after wave washed over me. Then it subsided slowly and my legs went to jelly and started shaking uncontrollably. My bed had a puddle in it and my thighs and hands were coated in pussy juice. That was the best orgasm of my life to date and I didn't really give much consideration as to why since all I wanted to do was figure out how to have another one.