THE SECOND SESSION
Karen has been referred to a therapist to deal with her marital problems but that has led to another problem. Valerie, her therapist is an attractive younger woman and although she tries to tell herself that the attraction is one sided she still finds herself drawn to Valerie. In her second session she opens up about the aftermath of her swinging experiences and goes into greater detail about an open marriage arrangement.
Karen dithered over her outfit that morning. The clothes spread out over the bed mute evidence to a bewildering array of choices and styles from tops and blouses through to dresses and more casual clothes. Eventually however she'd chosen this particular outfit, a brilliant white shirt matched with tight white jeans. She added her favourite pink heels and a necklace of black beads but as she turned to look at her profile in the mirror, Karen couldn't help wondering why she'd gone to this trouble for a therapy session. Was it because she actually felt better about herself? Was it because she wanted to fit in with her chic therapist? Or was she hoping to impress her therapist?
Karen thought it was probably the first one but she was open to the other two answers as well, her hair had been caught up in a hair clasp last week. This morning her hair hung past her shoulders and she'd taken a little more care with her makeup this time.
Mandy, her youngest daughter did a double take as Karen entered the living room. Mother and daughter looked at each other and Karen raised an eyebrow.
"Something wrong?"
"Nothing, mum," she flicked at her hair, "what's the special occasion?"
"I just thought I should put in some effort," she glanced at the clock on the wall, "speaking of effort, why aren't you on your way to school?"
"Marika's mum is picking me up on the way," she replied, "I told you last night, remember?"
"Ah, of course," Karen fiddled with her watch, "she's coming back here for the night."
"Yeah," she managed a nervous smile, "we're watching Game of Thrones tonight."
"Sounds like fun," she picked up her iPhone as a new message came in.
"So, where are you going today?"
"My therapist," she read the message from a girlfriend.
"Why are you going to a therapist?"
"It's to do with mum dying," she started tapping out a reply.
"PTSD?"
"Huh?" Karen glanced up and then managed a sly smile, "I guess that's a fancy way of putting it, when I was your age it was just plain old grief counselling."
"Is it helping?"
"I've only been once," she replied, "but yeah, I felt better getting things off my chest."
She picked up her handbag and car keys.
"I'm outta here," she stepped across to the couch and kissed her daughter's cheek, "have a good day."
It was as she was getting into her car that Marika's mother turned up and she managed a wave as Mandy hurried out the door.
"Did you forget something?"
"Shit," Mandy winced, "sorry."
She opened the door again and stepped inside to set the alarm, by the time she emerged, Marika's mother was on the phone to someone. Mother and daughter smiled at each other and then Mandy was moving past her on the way to the car. Karen's phone rang just as Mandy was getting into the car and she answered it without checking the number.
"Hello? Karen speaking."
"Hey, Karen, it's Valerie, Doctor Warren?"
"Hello, Valerie, I'm just leaving now."
"Oh, okay, um I may have to move your appointment forward by about half an hour, Aludra is running late so I'm stuck with babysitting my own child."
"That's perfectly fine, I can still come around and wait, unless it's a problem?"
"Not a problem at all," she replied, "I was just letting you know in advance."
***
It was almost comforting to know that the sophisticated therapist had normal woman problems she mused as she parked out the front of Valerie's house. A man was just backing out of the driveway and he tooted the horn as the BMW bumped onto the street. Karen waved as she activated the alarm on her Commodore and headed up the driveway to the front door. The last time she was here she'd used the intercom but perhaps Valerie had seen her coming because the front door was open when she tapped at the flyscreen door.
"Just come in," Valerie called out, "I'm in the living room."
Valerie's living room looked almost as immaculate as Valerie. The plush L-shaped couch could fit three comfortably, two more matching sofa chairs were nearby and as Karen looked around the room she noticed the poster-sized photographs of New York City, Paris and Rome. The Paris poster was in black and white but showed a woman in a red dress jumping across the road. A fifty inch television monitor hung from a wall, it was part of a home theatre system. In one corner of the room a playpen had been set up and not far from it was a large floor to ceiling bookshelf. The only part of the room that looked messy was at the elbow of the couch where her son sat on a rug with his toys. She recalled the child's name and his age, Damien, eighteen months old. He had just looked up at her as she turned to face mother and son.
Valerie was dressed in a cream, satin blouse with a matching satin tie and dark grey trousers, a black belt with a gold buckle finished off the outfit. Her black, patent leather shoes were adorned with gold buckles to match the belt buckle. Even dressed plainly she still looked elegant, Karen looked down at Damien a moment later.
