It is three months since my first appointment with the doctor. Our meeting resulted from a recommendation by a mutual acquaintance. Such is the doctor's esteem and so distinguished are her clients – she abhors the term 'patients' – that I was surprised that she wanted to see me. But she did, and now each Wednesday's visit is the keystone around which I build my week. An oasis of calm during which I can unburden myself of my cares and concerns, as she sits and listens and helps me to a better understanding of myself.
I always arrive early for each session because a visit to her consulting rooms is a joy in itself. The building is a sumptuous homage to an earlier age. The drawing room, which serves as the waiting room, has a high vaulted ceiling, a magnificent fireplace, fine furniture and chairs so soft that one sinks into them. Impressionist paintings adorn the walls and hand-woven silk curtains fringe the windows that look out onto a delightful courtyard. Sitting there, in the comfort of these luxurious surroundings, I like to take a few minutes before my appointment to compose myself.
It was in such a reverie that I sat last Wednesday, awaiting the doctor’s summons. The opening of a door roused me from my daydream.
The doctor smiled welcomingly and held the door for me as I entered. My arm brushed against her and sent a little shiver rippling through me. You must think it rather banal, almost a cliché, that the patient (I mean, of course, the client) should fall for her shrink. I suppose that it is, but then you haven’t met her, have you?
Today Dr Emily Dawson, MRCPsych, DM, was wearing a cream blouse. The soft fabric showed off her small, shapely bosom proudly, the pleated front hiding the nipples that I yearned to stroke. A caramel coloured skirt rustled as she moved, like autumn leaves brushed by the breeze.
'Good to see you again, Annie.' She smiled again and her brown eyes lit up her lovely face. As always, her long blonde hair was clasped in a pony tail. How I longed to free it.
‘And you, Doctor.’
I hung up my jacket.
'Chair or couch?'
'Couch. Thank you.' I slipped off my shoes, rested my head on the cushion and stretched out.
'How have you been, Annie?' asked the doctor, taking her seat beside the couch.
'Good,' I said hesitantly.
'You don't sound certain. What about those dreams? Any more of them lately?'
'One. Last night. It was very vivid.'
'Did it disturb you?'
'Not disturb, exactly. It unsettled me.'
The doctor crossed her slim legs, put on her spectacles and reached for a notepad.
'Why don't you tell me about it?'
I placed my hands on my stomach, took a deep breath and tried to concentrate.
'First I need to tell you about a period in my past.'
'You know the rules, Annie. You can tell me whatever you want.'
I settled back and began to disinter the past – that fateful summer.
'It all goes back to when I was about 18. I was travelling round France with my boyfriend, Jamie. We got to Cannes, and then we had the most appalling row. It was all about something and nothing, but in truth we should never have gone together. Anyway, I stormed off with all my gear. It was only later that I discovered that I'd left most of my money with him. I had only the cash in my pocket. I needed to get home. The only grace was that at least I spoke good French.'
'Yes, your mother's Belgian, isn't she?' asked the doctor.
'Yes,' I said, for some reason ridiculously pleased that she remembered the fact.
'I started hitchhiking. Eventually a young woman in an old Renault van picked me up. She must have been in her thirties. She was lovely, very exotic. We stopped and she bought me a meal. I told her about my predicament and she decided, there and then, that I must stay with her and her partner. The plan was that I would phone home and my parents could send me money to their address. Then I'd continue on my journey by train. I suppose I figured this would take a week or so.
'The woman was called Isobel. She lived in a huge rambling chateau, just north of Aix with an artist. I had thought that her partner must be a man, but when we arrived I was surprised to find that it was another woman, called Zoe.'
‘They were lovers?’
‘At first I didn’t know what the relationship was but once we’d unloaded my gear and done the introductions, they kissed each other on the lips. I didn’t know where to look.’
'What were they like, this couple?' the doctor asked.
'Isobel was beautiful, like a young Jane Birkin, but darker, with shorter, lighter hair. Long brown legs and twinkling, acorn eyes. A little like yours.’
