No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 09

She didn't budge, waiting for him to finally tell him.

"Give up? Okay. It's really pretty simple, sweetheart. I have a personal assistant – actually several of them – who monitor my incoming calls. They have a known roster of numbers that are always screened, a known roster of numbers that are always let through, and others that are situation based." He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his paper work.

She thought about it for a moment – it was an alternative she had considered, but it seemed too simple. And then it struck her. "Hey, hold on! Which one am I? Always through, situational?"

He grinned and pulled her into a kiss.

They didn't talk the rest of the way home, and hadn't discussed the therapy any further until he kissed her goodnight, just an hour or so ago.

"I'll let you know." The flickering of lust in his eyes almost made her suggest he come home with her, but she wanted to be alone. She'd spent the entire weekend as his toy – it had been fun, but the normalcy of her life had slammed into her as she approached the entrance to her office. She kissed him, turned to retrieve her car and face the drive home alone.

Her fingers were slippery and not from soap. It wouldn't be a big orgasm, but it would help take the edge off. She sat on the edge of the tub replaying the scenes from the moment they'd arrived until the sweet explosion doused her brain.

* - * - * - * - *

"Take the control," he handed her the player and sat back.

They were alone in the theater. She had told Patti to wait; she didn't want her to be there. Not for the first time...well, technically the second time.

"How do I tell it to show me a past where I'm naked in front of strangers?"

He nodded and closed his eyes briefly. A few heartbeats later the adjusted a few settings and handed it back to her.

"You see the Gaussian curve there?"

She nodded, noticing a set of vertical lines slicing the display on either side of the bell curve.

"You see the reddish marker there?" He pointed. She nodded. "That's where we'll find a likely candidate. It may take a few tries."

He showed her how to initiate the sequence and she sat back.

The scene opened in Monty's dining room, with at least a dozen people around the table. She recognized a couple of them from the party and one gentleman from the weekend at Grey's Point. She turned up the volume a little.

"And how long have you and Monty been dating?" The voice came from a woman at Marcie's left – young and quite beautiful, apparently a partner of one of the men across the table.

"Only a few weeks. We met by accident...literally, although he would correct me if he heard me say it." She smiled and took a sip from her cocktail.

The meal was sit down, served by staff who came and went as the guests chatted.

"Is this going anywhere?" She turned to Monty, wondering if they should try again.

"Hold on. It's too soon to tell. We may have started a little early. You can fast-forward if you'd like." He pointed to a control and she watched as the figures moved rapidly around the room, serving dishes, food moving from plate to mouth, wine disappearing from glasses. She slowed it down when she thought she noticed something odd. She moved the point of view to frame her and her companion.

"Really? You don't think Monty would mind?" The woman put her hand to her mouth and smiled. "I'd really like to see that. It would make this party so entertaining."

Marcie could see the effect the woman's words had on her past-self. The anger and...pride...and slight drunkenness on her face. She knew what that meant. She sat and stared, her fingers gripping the control, her legs pressed together against the love seat. She held her breath.

Her past-self casually reached behind her and unzipped her dress, the sound drowned out by the conversation. Except for her companion, no one else seemed to notice. And then she peeled it off of her, letting her breasts come free. Without missing a beat, she lifted slightly off her chair and peeled it down, backing away from the table slightly. While she was bent over, Marcie could tell she was removing her underwear as well.

She exhaled and realized she had become aroused: her nipples were erect, pushing against her shirt, her clit was erect, pushing against its hood, and she could feel her moisture building. Monty looked over at her.

"Do you want to go on?"

"No. Yes. Shit. No. I can't believe I'm this turned on by a fantasy past!"

"A) it's not a 'fantasy' past – it really happened, and B) we can stop it if you want."

She wanted to see an alternate when she didn't peel off her clothes. "Yes. Can we try and find its opposite?"

He nodded and stopped the sequence, her breasts frozen in place on the screen; all eyes at the table had turned toward her. She wondered whether she had been right. "Wait. I want to see your face."

