Diagnosing a Fetish Ch. 03

"I guess that's where they and I differ; I care about you, and I want you to heal. I just hope you realize that it takes time. I'm not trying to string you along to get more money or something."

"Well, I hope not. You know, since I can't pay you," I awkwardly chuckled. It was meant to be a joke, but it ended up hurting me more than I expected. Another reminder that I was a fuckup.

"I can see you thinking something," Dr. Morse studied my face, "Don't forget that it was my idea to pay for the session; stop beating yourself up about it."

"Trying my best."

"That's the spirit," Dr. Morse placed a hand on my shoulder, "Just keep trying your best, and hopefully one day, everything will be better. Regardless, that is all the time I have for today, so I guess I will see you Thursday."

"Yeah, right," I gathered my stuff, putting on my jacket and picking up my purse from the ground.

"I'll email you the address and appointment information for the sleeping consultation. You still have the paper I gave you with the address for RAE?"

I nodded, patting my front pocket.

"Good. And don't forget; you don't have to go there, only if you feel comfortable," Dr. Morse opened her office door, stepping out of the way to let me out, "Goodbye, Mallory, enjoy the rest of your day."

"Yeah, you too."

~`~`~`~`~`~

"Stupid fucking jacket," I swore under my breath, struggling for the third time that night to get the zipper more than halfway up my torso. The black, pleather material stretched tight around my stomach prevented it from moving further up. While getting dressed at home, I thought it a good addition to my outfit. However, it had been a few years since I wore the jacket, and it was clear that my post-marriage weight gain meant it no longer fit. So, not wanting to hold my breath for the rest of the night, I left it unzipped.

Looking in the mirror made me feel old. Nothing I wore matched my style, and you could tell. The tight jeans, exposed tank top -- and worst of all, the jacket -- were all clothes belonging to a woman have my age. Unfortunately, I had no idea what lesbians were attracted to. Outside of the stereotypes of books and movies, I had little to go off of. As a result, I defaulted to wearing the same clothes I did fifteen years ago when I was still going out to bars. Now they looked more like a bad costume than anything; a middle-aged woman trying to be twenty again.

I don't know why I was so set on going to this club. Despite what Dr. Morse had said, my brain told me that this was the only way I would get better. I knew I was just going through the motions, fidgeting with the gold bracelet on my wrist, trying to 'fix' it like the other two times I came to the bathroom. There was nothing to fix, however; it was all just an excuse to avoid the situation.

There was no anticipation or excitement left, no interest in going to a place where other women like me may be. Maybe when I first left my apartment, but none since arriving. This was a job now. All of this was just another sorry excuse of a way for me to try and feel normal, even though I knew it would end in disaster regardless. I shouldn't have come in. I knew that I shouldn't have come. If only my internal fight had fallen the other way while I was waiting in the car; I could have just turned around and gone home as I wanted.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I took one final look at myself in the mirror before grabbing my bag and heading for the exit. I passed the woman on my way out, although I was too afraid to make eye contact. Fortunately, she said nothing to me, and I was able to escape from the overbearing light of the bathroom to the dim bar in silence. My stool at the bar remained empty, so I plopped myself down and did my best not to draw any attention.

It being a Tuesday night at nine o'clock, the place was pretty empty. A few groups filled some of the booths on the far wall, and a couple more women were idling around the tables closer to the bar. The lack of a DJ left the dance floor empty, and the music coming out of the overhead speakers -- supposedly just the radio -- was barely louder than the idle chatter of the other patrons. All in all, it was different than what I pictured when Dr. Morse first told me about this place. Maybe I was just used to the club scene in New York City. This was Auburn, Ohio; I was surprised they had a gay bar at all.

"Excuse me, mam," I was interrupted by a tap on my shoulder, which I realized was from the bartender upon turning around. She was tall -- at least six foot -- and had her blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. "You're going to have to buy something if you want to stay," she continued after no reaction from me.

"Um... yeah," I shook my head, trying to jostle myself awake, "Sorry."

"Unfortunately, we can't afford people hanging out here for free."

"Right... I'll just have a coke."

"Aw, what a buzzkill. Make that a beer, and one for me, Luc," a voice said to my right, causing me to jump. I don't know when she got there, but a new woman was now sitting on the barstool beside me.

"I told you not to call me that," the bartender looked at the mystery woman sternly, "My name is Lucy; stop shortening it. And stop telling my patrons what to order," she added, now shifting her focus to me, "You still want a coke?"