The doctor merely continued writing, as if oblivious to my compliment.
‘She was a real free spirit but tough too. I heard her once negotiating on the phone with an art gallery and she made mincemeat of them. Zoe was much more intense. Dark and brooding, and older. Maybe forty. She too was very attractive, with an athletic figure and an a****l grace in her movements. They were a quite unlikely couple but it was obvious that they were very happy.
'The atmosphere in the house was intoxicating. Hedonistic. It was as if anything was possible. There were no rules except one: provided you didn't hurt others, you owed it to yourself to grasp all of life's pleasures. Zoe was usually up in her studio, often working from morning late into the night. Most of my time was spent with Isobel. Sometimes she’d spend the whole day wandering around, practically undressed. She'd ask me the most intimate questions about Jamie as if they were perfectly normal: Did he make me come? Did he like to go down on me? I'd just laugh them off, but I sort of suspected she was interested in me, you know, amorously. She'd hold my hand when we were out walking, nuzzle up to me and sometimes peck me on the neck when I wasn't looking.
'I think that I was a little in love with her too. At least, I adored being around her and loved her brushing my hair and fooling around when we were swimming in the lake. I wasn't a virgin and being with Jamie had woken a desire and curiosity that startled me. Even so, I knew little enough about making love to a man, let alone a woman.'
'Tell me more about Zoe,' said the doctor, glancing up from her notebook.
‘When I did see her, her behaviour towards me was bizarre. One day she would hardly talk to me, the next she couldn't be more charming, paying me compliments and asking my opinion on everything under the sun. I found her attractive too, but a bit scary, and wondered what they were like together, you know ....' I looked over to the doctor '.... in bed. But I would never have done anything to upset their relationship.'
'Anyway, let me tell you how the dream came about.'
The doctor smiled at me indulgently.
'One afternoon I was looking for Isobel. We'd agreed to go to the lake to swim, but she'd disappeared. I called out for her but there was no answer. So I started searching the house and came to the dining-room. If I had waited for a moment before bursting in, I'd have heard the tell-tale sounds of their lovemaking. But I didn't. I barged in and was struck dumb. I can see it now as though it were a photograph. Isobel was spread naked across the table. Zoe was wearing jeans, but no top. She was leant over Isobel, kissing her breast, her hand was between Isobel’s thighs. Her fingers were fucking – I mean, poking – her and she must have stopped in mid-stroke. Isobel had one hand at her breast and the other between her legs too. I was mesmerised: at once fascinated and horrified. Isobel smiled at me, propped herself up on an elbow and beckoned me over. Zoe half-turned to the door and grinned invitingly.'
'What did you do?'
'I just stood there for what seemed like hours, unable to move, not knowing whether to stay or go. Eventually I shook my head and retreated from the room. I closed the door behind me and leant against it. My legs felt like lead, I could hardly breathe. From inside the room I heard Isobel gasp as, I suppose, they resumed their lovemaking. Then I heard her mutter between her moans: "Zoe .... pretend I'm Annie .... fuck me hard." Zoe groaned, "Come for me, Annie, come for me."
'I felt almost sick .... Utterly confused. Everything in my life said that I should flee the house at once. Just grab my stuff and go. But another part of me wanted to be on the other side of the door. Not just watching, but taking part .... with them. I wanted them both and I thought – I suppose I now knew – that they wanted me too. But I didn't know what to do about it. That evening, over supper, it was as if nothing had happened. We ate and drank and chatted. Then I went to bed. That's when I had the dream for the first time. Since then I've had it several times. And that's the dream I had last night.'
I looked over once more to the doctor, wondering what she made of me. Her face was a mask.
'Do you want to tell me about the dream, Annie?'
'It's just that when I do, I don't think that you'll like me.'
'I'm not here to like or dislike you, Annie. I'm here to help you.'
'Alright. Just a moment.' I rubbed my hands together, then wiped dampness from my lip. I closed my eyes, took two more deep breaths and began to recall the dream, moment by moment.