He turned the viewpoint around to face the other end of the table, and there, framed in the picture was Monty, his face lit up with joy, his hands just about to clap together. She blushed a deep crimson, realizing he really did enjoy her stripping; he wasn't embarrassed, he seemed to be cheering her on.

"God..." she whispered, her juices now soaking her panties. She couldn't believe what was happening to her. "Okay. Let's try the other side of the coin."

He fiddled with the display and the scene blurred.

Same table; different guests she noticed. The woman to her left was the same. They were having a conversation, but Marcie could see her past-self was not enjoying it.

"Well, I think it's wrong. People just peeling off their clothes at the slightest suggestion. It might be okay for college kids – they're just experimenting after all – but grown adults. It's just...not right."

Marcie put her hand to her mouth, her jaw dropped. She sounded just like her step-mother. She blinked and shook her head, pausing the scene. Her head was throbbing.

"I...I can't do this." The feeling was so intense, the disgust at seeing her behave this way. The difference between the two pasts, and more importantly differences in her visceral reactions to them made her a little dizzy.

"Okay. Just breathe. Maybe it would be best to chat with Patti, yeah?" Monty stood up and held out her hand. "I'll make some tea."

"But...but I could become that person..." She waved her hand vaguely at the screen not wanting to look at herself.

"You could," he paused, waiting for her to get up, "but you wouldn't. That's the point of this. Remember the premise behind this therapy: belief systems change us. Just by watching this, you are changing yourself. The question is, in what way do you want to change?"

She sat with her therapist in the living room, trying to regain a sense of balance.

"Are you okay?" Patti saw how drained she looked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She sat there with her eyes closed, revisiting the two scenes, alternately turned on and disgusted. Suddenly a torrent of words came from her, Patti taking notes and acknowledging what she'd heard.

They talked for an hour, all of the pain of Marcie's adolescence spilling out: her step-mother's domination and value judgments, the freedom of being naked, and the rebellion. So much of what she'd been doing for the past 10 years suddenly came into focus in a way she'd never discussed. In just a few minutes of immersion into a past that was so real, so life-like, Marcie had stripped away the false-fronts she had worked so hard to build.

"This is a little overwhelming, Marcie. I have to say. You weren't in there for more than 15 minutes. I've never experienced anything like this. It's quite a breakthrough." Patti was more than a little worried – the power of the technology seemed overwhelming, and breathtaking. She wasn't sure what to advise: whether her client should continue or not. "How are you feeling?"

She took a breath and thought about it. "I feel...lighter. A little light-headed actually, but I think that's from all the talking. Lighter. Like a load has been lifted. I've been carrying all of this guilt for so many years. From that woman. I...I'm not sure what to do about it. She's been in my head so long, I'm not sure what I'll do if she's gone. But I don't want her anymore. She's not healthy. She's been making me sick."

Patti couldn't have agreed more, but she kept her mouth closed. This was a huge breakthrough and the bigger question was how Monty would fit into the picture. Marcie could just as easily decide exhibitionism wasn't her thing now that the rebellion facet was revealed, or she might conclude she'd been having fun all along, and now could enjoy it even more, without the guilt. Either way, their relationship would change. Patti was keenly interested to see whether Monty was ready.

"I don't have any advice for you, except to suggest these things take time to work themselves out. You've made huge progress tonight...this past week – whether it was because of the gizmo or your hard work these past several months, I can't say, but there's no question you're asking the right questions. Are you okay? Do you want me to follow you home?" She felt a little awkward being in his house – she wasn't certain she should leave yet.

"I'm...I'm not sure what I'm going to do just yet. You don't have to stay. I'm feeling so much better now. Do we still have an appointment this week? I think I'd like to see you in a couple of days after I've slept on this for a little bit. Yeah?"

"Perhaps we should see when Monty is available for another session with the gizmo?"

"Oh! Of course. I think he must be in the kitchen."

She led her out of the living room.

"Monty! Monty, I can't believe this! It's fantastic!" She walked quickly through the dining room on her way to the kitchen and stopped short, seeing the table with its empty chairs, her two selves momentarily overlaid and then she continued on, laughing at the complete ludicrousness of it all.

Patti had stopped and now followed her patient again; she look confused.

