Exstacy! Ch. 01byemily_hughs©
Amber sat at her desk, scanning through the selection of photographs on the screen in front of her and looking for some to accompany her current article, an interview she had recently conducted with a young, local soap star. Sounds of activity were all around her. She wasn't important enough to have her own office, and had to make do with a desk on the main floor. Not that this bothered her. It gave her the chance to catch up on the gossip from all the other girls, as long as she didn't have too much work to do. Today was a busy day, though. It was a Thursday, and Thursdays were her deadline days for her weekly article. Even though the next issue of the magazine wasn't due for printing until Saturday, the editor stipulated that her weekly celebrity interviews had to be finished and printed with the master proof on her desk by 4pm every Thursday. She already had all her text inputted and the page was laid out with headlines, subheadings and graphical placeholders where the photographs needed to go. All she needed to do was find the right pictures, insert them into the gaps and print the page. A job that could take her thirty minutes. Or three hours. With a sigh, she dismissed yet another shot. The girl's dress didn't go with the colour of the page background. She pressed the button to advance to the next image, and took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup on the desk in front of her. Then, pulling a face, she spat it back into the cup. She couldn't stand cold coffee! Pressing another button to save a back up her work, she stood up, straightened her skirt and the jacket of her suit, and headed down the office to another desk nearer the door.
The office was divided up into six or seven workspaces, each separated into cubicles by partition walls. Each workspace came with the same basic standard features, a mackintosh computer with scanner, printer and digital memory card reader, a waste paper bin under the table, a phone, a small filing cabinet and a couple of trays to keep papers. None of them were the same, though, as each individual had modified their own space to make it as unique as they were. Some people had added items for functionality such as additional hardware items for the computer, or a fax machine. Others had added items for recreational use. A radio or CD player, or even a small hand held TV. A lot of people had brought ornamental items in, such as potted plants, or framed photographs of the family. Apart from the basic standards, Stacy's cubicle had a small cactus plant, a photograph of her boyfriend and some posters and a calendar on the wall. She also had a stool that Amber had bought, that her best friend could use whenever she came to pay her a visit in her cubicle.
"Hiya, Stace. What you working on?" Amber asked, as she pulled out the stool and sat down next to the short, blonde haired girl.
"Not much. I've got an interview in half an hour for the Real Life column next week." She finished typing the sentence she was on, then swivelled round on her chair to face her friend. "I was just doing some research and background. What about you? What you working on?"
"Still finishing up my last interview. Can't find the right pictures, though. Fancy going for a coffee? The stuff from that vending machine's awful."
"Sure. I've got a bit of time." She pushed her chair back a little and stood up, pausing a moment to save her work and shut down the browser she had been using. Now that she was standing, Amber had a chance to get a proper view of that the girl was wearing. Unlike Amber, who went for the more formal option of a business suit, Stacy wore a casual t-shirt and tight denim shorts, lightly frayed at the bottom. The t-shirt had a relatively low neckline, giving a nice view of her cleavage, and the skirt she wore was very short. The girl looked like a college student looking to catch someone's eye, rather than a magazine reporter. Not for the first time, Amber allowed her eyes to run over Stacy's gorgeous young body. The 24-year old had long, shiny blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a fountain, and the soft, youthful features of a girl ten years younger. The t-shirt, though not tight, stretched over her breasts, and revealed a cleavage that made Amber want to lick her lips with desire. The shorts clung to Stacy's slim figure, closely following the shape of her body. Amber wished she had the confidence to take the risk and tell her best friend how she felt about her, but she was scared of what her reaction would be.
"You gonna stand there and look at me all day, or are you gonna come and get that coffee?" Stacy asked, her face breaking into a smile that lit up her stunning features, and made Amber want her even more.
"Sure. Lead the way," and Amber followed her friend through the office to the doorway, and down the corridor to the lift.
