The Canasta Club - Rebecca

AUTHOR'S NOTE - This is the final installment of a trilogy that's been buzzing around in my mind for a while. Part 1, The Canasta Club, introduced Peggy who was dealing with a marital issue and found an innovative solution. Part 2, The Canasta Club - Peggy, recounts her subsequent revelation of her actions with her psychologist Rebecca, who unbeknownst to her was dealing with her own sexual frustrations. Part 3, reveals Rebecca's anxiety and the ultimate resolution of her issue. I hope you will enjoy the twisted psychology as well as great sex!

Rebecca awoke with a start and had a moment of disorientation. She looked around to find the man she'd been with, but he'd disappeared and Rebecca realized that it had all been a dream. She looked at the clock on the bed stand and groaned when she read the numerals. It was three-thirty in the morning and Rebecca knew that her chances of getting another few hours of sleep were slim and none.

She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom where she raised the toilet seat and pulled down her panties to pee. Just as she feared, the crotch was wet with thin white mucus, the visible evidence of her arousal. As she urinated, the warm stream tickled her labia and heightened the sexual tension she was feeling, so when she finished it was easy to just open her legs a little wider and thrust her fingers into her quim.

Rebecca realized that what she was doing was becoming a frequent event. Oh, she'd always masturbated, who hadn't? But it seemed that since her last session with a client of her's, the dreams had begun and her need to diddle her aroused pussy had increased.

Her fingers felt so good. She ran them through her slit, coating them with her oily secretion and then brought her fingers to her nose and inhaled the aroma of her arousal directly. Rebecca's head swooned at the musky-sweet scent and she quickly thrust them into her mouth to savor the taste. They remained there only a moment before they returned to her crotch.

Rebecca rose to a squatting position to ease the way for her exploring fingers between her legs, but as she did so, she also felt her breasts sag from her chest, gently sway and rub against the inside of her nightie. The feeling of her nipples against the silk was heavenly and Rebecca raised a hand to cup one of her hanging tits and squeeze the flesh through the cloth. Normally, she wouldn't even have been conscious of her breasts, but with her nipples engorged by her arousal, they were very much in her mind at the moment.

As usual, the combined sensations coming from her pussy and her breast transported her quickly to a throbbing sexual climax and as the release washed over her, she moaned, but was careful to stifle it against waking her teenage son who was sleeping in the next room.

Rebecca wiped her crotch and the inside of her legs and put on a clean pair of panties, before she navigated the stairway to the kitchen where she put on a pot of boiling water for tea. When it was done, she took the cup into her study, sat down and thought about the dream.

The man was tall, but younger than her forty-five years by almost twenty. She had been the aggressor and had seduced him to her bed. In her dream, he transported her to sexual bliss in ways that she could remember in sharp detail even after she awoke. He expertly fucked her and ate her pussy, but what she couldn't fathom was she had also willingly sucked his cock and swallowed his cum, something she'd never done, and thought she abhorred in her real life. She could still smell the heady aroma of his masculinity and remembered the feel of his calloused hands on her body. Rebecca sighed and for the thousandth time, wondered what she should do.

Her quandary was fueled by the knowledge that the man in her dream was an actual person. True, it was someone she'd never met, but she knew he existed and didn't live very far away.

Rebecca's mind recounted the sequence of events that had led to the present moment. Dr. Rebecca Klein was a psychologist who had opened a marriage counseling practice in Tacoma a few years ago. The onset of the Vietnam War and the proximity to Tacoma of Ft. Lewis and McCord AFB had resulted in a deluge of business as deployments from those locations had put stress on marriages and sexual frustrations for the wives left behind.

Rebecca herself was also no stranger to sexual frustration. Two years ago she'd divorced her husband of twenty years over his abuse and escalating alcohol problem, and hadn't had a man in her bed since. She had rationalized that her ailing parents and her son, only a year away from graduation from high school, and her practice were more than enough to fill her days, but she knew something was missing. The daily confessions she heard in her practice of affairs and sexual fantasies of all kinds hadn't especially affected her, but a week ago she'd held a session with a client named Peggy.