"You look exhausted," he looked up from his laptop. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I am feeling fantastic! But yeah, I'm pretty worn out. It's just...I feel so relieved, like a weight's been taken off me." She sat down at the peninsula stool next to him. "I can't believe what's happened from this one session...and last week's, of course"

"Thank you," he turned to Patti, "for participating. I hope you didn't find anything to prevent this from going on?"

"It sounds pretty incredible, actually." The therapist stood on the other side of the counter. "10 minutes with you and 60 with me. That's a pretty good ratio....I really should be going, but I thought we should schedule the next session." She opened her date book. "Thursday's out, as I mentioned..."

"Oh, Monty." She turned to him and then back to her.... "Sorry Patti."...and then back to him. "I just remembered, do you have Thursday night open?"

He looked at her, confused by the rapid shifts in conversation and clicked through his laptop. "Yes...what time?"

"Some friends invited us out, and, well, since you've never met any of them, I thought it would be nice to get together with them. 7?"

"Sorry, Patti," nodding to her. "One second. Depending on where it is, I can meet you by 7:30, 8 at the latest."

"Sorry Patti." She realized she had been rude and interrupted, but she was feeling so great! "Go ahead. Would Wednesday be too soon?" She was anxious to try it again; it seemed like she was so close to working through the issue that had been plaguing for so long.

Patti pursed her lips and looked at Monty. "I...have it open, but I'm wondering if it's too soon...You should probably take some time to work through what we discussed."

"I don't want to wait. I want to keep doing this until I get this shit out of me!" She was more excited than petulant. Her obvious enthusiasm was infectious.

"Wednesday it is then. Monty?"

"Yes. But again, if it's possible to do it around 7:30 that would help."

"Not a problem." Marcie shut down the conversation. "Patti, if you want to catch a light dinner, I'd be happy to meet you somewhere..."

They walked Patti to the door, both thanking her for taking her time and being so understanding.

As he closed the door, he turned to her. "Well, I'm no professional in these matters, but I've been through enough change in my life to suggest one thing: it's like removing a tooth. The initial trauma is a little exhilarating, but then the reality sets in. This isn't over, that much I'm pretty confident about. I'm really pleased though that it was such a breakthrough." He opened his arms to embrace her, kissing her lightly.

"Hey! What's up? I'm not made of glass, you know." She was feeling great, all lightness and airy. She might even be persuaded to spend the night, even though she didn't have a change of clothes for the office.

He smiled. "Do you want to have a cup of tea? It's getting late and I don't want you to have to drive home if you're getting tired."

"I'd be happy to spend the night here." She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his chin, working her way down his neck.

"I just don't want to take advantage. You're in a vulnerable place, whether you feel it right now or not. Even if you were ready to strip your clothes off for me right here and now, I'm not sure I'd be so willing."

The dare spiked arousal in her gut; the thought of stripping in front of his door and having him fuck her just inches from the view of the street started her heart beating, but the rest of his sentence sunk in and it stung.

"Well, that's a buzz-kill if there ever was one." She knew he was probably right, but the deflation felt far worse than the initial burst of electricity. "I suppose I should be going."

"You're welcome to stay; I would love it. But I have a feeling you would be better off not having sex tonight s'all." He continued to hug her waist, looking straight into her face.

She couldn't argue with him. Exhaustion suddenly came over her like a tsunami and she yawned. "Shit. You're right. I'm beat. I probably should get home." She pulled away and looked around the living room for her coat and purse.

"I love you Monty." She came up to him and gave him a long passionate kiss. "I can't wait til Wednesday."

As he closed the door behind her, all he could think about was how many times she'd walked out, and how many different feelings he'd had looking at her.

* - * - * - * - *

"Let's do it again, just like Monday." She had been obsessing about it for two days. Her drinks with Carole were a mere blip in her consciousness, completely eclipsed by her desire to experience the 'two Marcies' as she'd come to think about it.

She had caravanned with Patti from dinner; they had sipped some tea with Monty in the living room and now the two of them sans Patti were back in the theater.

