tagNovels and NovellasSentora Ch. 01

Sentora Ch. 01


"Now, you know that's not true," Sentora said as she removed her glasses and held them in her lap.

"Well, doc. You know what I mean. It certainly seems like women are all cold-hearted bitches," the handsome, middle-aged man in the easy chair said as he leaned forward.

"John, you have to get over this all-or-nothing thinking. Yes, you have had some bad experiences. But, when you have thoughts that generalize to all women, you need to challenge those thoughts and replace them with more accurate ones," Sentora reminded him for the second time that session. "Have you still been acting out?" Sentora asked.

"Well, not so much," the man said while averting his gaze from his psychologist.

"Define 'not so much," Sentora requested.

"Well, the other night I had a one night stand, but it had been awhile," John explained.

"What happened?" Sentora asked.

"Well, I went to a bar late one night. Really, it was a pretty ordinary pick up. She was alone. We got to talking. After last call, I just asked if she wanted to go to a hotel. It wasn't anything special. The sex was pretty boring, but she had quite a mouth," John said.

"Of course, it wasn't special. You told me before that these one night stands make you feel worse when they end. So, why do you keep doing it?" Sentora asked.

After a moment of thought, John answered, "Well, I guess there's no risk in getting hurt again. I assume that the women who I hook up with are bitches or whores, I just don't stick around long enough to care."

"So what does it do for you?" Sentora asked.

"Besides being at least somewhat gratifying sexually?" John asked.

"Of course."

"Well, at least I feel a slight connection to someone for a brief moment while we are intimate," John explained.

"Do you really? I mean, if you already assume the worst of these women, what kind of connection could you have with them?"

"I guess I really don't."

"Did you ever think that these women may be as hurt and lonely as you are? I wonder how many of them were using you just as you used them."

"Um, I never really thought about it that way," John said.

"And what if one of them is telling someone else right now about that loser or asshole who they slept with one night?"

"Now, wait a minute!" John said as he sat up straight in his chair.

"What would you say?"

"Well, I'm not a loser or an asshole. I have problems, but I'm a good person who happens to be lonely. Maybe I don't always deal with it in the best way, but that doesn't mean that I don't have a good heart," John said emphatically.

Sentora smiled and leaned back in her chair.

"You're saying that the same could apply to the women who I have slept with."

"No, but I think that's what you just said," Sentora said with a grin.

"I see your point," John said as he relaxed in his chair.

After a brief silence, Sentora put on her glasses and turned to her desk. "I want you to think about everything that we talked about until our next session. If you have time, I'd like you to write a letter to one of the women who you have had meaningless sex with. You're not going to give them the letter. It's just for your eyes only. If you don't mind sharing it, I'd like you to bring it with you to our next session. Same day and time next week?"

"Yes, doc," John said as he stood from his chair.

Sentora handed him an appointment card before he exited her office. She took a few minutes to scrawl some notes on his chart before filing it. With that being her last appointment for the day, Sentora fetched her coat from the hook behind her office door. She sighed as she noticed the drab colored walls as is customary in hospital offices. She was glad that she had been allowed to hang some of her own artwork. She smiled and locked her office door. As she left the hospital, she noticed people still waiting in the waiting room. "They must be waiting for the new therapist, Mr. Kegan," Sentora thought.

She was looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening. On the drive home, Sentora listened to classical music and tried to clear her head. This had become a ritual for her. In her field of work, it was sometimes difficult to transition into her personal life and leave the problems of her clients at the office. Even though she had learned to appreciate and even enjoy her drive home, Sentora was always thankful when she turned onto her road and saw her driveway.

Once inside, Sentora poured herself a glass of her favorite wine that had been chilling in the refrigerator. After turning on her stereo, she kicked off her heels and settled into her couch. She cradled her glass of red wine with the stem of the glass nestled between her fingers. Sipping her wine, she allowed the flavor to swirl about her tongue. After setting the glass on wine on her coffee table, she flicked her long, brown hair over the arm of the sofa as she reclined. With her head resting comfortably on a pillow against the armrest, she closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to slow to match the lingering tempo of the violin in the music from her stereo. This was her favorite way to relax after spending the day at work listening to her clients' problems.