Peggy wasn't a military wife as so many were, but she and she and her husband David were in their own crisis. Their problem revolved around a dynamic which involved David's ED, premature ejaculation and an emerging bi-courisity. In short, he was putting pressure on his wife to bring another man into their marriage. At their last session, Peggy had described a man that she'd found out about from one of her close friends at their Canasta Club. She described how she had approached him for sex as a way of fulfilling David's fantasy, but had been overwhelmed by the experience. She had told Rebecca that the man had expertly ate her pussy to a mind-blowing orgasm, fucked her to a second and she'd even sucked his cock, all in front of her husband. Ordinarily, Rebecca wouldn't have had much interest in the man, she would have been more focused on how the event had affected Peggy and David, but this case was different.

Peggy had emphasized that while he had been a fantastic lover, he was uninterested in any scenario that would include David as an active participant, so she thought that they needed to find someone else. What this meant to Rebecca was he, himself, wouldn't be a part of the therapy. He was a complete non-entity as far as what she needed to do with Peggy and David. But what was naggy her was the knowledge that there was a man in the neighborhood who she knew had been approached for sex, had accepted and had driven Peggy to the heights of sexual fulfillment. Rebecca wanted that too, but what was disturbing her sleep was a simple question; should she?

As Rebecca sipped her tea, she confronted the larger question... What was it that she was really seeking? She thought that the answer to that question was probably a new life partner, but she admitted to herself that she didn't have the slightest idea of how that might happen. Most of the men in her professional circle were married, and the few single one's she knew were either gay, and not interested in her, or effeminate, and not interesting to her. The broader singles dating scene was a total mystery.

Her marriage had been a roller coaster of events. The first ten years had been challenging, but generally fulfilling as she and her ex had begun to build a life together. Rebecca had willingly spread her legs and the sex was good if not mind-blowing. She loved the closeness and even though she rarely climaxed she loved the way it made her feel. The second ten years were another story altogether; his job became more demanding and when their son began school Rebecca had started her counseling practice. She remembered his retreat into alcoholism and the abuse and it still brought tears to her eyes. She had given him an ultimatum, but he had chosen the bottle over her. So, Rebecca admitted to herself that what she wanted now, was reassurance of her own desirability as a woman. It might end up being just a one-night stand, but if so, it was better than the limbo that she felt her life had become.

Peggy had not provided a name and only the barest details of what he looked like. The one actionable piece of information was he frequented a bar over on Wyoming Boulevard called the Pint Defiance. If she was going to find him, it probably would be there.

In her mind, she addressed the two scenarios that she thought might be possible, assuming of course, that he could be identified. The first, was frankly terrifying. That was a meeting in the bar. How would that happen, should she make the first approach or just hope that he might see her and try to pick her up? The second was riskier, but had the advantage of not betting the house on first impressions. She envisioned giving her phone number to the bartender to give to the man when he next came in. Perhaps if she worded the message mysteriously enough it might entice his interest and they could meet in a less chaotic setting. For Rebecca, the second option was far preferable to the first, so she began to think about how to word the message.

At work, between clients, Rebecca wrote and rewrote the message until her trash can was filled to overflowing with the crumpled paper of her attempts. Finally, late in the day, she settled on this...

"I heard about you and Peggy. I would like to speak with you on a related matter. Strictly confidential. Sorry to be mysterious, but necessary. Please call me. Evenings only. Rebecca (253) 418-7766

The next step was to find out if there was a way that the message could be delivered.

Rebecca had driven by the Pint Defiance numerous times and had noted that it opened every day at eleven a. m. and she rightly assumed that it would be almost empty until the lunch crowd began to gather. Her anxiety was already sky-high and the fewer people around the better. She checked her appointment calendar and determined that she could be free to check the place out the following Tuesday. That night, her dreams began to become more vivid and sexier, and she found herself changing her panties frequently.

On Tuesday, she noticed only two cars in the parking lot at the Pint Defiance and when she entered the bar, she saw only one man sitting in one of the booths. She walked towards the bar, where the bartender was busy tapping some beer kegs and generally getting ready for the crowds later in the day.

