THE THERAPIST
EPISODE SEVEN
J.A. BELFIELD
The Therapist
Published by J.A. Belfield
www.jabelfield.com
Copyright © 2017 Julie Anne Belfield
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, locations, or any other element is entirely coincidental.
First Published: 2017
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EPISODE SEVEN
Raelyn and Samantha sat on the chaise in Chase Walker’s office, their eyes eagerly aimed at the box he set down on the floor in front them. While Rae’s raven hair stayed tamed in a thick plait that coiled its way over just one shoulder, Sam’s contrasting blonde waves surrounded her head, almost obscuring the scissors sticking up from between her fingers.
Chase held out a hand. “Nurse …”
As soon as Sam had settled the scissors against his palm, he set about scoring through the thick tape holding the package sealed.
Neither Sam, nor Rae, spoke through the zip sound—unusual for the both of them. They all too often had far more opinions than Chase wanted to hear.
Chase was just relieved to have something to distract him, if only for a few minutes. His head had been far too full of stuff it had no right to be of late.
After snapping the lid free of the ends of the tape, he forced the top of the box open, folding each half against the sides, exposing what Sam called giant bubble wrap inside.
He grabbed the three linked rows of air-filled sacs and dropped them to the floor, and Sam rubbed her hands together.
“Here come the goods,” she said, like the blooming delivery was addressed to her. Or for her.
In actual fact, it was neither.
“Maybe we’ll get some of our own if they’re any good,” Rae said beside her, but her voice held enough humour that Chase knew not to take her seriously.
Drawing out the well-packaged products still didn’t give much insight as to the box’s contents, as each item had been individually bagged and wrapped.
“For God’s sake, come on,” Sam said, reaching out for one of the bags, but Chase snatched it away.
“I don’t want all our scents and fingerprints on these. Don’t you know felines have a decent sense of smell?”
At Rae’s barked laugh, he finally smiled. Felt like he didn’t dish anywhere near enough of those out lately.
“So, just open it already,” Sam said.
Straightening to his full height, he drew out the first item to its full length. “Ready?”
“Yesssss.”
Letting Rae’s throaty chuckles and Sam’s enthusiasm draw his mood into the game, he worked down the zipper at the front of the bundle, arms stretching fully apart to accommodate its length. Once he’d created a big enough gap, he worked the suit bag open, unhooking it from the rigid frame holding the shoulders of the garment within, and tugged the rest of the outfit free.
A limp lump of fabric sagged over the chest part of the outfit, and Chase lifted it up before breathing out a quiet laugh and turning to the girls.
“Well …” Rae’s mouth seemed stuck around the word.
“It’s …” Sam’s lips worked for a moment before stretching into a grin. “Bloody awesome.” She shot to her feet and reached out for a touch. “Seriously, it’s way better than I expected it to be.” She glanced down toward Rae. “I thought it’d be all baggy and itchy and stiff, but …” She rubbed the fabric of the collar between thumb and fingers. “… it’s really soft and … lush.”
“It actually is,” Chase said, at Rae’s skeptical expression, and she pushed to her feet, also, her fingers reaching.
“Okay, it feels good. So, let’s work this thing out. No zipper?”
“No zipper,” Chase confirmed.
“So, the entire thing’s stretch. And it covers feet. What about hands, how do those work?”
“They can either be worn and fastened into place by the small stud on the inside of the sleeve, or if the wearer wants to be able to feel, they can take them off and tuck them back, and fasten them there using the stud on the outside of the sleeve.”
“You sound like a rep for the company,” Rae muttered, before lifting up the hooded section of the suit. “So, this is stretchy and fitted, too. Comes straight over the head from behind.” She stuck her fist inside it like a makeshift head. “And right the way over the face …”
“With an optional teeth attachment that can be fitted over your own,” Chase finished for her.
“Wow,” was all she said.
“Hang on, turn it around, I want to see,” Sam said.
Slipping the suit fully free from its protective covering, Chase let the plastic rustle its way down to the floor and spun the outfit a half turn, until the front faced him and the rear faced the girls.
As soon as he had, Sam grabbed its full, very silky-looking tail in her hands, stroking it all the way down to its tip. “This is beautiful.”
“Sick,” Rae said beside her before pointing to the suit. “That male or female?”
“Grey tabby, so should be female.” Reaching down, Chase worked his hand between the furry legs of the suit, fiddling through the fabric of the crotch until he’d found the opening. “Yep, female. Which means, the one still in the box should be a ginger tom.”
“Can we look at that one, too?” Sam asked, her fingers visually itching toward the other item.
“After we’ve put this one back as it came, yep.”
“Oh, my God, Mr and Mrs Worthington are going to be stoked with these.”
“Mrs Worthington’s gonna get stoked, all right,” Rae muttered. “Right in her pussy pussy.”
“I can’t wait to ring and tell them they’re here,” Sam said over Chase’s quiet snort. “Do you think they’ll try them on here. Will we get to see?”
