My name is Dr. Susan P. Sharp and until last year, I was a practicing family therapist with over thirty years of clinical and private practice in marital and family counseling. I was formerly an adjunct professor at Rutgers Graduate School of Social Services and still lecture practicing counseling professionals. Before I retired last year, and except for my teaching and research work, I have conducted a private practice out of my home in an affluent suburb in Northern New Jersey. My clients are predominantly upper middle class and wealthy couples who live in surrounding communities.
For the last four years I have been reviewing my case notes for possible publication. My first published story at Literotica was "Kathleen's Secret Life" and was a project that was abstracted from my address, "Changing Norms in American Family Relationships" presented before the American Association of Family Therapists in November 2001 at our annual meeting in Las Vegas. At an informal gathering after my presentation, there was a lively discussion among my colleagues about the need to alert the general public about the lifestyle and behavioral changes we have all observed in the last twenty years among our married clients.
I have decided not to use the "case study" format for "The Shoe Box" as I did for my previous story, since I am making an attempt to publish this story more as "erotica" than as a case history.
Although this case history was recorded over eleven years ago, I remember these clients as if it happened yesterday. As I am writing this in my home-office, I can't help but stare at the same couch that this amazing husband and wife sat on during his therapy sessions and wonder to myself about the private lives of the people in my community – lives that only a handful of people really get a glimpse into. SPS February, 2006
The Shoebox – Chapter 1: Joe Powell.
It was a sunny morning in late spring. The verdant foliage from my side yard was projecting a green glow through the curtains of my office and the moist scent of budding plants wafted through the window. I must have been reviewing my notes for my afternoon sessions when the phone rang. I remember distinctly that it was a woman's voice, obviously a secretary, and obviously well trained, who first spoke to me.
"Dr. Sharp? Susan P. Sharp?"
"Yes" I answered trying to place the voice.
"Mr. Joseph Powell is on the line for you doctor, will you hold please."
Although my clients tend to be rather wealthy, I was surprised that a "new" patient would have the nerve to ask his personal secretary to call a marital and family therapist for an initial discussion. This is for two reasons. First, most people, no matter how callous, are not prone to tell their personal secretary that they are having marital problems. Second, it is not the most endearing way to impress your new therapist, who may or may not decide to take your case.
Although I was getting slightly annoyed waiting for Mr. Powell to pick up the line, I admit I was intrigued by a man who had the audacity, or perhaps stupidity, to begin a clinical relationship this way.
"Dr. Sharp?" Joe Powell's voice was deep and authoritative. He sounded like a man who was used to getting his own way. I immediately felt defensive and got my back up. I answered in a voice that was not as understanding and sympathetic as usual.
"Yes, Mr. Powell. What can I do for you?" The tone of my voice made it sound as if perhaps I thought that he was trying to sell me a mutual fund.
"Dr. Sharp, I have been referred to you by a former patient of yours, Ray Block."
I tried to search my memory. The name 'Ray Block" was not familiar. I scribbled the name down so that I could go through my confidential files and recall who that patient was.
"Yes Mr. Powell, but how can I help you?"
"I need to see a therapist - a marital therapist. There is a problem with my marriage."
I am ashamed to admit that my thoughts at that moment, for whatever reason, were not very therapeutic. I imagined Mr. Powell as one of those self-absorbed, "power-husbands" so common in our neighborhood. Men whose job and business come first and whose family comes second. I imagined poor Mrs. Powell in an apron trying to get her husband's attention at the breakfast table while he reads the Wall Street Journal, oblivious to the fact that she is a woman with needs and feelings. However, I have been a therapist long enough to know that my attitudes and feelings have no bearing on the truth of any matter or what my clients may need. I answered cautiously:
"Mr. Powell. I really am not interested in taking on new clients at this time. My schedule is full, and in a few weeks I begin teaching a six-week seminar at Rutgers. All these things will take up an inordinate amount of my time. I couldn't possibly . . ."
"Dr. Sharp, you must see me, even if it is only once." With that exclamation, Mr. Powell began to sob into the phone.
Oh no, now what have I done! I was not behaving very professionally. I paused and listened to the silence at the other end of the line. For some reason, my heart softened. My calendar book was on the desk in front of me and I scanned today's schedule. Rather than dismiss Mr. Powell I made a quick decision:
"Mr. Powell, I see that I have a cancellation this afternoon at 4:30. If you really need to see me, clear your calendar and come over. If not, maybe you need to make a few calls to other therapists."
"No, Ray says that you are the best. I must see you. I will be there at 4:30 this afternoon, Dr. Sharp. Thank you. Thank you very much."
Like a seasoned businessman, Mr. Powell hung up before I could change my mind or somehow wheedle out of the appointment I had just granted him. I was quite annoyed with myself. I didn't have any permanent openings for new clients at the time and the fact that one of my patients cancelled this afternoon didn't mean that I had any time in my schedule to take on a new one. I had done this before and regretted it. I allow a patient to have just one session, feel sorry for their plight and then overextend my schedule and my practice. Some therapist I am! Why can't I just learn to say "NO"?
* * * *
It was 4:15 that afternoon before I had a chance to check my client file lists. First I checked for "Powell" and there was no previous entry under that name. Then I checked for "Block". Ah, Pricilla and Raymond Block. That was years ago! I went to my file cabinets and pulled their dossier, laid it on top of the open draw and flipped open the file jacket.
The Blocks were a well known couple, now divorced. How could I forget the story of Pricilla Block? "Still waters run deep" I whispered to myself as I closed the file and put it back into place. I began to grin and then felt guilty. Now that was an interesting case! I was sure that Mr. Powell's problems would be nowhere near as interesting as the Block case. I sat down and began shuffling my new client forms in preparation for Mr. Powell's appointment still thinking about meek little Pricilla Block.
A knock at my office door woke me from my reverie. The rather handsome and tanned face of Mr. Powell peeked around the closed door. His eyes were dark and piercing and I must admit I was taken in by his physical appearance.
"Ah, Mr. Powell, come in." I rose, smiled and extended my hand.
Mr. Powell quickly and decisively entered the room, closing the door behind him.
"Joe Powell, Dr. Sharp. Thank you so much for giving me this appointment."
"Well, sit down Mr. Powell and we will see what we can do for you . . ."
I gestured to the overstuffed love seat against the wall and sat down in my "therapist chair" in front of my desk. As I shuffled the patient intake forms in my hands, I looked back up at him over my glasses and gave him a wry smile:
"if we can do anything, that is!"
As I handed Mr. Powell the sheath of patient intake forms, I gave him my standard speech and tried to evaluate him. Mr. Powell was quite a handsome guy! About 38 years old I guessed, dark eyes, olive complexion just under six feet tall and obviously athletic. The clothes he wore were understated but expensive. I imagined that he drove here in his BMW or Mercedes. This was a little game I played. By the second session I would know more about Mr. Powell than his wife did!
"So, Mr. Powell . . . "
"Please call me Joe, doctor."
"Alright then, Joe, what brings you here today? I assume you know that I am a marriage and family counselor. My practice is limited solely to that area and you did say that you were having marital problems."