So far, I had kept my promise to Dr. Morse, not drinking any alcohol since our meeting three days prior. I wanted to think that I had some level of self-control, but truthfully, I had been craving a drink since. After how I had been behaving the past few months, it was idiotic for me to believe that my sobriety would last. After all, what was I other than a fuck up waiting for any excuse to make another mistake in a long list of many? "A beer is fine, actually," I mumbled.

"That-a girl," the woman beside me slapped me on the back.

The bartender -- Lucy -- didn't seem so convinced. "Don't let this idiot decide what you want," she replied in a stern tone.

"Ah, stop being so uptight and get us our beers, Luc."

Lucy looked like she was about to correct the use of her nickname again but decided against it, letting out a long sigh before turning to grab two pint glasses.

"The name's Minty," the woman beside me stuck out her hand to shake. I noticed for the first time that it was covered in tattoos, a sleeve mostly comprised of flowers that ran up her arm and ended at the strap of her tank top. I reached out to meet her but paused as I registered her name. "Don't worry; I'm not going to bite," she moved her hand the rest of the way to connect with mine, shaking it up and down before disconnecting.

"No, sorry..." I stumbled over my words, "I was just surprised by your name." God, I was a fucking idiot. Calling out another person's weird name after having just met them? Apparently, I was born with a foot in my mouth.

To give her credit, she seemed to take it in stride, "Yeah, I guess I can see why. Minty's just a nickname, though; my real name is Tina. It's kind of a long story."

"One that you love telling," Lucy sighed, returning with our drinks.

"Oh, shut up," Tina picked up her beer and took a long swig before continuing, "So I used to have my hair dyed like a teal color years ago, and my friends at the time said it looked like the color of toothpaste. They started calling me Toothpaste Tina, but that became Minty Tina, Mintina, and then eventually just Minty. I changed my hair color, but the name stuck."

I looked up, confirming that her hair was now a dark burgundy, almost brown in the dim lighting of the bar. It was cut short and spiked at the front, adding to her whole 'tattooed badass' look. I realized I was staring too late and quickly changed my focus to the bar. I used my glass of beer to block my face as I drank down the amber liquid inside.

Maybe sensing my awkwardness, Lucy jumped in, "That story gets better every time I hear it."

"Don't you have other people to serve?" Tina grumbled.

"Look around," the blonde spread her arms, "There are like five other people in here, and they all have drinks. I give this place another three months."

Tina scoffed, "If that."

Feeling like I should participate in the conversation, I worked up some courage, "Are you the owner, Lucy?" My voice came out quieter than I expected, lost in the sound of the bar.

"Nah, her girlfriend Eve is," Tina answered for the blonde.

"She gave me this job a few months after we started dating."

"Probably so that she doesn't have to pay a real bar tender's wage."

"Or maybe because I needed a job and she wanted to help me," Lucy retorted, "You know, because she's my girlfriend and she cares about me?"

"Hey, it's been two years, and I still don't see a ring. Cheap labor seems more likely."

Lucy glared at Tina, "Go be an asshole somewhere else."

The woman stuck out her tongue in response, grinning as she turned to face me, "And what about you? What's your story? I haven't seen you in here before, and for someone who isn't drinking, you've been going in and out of the bathroom an awful lot."

My face turned red at the realization that someone noticed my escapes to the bathroom. "Yeah, I'm, um... It's my first time here."

"Let me guess," Tina spun around on her stool, "Recently divorced, horny, and looking to 'experiment' with your sexuality, but you've never actually been with a woman?"

Her accuracy was almost shocking, "Yeah, how did you know?"

She shrugged, "We see a few of those in here from time to time." Reaching over the counter, Tina tried to grab an olive from Lucy's tray before her hand was slapped away by the blonde. She managed to grab one on her second attempt, however, and popped it into her mouth as she continued talking, "It's pretty easy to pick them out after a while; nervous, older, looks like they're trying too hard to fit in. No offense," she added.

"None taken... I guess."

"Maybe we can get you laid tonight. Unfortunately, ol' Luc here is taken. If it weren't for Eve, she would have been mine. I'm sure we can find you someone else here, though," Tina looked around the room.

"Trust me; Eve isn't the only reason I'm not dating you," Lucy interjected.

"Hey, who said anything about dating? I'm not the settling down type. I enjoy some hot pussy for the night and send the girls on their ways; a win-win. Speaking of which," Tina gestured with her head, "That little Asian girl might have to be the next one I spend some quality time with."

"Charming," Lucy muttered, "Are you going to bring that woman with her who is so clearly her girlfriend too?

"If she wants. I'm not going to say no to any threesomes."