He saw her walk across the dance floor in his direction and he stood up to see what the classy lady in the tailored business dress wanted. Rebecca introduced herself and said that she was trying to find a man, but she didn't know his name, only a rough description and she wondered if the bartender might know him.

Peggy had said that he was tall, over six feet, and about twenty-seven. He was in the Army and he'd just returned from Vietnam. He had gray in his dark hair and a dark tan. His face had creases down his cheeks, more prominent than just dimples and she thought his hands were calloused. Rebecca related these features to the bartender, who rubbed his chin and stopped one of the waitresses. Rebecca repeated the description for her benefit, when she said. "Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about, I don't know his name either, but a lot of weekends he's here with a woman named Sharon.

The word "Bingo" went off in Rebecca's head. Peggy had told her that she'd made contact with the man using a phone number given to her by her friend, who Rebecca remembered was named Sharon. "Well uh," Rebecca stammered, "I'm trying to get him an important message. Do you think if I left it with you, you could give it to him the next time you see him?" The waitress, whose name tag said " Cathy, " said "Sure, if he comes in." Rebecca nodded and removed the envelope from her purse and handed it to Cathy. "It's a confidential matter, so please be careful." Cathy took it and put it in a pocket of her apron, and said, "Don't worry. If he's here, he'll get it."

As Rebecca walked back to her car, a thought popped into her head that she'd really done it, but she still couldn't believe that she had. "Oh God," she thought to herself, "Now you've gone and done it." All she could think of was what she would say when she was brought before the Board of Ethics.

Rebecca was filled with anxiety as the weekend approached, would he come? Would he get the message? But most importantly, would he call? Every time her phone rang, she was filled with dread, but none of the calls were from him. By Monday, she realized that it wasn't going to happen, and it didn't the following weekend either. Finally, Rebecca had just sighed and put the whole episode in her mental trash can as a frivolous exercise that she probably shouldn't have pursued to begin with, so she really wasn't prepared when the phone rang on a Thursday evening almost two and a half weeks after her visit to the bar.

She assumed the call was from her father who was trying to deal with his wife's increasing dementia, but it was an unfamiliar male voice that simply said, "Rebecca?" It took a second for her to realize that she was speaking to the man that she'd dismissed just a few days ago, and she stammered in surprise, "Uh, yes... uh, speaking."

"Are you Rebecca that left me a message at the Pint Defiance?"

"Uh, yes... yes I did, thank you for calling me back, I'm sorry I don't know your name."

The man seemed reluctant to share that until he better understood the nature of the mysterious message, so he said "For now, just call me Jack, what is it you wanted to talk about?" At the moment of Truth, Rebecca realized that she was totally unprepared to answer that simple question, so her mind raced trying to find a cogent reply, but the only thing she could think of was to delay the response. "I, uh... uh, actually I don't feel comfortable discussing this over the phone. Uh, I'm a psychologist and I'm wondering if you would be willing to meet me in my office?" Rebecca immediately regretted the invitation since she had planned to maintain a certain degree of anonymity, but now that the cat was out of that bag she realized that it would have been impossible anyway. They agreed on a time the next day and Rebecca gave him the address. After he hung up, she leaned back in her chair and realized that her palms were sweating.

"What in God's name could I have been thinking?" Rebecca thought to herself as she kept looking at the clothes hanging in her closet trying to decide what to wear. The fact that she was even concerned about her normally impeccable appearance was, she thought, indicative of her chaotic state of mind. Finally, she just closed her eyes and reached for whatever her fingers encountered first.

By the time that Rebecca got to her office, she thought that she was already a mental wreck and she realized that since they had agreed to a five p.m. meeting time, that she would be struggling all day with the six clients she had scheduled before that time. Her assessment turned out to be prophetic. Three of them were wives of deployed military who were involved in affairs and Rebecca had trouble disassociating their issues from her own compulsion. By the time the last client left about four-thirty, Rebecca was a self-admitted mess.