'This is what I dreamt .... I'm lying on what feels like grass and slowly waking up. It seems as though I've been drinking and I don't know where I am. I open my eyes. Silver prisms of sunlight are shining through leafy trees and crashing into my eyes like shards of glass. I wince at their brightness. A warm, almost breathless, breeze tickles the skin on my arms. Only then do I realise that I'm at the lake. There has been a picnic – with wine – and I've fallen asl**p. I turn onto my side and see that Isobel is lying beside me. She too is awake. She points behind me and I look over my shoulder. Zoe is stretched out, sl**ping contentedly.
'I want to ask Isobel something but she puts her finger to my lips to hush me. In my gut I can feel desire stirring, like a hibernating b**st woken at springtime.
'Isobel is wearing a long, tie-dyed vest as though it's a short-sleeved dress. It would reach her thighs but it has ridden up her long, beech-brown legs to her hips, revealing a triangle of dark curls beneath the hem. A thick, buckled belt girdles her waist.
'When Isobel draws me towards her, I make no pretence of resistance. Her lips on mine are coolly refreshing, and taste of summer, sl**p and wanting. She tilts my head, framing my face in her hands, and kisses me again. Our tongue tips meet, part and touch again. She looks into my eyes and what she sees is complicity.'
I looked across at the doctor but her face displayed only concentration. I lay back again and re-entered the dream.
'Isobel unclasps the belt and, raising her midriff, pulls up the vest to her breasts. Then she sits up and hauls it over her head. For a moment she lies stark against the velvet grass: all eyes and legs. Then she pulls me on to her so that my left leg parts her thighs. I can feel her mound, as soft as moss, against my hipbone. We kiss again, sucking the sweetness from each other's lips, like a pair of drowsy bees feasting on pollen. Now her hands are in my hair, around my neck, and then they're lifting up the back of my teeshirt. She drags it off my shoulders, and up and over my head. Freed of it, I feel my nipples prickle and harden against her bare skin as my body eclipses her own and our mouths consume each other once more.
'My lips trace a trail down her throat across her chest to her breasts. They're small and firm and as hard as my own. The nipples are a bruised mauve, each aureole a purple halo. I take a nipple between my lips, bite lightly on it and then suck it in hard. It's as stiff as a stone as my tongue flicks across it teasingly. Isobel lets out a little stuttering sigh. And then another. My lips surrender her breast to my fingertips and receive its companion eagerly in its place.
'Isobel takes my hand from her. I pout with disappointment. But she grins impishly, straightens two of my fingers and slides them down her stomach, between her legs and into her moist, slim slit.
' "Mmm," I mew appreciatively as my fingertips disappear to the knuckles. She works my fingers as though they're her own, cooing quietly, as she rides them. With her free hand she pushes my head lower until it lies on her hip.
'As she pleasures herself with my fingers and I begin to strum her clitoris with my thumb, I look up and see Zoe lying beside us. Now she too is awake, watching us avidly and grinning like a vixen.
' "Taste me, Annie," Isobel says, oblivious to Zoe’s interest. She takes her fingers from my own and cradles my head in her hands.
'I smile at Zoe, enjoying her attention, lower my face to Isobel's crotch and lap at her, almost delicately, like a doe sipping from a pond. The breadth of my tongue slides within her dark pink opening, up and around her clit. Isobel squirms contentedly as I lick and suck, flick and tongue her. Now my lips are laying siege to her clit, my fingers exploring the depth of her slit. And all the time I wiggle my bottom, performing my own little dance for Zoe’s amusement.
'I can sense Zoe moving behind me. I hear the zip of her jeans and then feel her hands on the waistband of my shorts. Without undoing them, she drags them over my hips and down my thighs. I can feel the heaviness of her breasts resting on my back and gasp as I realise what's to come. Zoe pulls my shorts under my knees, down my calves and tosses them aside. Then she removes my panties likewise. Taking my buttocks in her palms, she begins to massage them vigorously with thumbs and fingertips. The need in me is rising and rising, craving every touch she confers on me. Meanwhile, Isobel is holding my head firmly to her as I devour her salty sweetness.'
