Fix Her Pt 01

Michael was out of his comfort zone. He was uncomfortable. And he was loving it. He had been dysregulated all week, dealing with a particularly difficult set of complex cases, and now this was his time to unwind.

"Another one for the doctor!" Came a loud voice from across the dark, dingey bar.

"Not a real doctor. If anyone passes out drunk, I cannot help you." Michael replied, walking to the direction of the voice.

The voice came from a man, Jasper, one of Michael's oldest and closest friends. Clumsily, he handed Michael a drink.

"Of course, only how you feel about being passed out drunk." He said as the two walked back to their seats.

They sat, on garish, maroon coloured upholstered felt, reunited with their third friend Dominic. It was an unfashionable bar, in a particularly fashionable part of town. Low ceilings, low visibility, low prices, and low inhibitions. The tables were pushed to edges of the largest main room, subtly directing patrons to where the evening might finally take them.

"Good lord this is fun, why don't we do this more often?" He asked the table. "Not like we'd spend the time doing anything better, y'know?"

"We never thought this was something you liked." Dominic replied.

It caught Michael by surprise, but it shouldn't have. If he was honest with himself, like he was always asking his patients to be, he would realise he'd never been the most social. He mulled on that, denied the opportunity to respond by a scantily clad member of staff who had the duty of emceeing the karaoke going on at the far end of the bar. Her voice, filled with the affectation of someone who had to be around drunk people, but was herself not, boomed through the microphone and bar speakers. Her voice frequently clipped, and caused the speakers to buzz, alongside Michael's eardrum.

"Laaadies and gentlemen, welcome again to our Friday night singathon..."

She went on, the cheap scales of her silver dress obnoxiously reflecting multi-coloured spotlights across the room and into Michael's eyes. He looked at her a little too long, and was called out by Jasper.

"Someone caught your eye? On you go. I'm sure if you sing enough ABBA at her she'll fall right into your arms."

"Shame I don't know any songs then." Michael replied. "Who wants another?"

"A bit quick, don't you think?" Dominic said.

"He's just working up the courage to chat up the bar staff. That never backfires." Jasper interjected.

"Oh, shove it." Michael replied, getting to his feet and making his way back to the bar.

"See Dom, he hasn't changed." Jasper said, out of earshot.

Michael trundled along toward the bar, taking great effort to avoid activating any social interaction with the silvery karaoke women. Already pretty buzzed, and not fully looking where he was going, he unceremoniously bumped into a patron, her drink spilling to the floor.

"Oh. I am so sorry, you're not soaked are you?" He said, instantly realising it was entirely all his fault.

"It's alright, don't worr- Mike?"

He was taken aback, even with the alcohol dulling his senses. He looked at the girl. He recognised the girl. Oh no.

"Rebecca?"

"Holy shit, it is you. Doctor Rowan." The young woman said.

It was indeed Rebecca. A previous client. After all this time practicing, it had finally happened. He had bumped into someone he had seen in clinic in the outside world. And it had happened with her, literally. Despite last seeing her three years ago, outwardly any change seemed superficial at best. She was still in dark colours, heavily adorned with chunky jewellery, and long, dyed black hair cut in a fringe resting just above her eyebrows. Rebecca, in turn inspected the man in front of him. He was still bookish and altogether non-threatening, though he had lost his wiry physique into something more sturdy, more robust. The most obvious indication he was approaching middle age.

"Mike is fine, I'm not your therapist, not anymore." He replied, awkwardly chuckling, all sense of fun drained from him.

She smiled. Michael saw that she seemed almost happy to see him. That made a change.

"How are you doing? My god it's been such a long time." Rebecca asked.

Though her demeanour was certainly not relaxing Michael, it was disarming. He thanked his luck that she wasn't upset or in the mood to harm him. With that he let his guard down, which indeed was the entire purpose of him being here.

"I'm well." He said, lying. "The bigger question is how are you? Actually before that, let me pay for this."

He gestured to the bar, and Rebecca, whipped up in the novelty of seeing him again, followed, barely hiding the smile she had on her face, nestled in amongst her lip, nose, and tongue piercings. There was a strange excitement of seeing him again, as if she had a desire to show him how much she had changed since they last met. He bought the girl a drink, and himself one too, and they slid to a less busy corner to catch up. They sat on rickety stools, themselves cushioned with the horrid felt, Michael's elbow making contact with the sticky bar surface. Rebecca told him how she had been, communicated entirely through shouting and short, easily heard sentences. She was living by herself now, and was making a concerted effort to be more comfortable by herself. In fact, her whole reason for being there was an exercise in that. The last Friday of every month, she would do something by herself in a bid to maintain the edge over her own anxiety. It improved he self worth too, that she could engage in this bit of self care as a reminder that she did indeed have worth enough to be cared for, if only by herself.

"I guess some of your advice stuck then." She yelled, over the voice of someone absolutely murdering a rendition of This Charming Man.

