Therapeutic Sessions Ch. 02

On the way back to the restaurant to work our shifts, Steve asked what my plans were for my wayward wife's long-haired, drug-addict boyfriend. I told him I hadn't decided yet, but he was definitely next up.

The truth was, there might not be any immediate retribution. My soon-to-be ex was a loser, just like her boyfriend. But that boyfriend's mother was caring for my children, and regardless of her compensation arrangement, whenever she talked to me when I picked up my kids, she showed remorse - maybe for raising a son that sucked in every way - but also, right below the surface, a certain disgust for her son and my wife.

I had to work. Not only to keep the bills paid, and take care of the children, but also, I'd assumed that Gloria would eventually start divorce procedures, so she could get money from me to support their combined drug habits. That meant I needed Anna, the creep's Mom, at least for a while.

Gloria was dead to me. I only thought about that a little bit, in terms of how fast and easily I lost my love for her, but never dwelled on it. Maybe we were both too young, as many family members had warned. I had, in fact, screwed around with her beautiful bridesmaid, but never actually screwed her. Oh, I'd wanted to. She was better looking, better sculpted, and unusually aggressive as a woman. Some sort of guilt, or maybe apprehension had stopped me just short.

But, as many of my co-workers pointed out, I was still young and had my entire life ahead of me. Of course, my children might put the kibosh on a single lifestyle, but I wasn't really worried about that either. Some of my co-workers, four waitresses, and one bartender offered a "sport-fuck" if I found the need. No strings at all. I'd have to be desperate to fuck someone from work. They'd probably want something in return. At twenty-six, I felt relieved that I found out about my slut of a wife when I did.

My first two sessions with Allison went better than I expected. At that age, I didn't know much about women's fashion or the current hairstyle. I'd heard the word 'frumpy' once, and that was the closest I could come to describing her. After spending a few hours at a time with her, I discovered she was even thinner than I'd originally thought. She was also tall, about an inch over my six feet. But her smile was a thing to behold. It warmed my heart, and immediately afterward, my groin.

At the end of our second meeting, Allison asked me what I thought about joining a group. I told her there wasn't any time for that in my schedule. She didn't relent and let me know that the group consisted of five women, and in retail grocery like Gloria. All suffering a loss of some sort, which included cheating spouses, and besides how much good she thought it would do me, she said I'd be helping the women with the lone man's perspective. I finally gave in.

I reluctantly accepted. I told her. "But if it cuts into my kids' time, or I don't find it useful, I'll need you to help me bow out gracefully, okay?"

"I can do that." She replied sincerely. "I think that's about it for today, then."

"Hey," I raised my voice accusingly. "I've still got ten minutes."

Allison looked at the clock on the side table. "Well, there's not much we can get into now."

"Twenty minutes," I said stoically.

"What?" she looked at me, not understanding.

"You owe me twenty minutes," I repeated. "I'm paying by the hour."

"Ah," she chuckled. "I see. Okay, I owe you twenty so when we get into something hot and heavy, I'll give you the time back."

Allison:

Dane was healing. It was a slow process, but it was obvious to anyone who'd noticed.

Sometimes I took my successes and my failures personally. That was my Achilles Heel when it came to my job. Thankfully, I was aware. I'd talk about it with my therapist occasionally. Yes, therapists have a network of other therapists they can talk to. The mental aspect of helping others often takes the same toll on us that massage therapists feel, although theirs is physiological. It's not uncommon for people who do massage to experience a transference of pain, and sometimes to the same affected area as the patient. My practice was doing well, and I needed to stay safe and sane.

Betsy Rivers was my go-to. We'd talked numerous times about my competitive nature as a child, in sports. I needed to measure things - who was winning and who was losing. I needed to know the score, and I felt a deep sense of pride when I ascertained that I was winning.

Besides my private sessions with Dane, the new group was doing exceptionally well. The four women had started quite shyly until they realized that Dane wasn't a threat. As they began to open up, they also began to ask, even encouraging Dane's input. Most often it was done under the guise of 'hearing the man's opinion.' But I could see them making mental notes too, hoping to learn something from Dane in a safe environment, that might help them in their next relationship.

