In the meantime, here's a tiny taster of, The Relapse...
‘So you’ve missed the past two sessions Jim.’ Jim scanned the room
taking in her books, her framed certificates, her legs, her thighs. She leaned
forward and continued, ‘We finished up last time with you feeling confident
that you had your urges under control, do you remember, Jim?’ Jim remembered all
right. He remembered imagining the smoothness of her thighs against his four
o’clock beard. He remembered looking everywhere but those thighs, trying not to
notice the buttons of her blouse straining slightly when she breathed,
threatening to burst open. He remembered mumbling an agreement to something; he
could guess it would be about counting, breathing, relaxing until those pesky
urges subsided.
‘Good,’ she had said. ‘Good, see you next time.’
He had left and had gone straight to the bathroom to
relieve the built-up tension. It was one of his favourite parts of the sessions;
he saw it as his reward for being so good and not making an out-and-out pass at
the very professional and very sexy therapist, Dr Gaynor Leigh.
‘Jim, please, concentrate. Do you remember?’ Jim caught
her impatient glance and smiled. He tried to recall his “I’ve been a good boy”
speech he’d been rehearsing on the way over on the tube but he was sure he
could see her nipples harden through her blouse...
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