Michael wasn't actually sure he ever gave her such advice, but he was nonetheless happy she was in a better place now. And though he would never admit it consciously, he did get a bit of thrill being credited in such a way. Of being needed.

"So what are you doing here?" She asked, in a lull of all the noise.

Michael, realising he had essentially abandoned his friends for the last quarter hour, gestured back to where they were sitting. He told Rebecca he was out to blow off a bit of steam. He had a difficult week, and needed to decompress.

"Oh."

A 'difficult week' meant one full of people like her. Michael caught that feeling in her eyes and quickly course corrected.

"Y'know, really tough cases. Addicts, psychotics. Nothing like yourself, you were a joy." He said hastily.

"A joy? I bet you say that to all the anxious girls."

Michael felt hot.

"Well no, only you- I mean, I enjoyed our time working together."

Though the content of his words was clumsy, she appreciated the sentiment regardless. She knew he always had a soft spot for her, much as he would try and hide it. Attempting to change the subject, he invited her for another drink, and to come sit with his friends. She reminded him that she was in fact old enough to order for herself (and had been the last time they met), and that she was far too worried about imposing to join. He brushed off such concerns, remarking that no one ever actually thinks that about others and only think that of themselves, and shepherded her to the table.

"Lads."

"Mike when did you ever say lads?" Jasper asked.

"This is Rebecca. A, uh, colleagues of mine." Michael said.

The girl introduced herself, Michael hitting the other men with a complex look that vaguely translated to 'don't be weird about it'. They took this in stride, and the four immediately got to chatting. Socially lubricated as they were, they all got on well enough, making fun conversation largely at Michael's expense. Jasper and Dom recounted Michael's youth. His neuroticism, his rigidity, and dare they even say 'anal retentiveness'. Their last jibe got a laugh out of Rebecca, with Michael defensively reminding them that such Freudian concepts were wholly out of date.

"See, there it is!" Jasper said. "Always have to be right. I knew it was still in you."

Rebecca was enjoying herself. More than when she is usually out alone. Though she had learned to cut out her dependency on others to be ok, the thrill of new people, of such social energy bouncing around her, was as intoxicating as any alcohol she drank. She had been invited in to see a side of a man she thought she would never see. She caught a glance from Michael. They said nothing, their eyes having all the conversation they could never say out loud.

The four of them watched a bit as another drunken patron stumbled onto stage while the silvery woman encouraged her with such a token fanfare it made Michael cringe. The silvery woman asked the drunken girl what she was going to sing. Michael didn't catch it, instead his face was placed dangerously close to Rebecca's in order to better hear her as she explained an anecdote detailing how she left a rather toxic ex-boyfriend. Occasionally, through a mix of merry clumsiness and genuinely trying his best to hear, he would brush against her cheek, course stubble making contact with her smooth warm skin. He would linger there, breaking his self-imposed taboo of never making physical contact with any of his patients. Rebecca too felt an electrifying chill run from her face down her body. She blushed, feeling her whole body begin to activate. She retreated, leaning back in the chair, exhaling to calm herself. She couldn't place what it was exactly, but the feel of him against her brought something up that she could not understand, but nonetheless enjoyed. Michael, already subconsciously in sync with her, retracted back at the same time. He knew, in the more primitive realms of his mind, exactly what was happening. In truth it had been there the first day she walked into his clinic room. It had been left to grow, nurtured by shame and denial, but he knew it was there. He knew that she knew too.

They redirected their attention to the singer on stage. She was finishing up. How long had the moment lasted, Michael thought to himself. Thankfully, Jasper and Dominic hadn't seemed to have noticed. They cheered the girl as she belted her final, disastrously out of tune notes and the song came to a close. They cheered the loudest for the worst performers, hoping that would in some way would redeem them. The karaoke roster had ended, and Michael was spared from being forced up by his friends. The silver girl could now relax. Her shift over, she made a beeline to the bar to catch up with the level of intoxication around her. She was replaced by a DJ, to the surprise of everyone as the place seemed hardly like the place to afford two events in one night. Still, as the music came on, Michael realised why the tables were arranged the way they were. The majority of the floor space was now ripe to be filled with dancers. It was the true die-hards that got up first. Aging goths, hipsters, and other assorted weirdos that are drawn to out of the way places like this, just as Michael and his introverted friends were. Still, these alternative pioneers paved the way for the rest of the normies who inexplicably find their way to places like this, and eventually, people exactly like Michael and said introverted friends. He had no idea what was playing, but he liked it. He wanted to move. He wanted to move with Rebecca. Dom and Jasper were already up, lost to the crowd of awkward boppers. He turned to her.

"Wanna dance?"

She hesitated a moment. "I don't know, is that alright?"

"Oh come on Becky, it'll be fun. What's the worst that could happen?"

He had no idea why he called her that, and the moment it left his lips he felt it carried a consequence he couldn't quite recall. For Rebecca, it was as if he switched a light on in her brain, and between her legs. She got to her feet, and he followed after her.

