*Knock Knock*

I’ve been staring at the clock for what seems like forever, watching the numbers change in a painfully slow time-tick. My first day of therapy with Cadence starts this morning, and I’ve been nothing but a nervous wreck. I have absolutely no idea how I’m supposed to share the most intimate details of my subversive subconscious with the only woman I’ve been drawn to since before...well, since before it happened.

“Come in,” I managed to squeak out. 

My voice was stretched so thin, the person waiting for me on the other side might have confused me for a fourteen year old boy. I heard the door creak open, and the orderly walked in to greet me.

“Dr. Shaw is waiting for you, Mr. Timberlake. Are you ready to start your session?” he asked.

I looked up, and noticed the aged man’s face. After my surprising meeting with Cadence last week, they moved me to a room room in a secluded area of the facility with absolutely no access to any women, whatsoever. Apparently, Dr. Shaw thought it would be best if I weren’t even tempted with the very thought of a female.

“Yup, ready as I’ll ever be,” I offered. I slapped my thighs in an act of agreement before convincing my languid body stand up.

After I was ready, we walked slowly down a hallway that I didn’t recognize. The move to this side of the building left me feeling very secluded and disoriented. This side of the building seemed to be made mostly from wood in contrast to the white cement lined walls, which made it seem much less clinical and stale. Even my room was large, almost stately, with a very comfortable bed and quarters instead of the cramped dorm-style room I had gotten used to previously.

The orderly stopped in front of a large mahogany door. His wrinkled knuckles rapped lightly against it again, waiting for the faint feminine voice to allow their entry. When she did, he opened the door, and I followed, eyes never leaving the floor. By the time I heard her voice, the door had shut behind me, and the orderly mysteriously disappeared.

“Mr. Timberlake, so nice to see you,” her voice echoed. 

I felt my body take a deep, shaky breath before I allowed my eyes to look up to meet her face. 

“Ditto,” I squeaked again. She chuckled in response, and I felt a blush creep over my features. I cleared my throat and then nodded. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable,” she finished. She was standing in the middle of the room, holding a few papers in her hand. 

The room itself was large, very bright. It felt like a formal living room in a stately, royal palace. There was a large, overflowing sectional near the enormous bay windows. Comfortable looking chairs were littered intelligently throughout the space. Green plants were abundant, and the light was so bright, it was almost overwhelming. In fact, it was difficult to make out her features because the light was so blinding.

“Umm...where would you like me to sit?” I asked, obviously uncomfortable. 

She laughed again. I really wish she would stop doing that. 

“Come, sit on this big floaty thing” she offered, patting a spot on this large, suspended looking oval couch. It looked awkward, yet very comfortable. 

I moved a little closer, keeping my eyes on her before cautiously taking a very uncomfortable seat on the edge of this floating couch. The moment my body hits it, it feels like I’ve sunken into a cloud in heaven.

“Wow, what is this made of?” I ask, curiously. All inhibitions are tossed out the window as I relax, my mind filling with curiosity on how exactly this odd piece of furniture could have come into existence. My body instantly relaxed as I lay back, feet still touching the ground, but allowing this amazing couch to conform and coddle me like a baby.

She smiled, and her pearly whites were almost as bright as the light filtering into the room. I could hear her heels move closer to me.

“Isn’t it comfortable? I love this room. It’s just so...warm and fuzzy. Makes you feel like you’re in heaven. I thought you would like talking here. Do you feel comfortable?” she asked.

I almost didn’t hear her words because I was so happy and relaxed.

“Yes, it’s great,” I nodded. 

A few moments of silence passed between us before I felt her move to lay next to me. I could feel her body heat, and it sent a warm feeling through my body. Surprisingly, though, I didn’t get the feelings I normally got when laying this close to an amazingly attractive woman. I didn’t move away, either.

“I’m going to lay next to you, okay? We can just talk like this. No pressure. Just two friends talking. Is this okay?” she asked again. For the first time, I felt like she actually cared about me and what I had to say.

“Yes,” I finished.

We laid there in slight awkwardness, making small talk about life in general because that’s all that felt natural. I could feel my guard slipping, though, as our chat and this couch bed made thoughts of therapy exist in a far distant past.

Suddenly, I felt her shift so that she was facing me. Her head was perched on her elbow before she asked me the first in a series of questions, something I would learn to expect from her.

“Justin?” she asked, meekly.

“Cadence?” I finished. My head turned towards her, and I smiled.

“Tell me about the fist time you had sex?” she giggled, almost like a teenager. “What was it like? Who was it with? How did it feel?” she smiled, so full of life and exuberance, that I couldn’t help but smile warmly. Then, as the subject drifted across my mind, a dark  mask overtook my features, and the fun was almost gone. The itching started to pool at my feet, and I knew it was only a matter of time before this comfort disappeared.

And then I felt her hand slip into mine. A concerned look passed over her features, and she brought me back to the world around us.

“I’m sorry if it’s painful,” she whispered. “I just want to help. Talking will make you feel better.”

I took a deep breath and squeezed her hands, letting them interlock before I felt the exhale leave my body -- and with it, the hold I had been keeping on this deep, dark secret.

“The first time I had sex? Or the first time I had a sexual experience?” I asked.

Surprised by the question, she responded. “Both, if you’d be willing to share with me.”

I nodded, and it was from there that I lost all memory as the story fell out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea.