Therapy

As she lay on the bed, afterwards, her husband in the bathroom showering, she realised she'd not been that excited in a long time. "I wonder if it was the wine? Or maybe because it was so unexpected? Him turning up like that, wanting me, out of the blue?" No, she knew full well what it was. Being fucked from behind had meant she'd been free to imagine whatever she wanted, and she'd been picturing Elliot, the whole time. "Oh Christ, that's a bit messed up." She thought.

Chapter 7.

"So Hannah, how are you this week?" Elliot said to her softly, adjusting himself in his chair. Summer was just around the corner and he was wearing a polo shirt. His arms were already quite bronzed, that wasn't going to make it harder to concentrate for her at all.

The past few sessions had gone really well. She had talked more about what had happened with her ex and she'd told Elliot that she'd pretty much managed to stop thinking about him when she touched herself. Overall it felt like progress was being made.

"I'm doing really well, thanks," she replied. "My husband and I have been having a lot of sex recently."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said with a wry smile.

"But you know, I think there's something I probably should tell you Elliot. I'd be interested to know what you think about this."

"Ok. I'm listening."

His tone was always calming, and his smile a constant. She noticed a piece of his curly hair flopping over onto his forehead, and had to fight the urge to get up and lean in towards him to put it back into place.

She took a deep breath. "So, I'm not sure how I else I can put this, but basically when I was looking for a therapist to work with, I only chose to contact you because I liked your profile picture. Don't get me wrong, if I'd come along to therapy and thought you were a bit of a dick, I wouldn't have continued with our sessions. You've helped me a lot. But do you think it's unhealthy that I chose you because I thought you were good-looking?"

Elliot blushed and looked down. "Well firstly, thank you, that's obviously a very complementary thing to say. And it's good to know that you don't think that I'm a dick! But are you saying that you weren't interested in any of my credentials then?"

"Well, no, not really. I mean I knew you were a qualified therapist if that's what you mean? But, what can I say, there were endless lists of local therapists, and I had no idea how to choose."

"So what you're saying is that it was money well spent hiring a professional photographer?"

"Ha! Yes, a great marketing technique, in my opinion." She replied cheekily. "But you must have seen some of the ones other therapists put up? Some of those profile pictures are bloody awful, aren't they? And if I'm going to spend £100 an hour in somebody's company, baring my soul to them, it's important that they're nice to look at—objectively so!"

Elliot laughed. "That's definitely one way of looking at it. But I wouldn't exactly say it's vital for the therapeutic process, would you?"

"Vital? No. But I guess it depends on your reasons for consulting a therapist." She paused to reflect. "I think I knew deep down that I was going to end up talking about everything that happened with my ex. And he was beautiful. I suppose that's the link." She stopped, and dug out her phone from the bottom of her bag. She scrolled back through her images. "See," she said, handing him the phone. "This was always my favourite photo of him."

Elliot took the phone from her hand, gently brushing the tips of her fingers as she handed it over. This was the first time she'd ever touched him. They hadn't even shaken hands on the first session. The feeling of his skin sent a tingling sensation up her arm and to the back of her neck and down her spine. Goosebumps appeared on her arms, she shivered ever so slightly.

"And so," she tried to gather herself, "I think I thought it would be good to speak to a man—someone who knew what he was talking about—about everything that happened. I was definitely seeking reassurance that the way he chose to end it was in fact traumatic. And that I'm not crazy for still feeling a bit broken by it all. And hearing that from you has helped. I can't explain why exactly." She paused, unsure whether she was making it all up as she went along, or if there actually was some truth there that she just hadn't realised at the time. "This is what therapy does to you," she thought. "It makes you realise, you do shit without even thinking, but by god, there's always a reason for it."

Elliot placed her phone on the table between them and slid it towards her. "What you're saying makes a lot of sense Hannah. And I'm glad that us talking about what happened has helped relieve some of the confusion you were feeling around that trauma. But I think it's important that I say this to you. Your ex never gave you the closure that you needed, and I think that in the absence of that, you're still looking for someone to give you answers. And unfortunately I can't do that for you. No-one can."

