I was sitting in the waiting area of her office. My appointment was for six, her last of the day, but I was there early. I sat down in the waiting area. It was small, one couch and a chair with a coffee table. Soft music played through hidden speakers, just loud enough to maintain the privacy of her clients. A few magazines on the table, mostly untouched as people preferred their phones these days. I sat mindlessly flipping through mine and zoned out until the door across from me opened. An attractive woman in her mid-40s walked out. I had never seen her before, but she gave me a knowing smile and what looked like a wink before exiting through the other door to my right without so much as another glance in my direction. I was confused, but a moment later she appeared at the office door and invited me inside.
"Thank you for seeing me so late, Doctor," I said as I took a seat in the overstuffed leather chair across from her.
"Please, call me Jennifer, I'm a therapist, not a doctor. And really, it's no problem seeing you this late, in fact I prefer this time for our sessions," she smiled warmly at me as she sat down and picked up her notes.
She was Jennifer Nicholson, my therapist. She was about 5'4" with long brown hair, a sweet empathic face and a body that can only be described as voluptuous. Her clothes were modest, but well fitted and did little to hide her impressive F-cup breasts, wide hips and shapely, 42" behind. I had started seeing her a few weeks prior to help treat my masturbation addiction. She came highly recommended and every review was filled with glowing praise for her methods, professionalism, everything. I was already reluctant about seeing a female therapist about such a personal, sexual problem and when I met her in person and saw how attractive she was, I almost backed out. She managed to convince me to stay, and through our last four sessions, she has learned as much as possible about my sexuality. She know what turns me on, what turns me off, what types of women I'm attracted too, what kind of porn I look at and how often I masturbate. I've become very comfortable talking with her about these subjects over this short time. During our last session, we discussed treatment, and she suggested hypnosis. I was reluctant, but she managed to convince me like she always does, and so one week later, here we are. I'm a little nervous, but one look at her reassuring smile already has me relaxed.
"Now, before we get started today, I want to make sure you are completely comfortable and you don't have any more lingering doubts or questions," she says.
I take a deep breath and think for a moment. "I think I'm ready doc--I mean Jennifer," I say, catching myself before she could scold me again.
"Good," she says as she straightens herself. Her posture and expression project confidence and authority. "Now sit back, close your eyes and listen carefully." Her voice takes on a gentle, relaxing cadence.
"Breathe deeply now. Deep breath in, all the way in." I sat, eyes closed, full breath in my lungs. "Hold it," she tells me. "Just a few more seconds, keep holding it... and exhale slowly. Slowly exhaling. That's good. Now again, breathing in..." I followed along, continuing to breathe in and hold over and over again, until it became a natural way of breathing. She guided me to relax deeper as I felt myself sinking into the plush, oversized chair beneath me. Her words are pleasant and became my anchor point, as everything else around me became less important and almost faded away.