Rae’s head was already shaking. “No,” she said, prodding her finger toward Sam.
“No, what?” Sam could bat her lashes and pull an innocent act all she liked, but Chase—and Rae—had known her too long to be fooled.
“No, we are not getting some—I was joking. I don’t want to be a bloody cat in heat.”
“But—”
“No,” Rae said again, sterner, before nodding to Chase. “Come on, let’s check the other one. The sooner we get these back in the box, the better.”
***
Mr and Mrs Worthington had loved the costumes. When they’d first visited CW Consult, they’d openly expressed their unusual interest in animals. At first, Chase had worried they’d come to ask for an outlet CW Consults couldn’t provide—even his clinic had some lines drawn—but they’d gone on to explain how erotic they found the mating of certain animals, and how they’d even attempted to recreated a mating session at home. Initially, they’d come seeking help, assuming there to be something ‘wrong’ with their fetish, but Chase hadn’t seen any issues with something that didn’t affect anyone, or thing, outside of their own relationship and had, instead, taught themselves to embrace it. And, after a couple of failed attempts at purchasing role-playing outfits of their own that’d left them itchy from rashes, or sore from rough fabrics, Chase had offered to hunt down ones tha
t could work. Between himself, Rae and Sam, and a whole lot of phone calls, they’d eventually found the resulting outfits at an outlet called ‘Sensual Costume’.
Two hours earlier, the couple had turned up to try on their order. Two hours earlier, Sam had stood mooning over the sleek cut of the fabric and glossiness of the fur, and fawned over the realistic curvature of the tails. Two hours earlier, Sam had stroked Mr and Mrs Worthington so much, Chase swore they’d bordered on inviting her to join them for a pussy-themed evening at their home.
And two hours after their visit, Sam was still staring off into space and throwing out the occasional comment about soft fur and silky tails, and ‘imagine how amazing it would feel to glide your naked body over that’.
Chase actually felt sorry for Rae, having to sit out there and listen to it—at least he’d had a couple of ‘easy’ clients in that time: a first-timer, which had just required his office for initial assessment, and an old-timer who’d thought he could turn up with his own selection of ‘hired ladies’ and use the room he assumed he’d booked himself into.
It had taken some delicate explaining to get him to understand that CW Consults wasn’t a ‘by-the-hour’ hotel. And it had taken some sensitive, yet stern, herding to get the old guy back out of Chase’s office. They’d only got him to leave their floor, completely, by Rae calling an alternative hourly accommodation and Chase arranging a car to take the horny bastard there.
As soon as he’d shunted them into the lift and hit the down button, Chase marched back into the foyer of the clinic. Planting his hands on the curved desk, he leaned in toward the girls. “Who has food?”
“You missed lunch,” Rae said in response.
“I was updating client plans.” He stuck out his lower lips and blew at an imaginary hair. “I don’t even know how long ago that was—what time is it, anyway?”
“Three thirty,” Sam said without looking up from whatever she was doing—probably ordering herself a cat role-playing outfit.
“No wonder I’m fucking starving.” Not moving away, he glanced from one to the other, narrowing his gaze as he stared at each with more intent.
Rae let him go on for almost a full minute before she slipped her hand beneath the desk and brought out a plastic tub. “You earn more money than us. Learn to feed yourself, Walker.”
“I would, but you told me to quit buying takeaway.” He grabbed up the tub before she could retract the offer and strode for his office. Kicking the door shut at his rear, he lifted up the corner of the lid and peeked inside.
Rice and peas. That’d do nicely.
That’d do nicely indeed.
***
Teeth brushed clean of his stolen meal, lips moisturised with Carex, and hair and clothes brushed into place, Chase sat at his desk, fingertips pressed together atop the wood, awaiting the moment Abi O’Shay would turn up for her appointment.
He calculated the time in his head to be four forty-five. Fifteen minutes early for her booking. Five minutes later than she usually showed up.
His door had been shut to, so he couldn’t see out to the reception for the exact moment she arrived. Which left him sat waiting for one of the girls to buzz through.
Knowing them, they’d leave him sitting an extra few minutes longer than necessary, just for the kick.
When the buzz came less than a minute later, it seemed to vibrate through the entirety of Chase’s body, until it zipped its way out through his toes and had them pushing his arse back from the desk. He’d already rounded his desk by the time Sam’s voice broke through.
“Your five o’clock is here, Mr Walker.”
When he opened the door to Reception, he sighed out his relief at finding Abi hadn’t changed into a clinic robe.
Finally, his head had ruled over his body with the instruction he’d given. Rae had overruled it, too, when she’d forbidden him to demonstrate oral sex positions with Abi, while she wore nothing more than a clinic robe with the potential to fall wide open and lay her bare.
Though, what Abi wore instead didn’t exactly tamp down his already-twitchy dick.
A small skirt splayed around her hips, its hem draped over her thighs a good four inches above her knees. The blouse she’d donned held a gypsy appeal, patterned with embroidery a few shades darker than its red cotton, puffed sleeves making her shoulders appear higher than she set them, the soft collar dipping down to where the top button barely concealed the top swell of her breasts.
