Therapy

"It smells wonderful, as always," he mumbled from behind his hands.

She couldn't wait any longer, and anyway, it was starting to get late. She didn't have all night to fuck like in her youth. "I suppose everyone's got their midlife limitations," she thought. So she decided to take things into her own hands. She turned to him, sliding her hand under the sheet and downwards towards his cock. She was glad to find that whilst his hands may have been cold, his cock definitely wasn't. It was warm to the touch and really fucking hard. She gripped it gently but firmly, moving up and down. She remembered her vibrator from that morning under the hot running water. He began to groan, his hands now down by his side. "Not too fast Han. It has been a while, I'm really close to the edge already," he whispered to her. There was no time to lose, she hoisted herself up and slid onto his cock. Leaning back she rode him, only gently moving her hips backwards and forwards, taking in his full length. Within seconds she could feel the orgasm building inside her. He reached up and cupped her breast with one hand and held her waist with the other. She could see that he was looking at her, taking in the spectacle of it all. She closed her eyes, focusing on her own orgasm. She could feel his soft delicate balls under her buttocks. "Oh god" she thought, "this is going to be a big one." She groaned loudly. He must have taken this as a sign that he no longer had to put anything off, and he began to come too. She could feel the heat of his ejaculate inside her. It heightened the experience even further for her and she kept moaning, she didn't want it to stop. As he began to fade away inside her, she leaned forwards to kiss him. After that powerful orgasm, all of her senses were now heightened, she could smell the scent of their sex in the room. She felt parched. She was sweaty to the touch. She needed to get off him and lie down.

Chapter 5.

Elliot welcomed Hannah with a smile that almost made her blush. She'd somehow managed to forget just how beautiful he was up-close. She looked down at her shoes. How could one man feel this physically enticing? She made her way to the sofa and sat down. She purposely exhaled to calm herself, then immediately wondered if she'd breathed too loudly. She looked up to see if he'd heard but it didn't seem to be the case. Still she didn't avert her gaze; instead she found herself watching him walk across the room from behind his desk in the corner of the room, to his chair in front of her. There was something wonderful about how he held himself. "Some people can do that, can't they?" she thought, "just without thinking".

Elliot sat. "How have you been this past week, Hannah? You look well. Did you find any time to think over what you said in our last session together?" he asked. Hannah realised in that moment that actually she hadn't thought about it in any great detail over the past week.

"Yes, I've been fine thanks. And no, not really to be honest. But then that's very symptomatic of my life nowadays. There is no real time for me to sit and think. But that's normal, isn't it?"

"I don't know Hannah, do you think that you actually didn't have any time to think, or might you have been purposely not thinking about it?" he paused. "I should probably explain what I mean when I say that. Facing the reality of your discontentment is a difficult and emotional task. I honestly didn't expect you to say you would have spent much time thinking about it, but none whatsoever does seem to imply that you might be purposely avoiding it," Elliot concluded.

Hannah looked around the room to avoid looking at him, but also to focus on her thoughts.

"Let me ask you this, Elliot. What sort of life should someone expect for themselves? Because I have a husband who loves me, a nice place to live, two happy children, we're all healthy and respectful to each other. Fine, I paused up my career years ago to focus on raising our children, and don't know how I'll ever get back into it. And yes, when I masturbate I always go back to the same memories of an ex-boyfriend who broke my heart when he walked out of my life. But, seriously, you can't have everything in life, can you? I'm hugely privileged. Lots of other people don't have it as good as I do!" Again, she surprised herself at how severe her words seemed. She made supreme effort to smile at him, in an attempt to prove that she wasn't angry. The room remained silent. Her heart was beating so violently in her chest that she began to wonder if she might be having a panic attack. She'd never had a panic attack before. "Fuck, is this what they feel like?" she thought.

"Hannah are you ok, you're clutching your chest?"

"Yes, of course. I'm fine. Well, I don't know actually. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I don't know what came over me."

