In Allison’s warped opinion, men were tools. They came in different shapes and sizes, hopefully, strong, hard and steely. Then, there are the disappointing tools that look good on the outside but when you open the package, surprise. However, a tool is a tool and, unfortunately they get rusty and they can no longer screw worth a damn! Further, there is never one tool that fits all your needs. So, it did not hurt to have a spare tool lying around—Allison had a fine collection to fill the empty spaces of her toolbox when she needed an adjustment, per se.
Allison knew that she had to appeal to Wesley’s sense of guilt in order to keep him from exposing their sexual liaison. She didn’t expect that their slip up (pardon the pun) would turn out so sour. Allison figured that because she was the one woman who was able in one steamy session to revive his manhood (not to mention that he swelled to epic proportions), his allegiance would—should be to her, not to his wife. However, this was not looking like the case.
She was Wesley’s muse so how could he betray her? He couldn’t! Hopefully she was just over reacting. Either way, she needed him to calm down. How she summed up Plan B—to detach any guilt he felt for cheating on his wife to her. Allison had to make him feel like her hero. He needed to feel powerful again. After all, she knew his weaknesses better than anyone did. The culprit to all his problems was the fact that his member quit working two years ago. This was when he lost all his confidence. But, she saved the day...He owed her an oath of silence, that how she saw it!
Manipulating men was something that came easy to Allison. She was the best. Certainly she could make Wesley culpable on her behalf instead of his wife’s. Her plan had to work. After all from her point of view, she had more to lose than Wesley did.
In Allison’s professional opinion, Wesley’s marriage was a farce anyway. She couldn’t conceive so why a man who was a ten plus on a scale of one to ten, would marry a woman who was considered average looking?
Over the years, Allison had become such a superficial bitch. She felt Wesley could do so much better than the choice he had made. His cock was a ten too, ten full inches. It’s not healthy to marry down. The expectations of his marriage lasting were zero to none. Marrying a five could be the number-one reason why Wesley’s confidence dropped to a zero. And, along with his confidence, so did his manhood. This was the theory she shared with Wesley over the years. Nothing like being blunt. No wonder he was a mess. Talk about mind screwing someone. She certainly did.
In her mind, all marriages had an expiration date. It was too bad her patient did also. She could not continue to counsel Wesley ever again after today, even though she had experienced the best orgasm—correction, orgasms in her life with him. Unfortunately, he was too unstable to have an affair with her.
Nonetheless, it would destroy her career if Wesley told anyone. She worked too hard and long hours to build a successful business to chance him ruining everything.
“We need to think about Wesley’s wife too…not just ourselves.”
“You mean your wife.” She affirmed. “Of course, we need to think about her,” she said. “Wesley, I didn’t mean to upset you. But I find it alarming—I recall that you told me last week that when a woman cries, it’s your nature to concede.”
“Ah...I did?”
“Yes, you did,” Allison buzzed.
“So I did, and that’s true when a woman’s tears are real.”
“What are you saying? My tears are real. Listen, the bottom line is...if you tell your wife, then my father will find out—you have no idea what he is capable of—he’ll ruin me. This practice is all I have.” Allison sulked, bathing her lashes in tears. She was laying the guilt on thick.
“Allison, you don’t strike me as the type of woman who cries in order to get your way,” he said pointedly, raising a suspicious brow.
“I’m not—you are right in so many ways.” She sniffled, keeping up her deviant act. “My tears are real—you had such an affect on me today...I never felt so overwhelmed with emotions before in my life,” she said convincingly. “I will promise to listen to your story but, before I do, I just need to know if I can trust you not to tell a soul about us after you leave here today. You seem a little odd today. Sorry, but it’s true.”
Wesley’s eyes widened. Was it something she said? “Really? I will determine who I tell what,” he said pompously.
Allison clenched her teeth; she felt threatened and pissed off. How dare he push her buttons?
“Wait, you said earlier that you would never tell a soul.”
“And I may not...but that’s my decision, not yours.”
“But, if you do it will hurt your wife—and me.” She exasperated. “Why should we all have to suffer from this? Surely we can forget this ever happened? I only had—se—I only did this to help your marriage.” She lied, using reverse psychology.
“You can’t even say what we did—”
“Of course, I can’t. You are blaming me for everything and making me feel ashamed,” she replied. Her tone was faint.
“I have my doubts,” he murmured under his breath. “I am sure this isn’t the first time that you’ve had sex with a client.”
Some comments are best ignored. Selective hearing or pleading the fifth works as well. Allison placed one hand on her slender thigh and with her other hand she wiped away the fake tears that lingered on her cheeks. This was her last chance. She stood slowly, hanging her head as she pretended to take the walk of shame toward her desk. Her eyes flashed on the wall clock.
“It’s getting late. Maybe we can meet tomorrow.” Allison suggested with a flat intonation.
It was her intent to end their doctor-patient relationship for good. At this point, she was willing to take her chances. She had vowed years ago that no man would ever corner her again.
