All characters are over the age of 18
Sophie sat quietly on the bench of squeaky leather while Tim kept skimming through his cell phone. She didn’t want to scramble to put her phone back into her purse and be ready when they’d barely arrived on time. The instructions had been clear; arrive promptly at 3:00 and wait in the foyer. No need to call or announce their presence, just be there on time. Tim had scoffed at her frantic pleas to hurry when they departed their apartment with nary a minute to spare. They were always late because he never thought it was a big deal. However, today he seemed less confident of the forgiving nature of their hosts.
The stark white walls devoid of any pictures or art with the lone black bench felt intentionally uncomfortable. The bench was too small, barely able to hold two people, and the walls were so white with the fluorescent lights gleaming against their paint it was hard to look at. And then there was the most ominous feature: two identically sized doors within a foot of each other, paired in a way that seemed to imply a choice would be made. Which door would you take, the left or the right?
There was a creaking sound on the floor, and Tim’s head whipped up. Sophie sat up straighter, facing the doors, readying to face whatever approached.
Footsteps were clearly heard now, and a second later the door on the right opened. A woman with chestnut colored hair and large brown eyes peered around the door. She looked at Sophie and smiled warmly; her face was pleasant and attractive. Tim brightened up seeing the appealing host, while the woman barely seemed to acknowledge him.
“Mrs. Turner?” she asked with a calm smile, her eyes looking at Sophie.
“Yes, I- “, she started when the woman cut her off.
“And this must be Mr. Turner?” she asked, taking a step out of the doorway. The woman was wearing a professional outfit comprised of a billowy white blouse and a trim pencil skirt, but something was different about it. The black skirt was tight, her glossy high heels higher than expected for the average executive. Tim noticed it too, becoming unusually quiet as the woman waited for his answer. He could only nod dumbly in reply.
“We will each take you back separately, and then do a session with both of you at the end. Does that make sense?”
Sophie glanced at Tim, who seemed none bothered by the quixotic woman’s instructions. She nodded at the woman, who smiled again.
“Good, let us get started then. Mrs. Turner, my partner will be out shortly to take you back, while Mr. Turner please come with me,” she motioned for him to follow her as she stood there holding the ominous door open.
Tim stood up a little too eagerly, giving Sophie a quick smile with his eyebrows raised as if to say, “here goes nothing.”
He bounded into the room without even glancing back at his wife. The woman gave Sophie one last serene smile and slowly closed the door behind her.
The room went back to its sterile quiet, leaving Sophie to wait on the bench. Her heart rate started to tick up, her body already feeling the urge to flee when she reminded herself why she was there. These people were professionals, experts in their field, and she needed expert help. She’d asked for the best, and her therapist had recommended this as an alternative to the couple’s therapy that was going nowhere. Tim didn’t want to talk about their issues or even admit there were issues. Six years of marriage was not something to throw away, not after all the time Sophie had invested, not after everything she’d sacrificed to make it work. So now they were here in an odd establishment of supposed expertise, ready to get better.
Sophie was trying to be patient- but it felt like at least ten minutes had passed, when finally the other door on the left opened. A professional-looking man dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks stood in the doorway, gazing out at Sophie with an expression not exactly pleasant, but like his female counterpart- attractive.
“Mrs. Turner?” he questioned in a low, smooth voice that seemed to reverberate across the floor and into Sophie’s belly.
“Yes, hi,” she chirped, standing up.
The man smiled and motioned her into his room, closing the solid wood door behind them. The inner room was small, only slightly bigger than the stifling waiting room, but in contrast, the walls were painted a dark blue as opposed to the stark white of the waiting area. It was sparsely furnished- a small square table with two wooden chairs, a small black chest, and a velvet settee. The table and chest were set against one wall, and the narrow velvet settee was on the opposite wall.
Sophie walked into the middle of the room and stopped, her footsteps clicking on the wood floor that creaked slightly. The man turned around and closed the door, leaving Sophie feeling claustrophobic in the small room.
He took a step towards her, gesturing towards the table. “Please, take a seat.”