She stretched out her legs, not caring that her short, gray skirt was bunched much higher than intended. She fought to keep from rehashing her clients' issues. She tried to leave her work at the office, but at times she could not help but contemplate the best action for her clients then predict what they would actually do. Pushing her opinions of John's womanizing behavior, Mr. Steele's divorce, and Meredith's depression aside, she concentrated on the classical music.

She forced herself to sit up when she felt the temptation to doze. Taking another sip of wine, she began planning her evening. Though she was tempted to eat a microwave dinner, she decided to make a nice salad instead. "Hmmm... I wonder if there's a good movie on television tonight," she wondered.

She scrutinized the television guide and decided to watch a traditional chick flick she had seen about a dozen times already. Though she practically knew the movie by heart, she appreciated its sentimental warmth. She wished she had a leading man in her life, though she pretended to hardly notice his absence.

She decided to take a bubble bath since she had a couple hours before the movie started. Carrying her wine glass up the stairs of her townhouse, she caught herself thinking about her client, Meredith, again. "If only she could be more secure and not let her self-esteem get broken by others," Sentora thought before banning Meredith from her thoughts for the rest of the evening.

In the bathroom, she set her wine glass on the side of the bathtub and started the water for her bath. She tested the water temperature before drizzling some lavender-scented bubble bath into the water. Sentora fetched a silk camisole, panties, and a robe from her bedroom and set them next to her favorite fluffy towel.

Once the bath was prepared, she lowered herself into the tub. The bubbles clung to her smooth, pale skin. Soothed in quiet warmth, she relaxed in the tub. Leisurely sipping her wine, she enjoyed the quiet solitude. After several minutes of a pleasant nothingness, she washed her body. While she ran her hands and washcloth over her curves, she became more aware of an aching need from within her.

Tentatively, she spread her thighs and allowed one of her manicured fingers to probe the sensitive folds that guarded her pussy. Arching her back and resting her head against the back of the tub, she gave into the need. With her fingers, she rubbed and explored her often neglected pink folds. With her knees pressed against the sides of the bathtub, one finger probed the apex of her femaleness. Gently touching her clit, she sucked in her breath.

Sentora's long, brown hair dipped into the water as she reclined further into the water. She arched her back and put her legs on the sides of the bathtub. She rubbed her clit slowly, gasping as she became more aroused. Rubbing her clit furiously, she whimpered as she approached climax. With shuddering and trembling release, she screeched as she had a long-needed orgasm.

Sentora hugged herself, gently caressing her perked, brown nipples. Sentora was still trembling as she finished washing herself. After her body stopped trembling, Sentora stepped out of the tub. With her pink, plush towel, she dried herself before applying body lotion. She dressed in her camisole and panties and slung her robe loosely around her. After Sentora picked up her wine glass, she headed towards the kitchen.

She prepared a salad from lettuce, some fresh vegetables, and tuna. She spritzed the salad with a light dressing. Sentora was proud of her figure, and though she didn't exercise as much as she would like, she did take steps to be healthy. After she grabbed a diet soda from the refrigerator, Sentora returned to the living room. She set her dinner on the coffee table and sunk into the overstuffed couch. After picking up the remote from the coffee table, she flicked on the TV and turned it to the right channel.

As the movie progressed, she felt pangs of jealousy at the characters impending reconciliation and love. Sometimes, she resented people who found happiness in love, though she would never admit that to anyone. She had understood why John has tried to fill that void with anonymous sex. "What do I need with a love life and all that drama? My clients have enough drama in their lives for me to focus on," she thought in an attempt to dismiss her jealousy.

Sentora turned her focus to the movie. As the lovers became intimate, Sentora slid her robe open. After feeling the heavy curves of her breasts, Sentora pinched her nipples through her camisole. Sentora's fingers slipped into the front of her panties. Her fingertip teased her clit. The heavy breathing of ecstasy from the characters in the movie heightened Sentora's arousal.

