Diagnosing A Fetish Ch 06

"How're you doing?"

"Hm?"

"I was just asking how you're doing," Lucy replied, rubbing my shoulders, "Still sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah. No point in delaying it further," I rested my head in my hands. Truthfully, delaying my meeting with Dr. Morse may not have been the worst idea in the world. The stress had kept me up all night, and I was barely with it. Although, it likely didn't matter. Whether we met today or two weeks from now, I'm sure I'd have the same reaction. Besides, I wasn't exactly getting my full eight hours before this, anyway.

When I told Kat, she tried to talk me out of it. After seeing the results of my last meeting with Dr. Morse, she was convinced this would only make me spiral more. When I explained to her how this was something I needed to do, I think she understood. It was nice to have someone care about me, but at the same time, it made me feel like I was letting her down. It didn't help when I had to convince her not to come with me to the meeting. She needed to go to work, and I needed to face this myself.

Eve was nice enough to let me come to RAE a few hours early. I couldn't stay in my apartment anymore, stewing in my self-doubt as I waited for twelve o'clock to roll around. Lucy had arrived shortly after me, more for moral support than having any work to do. I suspected Eve told her about my arrival and asked her to come down, but both women denied such a thought. They gave me a booth in the empty club, bringing a plate of food and a coffee shortly after. I drank the coffee but could only stomach a few bites of food before I was finished.

"Well, if you are sure," Lucy cleared my dishes, returning them to the kitchen.

At a few minutes past noon, there was the sound of knocking at the door to the club, Eve coming out from behind the bar to check on it. Based on the extensive delay after her leaving, I assumed she was talking to whoever was at the door. Trying to listen in proved futile as I could only hear the occasional hushed whisper, but eventually, Eve returned, Dr. Morse following slowly behind. As the two women approached, I turned away, keeping my face forward towards the other side of the table.

"Here you are," Eve stated flatly. Still not looking at them, I was surprised when I felt an arm around my shoulder, Eve leaning in to whisper, "Remember; let us know if you want us to step in and stop this."

Nodding in response, she let me go and returned to the bar. Now alone, Dr. Morse slid into the seat across from me, setting a notepad and pen on the table. She looked the same as I remembered; hair up in a neat bun, clothes clean and put together. Instead of her lab coat, she wore a short blazer over a navy-blue blouse. I'm sure it was the first time anyone had worn such clothes in this building, although I guess this meeting was somewhat of an anomaly.

"Hello," she said softly, clearing her throat, "Sorry. I've been busy at work lately; I'm starting to lose my voice," she chuckled, to no reaction from me.

"Hi," I replied coldly.

"Right, um," her tone changed, the doctor shifting nervously in her seat and averting her gaze, "I'm sorry for what happened. It's not... It's not what you think."

"Oh, great," my response was sarcastic, biting, "So you didn't expose yourself and take a piss in front of me when I came to you for help?"

"Mallory, I-"

"Twice,

" I cut her off, "And you didn't give me a memory stick full of porn? And you didn't tell me to go to a fucking gay fetish club? Good, I'm glad it's not what I thought."

"Look, I'm sorry for all of that. But I told you during our first meeting that my methods of treatment do not follow the norm in the medical field. However, I have had good results in the past using them."

"No, you've had good results in the past brainwashing your patients and turning them into your playthings. Is this why you paid for my sessions? So you aren't liable? Or is it so no paper trail leads back to you?"

"I-" she sighed, "OK, yes. In the past, I have used my profession as a way to...

meet

other like-minded individuals."

She sounded more like a lawyer than a doctor. I could tell each of her words was calculated to be as vague and generous as possible. Her admission was weak at best and, at worst, a blatant attempt to cover up what she had actually been doing. "Stop trying to bullshit me," I replied, making it clear I was aware of what was happening.

"I am telling the truth."

"You're telling half-truths."

"OK, fine. I met with patients such as yourself and,

in the past

, got close with them and occasionally engaged in sex. Both sides were always consenting adults, completely sober, and none of them had second thoughts afterward. That is the full truth."

"So, your position as their doctor had no say in it? You had, no,

have

," I corrected myself, "an obvious power over your patients? I have experienced it as I'm sure they did."