The staff restaurant was almost empty when the two women got there. Not surprising, as it was too late for breakfast, and too early for most people to be taking their breaks. One of the editors from another department was sitting alone on a table near the kitchen, and a couple of the magazine's few male staff were sat together on a table near the entrance. Forgetting the trays, Amber and Stacy went straight to the counter and asked the woman there for two coffees. She was the only person serving, but sounds of washing pots and cooking food could be heard coming from the kitchen behind her. Amber paid for both drinks, and then the two of them went to find a table.
"So, what you've got planned for the weekend?" Stacy asked, taking a tiny sip from the scalding hot cup of coffee and savouring the sensation as the hot liquid slid down her throat.
"My sister's invited me down for a few days," Amber replied. "She's coming to pick me up tomorrow night." Amber was nursing her cup in her hands, allowing the heat to warm her fingers. "What about you?" Stacy was quiet for a few moments, staring into the dark depths of her coffee cup. "Stacy?"
"Hmm?" she gazed up from her drink, and looked across at the other woman. "Sorry?"
"I was asking what you were going to be doing."
"I know, I heard you," Stacy replied. After another few moments she said, "I'm supposed to be going out with Sean. He's taking me to see a movie. Then he wants me to stay the night again." Stacy looked like this was the last thing she wanted to do.
"Oh? That's good, isn't it?" Amber asked, a little confused. "I thought you liked him?"
"I do," she admitted, and took another, longer sip of coffee. This time it burned her mouth, and she had to swallow quickly.
"What is it, then? You don't like the sex?"
"That's just it," Stacy confided. "I don't know. I mean, I do like sex. I've masturbated since I was a teenager, and I've seen plenty of dirty movies. But when I do it with Sean, I just don't seem to enjoy it."
"So you mean you don't want him to do it with you? You don't like what he does?"
"I don't know what it is. I want to do it, and I like doing it. But when I'm in bed, doing it with Sean, it just doesn't excite me. He thinks I came four times last week, but I had to fake every one of them." Stacy was staring into her coffee cup again, and looked like she was going to start crying.
"Maybe you need some help?" Amber asked. What she wanted to say was that perhaps Stacy was putting her interest in the wrong place, that maybe she should try a relationship with a different kind of person. A woman, for example. Seeing how upset she was, though, Amber didn't think it would be a good idea. She might only succeed in driving Stacy away from her.
"What do you mean?" Stacy asked. "Like a sex therapist?"
"It might be worth a try," Amber admitted. Now she was pushing the idea, she was worried it might have the same result as her suggestion to try women.
"Where would I find one?" Stacy asked. It looked to Amber like she was seriously considering the idea.
"I dunno," she shrugged. "Try the Yellow Pages?" At that, both girls burst into fits of giggling. Between bursts of giggles, the two girls managed to finish their drinks. When they were done Amber returned to the office, while Stacy left for her interview.
Stacy's interview lasted for about an hour, and when she returned to the office, it was about 11.00. She went straight to her desk and, opening up her word processing package, immediately started to write up her article. She had only been working for a few minutes when Amber came over with a sheet of paper in her hand. Pulling out her stool from under the desk, she dropped the piece of paper down on the keyboard in front of her friend and sat down. Stacy stopped typing and looked at it.
"What's this?" she asked.
"It's the proof copy of one of the classified pages of next weeks issue," Amber answered, stating the obvious. The word CLASSIFIED was printed at the top of the first column in large, bold letters.
"I can see that," Stacy replied. "What you showing it me for?"
"Column three, fifth ad. down," she said, and waited for Stacy to read it. The girl read it twice, before looking up to stare into Amber's face. Without saying anything, she returned her eyes to the page to read it again.
"Ecstatic Sex, sex therapy with a difference. Lacking the spark to get you excited? Need some help getting turned on in the bedroom? If the excitement has gone out of your sex life, ring the number below and book a free introductory session. Even if the rockets are going off, give us a call and we can guarantee we'll send you to new heights of erotic pleasure."
"Well?" Amber asked. After reading the advert for a fourth time, Stacy looked up at her again.
"Are you serious?" she asked. Amber tried not to show the worry she was feeling. Had she offended her friend?
"It's up to you," Amber stammered. "It was just a suggestion. But the first sessions free. What have you got to loose?"