I heard the brush of grazed nylon as the doctor crossed her legs. I paused to catch my breath. I could feel the sweat above my lips and on my brow. The doctor too noticed and offered me a glass of water, but I shook my head. I wanted to know whether she was aroused but she showed no sign. I continued with my dream.
‘Zoe parts my legs, flat against the carpet of grass. She straddles my thighs and strokes the cheeks of my bottom.
' "What a lovely ass you have," she mutters against my hair. Her voice is heavily accented, thick and guttural.
'Isobel is moaning, more loudly now, from the attentions of my fingers, lips and tongue.
' "Ohhhh yes," I whisper as I feel Zoe’s thumbs sliding along the cleft of my buttocks. My fingers push deep into Isobel's sodden slit.
' "Don't stop," she pleads.
' "On your knees, Annie," Zoe whispers into my ear. She sits back on her haunches.
'I can feel the shame burning my face. But penitence, I tell myself, can come later. All I want now is to experience the same pleasure that I am giving Isobel; and for that, I need Zoe’s tongue and fingers inside me.
'As I scramble to my knees, my mouth and fingers continue their endeavours.
'I hear Zoe’s voice, low and measured.
' "Cunt or ass?" she asks, as if we are at breakfast and she is offering me croissants or bread.
'Isobel raises my face from her lap. My mouth and cheeks are steeped in her juices.
' "Pussy, my love?" she murmurs. I nod and lower my mouth again to her yearning slit.
'She groans as my lips reclaim her clit. "Cunt, Zoe," she rasps. "Annie wants you in her cunt."
'I look back between my legs and see her wetting her fingers with saliva. She doesn't need to; I'm wet enough for both of us.
'She eases my slippery lips apart and dips in two fingers. In and out they slide easily.
' "Yeah ... yeah .... yeah," I'm groaning from somewhere deep in my throat, my lips suck hard again upon Isobel's clit.
‘Zoe removes her fingers completely. Then I feel her sliding on her back between my thighs. Now I’m riding her face as her tongue slides over my clit and her hungry fingers enter me again, sucking the air from every cell in my body.
'The thrusts are deep and smooth. With each, it's as if an electric current is running through the three of us. I hear Zoe’s slurping, my own weeping sighs, and then Isobel moaning words that exist only in the private realm of her pleasure. Soon I have to abandon myself to my own fulfilment. My fingers are still in Isobel but my tongue is beyond my control. Frustrated by my neglect, Isobel takes my face in her hands and grinds herself against my jaw. Zoe pulls me down onto her mouth by the hips as her fingers fuck me relentlessly. Each invasion of her fingers drives me forwards, buffeting my face against Isobel, setting off shuddering spasms that rake through our limbs.
' "I want to come. I want to come," Isobel is begging. My wrist is sore, my jaw aching. I can feel her limbs stiffening, her body arching and bucking with the rhythm of Zoe’s finger fucking as it resonates through me to her. As if by chain reaction, I begin to sense my own coming beckoning me. Not long now, not long.
' "Yes .... Yes .... YES ...." I hear myself yelling.
'Isobel is howling too.
' "That's good. That's good," says Zoe.
'A slap of her hand scalds my bottom and my face drives hard against my lover's pussy.
' "Aah! .... Aahhhh!!....AAAHHHH!!!"
'Isobel is wailing, "I'm coming! I'm coming!"
' "Good girl. Come for me. Come now."
'Another crack of Zoe’s hand on my skin flashes through my every vein. Zoe’s other hand nestling hard and deep.
' "Coming! Coming! C-C-C-C ......"
' "Me too .... Me too ...." '
I broke off and started sobbing. I was writhing and panting, beyond exhaustion, almost broken – like a medium who has been in contact with the departed.
The doctor offered me the glass of water again. This time I took it gratefully. Then she gave me a tissue. I wiped my eyes.
'Are you alright, Annie?'
