I was so nervous that first day when I walked through the door to her office. I almost hadn't showed up. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to wear, and I almost decided it wasn't worth it. "This isn't going to help anything, anyway. I don't know what I'm even going for." I didn't know why I was so nervous. Maybe it was the thought of telling someone about what really goes on inside my head, or maybe it was just the fact that going to a therapist isn't exactly the coolest way to pass a Friday afternoon. One thing I knew was that I would die if any of my friends or coworkers found out that I was going. And I'd certainly never tell my mom. She'd kill me. What was I thinking, anyway? It's not like I was depressed or anything. I'd never had any issues or mental problems before. But I was kind of stressed. I'd just gone through a really rough breakup with my boyfriend, and my roommates and I were not getting along at all. My job paid way less than I needed in order to make ends meet, so I was worried about money pretty much all the time. I was also not doing so well at my job. As it turns out, retail is not really my calling. Anyway, there was a lot on my mind and with all my strained relationships, I felt like there was nobody to open up to. But that's what therapy is for, right? So I was going.
She was definitely not what I expected. What I expected was a small, mousy woman with spectacles and weird clothing. As soon as I walked in, though, I think she could tell I was kind of stunned. She was dressed head to toe in black, but it came off looking very professional yet sexy. She was tall, taller than me, and a lot younger than I had expected. She definitely looked like she was no older than 35. She stood there slightly to the side, opening the door for me to come into her office. I was in shock and just stood there until she gestured for me to walk in the door. She had a slight smile. I'd say she was amused.
"So, how are you doing today?" she asked, shutting the door.
I had no idea. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked.
"40," she said with absolutely no hint of embarrassment. I liked her confidence.
She sat down behind her desk and we chatted on for a while about her skin and her beauty products that she used. I couldn't stop complimenting her on how fantastic she looked. After I had been gushing over her for a couple minutes, she finally told me, "You're not so bad yourself," and winked at me and smiled. I smiled back, the silence between us thickening until I broke it.
I giggled. "It's been a long time since somebody's winked at me." Oh, God. I wished I hadn't said that.
"Why is that," she asked.
"I don't know," I told her, completely flustered. I laughed again. "I kind of like it, though."
We smiled at each other again briefly before she moved on. She didn't make any other suggestive comments and stayed very professional for the rest of the session. Somehow she even got me talking about my mom, which was a subject I never talked about with anyone. She was very good at pulling information out of people. I think it was because she gave off this vibe like she was listening closely to everything you say, but with no judgment. I felt so safe telling her everything. She was very friendly and had a welcoming personality. I was glad I had chosen her as a therapist.
The hour was over before I even knew what happened. She got up to walk me out, and I followed her reluctantly. I was so disappointed that we were done already. It wasn't so much that I had gotten into the therapy session, not really, but it was mostly that I just wanted to be around her. I didn't want to go. Before she opened the door, however, she pulled me over so that I was standing in right front of her.
She leaned in until our faces were inches apart. "I want you to come back," she told me quietly, and very sexily. It was obvious she meant it in a very suggestive way, especially since she was looking down my blouse while she said it. I followed her gaze down towards my blouse and when I looked up, she was still staring away at my cleavage. I grinned and waited for her to look back up before saying, "Yes. Definitely."
She smiled confidently and patted my arm before finally leading me out to make an appointment with her receptionist for next week. "I'll see you next Friday," she said while I left. I looked back just as I opened the door to go out and she was still standing there, leaning up against the wall while she watched me leave. She gave me a little wave. I left feeling like I was walking on air. "Thank God my insurance covers therapy," I thought.
I thought Friday would never come. I spent all week just waiting for it, and when Friday finally did come I couldn't believe how fast it went. All of a sudden it was 2:30, and I had to leave for my appointment in 10 minutes or I else was going to be late. I rushed into her office right on time, and checked in with the receptionist while I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to collect myself.
I was ready to tell her about how I'd been rushing like crazy to get over here, but she invited me into her office without hardly even looking at me. She just shook my hand like I meant nothing but business to her. I was kind of hurt, but I followed her in without saying anything. She busied herself behind her desk with some papers. I sat down on the couch and after we exchanged pleasantries, she asked how my week had been.
"Pretty good. I thought about you a lot," I said without thinking about it. I instantly regretted it and watched her face closely to see what kind of a reaction she would have. She laughed.