"I don't know," Stacy said, trying to sound uncertain. Even as she said it, though, she was trying to think where she could go to make a private call. "I need to start this article, though. I'll see you later." Amber nodded and got up to return to her own desk. Stacy was grateful that she'd left the proof page behind. Glancing round to make sure no one was watching, Stacy took her coat off the back of her chair and removed her phone from the inside pocket. Replacing the coat, she keyed the number from the advert into the phone, and then stored it to memory. Then she got up, pushed her chair in and, slipping her phone into her back pocket, headed out the office in the direction of the ladies room, the phone pressing hard against her rump in the pocket of her tight denim shorts.
The toilets seemed to be empty when she entered, but she needed to make sure. She walked the length of the cubicle row, pushing at every door and was satisfied to discover that every one opened onto an empty toilet. Stepping into the last stall, she locked the door and put down the toilet lid. Then she got out her phone, sat down, and located the number for Ecstatic Sex.
"Hello, Ecstatic Sex. How can I help you?" The girl on the phone sounded young, probably even younger than Stacy was. She hesitated a few moments, before making her move.
"Hello," she started. "I've just seen your advertisement, and I'd like to book an introductory session."
"That was quick," the girl on the other end of the phone said. "I think it only went in today."
"It did," Stacy admitted. "I work at one of the magazines. I saw the advert on one of the master prints. I'm not too early, am I?"
"Of course not," the girl answered. "Can I take you name, please?"
"Stacy," Stacy answered. "Stacy Brooke."
"Well, Miss Brooke, we have a vacancy today at 1.00pm. Is that too soon?" Stacy suddenly started to shiver with anticipation. Today? She'd had no idea it would be as soon as that.
"S...sure," she stuttered. "It'll have to be on my lunch hour. How long will it be?"
"Oh, you'll be done in less than an hour, I'm sure," the girl on the other end of the phone assured her, and set about giving Stacy directions to the clinic.
Stacy returned to the office about five minutes later, and after sitting back down at her desk, looked across in Amber's direction. The other woman was hard at work on her article, and didn't seem to have even noticed that Stacy had left. Returning her phone to her coat pocket, Stacy returned to her own article. For about the next three quarters of an hour, Stacy typed in a semi-trance while she thought about what to expect at the clinic. She had never been to a sex therapist before, nor did she know anyone who had. What did they do? Would she actually be having sex with someone? Or watching people having sex? Or would the therapist just be talking to her? By the time it got to quarter to one, Stacy was shivering uncontrollably. She had no idea if it was from the cold, or because she was so nervous of what she was getting herself into. The windows were open, and she was quite scantily clad. It could just be the cold air blowing in from outside, but the windows had been open all morning and she hadn't noticed anything till now.
"You coming to lunch?" Stacy looked up to see Amber standing next to her. She saved her work, and closed the computer down. She thought a whole hour was a bit long to leave it standing idle.
"I can't. I'm meeting someone. Someone else I want to interview for my article." She got up from her chair as she spoke and reached for her coat, a denim jacket that matched her tight shorts. "I'll see you when I get back, okay? It shouldn't take the whole hour." She slipped the jacket on as she spoke, and lifted her long, shiny hair out from underneath, so it cascaded down the outside of her coat. The mid-day sun, pouring in through the open window, shone off the golden locks and highlighted her gorgeous features even more. Amber felt a throb of desire and a tingle between her legs. She longed to be able to take Stacy down to the ladies for half an hour and show her how to really enjoy herself.
"Okay," Amber replied, once more resisting the urge to pour out her feelings and desires to her best friend. "I'll get you a sandwich from the restaurant for when you get back."
"Thanks," Stacy said with a smile. "See if they've got one of those delicious chocolate fudge brownies too, will ya?" With that, she placed her hands gently on Amber's shoulder's and kissed her on the cheek. "See you later." With that, Stacy turned and headed out the door.
Stacy sat in her parked car outside the large building that housed the Ecstatic Sex therapy clinic. The building was on a country road just outside the town, and looked like it was an old converted barn. Stacy looked at her watch, and considered again just driving back to work and getting some lunch with Amber. It was a couple of minutes off one. Finally, she gathered her confidence and, removing the keys from the ignition, opened the car door and stepped out. With a slam, she closed the door again and locked it, before walking up the drive to the front door.