She decided to remove her panties. She removed her panties and spread her legs. Allowing her hands to trail along her thighs toward her already moist slit, she imagined being with a handsome stranger. Again, her thoughts returned to John. Sentora imagined what it might be like to either be used by him or to use someone else like John did with women. Though Sentora held the highest standards for herself in practice, she allowed herself some freedom when it came to fantasy. She settled on imagining that she was sitting at a bar and approached by John.

Both of them lonely and wanting an impersonal sexual connection, they would go to a hotel. As John sat on the bed, Sentora would eagerly kneel in front of him. It had been a long time since she sucked a cock. She had enjoyed feeling a cock get harder in her mouth. She would spit, lick, and suck that cock anxiously as if to make up for lost time.

While slowly rubbing her clit, Sentora imagined licking the head of John's cock and sucking him into her mouth. She sucked his cock and rubbed his balls. Sentora had to pause from rubbing her clit, because she wanted to imagine getting fucked by John before she climaxed. Slowly, she would resume rubbing her clit.

She imagined John lying back on the bed with Sentora undressing and joining him on the bed. She continued to suck him. John began to rub her pink folds while she sucked on him. Sentora imagined John sitting up and kneeling behind her. He smack her ass that was vulnerably exposed to him. He gripped her hips tight and held his cock to her anxious opening.

With a powerful thrust, John plunged his cock into her tight wetness. He smacked her again before repeating his thrust. Sentora rubbed her clit faster as she imagined him fucking her from the back. John grabbed her long, brown hair and pulled it tight while he continued to thrust into her. Sentora whimpered and came hard as she imagined her client and her thoroughly crossing the lines of appropriate therapist/ client behavior.

Sentora drank the rest of her wine after cleaning herself. The thoughts of taboo passion echoed in her mind. She would catch herself letting out a soft moan when she thought about it. She allowed those thoughts to play out. By morning, she figured that they would be gone. After cleaning up, Sentora retired to her bed. Every night, she spent at least a few seconds wishing that her bed wasn't half-empty.

Sentora awoke to the buzzing of her alarm clock. After showering, she stood in front of her closet deciding what to wear. Her closet was segregated. Half of her clothing were clothes she wore to work. The other half were jeans, t-shirts, old sweaters, and other clothes that have been deemed unworthy of office wear. Sentora decided on a sage green pantsuit. It was one of her favorite outfits. The short-sleeved blouse had a beige camisole underneath that showed along the neckline. It was conservative and comfortable, yet feminine.

Later that morning, she was seated across from her patient, Meredith. Sentora pitied Meredith. She was a young woman who had been forced to grow up fast by an early pregnancy. Topped with the financial strain typical of being a single mother and a biologically-caused depression, Meredith had a tough life.

"I just wish these feelings would go away," Meredith said as she clutched the wadded tissue she has been using.

"That's understandable. We've reviewed your meds. We have to give the medication changes a chance to work. In what other ways can you make your life more positive?" Sentora asked.

"I was thinking about what you said last time, about having a goal. I used to consider myself goal-oriented before I focused my life on my son. And then with the depression," Meredith said, choking back tears.

"Yes, okay, things have not gone well, but you can change that," Sentora stated.

"The depression always seems to make things impossible," Meredith explained.

"It may be more difficult for you, Meredith. I'm not going to lie to you and say that it will be easy. But, I strongly believe that you can do it. If you had to make a goal now, what would it be?" Sentora asked.

"Well, I'd want to go get my nursing degree. Maybe work towards becoming an LPN. My aunt is an LPN and she works in people's homes, helping them like that. But, I'd have to pay for babysitting and I don't even have my GED," Meredith said.

"You're getting ahead of yourself. You're making excuses to fail before you even started. What is the first thing you would need to do to get your nursing license?"

"Well, I'd have to get my GED."

"Okay, good. Now, what do you have to do to get that?"

"I don't know. I know there is this place near my apartment that offers classes. I could call and ask them," Meredith suggested.

Sentora noticed that gleam of hope in Meredith's eyes which was something she had not seen in her yet. "Good! See? It's not so hard if you take it one step at a time. And, as far as not being able to do the work due to babysitting expenses, I have a friend who was a nurse and a single mother for years. It can be done," Sentora said.