"He looks like you," sounded cliché but it was the best she could manage.
"Thanks," she touched the seat beside her, "take a seat, I'm sorry about all this."
"It's not a problem, Thursday is my usual half day off," she sank back against the back of the couch, "God, you could sleep on this couch."
Damien brandished a crayon in the air.
"Sleep," he announced to the world at large.
"Yes that's right," Valerie ran a hand through his hair, "he's picking up new words every day, which isn't always a good thing as I've found out to my cost."
"I've been there before," Karen winced, "I made all my mistakes with my oldest, she went to kindy with the f and c words imprinted on her brain but after you've had your second you realise they're going to learn those words at school anyway."
"I guess so," Valerie leaned on her knees, "it's a whole new field for me, mum thought I'd never take the plunge," she turned her head as the screen door opened.
Aludra stepped into the room, she was looking out of breath and Valerie turned to greet her.
"I'm sorry, I can't believe I was so late."
"It's fine, really, it's fine," she reassured her, "these things are sent to try us and you're actually here before I expected."
"I caught a taxi," she explained.
"No worries," she turned to Karen, "why don't you go on into the office and wait while I sort out the coffee and cake?"
Karen nodded and stood up, Aludra offered her a smile and she returned the smile before heading on down the hall to the office.
As she'd done in the other room, Karen took stock of her surroundings with a greater eye for detail and one painting drew her in. It showed a woman mounted side saddle on a white horse asking a question of the girl standing on the beach or was she greeting her? The painting had a subtle subtext she suspected, it could be taken another way, she looked at a large, framed photograph, and this one did cause her to draw back slightly.
Valerie was seated in front of a desk with a mirror. She wore a brilliant red, pussybow blouse and black, three-quarter length pleated skirt with a wide leather belt at her waist. Her feet were on top of the desk, a position that served to accentuate the pleats and showed off the five inch, white heels. She held an old cane across her lap and was on the phone, which looked like something from the 1940s. She had a pair of glasses perched precariously on her nose so that she could look over them and she had a sly smile on her face as if she'd just been told some juicy gossip.
She turned to look at a framed wedding portrait of Valerie and her husband on the other wall. A picture not far from it had a picture of a younger Valerie at graduation, one of those standard graduation pictures. The baby photograph was under the other two photographs, placed midway between them, it showed Damien as a newborn and just under that was a plaster cast moulding of a child's hand.
"It's Damien's hand," Valerie confirmed a few minutes later as she arranged the tray on the coffee table, "one of these days he's going to be so embarrassed when I show that to the first girl he brings home."
"Who painted that one?" Karen pointed to the first painting she'd seen.
"That's an old one by Hardy Heywood, it's called Holiday Time. My mother in law has one in her hallway and it always struck me as being one of those overlooked paintings. What are these two women talking about? Have they met before? Are they lovers or just friends?"
"I think they've just met but I agree, these two women could be lovers."
She pointed to the photograph, "who took that picture?"
"A former patient of mine," she moved closer to her, "Jacqueline was doing her Bachelor of Arts and needed subject material for her portfolio. I agreed and after she'd graduated she printed out a copy for me. It was only taken about twelve months ago. It's interesting to see people's reactions to it. Some see it as being ostentatious, others think it's courageous, and I know some men just think it's hot, my husband is one of the latter."
"I think it's courageous," Karen conceded, "it certainly took me by surprise."
"You should see the more erotic ones," she grinned, "they're nicely tucked away from prying eyes," she indicated the couch, "shall we?"
Karen arranged herself on the couch and composed herself while Valerie set up the phone and retrieved her notepad from the desk.
"All right," she sat down, "let's back track a little. The last time we spoke, you talked about your relationship with Jolene Wilde, I actually found her on the Internet the other day.
"She's been married once, she eventually hooked up with Helen."
Date: 06/04/2017
Valerie: Do you ever feel jealous when you see Jolene with Helen?
Karen:
No, but then again I never see them together, to be honest I've only ever seen Jolene three or four times, the first time was out at Randwick on Oaks day and the other times I've literally bumped into her on the street or in a pub. On all occasions, if she was single she was on her own. The first time she must have been married but the other times I'm not sure. As I mentioned last week, we did sort out our differences but neither of us wanted to go down that route again.
Valerie:
