Houston II Ch. 04

Chapter 4.

Doctor Coughlin

Argie had been waiting patiently for thirty-four minutes when Dr. Coughlin came out to meet her. She jumped slightly when the handsome, dark-haired man breezed confidently into the room and extended his large hand to her.

"Hi," he said in a resounding baritone, "You must be Mrs. Franck. I'm Dr. Everett Coughlin. Sorry, if I kept you waiting." He held onto her hand, almost caressing it for that extra lingering moment of contact.

"Hi, yes . . . I'm Argie Franck," she answered with a small voice. "Thank you for seeing me."

She couldn't take her eyes off him, he was . . . like a Greek god; handsome, strong, and virile looking. Her legs went weak, and for the next few moments she dizzyingly imagined it was he that she would be making love to.

As he released her hand, Dr. Coughlin smiled and gestured toward his open office door. "Please, come in to my office and talk."

Argie found his office unlike any other Doctor's office she'd ever visited. Soft music drifted through the pleasantly decorated room, and scented candles flickered here and there as the two of them settled in. Dr. Coughlin directed Argie to sit on a large leather couch, arranged so she was required to place her legs straight out in front of her. She crossed her ankles and smoothed out her short dress modestly, while he took a seat in a comfortable chair facing her.

"All right," he began, "let's talk about why you are here, Argie. I assume you know what we do at the clinic, and the delicate nature of our work."

Argie cleared her throat, suddenly finding herself quite timid about discussing such things with a stranger, albeit a very handsome one. "Yes . . . Rachel, um, Doctor Gladstone, was kind enough to provide me with a rather detailed overview after I approached her about becoming a surrogate."

"Well, yes," Dr. Coughlin said, "I just need to know where to begin in explaining our work. I think it's best if I'm very direct with you about what we do. What I'm about to tell you may surprise or even shock you. You may find that the problems that we deal with, or the methods we use to deal with them, distasteful. If so, I understand. In all of the years since the clinic was established nearly half the women I've interviewed for positions here have found it impossible to participate in our program. Whatever your reaction, be honest with me and don't be embarrassed about it. Do you understand?"

Argie nodded affirmatively, thinking, 'This is getting very interesting.'

"With that said," the doctor continued, "you need to know first off our clinic specializes in dealing with people . . . primarily men, who suffer from some form of sexual dysfunction."

Argie's face brightened as she replied, "Oh, yes, I understand. That's why I want to help."

A look of puzzlement crossed Doctor Coughlin's face. "What?" he said and Argie leaped in and summarized her reasons for wanting to become a surrogate.

After hearing her out, Doctor Coughlin said, "We deal with men who can't get or maintain an erection; who can't achieve orgasm, or who are unable to satisfy their sexual partner because of some other problem such as premature ejaculation, or perhaps just poor technique. I hope you're not volunteering as a form of revenge . . . or getting even with your husband because he's cheating on you."

"No, no! You don't quite understand, doctor. John . . . my husband, is addicted to sex. He can't help himself. Or at least he hasn't tried to help himself . . . until now. He's joined Sex Addicts Anonymous. He's making an attempt to control his desires . . . his impulses, and I am encouraging him. Dr. Gladstone is his doctor . . ."

"I see," said Dr. Coughlin, although he didn't really see the whole pattern as yet.

"Does this present a problem, Doctor?" Argie pressed.

"No, that's not a problem. Everyone has their own reason for entering the surrogate field. Um, I take it then that you are . . . um, comfortable with the subject matter?"

Argie felt his eyes upon her legs and realized that in the course of explaining herself to him, she had parted them significantly, and he was looking up her skirt.

Blushing with embarrassment, she forced herself to slowly close them, after rejecting the impulse to cross one leg over the other. 'That would really give him a look at my pussy,' she thought.

"This may sound strange, in that you say your husband is addicted to sex, but has there ever been a time when he . . . shall we say, couldn't get it up?"

Argie thought about his question before replying. "Honestly, Doctor, I don't believe so. I do know . . . he keeps a kind of diary. It was something he was doing for Dr. Gladstone, to bring her abreast . . ." Argie paused, wondering if that last was a Freudian slip, then went on. ". . . Bring her abreast of his sex life."

She paused again before continuing. "I listened to part of it . . . that's how I discovered his sex addiction. Anyway, I was able to recall that following several of his . . . escapades, he came home and we had sex. I might add that with John, the sex is always good."

"Do you enjoy sexual intercourse, Mrs. Franck?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"According to you, there was a sexual liaison with a man . . . Milo?"

"That's correct."

"You felt no guilt about this?"

No, none whatsoever. It's funny, I had thought I might feel terrible about it, but afterward I felt wonderful. And the following day was more of the same. In fact I had Milo over while John was at work."

Dr. Coughlin unconsciously adjusted himself and Argie noted with some degree of satisfaction that he had an erection. Slowly, she crossed her legs and covertly watched his eyes dart toward them.

"I'm pleased that you can speak about sexual activities without reservation," he said, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"Oh sure, I'm comfortable with talking about sex," Argie said, feeling more comfortable now. "I mean, if you need more actual details, I don't mind getting into that either," she said lightly.

"We don't need to probe that deeply, Mrs. Franck."

"Please, call me Argie, as if my name were two letters, you know, R. G.?"

"But it's actually spelled A-R-G-I-E?"

"Right!" she chirped delightedly, on finding he knew just how to spell her name. "So many people can't spell it," she said, re-crossing her legs.

"Argie . . ." Coughlin began, "is, or will your husband be aware of what you'll be doing here?"

"He will. And he won't complain about it either. We've reached a compromise. He will still have his affairs and I'll have mine. I just thought that since I'll be having sex more often than not, I might do some good, you know, help those unfortunate and all."

"All right then, let me give you some information. I know you may already have heard some of this, but I want to make sure you've heard my version," he said with a warm smile. "Our clients usually come from referrals from qualified therapists, although there is the occasional walk-in."

"We screen them for physiological, pharmacological and other easily treatable conditions for sexual dysfunction before ushering them into the surrogate's waiting arms as it were."

Argie nodded, and returned his smile as he continued. "Surrogacy takes two forms: open-ended long-term, which consists of weekly visits, or if weekly visits are a geographic impossibility, a one-week intensive session that includes 18 hours with a surrogate and seven hours with a therapist for $3,000. There is also the occasional two-week intensive session, that's 38 hours with the surrogate and 14 hours with a therapist for $8000. All that money comes from the client. It's not covered by insurance."

"May I ask a question, Doctor?"

"Certainly, Argie, may I call you Argie?"

"Yes, of course. Tell me, why isn't a person who takes money for these sexual encounters a prostitute?"

"My understanding is that in Texas, it depends on the intent. The intent in our work is therapeutic, so you are not prostituting yourself. To be honest, if you were a prostitute, you'd be earning a hell of a lot more money than $150 an hour," Doctor Coughlin said.

"You see, to be effective, you must touch the patient. Touch is a tool that is necessary, but it is only one of many tools utilized in therapy. They also get the benefit of my intellect, and let us say, your intuition, at least in the beginning. The touching is one of the tools to help them, but it is not what they are contracting for. More importantly, there is never a guarantee for sexual intercourse."

Doctor Coughlin surprised Argie by getting up. Her eyes noted the increased size of the bulge his penis made in his dress slacks.

"Let me just dim some of these lights to make things a little more comfortable and we will get started," he said. Then he busied himself adjusting some of the indirect lighting in the room until it was fairly dark, with only several flickering candles left to cast a soft glow in the area where they were seated. He flipped another switch in a stereo cabinet, and the soothing sound of waves gently crashing on a beach mingled and rose above the music.

Doctor Coughlin joined Argie on the leather couch, and said, "Erotic touching and sex are sometimes a part of the experience. In some cases, we have genital touch, or erotic feeling. I would say that's only 5 to 10 percent of the total therapy experience, and only if it makes sense clinically and is acceptable to both client and surrogate."

"Yes, I understand all that," Argie said with just a hint of impatience.

Doctor Coughlin recognized it and picked up his pace. He laughed, placed his right hand on her bare knee. The heat of his touch sent a lightning bolt to her crotch.