"Thank you, Dr. Macy," Meredith said.

Sentora smiled. "You're the one doing the work, Meredith. Now, by next time, I want to know what information you learned about getting your GED. Do they still have programs to help single mothers get their education and training?"

"You mean like at the welfare office?" Meredith asked.

"They may have been affiliated with public assistance. I'm not sure. Why don't you ask your caseworker about those programs? They may have something that would help."

"Ok," Meredith said.

"Okay, I want you to write everything down and bring it in next time. Same day and time next week?" Sentora asked as she put on her glasses and turned to her desk.

"Yes, that's fine," Meredith said.

Sentora typed the information into her schedule on the computer and filled out an appointment card for Meredith. She handed Meredith the card. "See you next time," Sentora said with a smile.

Meredith took the card and exited the office. Sentora was thinking about her friend who she had mentioned to Meredith. Feeling guilty for letting her friendships deteriorate, she committed herself to calling her friend soon. Sentora had led a solitary existence for so long. Friends often gave up on including her in their plans.

Sentora was seeing a new client next. She prepared a new folder for him. After selecting the usual forms from her file cabinet, she filled out as much information as she knew, which wasn't much more than his name. He had been referred to Sentora by a male colleague. Her colleague felt that he would do better with a female therapist who was not afraid to confront his arrogance and attitudes towards women. The other therapist felt confident that Sentora could do in months what it might take years for him to do.

Though Sentora was proud of the confidence that her colleagues had in her, she was a little uncertain that her effectiveness would be so swift and certain. The colleague had started to tell Sentora all about the client, but Sentora had stopped him. She wanted to look at him with a fresh perspective, not one that had been tainted by the opinions of a third party.

Sentora entered the waiting room and called her client's name. A man in his early to mid-thirties stood and followed Sentora to her office. The man had short blond hair and blue eyes. He had a medium, athletic build.

As the man sat down, she noted his appearance and what little the colleague had mentioned about the client's conceit before Sentora had cut off the conversation. That is precisely what Sentora feared. Just because the client was good looking doesn't necessarily mean he is conceited.

Just as Sentora was about to introduce herself and shake his hand, the client said, "Is Dr. Macy going to be here soon?"

"I am Dr. Macy," Sentora said as she extended her hand for a handshake.

"What?" the client said as he stood from his chair. "Dr. Litman didn't say anything about Dr. Macy being a woman."

Sentora sat at her desk. "Should he have?"

"Well, yes, of course!"

"Why?" Sentora asked.

"Well, a man is going to have a better understanding of my problems. Another man knows what men go through."

"Perhaps, Dr. Litman thought you would benefit from a female perspective. Is that possible?" Sentora asked.

"No. Why would he do that?"

"Well, why don't you tell me about your problems and we can discuss why Dr. Litman might have referred you to me," Sentora suggested.

Still uneasy, the man took his seat. Now, that Sentora had a better look at him, she noticed his eyes were more of a deep gray than blue. The man wore jeans and a t-shirt. His grip on the armrests indicated to Sentora that he was incredibly uneasy about meeting with her.

"Why don't you start out by telling me a little about yourself," Sentora suggested.

"Well, I'm an electrician. I have been one for.."

"That's what you do. Men often define themselves by what they do. But, I want you to tell me about who you are," Sentora prompted.

"My name is Scott. I am a father of one son. I was also an only child," Scott said while looking more than a little annoyed at Sentora's interruption.

"Okay, Scott. You are doing okay, but now you are defining yourself by the roles you play. You are a father. You are a son. That still doesn't tell me anything about you," Sentora stated.

Scott turned his head to hide his frustration. He took a deep breath and made another attempt. "I like to read. I always liked learning new things. I remember as a boy, my mom would get so mad at me for taking things apart to see how they work," Scott said.

Sentora noticed a smile, probably elicited by the childhood memory of his mother. "Much better. So, I know that you are inquisitive, probably very intelligent," Sentora said. "See how that tells me more about you than saying you are a father or an electrician?" she asked.

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byLadynStFreknBed© 3 comments/ 8641 views/ 0 favorites

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