Transference

Hey, it happens.

I had always found Jessica to be an attractive woman. She had a pretty, oval shaped face, gentle features and the tall, graceful body of a runway model. Still, I never once thought about her in an infelicitous manner, even as I listened to her tell me erotic details about her relationships.

            Even her honeyed voice that at times sent chills down my spine, never made me look at her as anything more than an attractive woman with multiple personal issues.

            I was Jessica’s therapist, the person she came and confided in for fifty minutes a week for the last fifteen weeks. I knew most of her deep dark secrets, fears and anxieties. A therapist is never supposed to fall for one of their clients, but therapists are human. It’s impossible that a therapist would work with dozens, if not hundreds of clients and not find themselves attracted to at least one of them. That was the reality.

            I was keenly aware of that as a man, just as I was aware that as a man my hormones sometimes couldn’t tell or didn’t care if a woman was my client or not.

            I had been there before, a year ago with Alisa. She was pretty, not beautiful, but had the type of body that triggered my baby making genes to want to procreate. It didn’t matter what she wore to try to hide her sensual curves, nothing ever did. It didn’t help that she flirted with me too as we spent months together discussing her anemic relationship and her temptation to go back to a boyfriend I felt was no good for her.

            I thought about Alisa a lot outside of the counseling sessions, usually in impure ways that had her legs up on my shoulders, our bodies mashed together in a sweaty euphoria.

            I never acted on those carnal desires and when our therapy sessions ended, that was the end of that. I think I was relieved, being face to face with so much temptation had become draining.

            And then Jessica, pretty, but in a rather modest way, leans over my desk and her v-neck t-shirt reveals a healthy portion of young, full, milk-chocolate colored breasts that up until that moment, I wasn’t even aware she had.

She sits back in the chair, oblivious to what had just happened inside of me. Oblivious to how hard she had just made it for me to keep my eyes from darting back to those breasts, hoping to get another glimpse. 

Suddenly, Jessica looks so much more interesting to me. I try to stop thinking about her like that and concentrate on what she’s telling me, something about a fight she had with one of her girlfriends. Still, my masculine mind won’t let it go. I keep trying to figure out how I never noticed how nice her breasts were before.

            Our session ends and I vaguely remember half of what she talked about, but unaware of my distraction, she stands up and smiles, thankful that I listened.

            I watch as she leaves, force myself not to stare at her body, forcing all sexual thoughts out of my head, excited to see her again next week.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Beautiful woman can test us. I work with many attractive ladies. Hard not to think of them waving you into the warm of soft bed. I like this story. To hear and be able to keep your distance would take great effort and strength. Complete story was outstanding. I like the ending. Thank you.
Coyote