Linda was the group's elder stateswoman. She was forty-four and had lost her husband to a rare cancer a few years earlier. The women, and even Dane, seemed enthralled to listen to her life story. The way she spoke of Earl, he walked on water.

The rest of the group's women were in the same boat as Dane, cheated on by a spouse. Sue, Desi, and Maricella were all between twenty-four and twenty-nine years old.

As the Fourth of July approached, the group was feeling a little downtrodden. They didn't feel like celebrating and had no real prospects to spend the day with. That spurned an idea in my head. At the last meeting in June, I asked if we could all get together at the local beach park, on the day before the Fourth. We'd build a bonfire, bring a potluck, and have our group session there, and then set off some small legal fireworks. After a moment of them all looking around the room, everyone agreed.

I worked on some group exercises, even digging out some of my college textbooks. The setting would be conducive to leading a chant, which was something I'd always wanted to do. Rob even showed interest in my sudden perky mood. He agreed to accompany me with the kids in the early afternoon to help set up and collect driftwood for the fire. Only after there was nothing left to do, and he was about to take the children home for dinner, did he ask a poignant question.

"Is it just me," he asked, "or is tonight's session a bit unorthodox?"

I was thrown off balance at first, but as I recovered, It struck me that I'd never had a session quite like this before. "I don't think so, Rob," I answered honestly. "I haven't had this lively and well-connected of a group before. We've made great progress in a short time, and the holiday was creating a downer. They feed off each other - both positively and negatively - so I had to do something."

"Just checking, babe," he said with a smile. "You talk about transference and maintaining a professional distance, so I just thought I'd remind you of your own rules."

I took offense to his comment right away, and I know it must have shown on my face. I did my best to recover quickly though. He was right, of course, and he was looking out for me, as always.

We shared a nice tight hug, and a long kiss, well, long for having the kids staring at us. With the kids teasing with 'ah, gross' calls, Rob was off. I promised not to be too late.

The party was successful from the start. Each of my clients had put some thought and attention into the dishes they brought. Linda seemed a little looped when she arrived, and I got into her space a few times to see if I could smell alcohol on her breath, but I couldn't.

We shared in a circle around the fire, and I led them in some appropriate discussion. Things like what they had to be thankful for. In the chant, at dusk, I asked them to envision a happy future life and then after a break, anyone who wanted to share could. Then we'd do some fireworks, which turned out to be a box of sparklers that only one person - Dane - brought.

When we all sat down after the chant things began to go sideways. Linda pulled out a joint and lit it without fanfare. Before I could even say anything, she passed it left to Sue. Dane said he'd take only a couple of hits because he needed to be up early, and Maricella declined. Dane passed the joint to me, and I simply passed it back to Linda without a word.

"You sure?" Linda asked as she took it from my hand.

"Yeah," I finally found my authoritative voice. "I'm not too sure that should be part of our meeting tonight."

Linda shrugged, and said, "Well, this isn't an official group session anyway."

The minute the joint was consumed, Linda was at it again. She stood and removed her top, which highlighted her petite braless upper body. For forty-four, Linda was an incredible-looking woman, other than her dark tanned, and alligator-like skin. She didn't believe in sunblock.

"Well, if I wait any longer," she announced, "it'll be too cold." She ran the twenty or thirty feet to the ocean, pulling her shorts down as she went. By the time she jumped into the wake, Linda was naked except for her tiny panties.

When I broke my gaze on Linda, I happened to look right at Dane, who was studying me carefully. By then, Linda was calling out to the others to join her. Trying to get some hold of the situation, I looked scornfully at Maricella and Sue.

"This isn't a good idea," I told them. I'd lost control of the night and still, a part of me wanted to let them have their fun.

"Don't be a downer," Sue said sympathetically. "We've had an incredible night, largely because of you. No one's going to get into any trouble or put your license in jeopardy. It's just a bit of fun, and I for one, am feeling more mellow than I have in a long time."

Both women stood and simultaneously reached a hand out to Dane, who was still sitting.

"Come on young man," Maricella teased. "We won't bite, but the sharks might."

Dane's nonverbal demeanor was begging me to intercede. For reasons, I'll never understand, I didn't.

