The thing that had really stood out to Charlie about Yvette was how tall she was. It wasn't obvious at first. When he and his wife, Erin, had first walked into Yvette's office, she had been sitting in an armchair next to the window reading something in a manilla file folder with one knee-high-booted leg hooked over the other. She was pretty, in an understated way, straight black hair pulled into a plain, tight ponytail, black-framed glasses, and natural-look make-up. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like a therapist, an effect that was enhanced by the presence of the therapist's couch that sat across from her arm chair.
She smiled warmly when the couple entered and stood up to greet them. It was then that Charlie noticed her height -- at least 5'9", certainly as tall as he was, and at least six inches taller than Erin. Yvette wore black jeans and a black, chunky cardigan sweater that ended halfway down her thigh and that buttoned all the way to her neck. She was friendly and polite as she shook their hands and welcomed them in.
The couple sat on the couch, politely declining Yvette's offer of hot tea. Yvette sat back in her armchair and picked up her own mug, which still had the tea bag string hanging from it, up from the small coffee table between them and sat holding it with both hands on her knee.
"Well," Yvette said, "I have to say, I am thrilled to be getting started with the two of you." Her voice was bright and gentle and she spoke with easy sincerity. Charlie felt like they'd been friends for years, even though this was the first time they'd met in person.
"Now," Yvette continued, "I know we talked about all of this on the phone, but I just wanted to ask again if you had any questions or concerns about the arrangements or about how the next few sessions will proceed?"
Charlie felt Erin clasp his hand and he squeezed back. "Do we start today?" she asked, her voice quavering slightly.
Yvette smiled and Charlie immediately felt Erin's grip relax.
"Today will be an orientation," Yvette said. "I'll show you around and we'll get to know each other a little bit, go back over the ground rules, that sort of thing. Mostly, we'll take some time to get familiar with the space."
Yvette pulled two sheets of paper out of her folder and handed them to Charlie and Erin.
"This is what you submitted through the webform," she said. "I'd like you to look back over it and make sure it is still accurate. You can change absolutely anything you like right now or at any time between sessions. And of course, most importantly, you can put a stop to anything at any time for any reason at all with your safe words. The second one of you uses the safe word, everything comes to a full stop, no questions asked, no explanations needed. Okay?"
She smiled warmly. Charlie and Erin both nodded.
"Do you both remember your safe words?"
Charlie and Erin both repeated back their safe words.
"Great," said Yvette. "Now I'm going to give you a minute to review these. When you're done, we'll have a look at the room. Just head down the hall to the left and you'll see the doors to the changing rooms. Please do mind the posted rules, just like we discussed. I'll be waiting for you whenever you're ready. But please take your time."
Yvette stood up in a single graceful motion and left the room.
Charlie and Erin both looked at their sheets of paper. Charlie felt his heart begin to beat faster as he looked down the list of increasingly depraved sex acts with little check marks next to them. He remembered the night that he and Erin had filled them out together over wine and Chinese take-out, how they had become grown more and more flirtatious with each other and then, the moment they had hit the "send" buttons on the web forms, how they had tumbled into bed and had loud, blurry, bed-shaking, neighbor-flustering sex.
Charlie was surprised when Erin had forwarded him an email thread between herself and a self-styled "sex educator" named Yvette. Erin explained that she'd heard about Yvette from an acquaintance and, on a semi-drunken lark with one of her girlfriends, had reached out to her to learn more about what kind of "educating" she did.
He hadn't been sure about the whole thing, at least not at first. He loved his wife and found her even more beautiful after 10 years together than on the day they had met, with her curly blonde hair, girlish face, and slim, athletic figure. He would have called them fairly adventurous -- at least in theory. They'd watched porn together and had a respectable collection of sex toys. They were comfortable sharing fantasies with each other, even as those fantasies were getting wilder and wilder. Just for fun, they'd even talked in practical terms about having a threesome. But it had all been just fantasy and dirty talk, confined to their own bedroom. Which was fine with Charlie.
So Charlie had been surprised when Erin told him about Yvette. But he also felt the pull of adventure and so had agreed to fill out the survey. He became all the more intrigued when he saw the list of wanton sexual acts that his sweet and sometimes shy wife had checked off her list -- and had even surprised himself with some of the ones he found himself open to, when he finally took a moment to think about them.
In the sober light of day two weeks later, Charlie wondered if he should make some adjustments to his list and thought about reaching for one of the pens that sat on the coffee table. He saw Erin reading through her own list -- which had as many checkmarks as his own -- saw the flush on her face and chest.
"What do you think?" he asked, instead.
Erin chewed her lower lip as she looked at the sheet. Then she folded it in half and turned to her husband, eyes wide with nerves and excitement.
"I think we should go into the rooms down the hall," she said.
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So there Charlie was, standing by himself in a small but comfortable changing room, looking at a black cotton robe, a pair of black sandals, and a handwritten note from Yvette herself sitting on a small table against the wall.
The room was the size of a large bathroom and had a sink, shower, and a padded bench placed in front of a floor-to-ceiling locker. On a shelf beside the shower was a stack of fluffy, neatly-folded white towels. On the sink were lined up various soaps, lotions, shaving creams, and other spa-quality toiletries and a small basket filled with rolled-up wash cloths. There was a door opposite the one that Charlie had entered with a sign on it that said, "Studio." Beneath it was another sign made of black plastic with a list of rules embossed in white:
-Please shower before entering the studio
-No street clothes or shoes allowed -- please use what clothing is provided.