Hannah sat back in the sofa digesting his words. "You may be right." She paused. "I know that I never really processed what happened because I didn't know how to, so I just shut down all my emotions. I didn't know how else to handle it, so I internalised it all, assuming that I wasn't enough. And yes, I still remain hugely confused about what happened. It just never made any sense to me. How could he brush everything we had away, in an instant? Just because you're far away from someone doesn't mean you forget them, does it? I never forgot." She fought back the tears this time.

"Hannah, I'm sure he didn't forget. People don't tend to forget important people in their lives. But whatever happened, whatever caused him to change directions and choose a different life, I need you to understand that you did nothing wrong, it wasn't your fault." At this point he repositioned himself in his chair and leaned towards her, reaching out with his arm.

She looked at him, unsure what to do.

"Give me your hand Hannah."

She reached over and put her hand in his. He placed his other hand on top of hers.

"I need you to hear this. His actions have absolutely no bearing on who you are or your worth. You deserve love. Passionate love. Reliable love. Love that makes you remember who you are."

Hannah squeezed his hand and broke down in tears.

Chapter 8.

Hannah was in bed, feeling under the weather. Her husband had taken the children to school that morning so she could rest. She was full of cold, her head hurt, she couldn't breathe through either of her nostrils, and her throat was sore. "Fuck being ill," she thought as she rolled over in bed. She'd already taken a maximum dose of all the cold medicines she had in the house. All she could do was try and sleep it off. She rolled back onto her other side. "Nope," she thought, "this isn't happening. I've already slept too much I guess."

She turned on the radio. "Oh god, I can't deal with Radio 4 this morning!" she said to herself as soon as she heard the newsreader's voice. "Something else, anything else!" She proceeded to scan the stations. Suddenly she heard a tune that she liked. "Valerie, call on me! Valerie!"

"What station is this?" she asked, leaning over to check the display.

"80's hits? Oh god I'm old." She sighed. "That's all I need right now, to feel old and ill!"

"There's only one thing for it." She thought, "I might feel like the grossest person on earth right now, but if I'm going to get back to sleep and get over this, I'm going to have to do it."

She opened her bedside table draw.

She picked up a toy, squeezed some lube onto the tip, and slid it carefully under her pyjama bottoms. The buzzing noise annoyed her. She swallowed to try and pop her ears, but it didn't make the sensation any better. It felt like her toy was vibrating her whole body.

"Just concentrate woman!" With her spare hand, she leaned over and turned off the radio. "Now, what are you going to think about? How about that other night with your husband? I mean, I suppose that could work..."

She began moving her toy around her clitoris, teasing herself, trying to get something going. "Nope, nothing. Maybe I should just give up and get up."

Then her mind took her back to that session when Elliot's hand grazed hers when she passed him the phone. That tingling sensation she felt up her arm, through her neck and down her spine. "Oh yeah, that's working." She thought, so she kept going.

Hannah thought back to their last session. She hadn't let herself think about that at all since it happened. Because honestly, she wasn't yet sure how to process it. Still, this felt good, so reluctantly she let her memory take her back. At the end of that session Elliot had gone to open the door to let her out, just as she also reached for the handle, and they almost bumped heads. It was silly, corny, like something out of a Hollywood rom-com. And just as expected, they had both laughed out of embarrassment and pulled away. But her face had been right next to his, just for a split second. She could smell him. His aftershave mixed with all his bodily odours. The chemistry of it all was delicious. As she turned to say goodbye to him, he looked at her and said, "It was great seeing you Hannah, as always." She remembered how surprised she'd been to hear him say that, and how as she walked away from his office, thinking about it, her cunt had begun to pulsate. She looked at herself in the mirrored wall of the lift. Her cheeks were slightly flushed. As she brushed her fingers through her hair and away from her face, she saw that her erect nipples were visible through both her bra and her dress. She closed her eyes and thought back to the smell of him. She imagined he was there in the lift with her, pushing her up against the wall and kissing her intensely. What must his lips feel like, those beautifully full lips that housed the kindest smile she'd ever known. She opened her eyes and found herself gripping the hand rail tightly. She looked up at the digital display, four more floors until the doors would open to the real world. She began rubbing herself up against the edge of the hand rail, hoping, praying that no-one would call the lift on any of the remaining floors. Unless it was him, of course.