'Yes,' I said weakly. 'I'm fine.'
'What happened then?'
'I woke up. That's when I always wake up.' I blew my nose on the tissue.
'How did you feel after the dream?'
'Dazed and confused. Just like in the dream, I didn't know where I was. I reached out for Isobel. She wasn't there. Nor was Zoe. The room was shrouded in thick blackness. It was all so vivid that, even though I've had the dream before, only then did I realise that that's what it was. I could barely believe it. The bedclothes were saturated with my sweat and .... you know .... my other stuff.'
I sipped again at the glass of water.
'Did you feel anything else?'
'Yes. Desolate .... cheated .... desperate.'
'What do you mean by desperate?'
'You know, for them .... Zoe and Isobel. And for ....' I glanced over at the doctor '…. sex.'
'What did you about it, Annie?'
'I .... I .....' I looked across at the doctor again but avoided her eyes. 'I took care of myself.' My face was as red as my eyes.
'That's nothing to be ashamed of. You're a healthy, young woman. Did it help?'
'A little. It removed the need. It made me calmer.'
'How do you feel after re-living it now?'
'Not so confused. But ....'
'Aroused? Has the dream re-awoken that sexual need?'
'Yes,' I whispered. 'Yes, it has.'
The doctor paused in her questioning, and then she asked: 'Would it help to masturbate?'
'Now? In front of you?'
'I want to see if it makes you feel better.'
'I don't know,' I said uncertainly, but, of course, I did know, and so did the doctor.
'Are you wearing panties?'
'Slip them off.'
Obediently I slid my black, silky knickers down my thighs and went to drop them on the floor, but the doctor stopped me.
'Here, I'll look after them,' she said. 'You look hot. Take off your blouse.’ I unbuttoned and opened it, but left it on.
I closed my eyes again and lay still for a few moments. Then I slipped my hand under my skirt.
'No. Pull up your skirt, Annie,' said the doctor matter-of-factly. 'I want to see what you're doing.' I hitched up the skirt over my hips. My skin looked white and virginal against the black stockings and suspender belt. The doctor sat up in her chair and watched me closely.
I reached between my legs and soaked my fingers. I was desperate again. Desperate for sex.
I closed my eyes and tried to will myself back into the dream. But it was no good. The geometry of limbs was all wrong. Instead I concentrated on my other senses: the taste of Isobel's skin .... her mouth .... her slim, needy slit .... her juices dribbling off my lips .... the press of her thighs upon my cheeks .... her hands jamming my chin against her clit .... Zoe’s fists gripping my hips .... her tongue and fingers, her teeth and lips .... the smack of her hand on my bottom .... the scalding, melting, searing pleasure that rushed through me as I came.
I slipped in two fingers as, in the dream, I had done to Isobel, and Zoe had done to me. My slit was warm and welcoming. With my thumb I massaged my clit. It was hard and swollen. My other hand rolled and plucked and pressed hardening nipples. I had never been so wet. Soon I could feel the tide swelling deep in my stomach. Rising and falling, rolling through me relentlessly. Higher and higher. I curled my fingers so that they pressed against my pelvis, launching foamy waves of pleasure through me.
'Mmm, mmm.' I bit my lip. My fingers worked harder, rubbing my clit, pincering my nipples.
I heard the doctor's notebook fall to the floor and the snap of her spectacles as she folded them. I opened my eyes. She had left her chair and was kneeling on the couch at my feet, her skirt pulled up over her knees. She reached forwards, took my sopping hand and sucked my fingers as lovingly as any devoted wife has pleasured her husband’s cock.
‘Let me help you,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I whispered and spread my legs.
She unclasped my stockings and rolled the black nylon down to my knees. She lifted my right foot so that it rested on the back of the couch and my left down to the floor. I lay bereft of resistance and utterly open to her. Then she reached back and freed her hair. It tumbled in a blonde cascade to her shoulders. She was grinning now, enjoying her control of me. I watched mesmerised as her fingers slowly unbuttoned her blouse and her breasts slipped pleasingly from their confinement. Her nipples were as dark as rubies and as lovely as I had ever imagined. She threw the blouse to her chair.