My inaction seemed to stir his bravado. He got up and turned away towards the water, allowing the women to drag him along.

I sat there, glued to my towel, watching the other two women shed their tops and Sue, her bra. Dane pulled off his shorts and shirt, entering the water in his boxers. Like a voyeur I simply stayed rooted watching them all standing in the waist-deep water, all gathered closely. Too closely.

Some splashing ensued, and then some light roughhousing. I got up and walked towards them, the dusk turning to darkness. At the water's edge, I was sure I could make out roaming hands beneath the water's surface. Everyone was laughing uncontrollably, and then Linda went into the water until just her face was above. Dane hollered while the girls shouted in tandem.

"Pants him, Pants him!" they shouted. Sue and Marcella hooked one of Dane's arms on each side, pulling him off balance, and against their near-naked bodies. Linda shot up, looking quite proud of herself. The girls helped him upright again, and I could hear him chastising Linda.

She came running out of the water. I didn't see them at first. It wasn't until she walked past me, that I noticed she held Dane's boxers in her left hand. She winked at me.

"Looks like I got a souvenir," she giggled, high and staggering. Sue and Maricella were standing very close to Dane. Maricella started coming onto the beach, but Sue and Dane remained quite still. Then Sue came running out of the water, laughing.

Dane began hollering at Linda. The girls were taunting him cruelly. I finally found my voice.

"Okay," I commanded. "That's enough. Give him his underwear, Linda."

Sue and Maricella were already drying themselves as Linda came to stand by me with a towel.

"No way," She said playfully. "Sue gave him a boner and I want to see it! Then he can have a towel." Turning to an embarrassed Dane in the water, she said, "Come on Dane the vein! Let me see what you've got. Just a little peek, I promise."

Again I was slow on the draw. In fairness to myself, this was uncharted territory for me. Was it a party, or a counseling session? I'd certainly spent the better part of a week thinking about it as a party. I knew, yes, knew it wasn't. In the vacuum of me not taking charge, Dane became frustrated and took Linda up on her challenge.

God help me, I didn't want to look. I knew what was about to happen in that split second, and everything in my professional brain told me to look away. Instead, I stared like the others. Dane's anger was already causing his erection to wane, but even in the blinking light of the flames, it was easy to see that Dane was just as beautiful from the waist down as he was from the waist up. Nothing huge, nothing out of place, no visible birthmarks or oddities, just sheer beauty.

The first thing I did as my gaze left Dane's lower half, was to look him in the eye. I don't think I'll ever forget the hurt I found there. He didn't need to say I'd betrayed him - sold him out - it was right there in his eyes and expression.

Linda had been quick with the towel. She proceeded to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, only because Dane turned before she could catch his lips. That's when she noticed and began apologizing. Despite her words, it was clear that they lacked integrity and sincerity.

Dane picked up his shorts and shirt while trying to keep the towel in place with his free hand.

He gave me a last evil look, and then turned and started walking down the beach. Linda went to go after him, and I stepped in front of her.

"Let him go," I ordered.

By that time, Sue and Maricella, who'd been dressing by the fire, noticed what happened. The questions came in hot and heavy as Linda and I approached them. All three women then started apologizing to me.

"Save it for Dane," I admonished. "He's the one who deserves it." I sat heavily on my towel, rubbing my temples with my hands. Such a wonderful night had turned into a childish schoolyard hazing in just moments.

I could faintly see Dane in the dark, dressing and then coming back towards the group.

"Here's your chance," I told all three women. "What you did was cruel and hurtful to a member of our group. I expect you to respond to him appropriately."

Dane wouldn't look at any of us. He gathered the bowls he'd brought his meal contribution in and gathered his own towel while throwing Linda's down onto the sand. Sue wanted him to stop so she could say sorry, and she made the mistake of latching onto Dane's arm.

"Get your hands off of me, bitch," Dane spat at her. Sue was so shocked she let go immediately and recoiled. The women all at once tried to atone, ask forgiveness, and beg him to stay, as they got Dane's back. They were still at it, for at least a minute after Dane was out of hearing range.