"Ummmm" she moaned as she climaxed, clutching at the loose bedding. "Well, that was better than expected." She thought.

Chapter 9.

"So Hannah, we come back to this same question again. What is it that you want?" Elliot looked absolutely gorgeous. Hannah could hardly look at him for fear of staring too intensely. He had a button-up grey shirt on, and it was ever so slightly too small for him when he sat down, gaping slightly at the buttons. She could tell it made him slightly uncomfortable, because he kept shifting in his chair and pulling at it to try and find some hidden slack somewhere, but there was none. This miraculous shirt showed off his physique in the best possible way. It was obvious that he worked out. His chest looked rock solid, but not too big. She desperately wanted to walk over to where he was sitting and touch him, but obviously she couldn't.

"Erm, yes, well, what do I want?" she answered. "I suppose I want to feel like me again. I've denied who I really am for a long time now. Just sort of living on autopilot, thinking this is all I can have. I'd really like to feel passionate about something again. I just don't know exactly what that is yet."

"I see." He paused. "Could it be your career that you're missing? Or is there more to it than that do you think?" Elliot asked hesitantly. He was looking down and fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt. He seemed uneasy asking her this question. Or maybe he was just uncomfortable in his shirt?

"Well, I do need to think about going back to work at some point. I think it's going to be tough to find the job that's right for me after such a long hiatus, but yes, that's part of the long-term plan for sure. But yes, there's definitely more to it than that." He appeared to be studying her face as she answered, and she let herself hold his gaze and not look away.

She continued, "I need to find what I want. I know it's not my ex. I know how those negative feelings about what happened were holding me back. I just need to move forward and find myself again. Then I'll know."

In that moment, she realised, there was nothing left to talk to him about. Despite wanting desperately to keep seeing him, she knew that it was time to cut ties. She'd never been very good at saying goodbye to people, and Elliot was special. In that moment she wasn't sure if she could actually do it.

Elliot got up from his chair. "That's time for us today." He walked back over to his desk to his computer to set up the payment system, as he did at the end of every session. He beckoned her over to his desk to pass her the card machine. She got up, and stood in front of him, her payment card in hand.

"Do you want to book in for next week?" he asked her, looking at his calendar.

Hannah took a deep breath and hesitated before saying, "Actually, no. I don't think I do."

Elliot looked up at her in surprised. "Oh really? Well, of course, that's completely your decision, Hannah. I only hope that I've been of some help to you over the past few months."

"Oh yes, you definitely have. I want to thank you for everything you've done for me, Elliot. I'm so glad I decided to come to therapy. God, everyone should do this! In fact, I'm going to suggest that everyone I know come and see you! You'll be hugely overbooked, I'm sorry."

Elliot leaned back in his desk chair and laughed out loud. "That's extremely kind of you. And I agree with you, I think a lot of people could benefit from going to therapy."

He stood up and walked towards the door. She went to pick up her bag from the sofa, threw it over her shoulder. He was stood waiting for her to walk through the doorway.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye Hannah. It's been a real pleasure working with you."

She could feel herself tear up, without thinking, she threw her arms around him and hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered into his chest. He let go of the door and embraced her. "You're very welcome. You're going to be absolutely fine Hannah. Just be true to yourself." He hugged her slightly tighter for a moment and then released her.

Hannah inhaled his scent as discreetly as she could and separated herself from him. "It feels like I'm saying goodbye to a lifelong friend. I hadn't expected these feelings," she said, wiping away tears and looking down at the floor.

Elliot reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about anything Hannah. Remember, it's you making this choice. And you're strong. I promise you. You're going to go off and do great things. But I am always here if you need me."

Chapter 10.