‘Doctor,’ I said. My throat was dry.
‘Call me Emily,’ she whispered.
Emily rested her palms on the insides of my thighs and stroked slowly, so slowly upwards to my groin.
I closed my eyes. ‘Your hands are so soft,’ I murmured.
‘Healing hands,’ she joked.
I gasped as I felt her bend down and brush against my skin first her cheek, then her lips and her teeth. Soft, nibbling kisses scaled my legs. Then she was kissing my groin, mound, the thick bush of hair and at last my hungry, yearning, weeping pussy.
‘Yes, yes,’ I moaned.
Her lips feasted on my own pink, swollen lips, her tongue slid inside me, up and over my clit in languid, sweeping tides.
'Mmm .... Mmm ..... Mmm.' My eyes were shut tightly but still sweat stung my eyes. My heart was racing.
Emily squeezed two fingers into me and raised her head from my crotch. I opened my eyes. Her lips were glossy and slick with my juices. She bent over me, her fingers still working ceaselessly, and kissed me on the mouth. I could taste myself on her lips.
‘This is what you want, isn’t it, Annie?’ she said. ‘This is what you’ve always wanted.’
Then, her face was between my legs again as fingers and mouth found their own irresistable harmony.
Soon my legs were stiffening and shaking, my body braced against the flood. I could feel it coming. The roaring rush – the promise of release. The dam was bursting, drowning me, flooding every part of me. Deeper and deeper I sank.
And then .... and then I was floating weightlessly .... riding the joy .... surfing an endless wave of ecstasy. Her fingers slowed, drenched with my cum. My body eased, relaxed and surrendered itself to the flood of euphoria that was consuming me, wrapping me in its warmth.
I lay still for moments that seemed like ages, relishing my orgasm. Only Emily’s fingers moved, gently brushing my clit and setting off little eddies of pleasure swirling through my limbs and setting them aquiver. Slowly the tide ebbed, leaving me becalmed. My mouth was as dry as my body was wet.
Emily's head lay against my thigh. Her hand had left me and was now beneath her skirt, visiting attendance upon its mistress. I climbed from beneath her, lay her back down on the couch and knelt between her legs. I pulled her skirt up and her panties down. Then I peeled away the labia as delicately as though they were leaves shielding some exotic fruit. And there before my eyes was the ripe, succulent prize. Her thighs were cool against my burning cheeks. My lips pressed her mound. She groaned with gratitude and raised her pelvis to meet my mouth.
'Which feels better, my lovely doctor? Your hand or my mouth?'
’Don't stop,' she pleaded, all power now ceded to her lover.
My restless tongue flicked back and forth across her clit, as it peeked from its hiding place. Quickly Emily's climax captured her. Sucking and licking I brought my prim, sensible doctor to orgasm in a furious storm of expletives.
'Fuck .... fuck .... fuck .... fuck me!!!'
Slowly she began to calm until she lay in quiet contentment.
I wiped a smear of her juice from my cheek and offered it to her lips. She sucked on my fingertip as daintily as a c***d tasting a snowflake.
Emily glanced over to the clock.
'That was incredible,' she sighed at last, and then she reached over for her spectacles and attempted a professional tone 'but, Miss Forrester, our time is almost up.'
I giggled helplessly at the sight of the ‘doctor’, half-dressed, her face glowing with the ecstasy of coming beneath the blonde mess of hair.
‘Do you think I could have been a doctor, Annie?’ she asked.
‘Perhaps a gynaecologist,’ I laughed.
'Can you make it next week?' she said, buttoning up her blouse.
'Of course. Do you want to play this game again?’ I reached for my knickers.
‘I do like your dreams. Can you think up another one?’
‘Oh, I expect so,’ I said.
'Mm, I do sometimes wonder where your dreams end and reality begins.'
'So do I,' I agreed wistfully. ‘So do I.’