She nodded, quickly sitting down in one uşak escort of the wooden chairs while he sat on the opposite side of the table. For a moment he said nothing, just staring at Sophie with an inquiring gaze of steely blue. His dark blond hair was cut moderately, long enough to be swept back with a push of one’s hand, but short enough to keep a neat appearance. Despite wearing the requisite professional shirt and slacks, there was something raw coming through the polished exterior. He wasn’t wearing a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a tan patch of skin. Sitting opposite of him just out of arm’s reach was close enough to make Sophie feel warm underneath her thin cashmere sweater.
“My name is Sebastian,” he began, “and you already met my partner Dauphine.”
Sophie smiled weakly, trying to acknowledge his statement.
“You have been referred to our service for both you and your spouse, is that correct?”
She nodded, too nervous to speak just yet.
“Before we begin, please be aware of a few policies. Each session is unique and tailored to your specific concerns based on the online questionnaire you filled out, as well as the information supplied to us by your clinician. Your privacy, and your safety, are of utmost importance. That said, progress is not without discomfort. You are here because there is something you need to resolve. Without your cooperation, this progress cannot be achieved. I will ask you to explore things that you have been loath to disturb. But know that I cannot, and will not, do anything without first asking your consent.”
He paused with a calm but firm expression, his voice revealing a slight accent that Sophie couldn’t place.
“Lastly, we only allow one session each per client. One session with myself, and one session with Dauphine. There are various reasons for this, that I’m sure you understand.”
Sophie nodded again.
“If you are agreed to those terms, we may begin.”
He was staring at her, waiting for recognition. Sophie noticed how quiet the room was, the way his voice came out into the air but stayed there without an echo, and how she could hear nothing from the room next door. The blue walls contained some type of soundproofing, a fact that made her uneasy.
“I will need your verbal agreement, Sophie,” he stated patiently.
“Of course, sorry. I agree,” she gushed, feeling her pulse tick up when he said her name.
“Good, let us begin,” he said, taking a deep breath. For a moment Sophie thought he was going to stand up because of the way his body seemed to tense, flexed for movement, only to stay put. He was getting ready for something, for what she didn’t know.
Leaning back in his chair, he glanced at Sophie with a casual tilt of his head.
“What foods do you like, Sophie?”
“What foods do I like?” she repeated.
“Yes, such as what cuisine or favorite dishes?”
“Oh, uh, lots of things. I love Thai food and Indian food, sushi-“
“How often do you enjoy those foods?” he cut in.
“Probably once or twice a month. We don’t eat out that often. Usually it’s takeout. “
“Is that acceptable to you? To have something you clearly enjoy so rarely?” he cut in again, his gray eyes gazing at her quizzically.
“I guess,” she sighed, seeing where this was heading. “I don’t always get much of a choice.”
“But you do Sophie. You always have a choice.”
“You clearly haven’t met my husband,” she mumbled, immediately fatigued by the subject that she’d already discussed repeatedly (and without much progress) with her therapist.
Sebastian paused in thought, studying her. He glanced at the table, tapping a hand lightly on the surface.
“What foods does your husband like?”
She could almost chuckle at his creative tactic. “Hamburgers, pizza, macaroni and cheese.”
“Do you not like those foods?”
“They’re ok, I just get tired of them,” she sighed.
“And you are willing to accept those foods, in lieu of something more… flavorful, rather than not eat at all?”
It was her turn to give him a pointed look. “Yes.”
Sebastian’s eyes softened for just a moment, a look of sympathy. “But once you’ve eaten, you discover you are not sated. Inside you are starving.”
Sophie could only nod again, feeling her throat tighten. Sebastian remained quiet, watching her wrangle her emotions.
“I don’t mean to be… demanding, it’s not that. It’s just… I feel like he never… he could keep eating no matter who it was. As long as he’s… sated.”
She kept looking down at her lap, waiting for the lump to clear from her throat before she looked up.
“What does your husband say when you tell him what you want?” he asked softly.
Sophie didn’t answer, feeling so utterly pathetic and stupid that she could not tell her husband what she wanted, what she needed. Sebastian watched her take a deep breath, blinking away her humiliation before she looked up at him. It surprised her to see uşak escort bayan his expression- not one of annoyance or impatience, not the exasperated look her therapist donned when Sophie admitted how hard it was just to talk with Tim and to say the things she felt. Instead, it was a very calm and concerned look.
