Thankfully, it was the final appointment. The multiple trips each week from the suburbs to the downtown hospital were taxing. Besides the up-and-down weather of winter and the traffic, it required a three hour section of his schedule set aside for therapy. Thankfully, they were finally going to discharge his son from the twice-a-week commitment.
There was one thing he'd miss. He was going to miss seeing her. She was the highlight of the visits each time. Her smile. Her auburn hair. The electricity he felt every time she accidentally touched him. Or, were they accidents? He didn't know.
He did know it was inappropriate. She was still just a grad student working on her next degree and certification. He was much older—seventeen years older. She was closer in age to his son. His son had noticed her, too. But something told him that she preferred the gray hairs in his beard to the young smooth face of his teen.
His favorite days were when she didn't work with his kid. He would sneak glances at her as she worked at a desk nearby. Sometimes she wasn't in scrubs. Instead, she would wear a nice tight pair of jeans, form fitting shirt, and sandals. He preferred those days. He could see her body better. The body he had often thought about as he couldn't sleep next to his wife. He knew she had caught him staring. He would quickly look away and laugh. But that didn't stop him the next time he went.
He didn't see her as they entered. His son worked with another therapist. It was the one they both hated. Quite frankly, she was a bitch. He told his son to just get through it. It was the last time after all. And so he sat, and waited.
And waited.
And then she walked around the corner. She looked amazing even if she was in Disney Princess scrubs. She smiled at him and waved as she continued walking. He watched her walk away. The sway in her ass. He couldn't help but stare. He was going to soon struggle to keep the erection in his pants a secret. She turned into the alcove down the hall for the restrooms.
He dismissed it, at first. But then he watched. No one went in and no one came out. He knew if he was ever going to have the chance, it was now.
Should he? Fuck no. This is insane. He thought to himself, "I'm married. I can't. It doesn't matter how frustrated I am. And what if she isn't interested? I could be the next post of the #metoo movement..."
But his dick wasn't getting softer. It felt as if it was his groin that made him get up from the chair and walk down the hall. As he approached the alcove, he waited. He almost turned around. But he didn't. There were two unisex single-occupancy restrooms. He thought she went to the one on the right. He could just see if the door was locked. If it was, maybe she wouldn't hear him check. If it wasn't, he could just pretend it was an accident.
He took one deep breath, pushed down on the handle, and opened the door. She was standing at the sink with her back to the door. He quickly said, "Oh, I'm sorry. The door wasn't locked and I..."