"Despite our fevered imaginings," he went on, "nudity may not be part of a session for weeks or months, if it ever is. The first session with a client is a lengthy interview. The next session will involve verbal exercises, in which the client asks for what he wants. The idea is for people to verbalize. If they have a huge fear of rejection, even to get it out of their mouth is a victory," he told her, as they made eye contact.

"They get to ask for what they want," he said, giving her knee a light squeeze, "without the intent of it getting carried through, just to ask for what they want and to hear you say, yes."

"The actual physical exercises start slowly. All the exercises are about retraining someone to get out of their head and be more present with the other person."

His hand began to move upward on her thigh, Argie was still staring into his eyes, almost hypnotized by the smooth tone of his voice. "The touching exercise is called SENSATE FOCUS," he said, and began to massage the ball of her shoulder with his left hand. Then, opening the fingers of his right hand, he moved an additional few inches until touching the edge of her panties.

"Okay, now, please close your eyes. I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to be absolutely truthful with your answers. Do you understand?"

She closed her eyes, and nodded, shifting around slightly on the couch until she was completely comfortable and relaxed.

"You said you feel uninhibited sexually, that you are not afraid to let go?"

"Yes, usually . . ." she replied.

"When do you enjoy sex most?"

"I guess when I feel completely relaxed and not worried about anything," she admitted, having taken a moment to reflect.

"What kinds of things do you worry about during sex, Argie? Do you worry about reaching orgasm?"

"No, well ... I almost always come," she said, feeling the butterflies take flight in her belly and she unconsciously raised her knees slightly off the couch.

"You do have orgasms, don't you?"

"Yes . . ." she said softly, "I . . . just said . . ." Argie was shocked, for it sounded like she was slurring her words. 'Was something wrong with her?' She wondered.

"Are your orgasms better when you are having sex with your husband, or when you masturbate?"

Argie couldn't help opening her eyes slightly and glancing at him. "Um, probably when I have sex ..." she whispered, feeling somewhat ashamed at revealing such personal information, but at the same time a feeling exhilaration filled her. This time she had spoken clearly and succinctly. Argie thought it a victory of sorts and then realized the doctor was still speaking to her.

"Did someone tell you that masturbation is wrong? "Did someone tell you that sex is dirty-especially oral sex?"

"Well, sure . . . my parents . . . and people at church," she admitted, ruefully and started to bite a fingernail, would have, but his hand touched hers and she moved the errant hand to her lap.

"Can you have multiple orgasms?"

"I think so," she answered, as if the question caught her off guard.

His voice dropped an octave, for he was well aware how seductive a man's voice could be to a woman, and he almost spoke to her in a whisper. "Not everyone likes being touched in the same way. It is about building trust and communication skills."

He paused for a moment, and saw that her face and neck had taken on a flush indicating a certain high level of sexual excitement. He began to lightly tickle her neck, running his hand from just under her ear and down to her elbow.

"I . . ." Argie found herself murmuring, "Like the way you're touching me." She was amazed that she had even been able to voice the words. She was incredibly hot; wanting to feel him inside her, hoping that was where this was leading; wondering how big his penis was. She felt herself melting, and nestled her head into the hollow under his chin.

His hand moved confidently now, to the damp juncture between her legs. He kissed the top of her head, and he began to caress the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of her elbow.

"So," she stammered, then asked meekly, "you want to have sex in the office?"

"Well, that depends on you, its part of the procedure. What I mean is, by having sex with you I can determine how much additional experience is necessary, what your needs are, what you may or may not be comfortable with."

What do you mean?" she asked, trying to focus her clouded eyes on the handsome man next to her. "You want to fuck me . . . here . . . now?"

"We could go more slowly, if that's what you prefer. There's no urgency. I just thought that, well. There's no time like the present." However, his hand left her sex and dropped downward until it cupped her knee. Argie moaned lightly at the sudden loss of his hand from her sex.

'Still,' she told herself, 'his touch was exquisite.'

"No, let's start now," Argie heard herself say, as if from a long way off.

She wasn't sure if she could work up enough nerve to go through this again, or with another therapist. She wanted to go through with it, and leaned her head back to look at him. Doctor Coughlin leaned forward and captured her lips with his. The kiss was soft, sensual, and closed, as he used his lips to massage hers; capturing her bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth.