Since the end of therapy, Hannah had frequently thought about Elliot. She would picture him sat in his chair, methodically rolling up his sleeves whilst listening to one of his clients. She would retrace his face in her mind. She was immensely grateful for how he had helped her to move past such old stale feelings that were holding her back in life. But her thoughts for him moved beyond gratitude and she missed seeing him. Still, she'd learnt not to yearn after things that were not meant for her; instead she'd chosen to focus on other adventures in life.

She had taken the leap and applied for the position of Managing Director for a charity that worked locally helping refugees to settle in her city, and she'd got it. The interview process had been tough and she was hugely surprised when they called to say they thought she was perfect for the job. The pay wasn't amazing, but the part-time hours were perfect and she could still pick up the children from school every day. But above all, the charity did important work helping refugees that fell through the gaps. She had been immensely saddened when she began at the company at just how many families were referred to the charity for help. She felt grateful to be part of such a good team of people, helping others on a daily basis.

That Monday morning, she had some unforeseen time away from the office. She'd received an early morning call from the building manager telling her that the roof had leaked over the weekend, and their offices weren't accessible while they fixed it. Hannah had put out word to her team that they should work from home today and to keep a close eye on their emails. So, now that the children were both at school, she thought she'd wander down to her local bakery and pick up some bread, maybe even a croissant. She'd completely forgotten what it was like to have a bit of time to herself.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't looking her best this morning, but who cared? She ran her fingers through her slightly greasy hair, pushing it out of her face, and proceeded to wash her face, then her armpits. She wasn't going to shower if she didn't have to go into work. When she was done with the flannel, she went to hang it up to dry over the shower door, then hastily put one leg up on the side of the bath and wiped it over her labia. "Probably for the best," she thought.

She pulled on her favourite linen jumpsuit. She looked down at herself. Yeah, you could sort of see her bra through this one, especially as the V-neck at the front was particularly low. "Oh well," she thought, "so what if it's technically autumn now! It's not cold outside yet."

She picked up her sandals at the door, threw her bag over her shoulder, and shut the door behind her.

Outside she looked up at the sky. It was gloriously sunny, but there were also big fluffy clouds scattered around. They looked like oddly shaped sheep. She squinted and tried to picture their legs. Then she giggled to herself, "Bloody child you are Hannah."

She started walking towards the bakery, fifteen minutes up the road. She put her earphones in and chose some upbeat music to walk to.

She found herself mouthing the words to some of the songs as she almost skipped along to the music. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a lorry driver smiling at her, and he winked at her as he drove by. She grinned back at him. She didn't mind a complimentary wink from time to time. It felt good to feel like this. She checked her emails on her phone. There were no emergencies pending.

As she turned the corner, the bakery came into view. She could see the queue of people outside, all heads down, looking at their phones. "Damn it," she thought, "I should have got here earlier." She walked alongside the queue of people, trying to see just how far back it went, when someone touched her arm.

"Hi Hannah!"

It was Elliot.

Hannah swung around and faced him in the queue. She dug her earphones out of her ears and shoved them in her pocket. "Hi Elliot. Wow, it's great to see you. What are you doing here?" She could feel her heart start to race. Panicked, she ran her fingers through her hair trying to make sure she didn't look too dishevelled.

"My sister lives around here and she asked me to get pastries before coming over for coffee. This place looked popular." He had his hands casually placed in his pockets. He looked distinctly different outside of office hours, relaxed, wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt that matched his eyes. He had an old rucksack, and trainers on.

"Oh yeah, it really is. Too popular. I didn't know you had a sister."

"Yeah, she's been living around here for a while now. It's not my side of the city, but I come over to see her when I get a chance. And I don't take appointments on Mondays, remember?"

"I do remember." Hannah couldn't focus. Seeing him again, out of the blue, felt so intense. "Listen, I'd better get to the back of the queue before people start to think I'm cutting in. But it was really great to see you." She instinctively reached out and touched his arm. She froze, unsure how long it was appropriate to linger. She'd honestly never expected to see him again, certainly not here just around the corner from her home.