Her receptionist, Mary, usually left at five p.m. but stayed a few minutes when she saw that Rebecca had scheduled a late appointment, so it was her voice on the line that informed Rebecca that her five o'clock client was waiting in the reception area. Rebecca thanked her and said that there was no reason that she had to stay. Then she got up, straightened her skirt, glanced at her reflection in the mirror and strode to the door with a confidence that was not at all representative of her true feelings.

"Jack" was sitting cross legged in one of the chairs when Rebecca opened her door. She paused for just a moment and realized that two people were immediately engaged in a mutual assessment. For her part, she thought that the man was very close to the mental image she had in her mind except for the eyes, which seemed to pierce into her very soul. Rebecca was taken aback by them to the point that she was lost for words. So it was "Jack" who spoke first, "Rebecca?"

"I.. uh, yes. Jack?" She was able to mumble in response, "Uh, please come in." Rather than sitting at her desk, Rebecca signaled Jack to sit in one of the upholstered chairs and she took its twin next to him. When she crossed her legs, she was immediately aware that her skirt rode up above her knee and she could see Jack's eyes focus on her naked calves. For some reason, Rebecca felt both discomfort and excitement from his gaze and realized that it was just indicative of her general state of mind. As she looked at him she also realized that their body language was communicating two entirely different messages. He was sitting back, relaxed, and open to hear what Rebecca had to say. She, on the other hand, was sitting on the front half of her chair and leaning forward in a manner that couldn't help but signal her tenseness.

"I.. uh, wanted to... uh, I mean, thank you for coming, I wasn't sure that you'd get my message. I, uh, apologize if it was too mysterious, but I... uh, didn't know how else to get in touch with you." Rebecca stammered.

She realized that the ball was now in her court to articulate the reason for leaving the message, but she was finding it hard to find someplace to start. Rebecca had seen exactly this dilemma in her clients as they struggled to confess something so personal and perhaps so embarrassing, that they literally didn't know where to begin. That now she found herself in exactly that situation was disorienting and disquieting. Rebecca looked up at Jack and for about the fourth time said "uh..."

Jack, sensing Rebecca's discomfort, leaned a little forward in his own chair and gazed directly into her eyes and took charge of the conversation. "I'm sensing that this meeting you've asked for is more personal than professional. Am I correct in that assessment?" Rebecca was shocked to realize that without her telling him that, he'd cut to the chase, and even more disquieting was the fact that he had taken charge of the conversation, something that had rarely ever happened to her.

"I.. uh, yes. I guess it's probably correct to say that this is a personal matter... I... uh, Peggy is one of my clients and, uh... she came to see me after... uh...

"After I fucked her in front of her husband?"

Rebecca was shocked at the lewd language of Jack's interjection, and she felt a sudden helplessness in knowing how to respond. "Uh, yes. It was just after..."

"And this meeting doesn't have anything to do with helping either Peggy or David does it?"

Rebecca was truly lost for words as Jack's accusation registered. She had thought about this conversation a thousand times in her own mind, but never once had she considered that it would play out the way that it was. Rebecca prided herself on her ability to navigate the emotional demands of her chosen profession and stay cool and detached so that she could offer objective advice, but suddenly she felt that she was trapped in a whirlpool of thoughts, feelings and desires that was unmooring her from that confidence.

"Well, in a way..." Rebecca started to say, but she never completed the thought because Jack interjected again.

"Rebecca, tell me about yourself, are you married?"

" Uh... I was until two years ago when I divorced my husband, he..."

"I'm not very interested in hearing about him, tell me what was it about Peggy's experience that affected you enough to compel you to try to find me?"

"I... uh, it was... uh, when she told me about her friend... uh, Sharon. She... uh, said that she'd told her about David's fantasy, and... uh, Sharon said that she knew someone that Peggy could call if she... uh, wanted to make it come true."

"Make it come true, huh, So tell me Rebecca, do you have fantasies?"

Rebecca felt her face flush and she was immediately aware that her eyes dropped to look at her hands which were clenched together in her lap, her nervousness displayed in the whiteness of her knuckles. She wanted to deny his question, but the whisper that came from her mouth was... "yes."