This story has a slowish build-up -- because that's the way I like it. Hopefully you will too. The first chapter sets the scene, so if you're looking for racy, hang on for chapter 2. It's nearly done.
This is copyright and all that, so please be respectful of my rights as the author.
*
Chloe sat further back on the couch, pulling a cushion onto her lap and sobbed, hands clutching at the tasseled edges.
"I'm so sorry...I can't believe I'm still crying like this after a year!" she almost moaned through gritted teeth.
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Chloe. You need this. It's OK. After all, if you can't cry on your therapists' couch, where can you? And anniversaries are always hard..." said Eva with a sympathetic, understanding smile.
Chloe looked at her blearily and for the umpteenth time thanked God / fate / whoever had delivered her to the woman sitting opposite her. Eight months before, she had been ready to give up, give in, or do something monumentally stupid. She had been drinking way too much; hanging around people who were bad for her and fed her spiral into disrepair with drugs and false camaraderie. Now, while she was still devastated and hurting, she was at least able to eat, talk and carry on some semblance of living.
Exactly one year before, she had been in an accident while driving home with her partner. Her partner had died, while she had sustained whiplash, concussion and a broken arm. The reality of her life after Paula was not one she wanted to contemplate.
For a long time she wanted to die. The wanting changed into active planning and her friends and family had stepped in and taken over. Her oldest friend, Gail, who was also a therapist, had after a lot of careful thought found her someone to see and told her in no uncertain terms that the choice was no longer hers -- the appointment was made and she was escorted there by her mother and Gail.
Eva had let her set her own pace. She refused to prescribe how her healing should progress. While some people eventually grew impatient and started telling her she needed to 'put it all behind her and carry on living' or 'what would Paula want you to do?' Eva had clucked her tongue at their advice and just gave Chloe the space to deal with the sharp, acrid emotions of loss. The first time she opened Pandora's box and allowed herself to feel some of her grief, she had the mother of all panic attacks. Eva calmly came and sat next to her and talked her through it, allowing Chloe to anchor herself to Eva's voice. Eva asked her permission to hold her hand and Chloe, never one to do things in half measure, thought "Fuck a hand" and the next thing Eva knew, she was holding a shuddering, sobbing, skinny frame to her chest, feeling quite overwhelmed by the trust placed in her by the frail person on her lap. Whenever she had an attack in a session, Eva would be by her side, holding her and gently coaxing her to breathe her way through it.
"Breathe, Chloe...just breathe and listen to my voice...we'll get through this together...just listen to the sound of my voice and keep breathing...just like that..." They developed a very close therapeutic relationship.
Chloe realized in retrospect that Gail had made a very canny choice. Not only was Eva an expert in helping people through the trauma of bereavement, but she was physically just Chloe's type. To a 'T'. If she had to make a list of the attributes she looked for in a partner, Eva would tick every box. She was a little over average height with straight, silky, very dark hair and eyes so blue Chloe just wanted to immerse herself . Sometimes, when Eva said something to her, she had to ask her to repeat herself simply because she had been staring, lost, into her eyes.
The rest of Eva was equally attractive to Chloe -- she had the sexiest feet Chloe had ever seen and she had long, brown, delicate fingers, what she thought of as 'artists hands'. Her nails were always neatly filed but not long and she used a clear kind of polish for her finger-nails and toe-nails. She seemed to have a skin-tone that always looked tanned, even in the dead of winter. When she stood up she uncoiled rather than stood and Chloe found this utterly absorbing. She would always wait for Eva to rise at the end of the session before standing up herself, just so she could watch the woman's fascinating grace.
She had a ready smile and a musical laugh and despite what she did for a living she never appeared jaded or cynical and she often gently teased Chloe into laughing at life and her role in it.
Despite Eva being every inch the professional and being very careful about how much she let slip in their sessions, Chloe knew Eva was in her mid-thirties and she obviously took care of herself. She looked firm and well... edible to Chloe. And those breasts...holy mother of God was biology good to her. Eva seemed to take care not to wear clothes which were too revealing, but she often wore fitting tops which showed off the shape of her breasts and even in her bereaved and desperate state they were the first thing she noticed about Eva after her eyes. The days she had a panic attack during a session, she would nestle her head between them, sighing contentedly without even realizing what she was doing. On top of all of this, Eva had an ass that could best be described as bewildering.
On some level, she knew Gail had deliberately chosen someone she could be attracted to -- almost as if she was willing Chloe to see there was life after Paula. She had no idea if Gail had said anything to Eva when she made the referral, but knowing her friend she probably had. She had caught Eva looking at her curiously when she interrupted one of Chloe's more longing looks. It was around about the time that she started to waft off into the spell created by Eva's baby-blues that Chloe realized she was not quite ready to give up on life just yet.
The evening after the session where Chloe realized that she had actively perved her therapists' breasts for the first time, she nearly cried with relief. She immediately phoned Gail and wept over the phone to her. Gail was initially a little taken aback by the wailing until she realized what Chloe was trying to say.
"Let me get this straight...you're crying because you perved your therapists' breasts?"
"Yeess!" Chloe wailed.
"Sooo, this is a bad thing?" she asked, feeling justifiably confused.
NOOO!" Chloe yelled, "This is the first time I've even looked at or thought about someone in any kind of sexual way since Paula...you know..."
"Sooo, a good thing then?"
"Yes, most definitely a good thing!" Chloe beamed. "Although..."
Gail sighed. That was so Chloe. "Although what, sweetie?"
"Aren't I just a walking clichΓ©?? I've got the hots for my therapist!"
Gail sighed again. "Just because you looked at her breasts doesn't necessarily mean you have the hots for her, Chlo, it just means your sexuality is reasserting itself, you big dyke."
Chloe felt something she hadn't felt in a long while -- a big belly laugh rumbling up her torso. It made her happy and as soon as she recognized this, it gave her a deep pang. Whenever she started to move on or felt an inexplicable moment of happiness despite her loss, she felt relief and guilt. Relief that she wasn't actually dead inside and guilt that she was having this moment, but Paula was not there to share it with her. Survivor guilt, Eva called it.
After every session, Gail and Chloe played a game whereby Chloe pumped Gail for information about Eva which Gail always shrugged off with the answer "You know I can't divulge personal information about Eva to you, Chlo." Gail assumed it was the usual fascination a client often holds for who lay behind the therapist persona.
Despite the fact that she felt an obvious attraction to Eva, Chloe was still lost and felt very alone. She knew how professional Eva was and didn't entertain the slightest thought that "Miss Heterosexual of the year" with her gold wedding band coiled around a perfectly tan finger would ever be a viable option to pursue. She agreed with Gail when she told Chloe that she was probably perving Eva because she was a safe person for her to fantasize about because of the secure space they had created together and because she was sure it could never go anywhere.
As a freelance writer, Chloe had a lot of leeway -- there was no 9-5 job to anchor her. She worked from home. Well, home was probably a loose term for where she lived. It was a house, but was definitely not a home. She had not been able to go back to the home she shared with Paula after the accident. Her mother and Gail had packed up her place and she had moved in with her mom. When she was ready, they helped her find a new place and moved her in. She hadn't unpacked in the two months she had been there and still lived out of boxes. The impermanence suited her, like she was unwilling to commit to anything lasting. Even the lease was only for six months. Besides her family, friends and work, the only thing she had committed to in the last year was therapy.
***