There was a long silence around the bonfire. I was struggling to say something meaningful as the group's leader. I had no idea if I'd ever see Dane again, and that thought almost consumed me. Finally, shivering and shaking it off, I addressed the others.

"We have a lot to make up for," I told them. "When I see you this week, we'll be discussing how this happened, and your feelings. It's going to take a lot of soul-searching before you can provide Dane with any sense of remorse or regret, and just maybe earn his forgiveness."

There was more silence and then, as one, we began to pack up our belongings. The twelve-pack of sparklers that Dane had purchased for all of us, was never lit. The women seemed unable to decide what to do with them. Finally, Maricella offered to take them home since she was a single mom.

My drive home was riddled with guilt. I pulled over twice and cried. I tried to calm down and replay what had happened in my mind. Once the tears were shed, and I got my shame under control, I tried to think about how I could salvage the situation. Besides trying to make amends, I could be in real trouble if Dane wanted it. I'd sanctioned this impromptu session/ party.

Of all the mistakes I'd made that night, the biggest by far was not going home and talking to my husband, admitting what had happened, and gaining his input. At that moment, and immersed in the rawness, I was embarrassed - ashamed of myself.

Rob could tell something was wrong right away. He tried to console me and asked what happened. I feigned exhaustion, and when he kept on me, I made another huge mistake. I lied to my husband. As far as I can remember, it was the first big lie I'd ever told him.

"Things went horribly wrong," I began. "you know I can't discuss specifics, Rob. Let's just say I have a lot of work to do, and I've misread some of the inter dynamics of the group." It was a half-lie, but a lie nonetheless. Rob left me alone and I went to bed, as he held and comforted me.

Dane:

After my horrible night at the beach, the message I received at nearly seven the next night was beyond welcome. I knew Gloria had gone back to work and was on the night shift for a month. That meant that sooner or later, her dipshit boyfriend would go out and party without her. The Fourth of July, and the idiot couldn't even go to watch the fireworks. The restaurant and bar business was a tight community, and I had my feelers out weeks before. When I got the call, the next thing to do was to get ahold of a few buddies from my basketball league. It is the one I participated in before becoming a single, working dad.

Both Chuck - Chuckster on the court - and Rodney were happy to help if it didn't take long. They had plans for the holiday, like most others. I told them where to meet me, and we discussed a quick game plan in the parking lot.

I expected I'd have to draw him out of the bar, and that whomever he was drinking with would follow him out. After all, he hated me as much as I hated him.

My concerns were moot. J - as he called himself, not Jay - was sitting in a dark booth with a woman. I was pushing that description. She was younger than Gloria, by the looks of her, probably a barely legal teen. Fucking dirtbag.

"Hey dirtbag," I said sarcastically as I made about half the distance between him and the door. "I'm pretty sure you have a bunch of flat tires." I turned and walked away. The idiot was out of his seat like a shot, never considering I might be baiting him.

I hit the exit just moments before he did. Once I had about five feet of distance, I turned to face him. He never saw my guys on either side of the doorway. I kept walking backward as he approached, with evil in his eyes, trying to get as far into the parking lot as possible. J was big, a lot bigger than me. He'd likely been intimidating people with his size since grade school. One of his club-like arms went up as if to deliver a haymaker, and Chuckster grabbed his arm, while Rodney almost lifted him off the ground, grabbing under his other arm. He was duck-walked to the hood of his car, in stunned silence. I guess he wasn't expecting to meet anyone bigger than him.

As my two friends held his arms out to either side of the hood, I climbed onto his back. "Listen good, loser," I pulled his hair back and said it into his ear. I also pulled my blade and held it to that same ear. "You're going to do as you're told. If you don't, my friends and plenty more of them will be back to fuck you up permanently, while I'm at some party across town with dozens of witnesses.

"I've got nothing to lose, even if caught. Your gonna dump that bitch, in exactly one month. If you want to keep fucking her until then, go ahead. You'll know when she gets the divorce papers. You'll dump her, and then you'll side with your mother when my attorney calls you to court. I want my kids, and I'm trading your life for them. Don't get any stupid ideas. Your mom is doing a good job taking care of them, and you never will. Got it?"