He crooked his head a little and smiled, reaching for the controls. "Okay; I haven't changed anything so we can easily get back to those pasts if you'd like. The same ones?"

She nodded. She wanted to see if the same feelings came up with the exact same sequences.

The first sequence blurred onto the screen – her youthful companion to the left. As she watched, the anticipation of seeing her strip in front of the other guests already started a cascade of responses in her body. She could feel herself heating up, her nipples stiffening, her cunny getting loose.

He watched as her breathing deepened. Her past-self stripped; she continued to make conversation; Marcie turned the point of view to pan the rest of the guests' faces, a mixture of shock, arousal and amusement. Monty quietly cheering her on, supporting her.

"Perhaps some of the rest of you would like to join my lovely friend?" He grinned at the other guests.

She turned the viewfinder back to her past self and watched as she ate her soup, conversing with the young woman as if people did this all the time. She could see the other woman blushing a little, her nipples clearly obvious through her blouse. Marcie turned it to look across the table at the woman's companion, a young man who couldn't keep his eyes off of Marcie's breasts. He shifted uncomfortably and she realized he had an erection.

The effect on her was instantaneous: she wanted to strip off her clothes and feel the air on her naked skin, to open the drapes and let whoever could see in, see in. There was no shame, no humiliation, for herself, but every time she looked at her past-self she felt a pang of embarrassment – as if that woman was emotionally disabled and needed help.

"Where do you suppose this will lead?" She asked him, thinking he may have a suspicion.

"I have no idea; each moment is a platform for infinite possibilities. Do you want to continue?"

She did, but she couldn't see what value it was going to have – she had already absorbed the feeling from this sequence and in spite of being turned on, was mostly uncomfortable with seeing herself just strip like that.

"No. I think I get it. Let's try the other one again." The feelings were different tonight. She could tell this might end up being a mistake. Maybe she should have waited a little longer, or picked a different scene.

Once again, the sequence blurred and then stabilized. She heard her past-self's comment; her step-mother's voice grating at her. Almost immediately she felt dried up; her nipples sank and her breathing was shallow.

"Amazing," she commented, reflecting on how different it felt. She watched, growing bored with the sheer normalcy of the scene. Well, at least boredom is an improvement over what you felt last time. It was true, another part of her mind agreed. Perhaps that is a sign of growth: rather than disgust or disdain, you're simply bored.

There was something more than boredom, though, as she sat and watched a little while longer. In the first sequence her libido had turned on immediately; in this sequence she was beginning to feel frustrated. Was her past-self feeling frustrated as well? Was she in-synch with her screen self's feelings?

"I think I'm not getting anything out of this," she confessed, looking at Monty. "It doesn't feel at all the same."

"Perhaps it would be interesting to fast forward this one. We could do the other one as well, but I think you and I both know where that one is likely to lead. I'm curious though. I can't quite figure out what the two of us are going to do."

She looked at him, curious as well. Was he sincerely confused or did he really have a clue. Why can't you just trust him and take it at face value?

She pushed the fast forward and watched as the evening finished in 10x time. All the guests had first moved to the living room and then they filtered out, leaving just the two of them. The staff exited and then they were alone. She watched her past-self carefully, slowing the sequence down to real time; something crossed her face – an emotion or a quick smile.

"Monty. I...I think I'm ready." She cast her eyes down, as if she were seeking his permission.

"If you're ready, I'm ready. Come on downstairs." He had changed his tone slightly. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it sounded similar to how he had spoken to her on the balcony at Grey's Point.

They followed the two of them downstairs, not to the Master bedroom, but to a second bedroom just next to the theater.

Marcie stopped the sequence. "I didn't know there was another bedroom here. Is there?"

He nodded. "Did you want to see it? I keep it for any visitors I might get. You're welcome to stay there anytime." He smiled, disarming her.

She let the sequence continue. The two of them approached the bedroom and stopped. She turned to him, looking at his feet.

"Please, may I enter your room?"

Marcie couldn't understand what was happening; in her head it felt all wrong, but more perplexing the feelings it provoked in her gut were intensely arousing. She looked over at him and he screwed up his face, his lips pressed together, as confused as she was.