"It's not a problem Hannah. I've dealt with a lot worse than that in my time as a therapist. And you need to know that this is a safe space here. You can express your feelings and emotions without fear of judgement." He said, leaning over to pour her a glass of water. "Are you ok?"

Her heartbeat slowed. "Thank you. Yes, I'll be fine."

Elliot leaned forwards towards her. "Hannah, I hear a lot about what you should be grateful for, but very little about what you actually want." There was again silence in the room, and Hannah found she had nothing to fill it with. It had been a very long time since she had consulted her inner self on anything. The only time she ever felt completely at one with herself and her needs was when she was being fucked, and even then, she knew that no matter how much she loved her husband, he wasn't really the man she wanted to be fucking her. Maybe this is why her friends had told her to go to therapy. Could this internal turmoil she still felt, be so clearly seen by them? She felt like such a mess.

"I don't know what to say to that, Elliot. I don't think much about what I want. I've got used to not being able to have what I want in life."

Elliot leaned back in his chair. "Hannah, why would you say that can't you have what you want in life? Is this linked to what happened with your ex-boyfriend?"

Hannah crossed her legs and started playing with her lips, in the way that she did when she felt at her most nervous. Folding her cupid's bow together between her thumb and forefinger over and over. "I don't let myself think about him much if I'm honest. I think about him sexually because that's safe. And those memories are mine. No-one can take them away from me. Also, only he and I know about them. They're special. But I don't want to think about him in other contexts."

"Do you want to tell me about what happened?" he asked.

"Well," she began, clearing her throat as if preparing her voice for a speech, "this was many years ago, a lifetime ago now. We were together from when we were young. I was a teenager when we met, he was a bit older, but not by that much, five years maybe? God, I don't remember exactly now. Those details were never important to us. We just had this amazing connection, we were everything to each other. It's like the rest of the world didn't exist when we were together. Anyway, I thought we had a bond that was special, one that would last a lifetime. But in the end, he didn't. I suppose that's what happened. I don't know really."

Elliot held his chin in his hand. "Um, it sounds like there's more to this Hannah. How did it end? Are you in any contact with him currently?"

"No, I'm not in contact with him. He walked out of my life and never looked back. He never got in contact. But then how could he, after just walking away like that? I honestly have no idea where he is now. I assume he's not in the UK, but I might be wrong. He might live around the corner and I wouldn't know. And that kills me! I still feel like part of my heart is missing and I don't know where in the world it is. I can only compare it to what it must feel like if you have a family member go missing from your life." She could feel her vision begin to blur with tears that she hadn't been expecting when she started talking about this. She grabbed a tissue from the box that was on the coffee table between them. "Ah, I see what these are for now!" she said jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood and possibly change the subject.

"What happened between you and him, Hannah? You don't have to tell me today if you don't want to. I realise that this is extremely painful for you. But I think it's important that you verbalise it at some point."

"Um, well, we had a very passionate relationship. I've never felt the way I felt about him, about anyone before or since. God, it feels sad to say that out loud. Anyway, we were going to get married, but he got a job in the US. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I was meant to follow him at a later date, once I'd finished my university course, but it never happened. See, he called me," her voice faltered but she continued, "out of the blue and told me, he'd met someone else, that he'd send back some personal stuff he'd taken of mine, and I shouldn't contact him again." She threw her face into her hands and sobbed. "Why does this still hurt so much? I'm so stupid, this was twenty years ago!"

"Hannah, when people cut themselves out of your life like that, overnight without any warning, that's traumatic, especially if this was someone you had a deep connection with." She looked up, aware that she never looked her best after crying. Her eyes felt puffy. Elliot looked concerned.

She wiped her eyes with a tissue then dabbed at the damp patches on her cheeks. "Can I ask you a question, Elliot?"

"Yes of course, please do."

"Has something like this ever happened to you?"

Elliot raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "This isn't about me Hannah. But if it helps you to understand that you're not alone in having felt this way, then yes, I had a very intense relationship with a woman when I was younger, who told me it wasn't working one day, but she never explained why. She just got up and left, no discussion. I was distraught." He took a deep breath, shifting his position and gripping the arms of his chair.

