My style was fun, funky and a little frivolous. And light. I loved wearing brightly colored summer frocks and open sandals; I loved shorts and little t-shirts, even though I couldn't wear those to work! I loved wearing my hair down, loose and curly. I loved being barefoot with brightly colored nail polish on my toes.
I wondered about the new client. He had been a referral and had asked to see me twice a week. This was good news because it meant good money. He was apparently a big deal, a wealthy and well-known businessman. I didn’t know who he was yet and didn’t know anything about him. Only that I had to be super discreet when I met him.
Discretion was part of my job. It’s the first thing you learn when studying psychology. Let your clients tell you anything and everything. Never disclose anything they tell you. And never tell them about yourself. The relationship must always be kept professional.
I always found it hard to be taken seriously at work. I am so good at what I do but I think because I look so young and so fresh, a bit childlike, people never believe that I’m a therapist.
I pulled into the parking lot and ran to my office, heading straight to the bathroom. I took the scrunchie off my wrist, scraped my hair back and tied it up. That was better. Now maybe I looked a little older. I did up the top button of my shirt even though I loved the look of my pink lace bra sticking out and even though my cleavage was so pretty. I adjusted my skirt, pulled it as low as I could because yes, maybe it was a bit short, and I took off my stockings. They had a hole in them. Bare legs would be better. No lipstick or the ‘I’ve just had sex look’ might just be accentuated. I straightened my shoulders and walked out of the bathroom, hoping to god he hadn't arrived yet.
As I walked out, thinking about the new frock I’d seen in my favorite shop, I bumped into a man. An older and oh so gorgeous man. He was tall with hair that was just turning silver at the temples. He wore a dark wool suit, smelled of the most fantastic cologne and was carrying a newspaper. under his arm. There was the faint smell of cigar smoke in the air. And he was carrying a coffee that went flying across the room.
‘Oh honey,’ the man said. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’m so sorry…’
He called me ‘honey’ as if I was his daughter. I could’ve been, actually. He was almost double my age.
For some reason I blushed. This man was alarmingly close. And he smelt so good. He was also vaguely familiar.
I stumbled a little and he grabbed me by the elbow.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’m also rushing, I’m a little late, hey, it’s okay…’
He must have noticed that I was blushing. Not just blushing, I felt flushed all over. He smiled. And then he asked me if I knew where Katie Stewart’s rooms were.
‘Oh, that would be me,’ I said breathlessly, resisting reaching over and touching him immediately.
‘That would be me,’ I repeated, a little stronger this time. And thought, ‘Oh dear, why didn’t I dress up a little bit more…’
Chapter Two: The Office
I led the man into my office. It felt odd. I had never had such a strong reaction to a man before. This man, my soon to be client, made me feel something new. Something sexy. Maybe I was still thinking about my early morning dreams when I’d been fantasizing about being swept off my feet, being wined and dined, taken for dinners, bought beautiful gifts, proposed to…
Maybe I just hadn’t woken up properly! Enough with the romance it was time to pull myself together.
I was a therapist after all.
‘Here you are.’ I said, passing him some forms. ‘ I need you to fill these out. And then we can talk about the ground rules…’
I sounded super professional.
I sat down, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs. My skirt rode up my thighs and I tugged it down again. I hadn’t realized it was so short. Well, I had realized, but it was even shorter when I was sitting down.
I did have good legs though! Still, it was unprofessional. I hoped he couldn’t see my white panties.
I kind of wanted him to see my white panties.
Stop it Katie!
‘It’s good to meet you Katie,’ he said. ‘I must say, I expected someone a little older. I don't want to appear rude but you seem very young indeed. Would it be rude of me to question your experience?’
I breathed in deeply. What experience was he referring to, exactly?
‘Mr Davenport. That is your name, isn’t it? We went over all of this on the phone. I’m a qualified psychologist. I may be fairly new to this and I’m busy building up my practice but I did graduate top of my year, I have some great recommendations, I have had excellent feedback from my patients and I am very good at what I do. I’m also totally discreet, of course, you did say discretion was of the utmost importance…’
‘Do you know who I am Katie?’
Isighed. It didn’t help that my top button popped open when I did this.
‘Would it be terrible if I said I don’t know who you are? I mean, I know I should and all, and you do seem vaguely familiar. But no, I’m afraid that I don’t know who you are.’
‘We’ll keep it that way then. You call me Mr Davenport. I’ll call you Katie, because, well, you look just like a Katie. I hope that’s okay with you. Now, is there a couch?’
I smiled. Older people always thought there was a couch in a therapy room. It was a kind of Freudian thing.
‘There’s no couch,’ I said. Dammit, I could feel him looking at my legs and I wondered why I had taken off my stockings. I felt totally exposed.