"God, I can't believe you thought I would have sex with you. I mean, what happened to getting-" Lucy paused, turning to me, "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Mallory."

"What happened to getting Mallory 'laid' as you so graciously called it."

"OK, fine," Tina let out an exasperated sigh, resting her head on her hand, "It's pretty slim pickings tonight. Anyways," she addressed me now, "What made you come to RAE? I'm always curious about the women looking to experiment. After all, going straight to a gay fetish club is quite the first step. So, were you just looking some stuff up online when you stumbled on our little slice of heaven?"

"No..." I didn't know how to bring up Dr. Morse -- or if I even should. "It was recommended that I come here by someone I know..."

"Like a cute, gay friend you have. Is she single and looking for an easy lay?"

"Um... actually..." I winced, "It was my doctor."

"No shit," Tina gasped, looking at Lucy.

Her sudden reaction made me nervous, "What?"

"What's your doctor's name?" Lucy joined the conversation, seemingly equally as interested as Tina.

"Um... Krista Morse. Why, do you know her?"

"The dirty bitch is back," Tina grinned, "Who would've thought?"

"What are you talking about?" I looked between the two women rapidly, trying to get any ounce of an explanation. Both of them knowing Dr. Morse spelled trouble for me.

"So, a few years ago -- even before Eve owned this place -- a woman started coming here a few times a week," Tina explained, "Back then, I was pretty new, and- I don't think Lucy was even around, were you?"

The blonde shook her head, "But trust me; I still knew about Dr. Morse. Everyone did."

"Anyway, this woman starts coming here, and everything is normal at first; just another regular patron, you know? But then it comes out that she's a doctor after a bunch of her patients start showing up," Tina paused to take a long drink of beer, wiping the foam away from her mouth before continuing, "And she was hot, Dr. Morse I mean. People were lining up to get a shot with her, faking illnesses, the whole nine yards."

A sense of dread washed over me as more information came out. I didn't want to hear this. After everything I'd been through, after feeling like even a little progress was made in my life thanks to Dr. Morse, I didn't want to hear how it was all a lie, all a setup. But it didn't matter. The rest of the world faded out; the noise of the bar gone as Tina kept talking, as she kept unknowingly digging me deeper into a rapidly sinking pit.

"So, there's just this parade of people coming in and out of these doors -- all kinky and dirty as hell. But the dirtiest of all was the queen herself, Dr. Morse. People start talking, and I found out she's into the real nasty shit. And, in this case, I mean literally. She's asking people to go the bathroom in front of her, on her body, even in her mouth. I had heard about golden showers at that point -- pretty common actually -- but not the brown ones. Not really my thing, but for her, I might have done it."

"What happened?" I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I had my suspicions of Dr. Morse. Since our first session, I had been trying to bury them and pretend like they weren't there. After all, I was her patient. She was supposed to be helping heal. Learning that this was a game to her, something that she used in the past to get cheap sex, felt like a punch to the gut.

"I think she just left," Lucy replied, but her words did little to drown out the desperate, clawing feeling of terror inside of me, "She was gone when I started coming here anyway. The people I asked said she just kind of disappeared. Most thought she moved away."

"Well, if she did, then I guess she came back," Tina mused, "I'm not complaining, not if I get to see that body again. Plus, she might start getting more customers to come here, could help save the place from bankruptcy. I mean, she's already brought Mallory to us."

I knew Tina put her arm around my shoulder, but I couldn't feel it -- I didn't want to. I prayed that my body would just be swept away, my conscious taken along with it. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere except the place where I learned that the last two weeks of my life had been built on a lie made by some insane bitch looking to get her rocks off.

I needed to go back to my apartment -- a place where I could shut out the world and wait to die just like I deserved. Dr. Morse couldn't get me there -- no one could. No one except me and my bad decisions left to waste away the few fleeting days of my miserable life before I could finally be free. The thought brought me so much comfort that I almost didn't notice the beer I was greedily pouring down my throat -- or the second. Or the third.

Lucy and Tina kept talking, maybe to me, maybe not; I was too far gone to tell the difference. The warmth only brought by a stomach full of alcohol was starting to radiate through my body. I had missed the feeling. I don't know why I ever let it leave. Another one of Dr. Morse's lies. A fallacy brought unto me from her own selfish desire to fuck me. After all, it's only consensual if I'm sober.

I almost didn't register that I wasn't in the bar anymore. The world speeding past outside of the taxi's windows made me feel ill, so I kept slumped over in my seat, eyes averted. Soon I would be home. Soon I would be safe from the constant lies and deceit that had recently plagued my life.