"It's Ok that you're angry, but-"

"I don't need your permission to be mad at you."

"No, you don't. Just- I had sexual relations with previous patients. However, that was never my intention with

you

. I'm sure you know by now, but I took a long break from being a doctor. You think that was just because I wanted to have a fun time hanging out? I lived for years without a full-time job or a steady source of income, and - I'm going to be honest - it was a nightmare at times. Do you know why I did that?"

I shook my head.

"I did that because I felt shitty about what I was doing with my patients. You're right; it was never something that should've been happening. Eventually, I decided that I was no longer fit to be a doctor if that's how I was going to act, so I quit. I moved out of town and lived alone for a long time feeling shitty."

To be honest, I didn't predict the meeting going like this. Even if it was just a little part of me, a little part that, for whatever reason, went against my best judgment, I felt bad for her. I didn't know if she was even telling the truth. After all, her intentions thus far were dubious at best. But, somehow, I could tell she was being honest. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't enough. "If you decided to stop being a doctor, why are you back?"

"Because I missed it. I hated my life, and I missed helping people. So, I chose to return, but only if I could act professionally. I guess... I haven't been doing a great job at that last part. But I promise I'll do better to take your feelings into consideration, OK? I think I can really help you if you give me a chance."

"No," I replied, "I can't trust you anymore."

"Yeah, I guess that's fair," Dr. Morse sighed, looking down at the table in silence as she tried to think of what to say next. "I know it isn't my place to ask this, but could you please still consider the sleeping consultation? I could set up a time for this week, and I think it will really help."

"And will you be there?"

"I'm the only one who can run this kind of study, but I promise not to be intrusive."

"Fine, if it will help, then I'll do it."

"How about Tuesday night? You'll come to the facility at around 9:00 am and then leave twelve hours later."

"Fine, but you're no longer my physician. Once this test is done, I don't want to see you again. OK? You can't call me, go to my apartment or anything like that. We are done."

"Of course," Dr. Morse replied, pushing her notebook forward on the table, "You can take this then. It's the notes I took during our sessions. That is the only copy, and I want you to have it. That way, you can feel safe knowing no one else has access to this information." Standing from the table, Dr. Morse adjusted her shirt before giving me a quick head nod, "I will see you Tuesday."

With that, I watched her give a similar nod to Eve before she exited RAE. I was left sitting at the table in silence, feeling the rough texture of her notebook between my fingers as I held it tight in my grip. For the briefest second, I thought about opening it to see what she had written about me, but then I thought better of it and set it in my lap.

"Well? Lucy slid into the booth across from me, taking Dr. Morse's place.

"Don't bother her," Eve called from the bar, "Give her some time to think."

"It's OK," I spoke up, staring blankly at the wooden table as I tried to process my emotions. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, but at the same time, a pit was growing in my stomach. Already I was regretting agreeing to do the sleep study. If she was the one leading it, I couldn't say what would happen for sure. After all, it would likely be the two of us alone at night. "I'm going to see her again Tuesday. Do you think that's a bad idea?"

Lucy shifted in her seat, "Um... I guess that depends on what 'seeing her' means."

"Before I found out about her past, Dr. Morse scheduled an evaluation of my sleeping patterns so that I could maybe get some medication. Then... everything happened, and I missed the appointment. Now it's rescheduled for Tuesday."

"I guess whether or not it's a bad idea depends on how you feel." Even stated, pulling up a chair to the table's end.

"She said it will help with everything I've been going through. I know it's probably not a good idea to trust her again, but I think it might be worth the risk. I also made sure to tell her that this was the last time I was going to talk to her. So, with any luck, this will all be over by Wednesday morning."

I could tell from Lucy and Eve's faces that they knew that wouldn't be the case, as did I. Even if I didn't see Dr. Morse again as we had agreed, it seemed unlikely that I would ever be able to fully get over the direct psychological impact of her actions. That, and I still had the issue of being no better off than I was at the start of all this. I still had the same fetishes, and I still felt like shit every time I thought about them.

"I hate this," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, "I can't trust myself to make a decision, and I feel like I keep making the wrong ones."