I liked it though. I cannot lie. I liked his gaze, I liked that he was sitting there and that there was a whole lot of electricity in the air.
But still! I was a therapist.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ I told him. You’re going to be here for an hour. Each session is an hour. Let’s get started.’
He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and sat down. There was a bit of a silence.
‘Talk when you’re ready,’ I said. ‘Whatever you tell me is completely private. Why don't you begin by telling me why you’re here and what you hope to achieve.’
And so the session began.
‘Katie. I’m a fifty year old man. I’m successful, in fact I am at the top of my field. I have everything that I want. But lately, lately, I find myself…
Mr Davenport grew quiet.
‘You can tell me, whatever it is.’
‘I like pornography, Katie.’
Silence.
‘And?’ I said. ‘Pornography is not a terrible thing. Is it?’
‘Do you ever watch porn, Katie?’
‘This is not about me, Mr Davenport. Hugo. Can I call you Hugo?’
Hugo nodded.
‘Porn is quite normal, Hugo. Everybody watches porn at some point or another. Porn can be a good thing, it can…’
I found myself getting a bit turned on just thinking of porn. Mostly because I had never watched it before!
‘Katie. My problem is that I want to watch porn all the time. I worry that I’m addicted. I watch between meetings. I watch when I wake up in the mornings. I watch before I go to bed at night…’
‘Is it having an effect on your life? A bad effect? Are you, I mean, is your obsession stopping you from working, from doing all the things you’re supposed to do?’
‘No. Not really. No, it isn’t. I’m still successful, I still manage to do everything I want to do. But, I always tell myself not to watch and then, well, I find myself in front of my computer, I cannot help it, it is such a turn on.’
I wasn’t sure if it was such a terrible thing that he was telling me. It didn’t sound like a huge problem. But still, I listened to him. I knew I shouldn’t, but I wanted to know what porn he was watching. Would I enjoy it and how did I find it? I didn’t ask him, or course.
STOP IT KATIE!
It was coming to the end of the session. I’d found out that Hugo Davenport had a home in the city, another in the country,
a holiday home in the Caribbean, his own yacht and a small private plane.
I didn’t think the porn was such a problem. He seemed to manage perfectly well with everything in his life.
But still. My job was to let him talk, to get his problems off his chest, to let him work through his addictions. If they really were addictions.
We ended the session. And then he dropped a bombshell. He told me this:-
‘Katie. I have to be honest with you. Therapy is about honesty, isn’t it. I have sat here the whole time thinking about pornography . About how much I watch and how unhealthy it is. But the whole time I have also been thinking about you and how incredibly and utterly attractive you are. You are so gorgeous and so sexy. How right now I would love to be in bed with you, naked, touching you and watching porn with you.’
I was quiet. What he was saying was wildly inappropriate. But then, it was a part of his addiction. I couldn’t take it too seriously. He was projecting of course.
‘We’ll talk about this in our next session,’ I told him. ‘And now, if you don't mind, I am going to get ready for my next client.
He made his way towards the door.
‘I’ll see you on Wednesday,’ I said, and then I smiled. ‘I promise not to spill your coffee again.’
I got up to say goodbye, pulling my skirt down as I did.
He handed me $300 cash, for the session. Cash. I couldn’t contain my delight. It was okay that he had ‘come on to me’. I mean, he hadn’t really, and I could deal with it, but - CASH! I needed it so badly.
‘This was a good session,’ he told me, smiling. I could swear he was looking at my pink bra and at my cleavage. ’Thank you. I’m so sorry about what I said earlier, but I felt it was important that I’m honest. I’m quite sure you’re the person who is going to help me. Even if you are so young. And even though I really would prefer a couch.’
He is cheeky, I thought, although secretly, I would’ve preferred a couch too. I just wasn’t able to afford one. Even with this lovely cash in my purse.
Chapter Three: The Couch
I struggled to focus. I knew that I shouldn’t be spending all this time thinking about Hugo. He was double my age, for goodness sake. And he was a client. And everything he had said to me, well, alarm bells were ringing. I wasn’t quite sure how to handle him.
I’d googled him, of course. Hugo Davenport. His name had popped up immediately, all over the screen.
Forbes, Top Ten Wealthiest Men. He had come in fourth. He was the founder, OH MY GOSH I couldn’t believe this, he was the founder of Davenport (of course the name was familiar) Investments. He travelled around the world, giving financial advise. He advised the Queen of England, the President of France, the Princess of Monaco, on their finances. He advised Robert de Niro and Al Pacino, Goldie Hawn and Helen Mirren.
He was world famous; a celebrity. And he was my client!
