THE CLIENT
by ladyphoenix
Why was there never a good masseuse around when you needed one?
Kicking her red leather pumps off under her desk, Charlotte grimaced at the ache in her arches, rubbing her feet together in an attempt to relieve it. Tearing several pages of notes from the yellow pad on her desk, she tucked them into a manila folder, put the client's name on the tab and put it in the "FILE" pile. It was the end of the day, she'd seen seven clients with issues ranging from anxiety and depression to one serious case of 'fuck-off-there's-nothing-wrong-with-me-despite-the-serious-problems-I-create-in-my-life' denial, and she was tired.
Not physically tired. For some reason she was practically humming with energy; she was just emotionally and intellectually tired. Tired of listening to excuses and bitching all day long. Tired of having to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of all those rationalizations and complaints, and tired of leading people to solutions they didn't want.
Getting up from her chair, Charlotte went to the one small window of her office, pulling dark curtains closed against slanting rays of hot sunlight. It was almost 6:00, she had one more client to see, and she was looking forward to the half-full bottle of strawberry merlot in her fridge at home, a long, hot bath, and an intimate evening with her vibrator.
That explained the energy, she thought as she went back to the desk, slipping her shoes on. She hadn't dated since 'train wreck Tony' four months before and she needed to get laid. Vibrators and dildos were fine but getting fucked by a living, breathing man with a nice thick cock was so much more satisfying. Fleetingly she thought she might have to post a Craigslist ad for a volunteer when a knock at her office door cut off the idea.
"Come in."
Her assistant and front desk manager, Tess, stuck her head in, smiling. "Hey. Just wanted to let you know your appointment's in the waiting room. Sure you don't need me to stay?"
"No, it's okay. I'm fine. Enjoy your evening."
"Thanks. G'night!'
Tess was moving down the hall toward the employee entrance before Charlotte could answer. It was the normal procedure for Tess to stay in the office if there was a new client coming in this late in the day but Charlotte had already seen this particular gentleman and he was hardly a threat.
Putting on a gracious--if fake--smile, Charlotte went out to the door separating the therapy office from the lobby.
"Mr. Gerald?"
Her client was sitting stiffly in a hard chair in the corner, leaning slightly forward and looking uncomfortable; when she said his name he unfolded his body from the seat and gave her a pressed-lip smile, moving toward then past her and into her office.
"How have you been, Mr. Gerald?"
Taking a seat on one of the oversized leather chairs in her office, he met her glance. "Tom. I told you. Call me Tom."
Nodding, Charlotte closed the office door, taking a seat across from him in a matching chair. She preferred having an informal seating area to meet with clients rather than talking to them across the desk so here they were only about four feet apart, with nothing between the chairs and a thick, dark rug under their feet. Crossing her legs, she adjusted her black skirt just over her knees.
"Okay, Tom it is," she answered, suddenly feeling a bit edgy. She'd been alone with clients before at even later hours, so that wasn't it. He wasn't a new client. But there did seem to be something different about him this evening, starting with the hard irritation in his voice when she hadn't called him by his first name.
Tom Gerald was in his mid-fifties, tall, with a body most women would drool for. Thick, dark hair with some gray at the temples, ice blue eyes, and if his hands and feet were any indication of the size of his...
"Doc?"
His voice shocked her away from the thought.
"Are you upset, Tom? You seem different this evening." Always best to talk about the elephant in the room.
Glancing up quickly, Tom frowned. "Yes. There's something...bothering me."
"Would you like to talk it out?"
He kept his gaze on her, level and intense. Charlotte squirmed, pressing her thighs together under that glare. Something was wrong. The air in the room felt heavy.
"I lied."
Charlotte blinked and her client looked away, relaxing marginally back in his chair. Okay, it wasn't anything serious. He just needed to come clean about something.
"Tom, it's fine. You've only seen me for a few sessions. It's difficult to tell a stranger about all of your struggles. If you didn't feel comfortable sharing something during your assessment, just know that you can share it anytime you like without judgement."
Looking down at his feet, Tom flattened his palms on his thighs before nodding. "I think I should talk about it."
Charlotte didn't answer. Silence is often the most effective tool in therapy so she stayed relaxed and didn't push.
"I have a...an addiction."
She made a soft, accepting murmur to encourage his revelation.
Tom leaned fully back into his chair, sliding his palms to his knees then back until they were high on his thighs. Charlotte fidgeted, unable to keep herself from thinking about the healthy bulge under the placket of his jeans.
"Sex."
She heard herself gasp softly. "I...sorry?"
"I think I'm a sex addict."
Recovering instantaneously, Charlotte put her 'calm, cool therapist' face back on. "I see. What makes you believe that?"
"I think about it constantly."
"You said your last relationship ended about a year ago, yes?
"Right."
"Have you dated since? Had any sexual contacts? It may be that this is nothing more than your need to have some normal sexual activity with a partner."