The gravel of the driveway crunched under her feet as she walked up to the front door. She climbed the step and pushed the bell, which buzzed shrilly until she removed her finger. A voice emerged from somewhere telling her to push the door, and she heard the click of an automatic lock being released. Climbing up to the last step, she pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer.
Anyone knowledgeable of the female sexual organs would have recognized the clinic's analogy with sex as soon as they stepped into the building. The entrance hall was exactly the same shape as a woman's genitals. A short, wide entrance passage opened out into a rather large reception and waiting area, and two longer, but thinner passages curved off to the left and right. At the end of each of these passages was a door. The reception area itself was decorated and furnished in a Victorian style, with chandeliers and elaborate wall decorations. The receptionist was sitting at a restored Victorian mahogany desk, just in front of a central staircase at the back of the room. The staircase led up to a balcony which ran round three of the four walls, and Stacy could see doorways to several rooms all the round.
The young girl on the reception desk looked about 18 or 19, and was busy with some paperwork when Stacy approached her. The two women were the only people in the room, giving Stacy the impression that business was rather slow. After a few moments, the girl looked up at Stacy and smiled.
"Hello. Can I help you?" Stacy noticed that she was shivering again, and pulled her denim jacket tighter round her shoulders.
"I have an appointment at one O'clock," Stacy said, managing to get the words out without stammering. "For the free introduction."
"Ah, yes. Miss Brooke, isn't it?" Stacy nodded. "Fiona is upstairs with a client at the moment. Take a seat and she'll be with you in a moment." Stacy went over to the row of chairs on the left hand side of the uterus shaped room. Selecting one of the comfortable, velvet covered gilt chairs; she waited for someone to call her. Occasionally she thought she heard faint moaning coming from one of the rooms upstairs, but decided she must have bee mistaken. After several minutes, one of the doors on the upstairs balcony opened.
Three figures emerged from the upstairs room. The first was a woman of about 60, with short silvery grey hair and slightly wrinkled skin. Despite her age, she was still rather good looking. She wore a pair of glasses on a beaded strap round her neck, and was dressed in a long dark skirt, a light yellow blouse and a long woolly grey cardigan. Behind her was a man somewhere in his mid-thirties wearing jeans and a casual shirt, with a faded brown suede jacket slung over his shoulder. The third person to leave the room was a young brunette girl in her late teens or early twenties. She was dressed in a medium length oriental bathrobe that stopped a few inches above her knees. Her legs and feet were bare, and she was showing a lot of cleavage through the open V-neck of her robe. She looked a little flushed, as if she had recently been exerting herself. As the trio came down the stairs, Stacy heard the grey haired woman talking to the young man.
"If you see Elizabeth on the desk, she'll make you an appointment for next week. And remember to experiment with what we showed you. We'll discuss it on your next visit." The man said something quietly in acknowledgment that Stacy couldn't hear, and then went over to the reception desk. The young girl walked past Stacy, giving her a suggestive smile, and carried on down the left hand passage and through the door at the end. The older woman approached Stacy.
"You must be Stacy," the woman said, extending her hand as the young woman got to her feet. "I'm Fiona Waterman."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Waterman," Stacy said as she stood up, her nervousness making her more formal than she would normally be. She took the offered hand as the woman continued to speak.
"The relationships we have with our clients are rather more intimate than most, Stacy," Fiona explained as she pointed her in the direction of the right hand passage. "For that reason, we prefer to operate on a first name basis." Stacy nodded as Fiona opened the door onto a short passage, also decorated in a Victorian style. There were several doors along the length of the passage, but Fiona opened the one closest to the door they had just come through. The room inside was set out a little like a Victorian study, with a desk similar to the one in the reception area on one side. There was a selection of more comfortable chairs closer to the middle, of the room, including sofas, benches and gilt chairs. Fiona walked over to the desk and, sitting down in her own chair, indicated that Stacy should take the seat on the opposite side of the desk.