“But—” She turned to face Wesley, sighing long and breathy, as if her heart was breaking. “Perhaps it would be best if I recommended you to another therapist,” she said, making a painful expression as she flipped through her address book. Without any hesitation, she jotted down the name and number of Ann Tucker and handed him the slip of paper. “This person is the best therapist in town and she is a dear friend,” she said with a fake smile, maintaining her composure and holding down the anger that was bubbling inside.
The truth was Allison had no idea who Ann Tucker was aside from the fact that she was some nosey roly-poly therapist that she had met at a convention a year ago. Ann kept asking her at least six times over the course of the weekend just how she stayed so thin?
The therapist even followed her into the lady’s room and accused her of puking after she ate. Allison finally told Ann that her secret was eating cock after each meal.
To Allison surprise, Ann thanked her and then asked, “Do you have to swallow, dear?”
That’s when Allison’s weekend boy-toy burst out of the bathroom stall and said, “Absolutely.” Ann turned ten shades of red and vacated the restroom immediately. The rest of the weekend Allison witnessed Ann sneaking off to the restroom with a few different waiters after their meals.
Allison wrote in red marker on the back of Ann Tucker’s business card “GUILLIBLE” in all capitals! This was a common, and useful practice for Allison. She may not remember someone’s face or the origin of having their cards but her one-word descriptions keep it all factual for her. There was never a mystery business card in her filing system. She had many cards at her fingertips to pull from depending on her business goal.
Clint Wilson, Tennis coach – CHEATER
Sergeant Troy, Police officer – THEFT
Patrick Jones, Hotel Manager – SWEET and SEXY
Sandy Conner, Yogi instructor – LESIBAN
Terrance Rogers, Judge – CHEATER
Wade Conroy, Waiter – DUMBASS
Dr. George Handinger, Plastic surgeon – CHEATER
The list went on and on. Ann fit into the protocol as the perfect replacement therapist Allison needed for Wesley. If Wesley spilled the beans to Ann, any
thing about their indiscretions, she already had blackmail plan spinning around in her brain.
In confidence she would ask Ann if the weight-management plan that she recommended was effective? This would surely keep Ann from exposing her to the board. If not, she would drop the bombshell about who one of the men she saw Ann sneaking into the lady’s room was since he happened to have been her favorite cousin. It would be a total lie but it could work. Mrs. very married Ann Tucker would have some explaining to do to her husband if she ever breathed a word of her affair with Wesley to anyone.
“No, I don’t want the best. I want you. I still need your help. You can’t stop seeing me now.” Wesley crumpled up the paper and tossed it forcefully into the trash basket.
Allison blanched, appraising him in disbelief. Strike-two! He was infuriated.
“Sit back down and listen to me,” he stormed, dragging a chair over to her. Allison noted the incensed look in his eyes. However, she refused to obey.
“Wesley, what more do you need from me?” She inquired loudly, throwing her arms into the air. “I have failed you as a therapist but, as a woman—Wesley—your equipment works like a well-oiled pipeline now,” she declared, grinning and she flashed at the bulge in his jeans. “Thanks to me,” Allison gloated, blinking her eyelids vividly. “Isn’t that what you wanted? And, your confidence is coming back—a little too strong.”
“Listen to me,” Wesley shot back sternly, snatching the back of another chair and fiercely slammed it down, facing hers. “I cannot leave until you hear what has been going on with me. Sit your ass down now!” He ordered her in a tone that made it clear he was accustomed to being obeyed. His brows furrowed together tightly.
Her mouth gaped open to retaliate, holding her breath and then relented. This was a darker side of him she never experienced before. Damn, she unleashed a monster in him! Of course, it was not the first time she caused the devil to rear his horns in a man.
She quickly sat down as if the life had been drained from her lithe body and comely legs. Wesley took a seat in the empty chair. They were close in proximity, almost knee to knee. She cast her thoughts outwardly, “If looks could kill,” her eyes said it all.
“I’ve been going through a lot lately. What happened today is one thing but there’s more, so much more.” He was in angst and leaned into her personal space, fisting his fingers through his shiny coal-black hair.
Despite the anger she was feeling, he took her breath away. Allison’s core fluttered and her heart skipped an awestruck beat. She was spellbound by his centerfold traits. Her Achilles’ heel was falling for tall, dark and handsome men. Now, she could add insane to the list.
She reasoned that because Wesley had taken her to heaven and back and given her gifts, both sexual and otherwise, certainly she could afford him five more minutes. She could not face another malpractice suit.
The last one had cost her a small fortune. That son-of-a-bitch set her up good by secretly filming their sexapade then extorted thousands from her.
In retrospect, if listening to Wesley for fives minutes would buy his silence; she would concede. It couldn’t hurt to listen to what he had to say.