"I don't know if there are right or wrong decisions in this case," Lucy said, giving my arm a gentle squeeze of reassurance, "I think you just have to make one and see what happens. I know it isn't great advice, but that's how it goes sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I fidgeted with the notebook hidden in my lap, idly thumbing at the corners of the pages as I attempted to decipher my next move. "I'll go Tuesday, and then I'm done," I finally stated.

"Good," Eve stood, returning her chair to its table, "How about some lunch? On the house, of course."

"Um, yeah. Sure." The two women left me alone as I continued to second-guess my choices. Lucy may have been right, but knowing there were no bad decisions didn't make mine feel any better. I just had to see Dr. Morse one last time. That's all I could keep telling myself—o

ne last time.

~`~`~`~`~`~

"I don't want to get in your head or anything, but it's not too late to back out. No one will think any less of you."

"What?" I turned to face Kat.

"Sorry, you just seemed down," she briefly took her eyes off the road to flash me a warm smile, "You've been silently staring out the window for the past twenty minutes; I just wanted to make sure you're still OK."

Currently, on my way to be with Dr. Morse for the next twelve hours, I was about as OK as I could be. I told Kat about the plan for tonight, but not about the full confrontation at the bar or the notebook I currently had stashed in my backpack. I don't know why I brought it, to be honest. I still hadn't dared open it, but maybe it would be a reminder not to trust Dr. Morse. That, and I could use it for some reading material if I got bored during the study. Although, I imagine that wouldn't be allowed.

"Just nervous," I replied quietly, returning my gaze to the buildings rushing past outside.

"Oh, OK," she squeezed my thigh.

The rest of the drive was - fortunately - in silence. I appreciated Kat doing this, but truthfully I wished she hadn't. For one, she was supposed to work tomorrow and instead took the day off to drive me here and pick me up. That, and now I was stuck in the car with nothing to say to her. I had consistently dumped all my problems into her lap, and yet I continued to do it again and again. What I was going through didn't involve her at all, but there was a recent trend where I made sure it did.

She acted like she didn't mind, like it was no big deal, but that's what people always said. What was I supposed to

say

to someone who continued to put her life on hold to deal with mine? Outside of asking her to stop, there was very little I could do. So, that's what I did - very little. Kat came to my apartment on Sunday and last night after work, but both occasions were uneventful affairs. After telling her what happened at RAE and the expected, bog-standard questions about how her job was going, we mostly sat in silence.

The worst part is that I knew she was only doing it to make sure I didn't take things too far, to make sure I didn't make one last bad decision. A friendship built on pity and fear wasn't going to last. I didn't need to see a specialist to know that. It was difficult to tell if Kat knew. There must have been at least a creeping doubt in her mind telling her that our relationship was teetering on the edge of a cliff, just one light gust capable of sending it over the edge. But, on the other hand, maybe she just liked fixing people; maybe that's why she was doing this.

Regardless, I was happy when we pulled into the parking lot, Kat's GPS dinging to notify us of our arrival. I was happy until I remembered what awaited me inside was far worse than an awkward silence on a long car ride.

"It's still not too late," Kat repeated after putting her car in park, still sensing my unease.

Unfortunately, it was too late. I'd already use her time, gas, and goodwill. Turning back now would mean those all went to waste. That, and this was my last shot at getting

something

beneficial out of my brief stint with Dr. Morse. It was idiotic, but I needed anything to validate the amount of suffering that woman put me through. After all, seeing a specialist was my idea. An idea that I forced Dr. Litvak to follow through on. I didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for that piece of shit, but I was such a narcissist that I couldn't possibly make a bad decision and have nothing come of it.

"Mallory, it's your choice."

"I have to do it," I unhooked my seatbelt, opening the passenger's side door.

"You don't

have

to do anything," Kat exclaimed, meeting me at the trunk of her car, "After what that woman did to you, you owe her nothing."

"I know. But, if she can help me, I don't want to miss this opportunity."

"Other people can help you too, you know."

"But she can help

now.

And I don't want to spend another second dealing with all this-" I put my hand out in front of me, struggling to think of the best way to describe what I had been going through, "shit."