Michael didn't dance. He couldn't dance. The alcohol did all the dancing for him. Rebecca, like most women he seemed to encounter, had much better skill in moving her body around. Even in her baggy black cargo pants and unflattering tank top, the motion of her hips, the look on her face, was irresistible. They drew closer together, until she turned her back to him, pressing her behind onto him. She wanted to feel him against her body, to feel the touch that was both reassuring and arousing. It was here where Michael knew there would be no going back. Every rational neuron in his brain protested against it, yet he did not stop himself. He leaned into her, pushed into her as she pushed into him. She arched her back, her upper half joining her behind in their embrace on the dance floor. Her head rested at the top of his chest as she sunk deeper, the both of them still moving, but now slower, more in sync. Rebecca was overcome with a feeling of deep comfort. Of a strange feeling of security that she had no template of experience for. She only knew she wanted it to continue. Michael was now undeniably aroused, and ready to chase that feeling to its logical endpoint. He placed his hands on her moving hips, directing their movements to better align with his. The pants hid them well, but his hands found the pleasing shape of her thighs. They were deceptively shapely, and Michael couldn't help but explore them, bringing his hands to grasp them with finger than thumb. Rebecca began subtly grinding on him, feeling the hot pressure of his rapidly hardening cock between her buttocks. Her hands joined his on her hips, and she guided them up her body, inviting Michael to explore her physically as he once did mentally. He caressed her, his hands taking in the sensation of the soft skin of her belly. Her nipples had hardened, and they shamelessly poked from underneath her tank top. Michael found them with ease, his fingers finding the heat of her engorged flesh, alongside the cold of the pricings that ran through them. Rebecca, her heavy breathing now turned to enticing moans, beckoned him to keep exploring her. Though the crowd was small they had enough anonymity within it to get away with this much, but it was not enough for them, not least for Rebecca. Dom and Jasper were lost in the music, and so did not miss their friend and his new companion slink away to a quiet part of the bar, a redundant offshoot in a corridor toward the fire exit.

Michael leaned against exposed brick wall while Rebecca pressed into him. She still had her back to him, his hands travelling across and over her. She pushed against him harder, wanting nothing more but to sink deeper into the hold he had around her. One hand remained at her plump breast, while another slid down her. His hand went, breaching her underwear and resting his fingers at the opening of her soaking wet lips. Her moan was loud, only just drowned out by the music that blared only a handful of feet away. Despite the noise, the other people; she couldn't help but feel so, okay, with it all. She had Michael here, his warm embrace keeping the rest of the world from her. She felt safe. He used his index and middle fingers to glide across her slickened lower lips, parting slightly as he reached her throbbing clitoris. Rhythmically he slid over her, teasing her, before he began drawing rhythmic circles, his fingers effortlessly gliding over her most intimate regions. Despite his drunken state, he attended to her with a caring deliberateness, the soft pads of his fingers gently dialling up the pleasure with each revolution. Rebecca reached an arm up to find him, taking hold of the back of his neck as she felt herself edge closer to climax. Michael cupped her breast, teasing her nipples as he continued to work her clit. With every moment the sensation had built, her body climbing higher into ecstasy from such a minute act. She was on the precipice of climax, the physical sensations of her body reaching a height that brought her mind with it. The memories she had of him came bursting into her mind, jumbled up with a slew of visions and fantasies of what else she wished he would do to her. Her hips moved in motion, grinding less for the man behind him and more as an automatic response to the sensations in her own body. All at once it became too much to hold back and she came, pressing back into Michael and cupping her mouth to hide her shameless moans of pleasure.

"Yes daddy." She let out in a murmur through her cupped mouth, not caught by

Michael.

Her legs twitched with the contractions of her orgasm, and she would have fallen if he wasn't there to support her and keep her upright. He was though, there to hold. They were still for a moment, the waves of heat dissipating from between Rebecca's thighs out to the rest of her body. It felt as if everything was still, as if everything for one small moment, was just absolutely fine.

For Michael, her display had a vicarious catharsis enough to bring himself back to his senses. The arousal was still in him, but he knew he couldn't resolve it here, because of the mess it would make if nothing else. Rebecca turned, her bright eyes looking into his. They stood a moment. She brought a hand down between his legs, massaging him over his jeans. He brought his hand to hers again, holding it. He kissed her on the cheek. Pushing his urges back down, he smiled, took her by the hand, and joined his friends on the dancefloor. He had no expectation of her, he wanted nothing in return, at least not at this moment. It made her body and mind scream with delight. She held his hand, and wrapped herself slightly around his arm. Michael cooled down. The control returned to him. Some part of his mind told him that as he didn't ejaculate on, in, or around her, it had not been the worst thing to happen. The bizarre logic of his rationalisation aside, he was still intent to enjoy the night. And he did, him and his friends and Rebecca dancing and drinking and dancing until close. He had such a great time that he didn't question Rebecca needing to borrow his phone to order her cab. She left him there, swaying slightly on the street. She lent back, resting on the back seat of the cab. It lacked the feel of Michael's embrace, but she relaxed all the same, safe in the knowledge that this would not be the last time she would see him.