“I’ve tried to… show him what I want. Without success.”
“Then tell me, what it is you want.”
She glanced away, noticing she could still not hear anything from the room Tim was in with Dauphine.
“Anything at all. Something you think is insignificant, but something you deserve regardless,” he implored, leaning forward to make her look at him.
She shook her head when he said the word ‘deserve’.
“Sophie…” he said her name with his lush accent, sending a tickle up the back of her neck. “You will not be refused if you tell me.”
Suddenly she met his eyes, startled by his statement. “What do you mean?”
“That is what you are here for, are you not?” he asked smoothly.
“I needed- we needed help with…” she sputtered, her cheeks turning pink as she followed his logic.
“Everything that occurs within this room is confidential, and will remain so unless you choose to share it with your spouse,” he explained.
“Everything?” she repeated, still in disbelief.
He nodded, staring at Sophie with the penetrating gaze. “What… do YOU… want?”
The quiet, sound-proofed room held his question aloft like a loaded weapon, his attractive face willing to listen. And to respond. Dauphine was next door with Tim, possibly asking just such a question, waiting for his answer.
She tried not to be mortified, thinking of something basic. “How about just a… kiss?”
“Where?” he asked, not missing a beat, while Sophie was thrown. Seeing her confusion and hesitancy, he repeated himself. “Where do you want me to kiss you?”
She brought a hand up to her neck, right at the crux of her neck and shoulder.
“Don’t show me, tell me,” he instructed with a firm authority that was at once gentle but hinted there was more power underneath his low voice.
“My… neck,” she finally blurted.
“Do what to your neck?” he asked with a taciturn expression. He wanted her to spell it out explicitly.
“Please, kiss my neck,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes down.
He stood up and approached. Sophie turned in her seat on the wooden chair when he took her hand and pulled her up onto her feet. She felt her heart pounding, the peppery scent of his aftershave being inhaled as he stood in front of her. He gazed down at her, watching her as she kept her eyes straight ahead, almost too mortified to see the man who was asking her what she wanted him to do, to her. He leaned down, placing his face just beside Sophie’s ear.
“You did not need to say please,” he whispered with his lips almost brushing her skin, his hand coming up as if he was going to caress her face, but then descended harmlessly onto her shoulder.
A few tortuous moments of waiting passed before his lips made contact with her neck. The kiss was light, both the top and bottom lip making the expected pucker. He pulled away, seeming to wait to see how Sophie reacted. The kiss had been nice, but achieved little when her nerves competed with arousal.
Looking up his eyes met hers, and Sophie felt the flutter of nerves jostling in her stomach, but also the tension inside her reacting to his intense gray-blue. He was watching her, a sly smile on his face. He knew she wanted more, and was making her ask for it.
“Kiss me again,” she stated, trying to be brave but looking away when she said it. And before he could correct her, Sophie added, “On the lips.”
His smile became more of a grin. “If that is what you want,” he stated politely.
“Did Dr. Carter say that I shouldn’t- ” she asked anxiously.
He cut her off, leaning in closer to the side of her face again. “Do not worry about Dr. Carter. Do not worry for me, or Mr. Turner. Ask for what you truly want.”
Sophie could only stutter, trying to take in his information, hearing some truth to it, but also disagreeing.
“I can’t just ignore what the other person wants,” she stated. “And I don’t want to just be… pleasured. I need…I want them to seem like they want me.”
“What should one do, to say that they want you?”
He waited again patiently, wanting the instruction.
“Kiss me on the lips,” she demanded quietly, “like you mean it.”
His eyes flashed in response, pleased that she was finally getting somewhere. A tilt of his head and the strands of his hair brushed across her cheek as he went in for the kiss. It was another polite kiss, light, but he hesitated on her lips, waiting. Sophie kissed him back with more intensity, tilting her own head. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone besides Tim that it took her a moment to recalibrate to a stranger’s technique. Sebastian was gentler, avoiding Tim’s annoying habit of forcing escort uşak Sophie to tip her head back when he thought he was being more fervent.
