Stacy sat behind the wheel of her car, peering out the window at the large mansion-like building that housed the Ecstatic Sex therapy clinic. The whole weekend had passed in excited anticipation, with Stacy hardly being able to wait for her first proper appointment. Now she was actually there, though, looking up at the tall imposing building, she started to feel a little uncertain. Did she really need to be here? The reason she'd decided to come in the first place was because she hadn't been enjoying sex with her boyfriend, but that seemed to have changed. Since Friday night, Sean had shagged her in the restaurant, in the park, on the front doorstep of her flat and in a quiet section of the clothes department at the local supermarket. She came every time, but had she actually enjoyed it? She tried to tell herself she had, but the truth was she couldn't remember ever having felt more sexual pleasure than she had during her introductory session at the clinic.
She opened the door and climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut and locking it with the button on her key. Turning, she walked the few yards up the country road towards the house, then stopped suddenly. Parked almost right outside the clinic was Amber's car. It was definitely hers; Stacy recognized the first few digits of the number on the license plate. A cold shiver ran through her. What was Amber doing there? Had she found out where Stacy was going and come to spy on her? Had she come to make a surprise appointment for her? Or was she here for a session herself? Stacy continued on her way along the road and up the drive of the house, but now her eyes were flitting about, scanning the surroundings for any sign of her best friend. She didn't want the other woman to know she was there if she could help it, she was embarrassed enough as it was. The soles of her trainers crunched softly on the gravel as she approached the entrance to the large building, and climbed the steps to the door. Gingerly she reached forwards to press the doorbell, and was rewarded a few moments later by a female voice telling her to push the door. She stepped forward into the clinic.
As soon as anyone entered the reception area of the clinic, the sexual analogy was immediately apparent. The entrance hall was suggestive of a woman's genitals, with a short, wide entrance passage opening out into a rather large reception and waiting area. The vaginal canal opening into the inner deeper depths of the female body. Two longer, thinner passages curved off to the left and right. The reception area, with its Victorian style chandeliers and elaborate wall decorations, was almost empty. Other than Stacy, the only person there was the young receptionist sitting behind the desk. Behind the girl, a central staircase led up to a balcony running round three of the four walls, with doorways to several rooms clearly visible.
The girl looked up from some paperwork and smiled as Stacy entered. There seemed to be more to the expression than a simple friendly greeting. Something personal, and perhaps even sensual. Stacy swallowed nervously as she returned the smile, remembering the young woman she had seen emerging from one of the upstairs rooms on her previous visit. The girl, clad only in a short, skimpy bathrobe, had been accompanying one of the clinic's two senior consultants and her client. The thought occurred to her that the reception staff might do more than just file paperwork and answer the phones.
"Good morning," the girl said, still smiling. "Stacy, wasn't it?" The young journalist realised that it was the same receptionist who had been on the last time she had visited.
"Yes," she replied. "I've got my first appointment. 11am."
"Yes," the girl said, scanning a list of names, then looking back up at Stacy. "You're Cornelius's first appointment. If you'd like to take a seat, he'll be out in a moment." Thanking the girl, Stacy went over to take a seat in one of the ornately decorated, velvet covered chairs.
Several minutes passed, during which time Stacy thought she occasionally heard the muted sounds of moans and screams from one of the rooms down the corridor to the left. Although they were barely audible, Stacy guessed that this was due to soundproofing rather than the volume of the screams. From the sound of it, there was quite a lot of energy going into making them. The receptionist looked up from her work, and must have been able to tell what Stacy was listening to.