"Right, I'm sorry," she popped the trunk and handed me my backpack, "I'm just trying to look out for you. I guess I'm being a little overbearing. Just don't want to see you get hurt again, is all."

"It'll be fine," I slung my bag over my shoulder, feigning confidence as the two of us walked towards the door of the unassuming office building. Behind the glass, I could see a figure I recognized as Dr. Morse, the woman flipping the interior lock and opening the door. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," I said to kat, suddenly feeling awkward with Dr. Morse now present.

Kat came in for a hug, taking the chance to whisper in my ear, "Call me if there are any problems, OK?"

I didn't answer, and when the embrace broke, I noticed Kat glaring at Dr. Morse before eventually walking back to her car. The message was clear enough, but the doctor said nothing as I entered the building, the door being re-locked once I did. It was maybe a bad sign, but it felt like it was too late to turn back now. So, against my better judgment, I followed Dr. morse through the empty hallway until we arrived at a lone door.

"We'll be doing the testing in here," she stated matter-of-factly, swiping her key card in an apparatus on the wall to unlock the door before ushering me inside.

The interior was not at all what I expected. To be honest, I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't a middle-tier motel room. There were drab landscape paintings on the walls, plain beige walls, an old, brown armchair in the corner, and a big, mission-style bed in the center. The large machine beside it was the only indication that this room was used for medical testing. The lack of windows only added to the dim, gloomy feel.

"There are a pair of pajamas for you there," Dr. Morse indicated towards a hook beside the door I hadn't noticed before, "I'll leave you to get changed." With that, she exited the room.

Now alone, the first thing I did was quickly scan the ceiling for any cameras, finding none, much to my relief. Of course, I couldn't rule out the fact that there were any hidden, so I took the provided pajamas and changed as fast as possible while facing the corner. I also kept my bra and underwear on, despite never usually wearing them to sleep. It was probably an overreaction, but I wasn't going to take any chances, not after what Dr. Morse had done previously.

Finished, I took a seat on the bed and waited. I could already tell that tonight was going to be terrible. The material of the pajamas was cheap and scratchy, and my bra already felt too tight. The feeling of the worn-down carpet on my feet was less than pleasant, and - worst of all - there was a constant rattling coming from somewhere in the room.

Right when I was in the middle of trying to locate it, a knock came from the door, followed by a voice, "Am I good to come in?"

I sat back on the bed before replying, "Yes." Expecting Dr. Morse, I was surprised when a younger woman wearing nurse's smocks entered. She gave me a warm smile, closing the door before crossing the room to where I was sitting.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you. I'm Sandra," she introduced herself while wheeling over the machine, "Did Dr. Morse tell you why I'm here?"

"No."

"Oh, no problem. She mentioned that you might feel more comfortable with me assisting. Are you OK with that, or would you prefer I call her in?"

To be honest, I hadn't expected this kind of consideration from Dr. Morse. But, I had to admit, it did take some of the pressure off. "No, you're fine," I replied.

"Good," she smiled again, "Now, I have to put these electrodes on your body to measure stimuli, OK?"

Nodding, she took my arm and pressed the first pad onto my bicep, repeating the same thing on the other side. Two more electrodes went on the back of my neck and one on my stomach. The final two went on my chest, below my collarbone. I could tell Sandra was being careful not to make me uncomfortable, but it had the opposite effect. Her hand gently cupped the back of my neck, the delicate touch of her fingers right above my breasts; I could even feel her breath on my skin. I did my best to surprise the feeling, but I couldn't stop the butterflies in my stomach. When she finished, I was already missing her.

Unfortunately for me, the final piece of equipment was a heart rate monitor attached to my finger. No sooner than it was clipped on did the machine spring to life. I wasn't an expert by any means, but I could tell that my heart rate was much faster than normal. Sasha noticed too, and I'm sure she could figure out it was the direct result of her being so close to me, but she said nothing.

After a few minutes of fiddling with the machine, she seemed satisfied, turning back towards me. "And that is the setup done. Now for the hard part, you have to sleep with all this equipment attached to your body," she chuckled, "I know it's a hassle, but just try your best. Would you like a glass of water or to go to the washroom before we start? I guess I should've asked you about the washroom before hooking everything up, huh?"