Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
Amid the very uncomfortable silence, my eyes wandered, carefully, as to not meet Sharon's curious gaze. I was beginning to almost feel accustomed to these awkward quiet moments, week to week these sex therapy appointments seemed to repeat themselves, the shaky dialogue between Sharon and I dropping off at the same points every appointment.
I didn't believe I actually needed therapy, but I was really a bit too embarrassed to fight my mom in the issue after what she had caught me doing with her stiletto sandals a few months back. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a creep, I don't find my mom sexually attractive. But, she is objectively very beautiful, especially for her early 40's. She takes great care of her body, way up from her pretty head, all the way down to her delicate little toes.
So, long story short, one night after she came home after a date, presumably dancing, she kicked off her shoes at the door and passed out barefoot on the couch within minutes (or so I had thought). I don't really know what came over me, but seeing my mom's glistening, pink soles hanging off of the arm rest excited me in a way I had never felt before. My nose was pressed up against the damp toe imprints on her leather stiletto sandal before I even realized what I was doing. It felt so wrong, but mom's feminine foot scent on the worn in leather drove me crazy. I must've not been able to hear her get up off the couch over my loud sniffs, because only a moment later and there she was, only a few feet away, staring wide eyes and horrified at the sight before her. And that's how I ended up here, sitting uncomfortably in an armchair, counting down the minutes until Sharon (my therapist) would stop asking me about why I liked my Mom's feet.
I stole a quick glance at the clock which was positioned seemingly tactfully directly above Sharon. Only a couple of minutes left, then I can leave this psychological torture chamber, finally. Sharon must have sensed my relief. Because for the first time in several minutes she spoke.
"Today is actually going to be a double session."
My heart sank. She continued.
"I have been talking to your Mother, I told her I didn't think our therapy sessions so far have been very effective for you."
I could only stare and nod in agreement. Maybe this won't be so bad, I thought. She must have picked up by now, after our 5 or 6 sessions, that I didn't need the therapy after all. Maybe she'll even recommend to my Mom that this be our last session?
Sharon swivelled a couple feet over to her desk, grabbed a small but thick manilla envelope, and returned.
"I made a recommendation to your Mother last week that we try a different approach with your.. special case."
Sharon paused, as if thinking to herself the best way to continue. Her hesitation was new, I had never heard her speak so carefully.
"I believe- *Ahem* I think that exposure therapy would be very helpful for you, it could allow you, after a few more session, to finally rid yourself of your wrong sexual feelings."
And with that, Sharon opened the envelope, and pulled out a small, compressed plastic baggy, filled with the contents that I instantly recognized.
"What the hell? No? This has to be a joke!" I shouted.
Frustration flowed through me freely. This was the first time I showed a real emotion to Sharon. Her eyes lit up.
"See? Six weeks of sessions, and I could barely get you to talk, and we haven't even officially started your exposure therapy, and you're already on the verge of a breakthrough!"
Sharon continued to praise me for sharing my emotional state with her while she dangled the plastic bag containing my Mom's dirty gym socks in front of me. The same pink ankle socks with white polka dots at the toes which she had worked out in every day that week. I noticed mud week she was wearing the same pair as the morning prior while she was leaving for her morning run, but didn't dare to comment.