She kept kissing when Sebastian’s lips parted, just a subtle crack of his lips. Sophie liked that, the invitation but not the invasion into her mouth. She kissed back, sliding her tongue forward, and he flicked back. And then it was the kiss that she really wanted. The tilt of his head now combined with his hand on her cheek, holding her, while he kissed her so deeply and passionately that she could feel her insides tightening. Her whole body responded, an energy coursed through her and became an ache that called out for release. This was the kiss she not only wanted, but needed.
When he separated, she unintentionally swayed forward, not wanting to stop. The glint in his eyes had obviously caught that, but the lesson still had to continue.
“Did you feel I meant it?” he asked, knowing damn well she did.
“Did you like it?” she countered, getting a sly smile out of him.
“Would it be less pleasurable if I didn’t enjoy it?” he asked, getting to another kernel of truth.
She nodded in thought, glancing up at his very attractive face that would at the very least embarrass her if he didn’t like his therapeutic exercise. “Yeah, it would.”
He held her eyes, a moment of blue searching hers, and he answered.
“I enjoyed it. Very much.”
For the first time, she smiled back, believing him. He remained only a step back from her, waiting.
“What would you want next?”
She gave him a skeptical glance, unsure how far he was allowed to go, or wanted to go. Seeing her question on her face, he clarified.
“Tell me what you are starving for.”
Sophie was at a loss; suddenly a kid in a candy store. His eyes were full of temptation, his body full of promise. And she wanted everything.
Her mind went to assessing her surroundings, and the practicality of the furnishings. She took up the hem of her sweater and pulled off the silky cashmere that felt too warm. When she emerged from the shirt, still wearing the thin cotton tank top that had been underneath it, Sebastian was staring at her.
“Do you want me to undress you?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.
“Yes,” she blurted, then remembered the exercise, “I want you to take off my tank top.”
He took a step forward, ready to oblige, when she added, “But first, I want you to kiss me again. On the lips.”
Sebastian’s lips curled up into a reserved grin, his hand already on the hem of her shirt. He leaned in for the kiss, letting his lips slide across Sophie’s, a kiss that she repeated as he slowly tugged up the cotton tank. He paused as he came to the peak of her breasts, using both hands to gently pull it up, forcing Sophie to separate from his lips. Extending her arms up, she waited to feel the cotton brush over her skin, closing her eyes as he gently pulled her hands free. Her long ponytail accidentally snagged on the tank until he untangled it. The feel of his fingers briefly going through her hair sent another flutter through her stomach.
When she opened her eyes, he’d just tossed her shirt down on the table, remaining close enough that his slacks brushed up against her legs. His eyes glanced down at her remaining garments: a short corduroy skirt and knit tights to keep her legs warm in the chilly weather outside. Her bra also remained, but that was easy enough to get around. Sebastian waited patiently for his next instruction, a serene smile on his face, but his eyes simmered.
“I want-” she took a breath, “you to… take off your shirt.”
He paused just long enough that she wasn’t sure he would, or could, do that.
“I’m sorry, is that- ” she started, when he brought his hands up to the top button of his shirt and slowly started undoing the buttons, keeping his face down to focus on the task.
He pulled apart the crisp white material, finally meeting her eyes again as he shrugged out of the sleeves, revealing his smooth muscled chest as opposed to the soft, pale belly of Tim. Sophie could feel her lips fall open, her mouth suddenly dry.
Despite her appreciative stare, Sebastian remained a modest step away.
“I would like- ” she began, garnering a tilt of Sebastian’s head with a disapproving frown. She began again, trying to hold her head up higher. “I want more kissing. On my lips, and my neck.”
His pleased expression with a sly smile only added to the appeal of his shirtless body stepping back up to Sophie’s. A careful hand came up to lightly hold her chin while he kissed her repeatedly, soft tender kisses that gradually went across her cheek, below her ear, at the bend in her jaw, and down her neck. He nuzzled into her skin so lightly and perfectly, his hair brushing against her as he kissed away, making her breath come faster. In order to keep balance, the hand on her chin had shifted down to the shoulder adjacent to his lips, and her next request came forth easily.
“Pull down my bra,” she muttered, “and keep kissing… down.”
Sebastian tilted his head up, raising a sultry eyebrow as his finger traced the line of her bra strap. “Just down?”
He knew what she meant, but again just wanted her to use her words. Embarrassing words but important nonetheless.