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I'm a Brit, so it's English from this side of the pond. Thanks to Tim1135 for playing editor on this one, hopefully I've not cocked anything up where it's had the usual post edit tweak, if I have done so, apologies we'll all have to just live with it.
I originally wrote Doctor Richard, Duped as a one-off. Several readers suggested expanding the story - What about the perpetrator's partners? This is the second part, nice and short; I'll piece together a final one to tie it all off. No sex here, the third and final part will warrant some thoughπ. Here we go.
Doctor Richard, Enlightened
I sat at my desk doing the usual thing; surreptitiously watching the prospective clients on my computer monitor, as they were sitting in the waiting room. This couple had all the visible hallmarks of people facing major issues in their relationship. Instead of the usual fifteen minutes I typically let my clients sit out there under the pretext of completing forms whilst I studied their behaviour, this couple certainly didn't need any secret analysis on my part via the cameras. As soon as they completed them and returned them to my secretary, I buzzed her asking that she send them straight in. What I hadn't detected so far was, which one had rocked the boat in their relationship, which led them to seek out my help.
I walked up and closed the window. I hoped the smell of the tobacco had dissipated enough to not cause offence. Since the unsavoury appointment around seven or eight months ago, with the couple masquerading as a Mr. and Mrs. Smith had strung me along, I'd taken to actually smoking my pipe again. It had been over ten years since I'd smoked. It irked me that the hallowed ninety per cent positive outcome was tainted by feedback from the couple. Collected by an external organisation, I had no way to correct the error. The Smith's had a link to provide feedback and it ate into my soul that they scored me as an outstanding councillor, with top marks. I had taken pride that I'd earnt the status to be one of the very best, by helping people put things right that had gone wrong in their relationships.
With careful analysis and a plan, most damage could be repaired and relationships stabilised to a point where they were worthwhile sustaining. Sniffing the air, it did appear the smell of the tobacco from the pipe had almost vanished. Earlier, I'd been standing at the window where I now smoked between appointments. The air fresher on my desk also seemed to work in masking my rediscovered sinful pleasure.
Damn those bloody Smiths, whoever they really were! I wouldn't be going through this routine had they not irked me as they did.
A quick check in the mirror ensured my cleverly crafted persona was visibly correct. As usual, I was wearing a plain shirt, tank top jumper and bow tie along with glasses befitting an academic. The pipe in my hand, completed the illusion.
<ΫΫΫΫ>
"Welcome, please, come and take a seat."
I shook their hands as they sat on the other side of my desk, in two chairs close together. They walked in rather slowly, which wasn't typical. Usually, the supposed wronged party would lead the way whilst the wrong-doer would shuffle in behind, often with the look you'd expect to see if someone was heading for the gallows.
My new clients scanned the various documents pertaining to my qualifications and achievements that hung from the walls. Something was severely wrong here, I immediately picked up that they were uncomfortable with the setting and with themselves. The chairs were actually just big enough for two normal sized people to share. They both sat at the opposite end of each chair, trying to be as far away from each other as they could possibly be. This was going to be bad, certainly take a fair few sessions to put things right, if that was even possible. I sat back down with a slight smile, hoping to change the mood of the meeting, before I went into my short spiel.
"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Jones. I'm Doctor Richard Percival, a specialist in matters of marriage and sexual behaviour. In simple terms, I'm a marriage guidance counsellor. I can happily say that, over the last twenty years, almost ninety percent of my clients finished their course of counselling and remained in their marriages. As a therapist, I have seen in excess of four thousand couples and that also includes those in same gender relationships."
Mr. Jones spoke up.
"Your website said you have a ninety per cent rate at obtaining a positive outcome from your sessions."
Retaining the smile, I tried not to grind my teeth as I replied.
"Ahh yes, there is a slight error in those figures quoted on the website, I do apologise, I'm not quite there yet. I'm sure that in the very near future, I can reach that true figure. So, let's begin. If it makes you more comfortable, please call me Rich or Richard. If you prefer to remain formal, Doctor will suffice. Please, tell me about yourselves, let's start with some first names."
I looked at Mrs. Jones. She was an attractive woman, of that there was no doubt. If anything, she was downplaying her beauty and attributes. Her clothes, almost dowdy, although clearly expensive. Her hair tied back in a ponytail, with very little make-up. Looking at her face, she was obviously having trouble with her sleep, the tell-tale bags evident under her eyes. She had a large wedding ring, which the fingers of her right hand subconsciously rolled around her ring finger. This was a sure-fire sign of someone identifying their relationship was in serious jeopardy.
"Hello Richard, my name is...Jane. Jane Jones. I wish I could say it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance but, I'm afraid it's not."
With that, she started to sob. Not uncommon and a reason why there was always a box of tissues on the desk. It was what happened next that didn't follow the typical pattern. Mr. Jones reached out to take the box, and passed it to Jane. I noticed, he shared her sorrow and pain. She looked at me as she spoke.
"I'm sorry Richard, this is so hard."
"It's no problem, if I had a penny for every tissue used in my office, I'd be driving home in a chauffeur driven car. Instead, I catch a tube train home."
I turned to look at Mr. Jones. He realised it was his turn.
"Hi Richard, my name's John, John Jones."
Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. No, surely not. They didn't look the type and heck, she was crying. I would start to be more guarded going forward. What's the saying? '
Once bitten, twice shy
.' Were these just another pair of Smiths? Jones was the second most popular name in the UK, after Smith. I Coupled that with the fact John and Jane were about the most ubiquitous Christian names as you'd find. I looked at him, trying to truly appraise who he was. His eyes looked back at me, they were the eyes of a broken man.
The despair was painfully evident, I reached across my desk, thrusting the box of tissues towards him, so he could dab his own tears from his eyes. Despite being wary, as to their true intentions, I needed to go gently. I asked if they were OK to continue to which they both looked at me glumly as they nodded in unison.
"Can I take it that your marriage vows have been broken?"
This elicited further nods of agreement.
"Can you give me any details as to what happened? If it's too painful at the moment, just say so."
Jane spoke up, her voice wavering.