If he doesn’t leave afterwards perhaps she could blackmail him with something in his file. Tit-for-tat were Wesley’s words earlier. They might come back to haunt him. Allison would do anything to protect her booming career. Despite losing the hefty compensation for her services, she could not risk allowing Wesley to return, either as a patient or a fuck buddy. God, she wanted him to though...but this would surely jeopardize her practice. What the hell, more, did he have to say that was so damn urgent?
“Okay, Wesley. I would love to listen. You know—our session has gone past the hour...so, unfortunately I will have to charge you another hour.” She felt this was fair and professional, despite the fact that they had just shared an hour of intimacy. From this moment forward she needed to keep things on the up and up.
“What, you want to charge me? Are you kidding? This is bullshit.” He contested.
“It’s only fair...I mean tit for tat, right?” She said condescendingly. “I don’t even know why you are still here.” Her voice trailed off.
Allison glowered into his handsome face—challenging him to leave. His features were beyond perfect. Damn why did he have to be so delicious and drop-dead-gorgeous? She thought.
It occurred to her that aside from his odd behavior, he seemed totally different today. From the moment he walked into her office, she noticed his demeanor had shifted all within the time of his last visit. How was this possible? She wondered. Did he have an epiphany? No one can change over night. Scratch that, Mr. Patterson did. However, who wants to think about him? He was old, fat and a psychopath! Last she had heard he was curled up in a stray jacket doing time in a mental hospital, arrested in Time Square naked popping little blue pills one after the other. You could only imagine.
Wesley was different. He was eat-your-heart-out gorgeous. Could that one mind-blowing orgasm she gave him—all the biting, hard stroking, swallowing and the sexual heat have turned him into Mr. Grey—Dorian Grey that is?
He was undoubtedly much more confident than usual, a lot more! This actually intrigued Allison. In most situations she was always the one in control. She hated to admit it and, she probably would never, that his newfound take-charge attitude was turning her on.
Her face flushed with desire—an intense moment to reconnect with him on a sexual level flooded her mind. She quickly pushed down the lascivious heat that was racing through her veins for the second-time today.
Wesley agreed to her proposal. “Yes. Anything. I will pay you for your damn time—Allison—but you need to listen carefully. We have two—no three issues here. Wesley and the state of his marriage—and my situation.”
“Wesley—” She tried to interrupt him but to no avail.
“I really need someone to hear my story and you are that someone—because we are the same. You and I have a lot in common.” He rambled. “Somehow I will fix the problem we created for Wesley and his wife—and you will help me—they will go on but, for you and me, timing has been everything. We are so damaged.” He hung his head. None of this made sense to Allison.
Confusion splayed on her face, her lips quivered as she choked on her words. “Wesley, why do you keep referring to yourself in the third person?” Her voice vibrated.
“Because I am not Wesley. I mean this is Wesley’s body. But inside of him is me…my name is Channing Stephens. I suppose Wesley is in here somewhere,” he said, glancing down toward his chest and he placed his palm over his heart.
Hearing this confirmed their little encounter had taking him over the edge of insanity. She feared that her insatiable appetite for sex would now cost her more than just getting barred by the board of psychiatry. Perhaps his alter ego would kill her and then cut her up into a thousand pieces. The thought of this sent shivers down her spine. She had a vivid imagination and watched too many re-runs of Criminal Minds when she couldn’t sleep.
“I am clearly confused right now, Wesley,” Allison replied nervously, forcing a smile. She squared her shoulders and sat up straighter. She needed to gain control over him. He was scaring her. However, she had learned from the past to never show any fear.
“Allison, for the most part Wesley is in a catatonic state. This is complicated to explain. It’s like he is here but he is not in control...I am!” He asserted with such confidence, causing Allison to shudder in awe of him.
“Yes...I see. This does sound quite complicated.” Allison agreed in order to avoid upsetting her client any further. She sighed in frustration, trying to make sense of his babble. How far gone was Wesley? She wondered.
“I am assuming he is aware that we just had sex, amazing sex may I say.” Wesley’s eyes narrowed and a devilishly grin replaced his confusion and more than likely he was reflecting on the sex they had earlier. As quickly as the smile rose to his face, the corners of his mouth dropped. His smile faded to a frow
n. That was it!
It was now very obvious to Allison that he created an alter ego in order to deal with his cheating. Clearly, if she downplayed their sexual act, he would recover. And hopefully he would leave so that she could put this day behind her. She would have to succeed in convincing him that the oral sex they had was no big deal—she could definitely pull this off for Wesley’s sake, but mostly for hers.
“Wesley, if I may interrupt—that was not sex. We did not have sex...so you don’t need to suffer from any feelings of guilt that you may be experiencing. All you did was taste me and I returned the favor. Think of it like that,” she explained, with a flare of poetry. “You were thirsty and I quenched your thirst…and I needed to satisfy my sucking fetish and you were the sucker—oh shit,” she gulped, flashing at him apologetically. “Oops, that was a bad choice of words.” Her voice trailed to a whisper. She realized how ridiculous her explanation sounded, not to mention her Freudian slip.
Bad Doctor Page 4