Argie had never been kissed so expertly before. She was close to sensory overload as he continued sucking and chewing ever so gently on her lip.

Argie stopped breathing.

The doctor, aware of everything that was going on in both his own sensory system and Argie's, began a mental countdown, while at the same time allowing his right hand to desert her knee and surge back to her sex, delving under her panties to explore the crease where the top of her thigh met her torso.

Argie shuddered and began breathing again.

'Twenty-six seconds,' Coughlin told himself smugly. 'What's my record . . . fifty-three? Yeah, Agnes from Tucson, last fall.'

"Lift your hips up, dear," he said quietly, and Argie readily complied. He deftly removed her panties and tossed them aside.

Argie was breathing faster, she was aware that she had lubricated, a little more than usual, and was concerned that she might leave a stain on the couch.

His finger finally brushed over her moistened folds and Argie's legs parted, whether voluntary or not he couldn't be sure. Slowly, he moved his right leg over hers, and when it was firmly lodged between her thighs, he used it to open her wider and sent his index finger probing into her slick, open vulva.

"Oh!" she gasped with pleasure.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Don't you like to be free and naked? I know I do."

Doctor Coughlin began plunging his finger in and out of her, and with his other hand he deftly caressed her clitoris as it emerged from under its hood.

"Um," he sighed, "your cunny is yearning to be touched and kissed, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she moaned, "Yeah."

"Oh, yes, you want that, don't you? To be kissed and licked and touched down there. Doesn't it feel wonderful?" he murmured, as he lowered his mouth to the little triangle tuft of dirty blonde hair.

"To have the lips of your sex touched and caressed by someone's mouth ... like this."

"Oh, Christ," she moaned, "I . . . I . . ."

Argie felt his hot breath first, then, as his lips made contact with her drenched opening, an electric jolt surged through her. Once again, she had trouble breathing. Somewhere in the distance she heard waves crashing, but the sound was no match for the thundering beat of her heart echoing in her ears.

The doctor's strong, gentle hands slid under her thighs and moved them further apart. In her mind's eye, she saw the pointed tip of his tongue as it danced up and down her slickened groove. Argie shuddered and her veins flooded with intense pleasure. She could feel her clit throbbing for attention, and prayed his tongue would find it soon.

Then, as his talented tongue made contact with her sensitive folds, she had a fleeting thought. 'This man was the best lover she had ever met, or would ever meet. Better than John, better than Milo, better than the others she had experimented with over the years before her marriage. None of them, not a one, came anywhere close to this man, and he had yet to fuck her!'

Doctor Coughlin inhaled her musky scent before tasting Argie's sweet nectar, and made her gasp with pleasure. He spread her glistening vaginal lips open with two fingers of his left hand while he lapped at her furiously, letting her succulent taste wash over his palate.

He switched tactics, moving to a slower approach. Argie gripped, then clutched the cushion of the couch. Her aroused body was already stirring with the first tremors of orgasm. His mouth moved languidly on her, tantalizing, even tormenting her by not hurrying. Argie felt the little button at the center of her sex pulsing, aching for his touch, and as if reading her mind, he swiped his knowing tongue directly over her pearl.

Argie's entire body went rigid against him. She cried out and would have left long, deep welts on his back with her tearing fingernails had he not been wearing a medical jacket over his shirt.

"Did you just come?" He inquired gently.

"Mmmmm," she managed in reply.

"Good, I'm going to undress now, and then I'll enter you, all right?"

"Mmmmm . . . yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck me, doctor, fuck me good!"

Dr. Coughlin quickly removed his shoes and socks, opened his slacks and released his erection. Then he took off his jacket and shirt, kicked his slacks off, hopping around on one foot momentarily when the cuff caught onto his right ankle. A moment later he shimmied out of his boxers, and holding his impressive nine-inch penis in his right hand, returned to Argie, who lay still before him on the leather couch.

Argie was aware of what he was doing, but all she could concentrate on was the overpowering pleasure radiating out from between her legs. Then she felt his weight descending upon her and a great shudder of anticipation rocked her lithe frame. He gave her clit a light lick and her orgasm returned, milder perhaps, but rewarding all the same.