"And do you still think about her?"

"Yes, I do, from time to time. But I've been in therapy myself for many years. It's a professional requirement. And so I've given myself the time and space to process what happened, even if I'll never know why it happened."

"I see. So you're at peace with it?"

"I suppose I am. But more than that, I've come to understand that I cannot change other people's actions or decisions. I don't live with any frustration linked to that situation anymore."

"Gee, that must be nice! I wish I could feel that way about what happened."

"Hannah, if we keep working together, I hope that someday soon, you will."

Chapter 6.

Hannah's husband had a work event that evening and so she found herself all alone in the house. Obviously the children were there, they were always there, but they were fast asleep in bed now. She'd put her earphones in, cleaned up the kitchen whilst listening to some old rock ballads and danced around joyously while sweeping up the floor that was littered with crumbs and bits of glitter from their attempt at crafting together earlier on. She wasn't sure why she'd decided to do that. She absolutely hated crafting but the kids enjoyed it. The kids enjoyed anything that involved making a mess. "It's sad, I guess as we get older, that we want everything to be clean all the time," she thought to herself, "we're so scared of making a mess. Or is it just that we know we're the ones having to clean it up afterwards? Yes, that's probably it." A specific memory shot through her brain. That one time with her ex that could well have been easily classed as messy, but she batted it away.

By the time she finished cleaning, it was ten o'clock. She looked around the now-orderly kitchen-diner and couldn't think what to do with herself now. She didn't feel tired, which was unusual. Maybe it had been all the energetic dancing that had boosted her mood, she felt awake and alive. Unfortunately, all her friends were busy that evening, so she couldn't even lounge about whilst chatting to them. She took her earphones out, put them away and decided to have a glass of wine. Her husband had bought a nice bottle home the other day. "Why not," she thought. As she sipped from the wine glass, she thought how wonderful it would be if her girlfriends lived closer. And how that was something else she'd disliked about getting older. Everyone, including her, had upped and moved away, spreading out over the UK, some even abroad. Why do people move on like that? What do they think is out there waiting for them that they don't already have? She took another sip, and thought about all those delightfully reckless nights out she'd had in her twenties, with the same group of girls she'd known for so many years. The same group of girls who on a group WhatsApp chat, had at first subtly, then not so subtly suggested that she see a therapist.

"Oh god, therapy. I should probably think about that, shouldn't I? If not Elliot's going to tell me I'm avoiding it all again."

"So, I guess I've got time tonight, that's what I should do. It's not going out dancing with the girls, but then that's not an option. So, I suppose I'd better do this!"

Hannah lay down on the sofa, placed her glass of wine carefully on the coffee table, closed her eyes and tried to think about what they had spoken about. She tried to conjure up the emotions that had been so raw for her during that session. "Thank god I've had some wine already," she thought.

"So," she started, "he left me. Out of the blue. No explanation. Well, that's not completely true. I guess it was for her, wasn't it? That's the gist of what he told me. Then, of course, maybe that was an excuse, maybe he just wanted rid of me? God, what if it was something I did? As if I don't feel awful enough about him dropping me for another woman when I felt like we were so close; now there's a possibility that he just wanted to get away from me? Oh fuck this shit." She stood bolt upright. "See now, this is why I don't think about it!" she said out loud to an empty room.

Hannah couldn't figure out how she was going to make it through this therapy stuff. She bent down and picked up her wine glass and took a big swig. "Right, don't give up Hannah! You're no quitter—he was the one who quit on you. Fucking arsehole." She sneered to herself.

She lay back down, this time, on her front, a cushion propping up her head. She let her arm slide off the edge of the sofa and dangle onto the floor. She felt like a teenage lolling about, she half expected her mother to walk in and tell her to sit up properly. "We hold ourselves differently as adults, don't we?" she thought. She wondered if everyone had this battle with younger versions of themselves in their heads? Or were there proper adults out there who didn't think about this stuff? They paid their bills, went to work, played with their children, and never longed to be young and free again.