I liked him. I knew I had to have boundaries and keep my distance . I knew I had to be super professional and more than anything - I just could not afford to mess this up. I needed him, I needed to build up my CV and goddammit, I needed the money.
Yet everything he had told me about porn had got me going. God, I wanted to watch it. I wanted to lie in bed, naked, watching, watching men with women, women with women, more than one man with one woman. There was another side of me coming out, that was for sure.
Maybe I was the one with the problem.
The doorbell buzzed, interfering with my daydreams. Who could this be? I wasn’t expecting anyone else or had I messed up the time and was expecting a client?
I answered the door.
‘Hello?’
‘Good afternoon. We have a delivery for Ms Stewart…’
I looked out of the window. There was a huge delivery truck parked right there in the street. The guys were lifting something out of the back, something large, something velvet, red, cozy…
Oh my. It was the couch of my dreams and it could only be from one person. The other person who wanted a couch.
Mr Davenport.
My immediate instinct was to say no, definitely not, please take it away. But the couch was beautiful. Red and cozy and absolutely perfect for a patient to lay back on and shut his eyes, to talk and to feel held and contained.
And it was absolutely perfect for me, between clients, to lie back on too.
I buzzed in the delivery guys and quickly cleared a space for the couch. It looked absolutely perfect in my office. I signed the delivery papers, ignored the bunch of pretty red roses that had come with the couch and opened my laptop.
I fired off an email.
‘Mr Davenport. Thank you so much for the couch. I’m going to accept it because I think it will make all the difference to the work we are going to do together. But I have to say a very definite no to the flowers. We went over the rules in the beginning and I don't want either of us to cross any boundaries…’
I pushed send.
A reply came back almost immediately.
‘If you won’t accept the flowers then I wonder if you’ll accept the stockings that I’ve bought for you. I must say, your legs looked rather bare the other day…’
Cheeky, I thought. Very cheeky. I decided it was best to ignore that mail. Instead, I lay back on the new couch and opened the book I was reading, putting all thoughts of Mr Davenport out of my mind. It would have to wait till Wednesday when we could discuss everything face to face. He definitely had a problem.
And I couldn’t wait to see him again.
Chapter Four: Wednesday
I set my alarm this time and woke extra early, showered and then put on my new simple navy blue dress. I’d bought it with the money Hugo had given me. None of my clients ever paid cash and none of them ever paid on time. This was fantastic. I got dressed, trying to look as unsexy as possible. I lie. I wanted to look a little bit sexy. I zipped up my dress and tied my hair back, admiring myself in the mirror.
I looked demure, just like a therapist should look.
And then I put on a pair of killer shoes with killer heels. I shouldn’t, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. They really would complete the dress. And they were fairly business-like.
When Hugo arrived for his session I was waiting for him, sitting behind the desk. He walked in and I nodded hello. ‘Take a seat, Mr Davenport. You may want to try the couch this time?’
He smiled. ‘It looks good doesn’t it.’ He clearly approved of where I had placed it. ‘And Katie, ou look very good too.’
I blushed. He hadn’t even seen my shoes yet. This was ridiculous especially as I had only met the man once.
‘Shall we get to work,’ I suggested. ‘After all, our sessions are only an hour long. And you’re paying me a lot of money for them. Let’s not waste time. Tell me how you’re feeling this week.’
Hugo had taken off his shoes and he was already lying back on the couch.
He looked at me. And then he surprised even himself.
‘I’ve watched a lot of porn this week, Katie, and every time I’ve watched, I have thought about you. I pretended that it was you I was watching. I wanted to see you undressing, taking your clothes off. I wanted to pretend that it was me you were getting naked of and that it was me you were laying down for…’
‘Hugo.’
I was blushing like crazy and I had to stop this immediately.
‘Please. Stop. This is unfair and insane. If we’re going to deal with your porn addiction, and maybe it is an addiction, you have to leave me out of it. It is just not fair.’
‘I know. I know that. But I want to touch you. Badly. And I don't think it has anything to do with porn. It’s about you. You’re smart. You are so damn sexy. It’s…’
For the second time since meeting him I spilled a cup of coffee. This time it was my own coffee that I knocked off the table.
I leapt off my chair and grabbed a cloth, started mopping it up. I was leaning over the desk.
‘You’re wearing the same panties as you wore
last week,’ he said.
I straightened up.
‘Hugo.’ I reprimanded him. ‘You do know, apart from anything else, that I am young enough to be your daughter. I’m only twenty-three. And you? Well, you are one of the most important people in the country. Plus, THIS IS WORK. Work. I want to help you.…’
‘Age, Katie, is just a number. And who I am is not important. Not to you and certainly not to us. Anything that may happen between us will be completely private. And when there’s an attraction like the one we have, why fight it. Why…’
Nicola Page 6