On her lap sat a small white box, and before he could stop himself, Chase asked, “You brought accessories with you today?”
Her eyes, already aimed his way as he’d appraised her, followed the slight dip of his own toward the box, and she breathed out a quiet laugh that lingered in the curve of her lips. “It’s a gift,” she said, pushing to her feet. “I brought you a treat.”
A treat? Every time Abi showed up at his office and lost her inhibitions, it felt like a treat to Chase, but he refrained from telling her that. Ignoring the straightening of Rae and Sam in their seats, he smiled right back at her instead. “What kind of treat?”
Damn his betraying voice and its deepened tone.
Lifting the lid up on the box, she stepped forward until he could see inside. Dipping in a hand, he wrapped it around one of three balls of dough in there and lifted it up for inspection.
“Doughnuts?”
She nodded. “Custard doughnuts.”
“You make these yourself?” Powdery white sugar already coated the fingers holding it.
“I did.” She half-pointed toward the one in his hand. “You should try it.”
Lips curving, he gave a nod. “Okay.”
As soon as his teeth clamped over it and his lips brushed the sugary sweetness, a low groan left him, his lids lowering over his eyes. He took his time chewing, not even caring that everyone was probably staring at him, or that he could feel the sugar dusting his face. Swallowing, he opened his eyes again and smiled across at Rae and Sam. “That is one fine doughnut.”
A pretty pink blush darkened Abi’s cheeks when he turned back to her, and he couldn’t help noticing the way she slightly dipped her gaze, as if both embarrassed and pleased by his praise.
“Where’re ours, then?” Rae asked.
“Oh, well … I did bring enough for three …”
Abi twisted toward the reception desk, but before she could so much as take a step, Chase hooked an arm over the box and freed it from her hands. “These are mine,” he said, pointing his half-eaten one their way before spinning for his office.
“Pig,” Sam shouted after him.
Abi laughed as she followed behind him. She still smiled as he closed the door.
“You wouldn’t be trying to distract me from this week’s session, would you?” he asked as he carried the doughnuts across to his desk.
“I wouldn’t dream of even trying,” she said behind him.
After popping the box down, he spun and rested his butt against the desk’s lip. Across from him, Abi took the chaise, and as she shuffled until she almost mirrored his pose on the edge of the seat, Chase noted the humour still playing across her features. “Did you do the homework I set?” he asked, like he needed to relocate the uncertainty he associated with the woman.
Rather than shy away from the probing question, though, she met his gaze as she answered, “Yes.”
Biting off another chunk of doughnut, he studied her for a long moment, but not once did she back away from the direct eye contact, so much so, his every nerve ending seemed to tingle by the time he swallowed. “How does it make you feel about today’s session?” he finally asked, feeding himself the last piece of cake.
“Curious,” she said. A simple answer that had a far from simple effect on Chase’s idiot body.
Brushing away the powder from around his mouth, he nodded. “Curious is good.” Or it would be, had they met under different circumstances and sat across from each other in a different venue. Then Chase would reveal to her everything she h
eld curiosity over, and then some.
Needing to feed the healthy dose of his own, he asked, “What was your source?” At her slight frown, he added, “Where you got your information from to complete your homework?” In his mind, he imagined her sitting before a small screen, discreetly hidden beneath the covers of her bed, the volume down low. Would she have Googled? Would she have clicked the links a search like that would’ve brought up?
Would she have been turned on—enough to need relief she would have had to provide herself?
“I asked Rebecca to meet me for lunch and asked her—Rebecca Shannigan.” She half pointed in his direction, the pink reclaiming her cheeks again. “She was a client here, if you remember me saying …”
“I remember,” he said. “What did she tell you about oral sex, when you asked?”
Her colour heightened, before a visible swallow worked its way through her throat. “She told me oral sex is pleasuring another person at their …”
Her mouth worked a moment before Chase supplied, “Their pussy or cock.”
She stared at him for a few long beats. “With your mouth,” she finally added, her expression completely deadpan, and Chase had to contain his laugh that wanted to escape.
“Correct,” he said instead. “Mouth, lips, tongue. So, knowing what the act, itself, would entail, are you still happy to explore the possibilities in today’s session?”
“Yes.” Her reply held none of the hesitation he’d expected, but came at him fast—a little husky, too.
The breath Chase gave released a whole lot of tension from his body—which had to be fucked up. In truth, he should’ve been hoping for her answer to be no. Because clothing, or no clothing, doing what he was about to with Abi O’Shay would place him in a tightrope situation. And he had no fucking idea how good his balance would be.
“Maybe we should get started, then,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.
He must have succeeded, because Abi pushed to her feet looking more than ready to get started.
Knowing familiarity would help put her at ease, Chase led her through to the bedroom used for her earlier visits.
The Therapist (7) (Chase Walker) Page 1