The wine was having the desired effect now. Things suddenly felt hazy. She fumbled around on the coffee table to locate the remote control with her dangling hand and put some background music on.

Hannah closed her eyes. She tried to think back to her therapy session again. But no matter how hard she fought it that messy sex with her ex kept flooding back into her mind. With the alcohol peaking in her system, she slavishly gave into it. She drifted back to that time she'd taken the keys to his apartment, wanting to cook him a surprise dinner. Unfortunately, she'd completely underestimated her culinary timekeeping capabilities. He'd walked in to find her hot and sweaty with food in her hair, up her arms, and wiped all over her dress. She remembered feeling really fucking gross. His first reaction had been to laugh at the whole situation, which had almost caused her to break down in tears. Luckily, before that could happen, he'd grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the bare dining table. He told her what a great idea it had been that he was touched, but he really didn't give a fuck about the meal. He dug his fingers into some lumpy mashed potato on the kitchen counter, scooping up and wiping it across his face and down his own t-shirt.

"See?" he said. "Now we're both dirty." He slid that same hand around the back of her head and through her hair and pulled her into kiss him, the way he kissed her had always made her feel like she was melting, soft yet firm. Right then, she couldn't have given less of a fuck about the meal she'd just ruined. He pushed her back onto the table, lifted up her dress and fucked her right there. When they'd finished, he peeled her off the table, and led her to the bathroom where they'd undressed each other and showered. She had to admit that the experience had been far more enjoyable than any meal she could have prepared.

She opened her eyes and huffed. She wondered if Elliot would be impressed that she had managed to replay those events in her mind without touching herself? She thought this could actually be a step in the right direction, remembering the good times, without the intense longing, and with far less sadness.

In that moment, she resolved to try not to think about him when masturbating anymore. And with that decided, she turned her head on the cushion, and tried to actually focus on her previous session with Elliot. Oh Elliot, my god he was divine. She retraced the shape of his face in her mind. She thought back to the confident way he held himself, his deep, reassuring voice. Those striking blue eyes and athletic torso. She loved that he wasn't in any way patronising during their sessions. She'd been particularly worried about being infantilised during therapy. Yes, he could be firm. Yes, he was obviously pressing her buttons at times, trying to get her to open up about things she didn't really didn't want to. But he seemed to really understand her pain. That made her feel warm inside. Or maybe it was just the wine?

She lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, until she was woken by kisses on the back of her neck. It was her husband, home from his evening out with work, also a little tipsy. "Hello darling," she said, twisting her body around on the sofa so that she was on her back again and could actually see him. He grinned at her, and looked down at his crotch, at his raging erection.

He pulled her up, and led her to the bedroom. He sat down on the ottoman at the end of their bed and pulled her close. He unbuttoned her dress, revealing her breasts. "No bra today? Fantastic work Han!" He cupped both her breasts, then began to suck on her nipples one by one, first gently, then harder. She closed her eyes and moaned. She grabbed his face and pulled him up towards her. She kissed him urgently, then took one of his hands and placed it between her legs. "Touch me," she whispered. He quickly placed his fingers on her labia, caressing her clitoris with his thumb. He inserted the tip of his middle finger, then feeling how wet she already was, he slid three fingers inside her. She groaned, throwing her head back. He kissed her neck. "Do you like that Han?" he whispered.

"Oh fuck yes."

"How do you want it tonight?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "From behind," she said.

He took back his hand, and unbuttoned his trousers while she lifted her dress and bent over the side of the bed. He bent down behind her, grabbing her buttocks and separating them, and licked her arsehole. He'd done this before when he'd had a drink, and it was always a fun and welcome surprise. Still she giggled and retreated as the unexpected sensation hit her. He got up and pulled her hips towards him and slid inside her. She groaned in pleasure. From there, it only took a few thrusts for both of them to come.