The Sex Therapist

You know that look that women get when they want to have sex? Me neither.
— Steve Martin

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John

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I look at the clock on the wall and see that it is exactly the top of the hour. I take the few steps to the door of my office and open it a crack. I sense the waiting room is empty and open the door wide to look in and verify my suspicion. I stand there for a second trying to decide whether to leave the door open or not. I do and return to my chair and open my appointment book. It is not unusual for first-timers to no-show. Some call after the fact, but most no-shows are too embarrassed to call at all.

I push the curtains aside to look out the window at the sun streaming in through the clouds. It is such a relief after the last few days of spring showers and cold breezes. Today finally feels like summer has arrived. A few minutes later I hear the outer door open and someone enter the waiting room.

“Come on in through the open door,” I call out.

“Oh, hey, am I late?” Samantha walks in smiling and stops in the middle of the room before taking a full turn. “Huh, so you have sex with your clients in here?”

“Can you close the door, please?” I watch her as she hesitates, disappointed that I don’t answer her question. She turns to do as I ask. She is rather tall for a woman, almost six feet I’d guess. Her short, black hair is spiked up on top. But it is her eyes that grab me. They are the most amazing blue I have ever seen. Most people describe blue eyes as the color of the sky affected by some kind of weather. After a rain. Before the storm. Hers are nothing like that. More like glittering diamonds twinkling in the sunlight. Or blue marbles with swirls of white twisting through them.

She is wearing tight, faded jeans, which accentuate her slim figure and a multi-colored, loose fitting blouse that has a modern art, abstract-like pattern of reds, blacks and blues. She is standing by the door simply looking at me.

“No, I reserve the adjacent room for all intimate encounters.”

“Oh, can I see?” She doesn’t wait for my answer and practically runs to the other door. “Wow, it’s like a bedroom!” She disappears inside, but shouts so I can still hear her. “You have a shower?” She appears again after almost a full minute in the other room. “I want to have all of my sessions in there sitting cross-legged on the bed!”

“Sorry, I find it more therapeutic talking face-to-face in here.”

“With me stretched out on that overstuffed leather couch and you in the matching chair? So stereotypical!”

“Perhaps, but it works for me.” She is still standing, now at the window pushing aside the drapes to peer outside.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure it works for me.” I have to twist in my chair to see her. She is looking at the garden out the window. The sunshine lights up the side of her face nearest me, making her blue eyes sparkle and flash. “Too bad we can’t have our sessions out there on the bench or under that tree.”

“Not terribly private, I’m afraid.”

“OK, I’ll sit on the couch.” In dramatic fashion, Samantha almost dances across the room, casts off her leather sandals and climbs up on the couch to sit on the arm. She pulls her legs under her in some kind of yoga pose, balancing precariously enough that I fear she will fall off backwards.

“I have to tell you that I record all sessions.”

“No shit! Where’s the camera?”

“There are several in each room, but I prefer not to tell clients where so they are not overly concerned with positioning themselves to get in or out of the shot. Rest assured there is no place in either room you can go and not be captured on video.”

“Wow, that’s a little creepy. Even in the shower?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Do you like to watch them later? Your own private porn collection?”

“Only to observe situations that don’t go as I expect so I can look for cues that I may have missed. I want to remind you that everything we say and do in here – especially the videos – are covered by patient privacy laws. No one will ever see them expect me, unless I’m subpoenaed by a court of law.”

“Ah, like if I accuse you of rape or something?”

“Yes, it is unfortunate that I have to keep them for that eventuality.”

“Hmmm, I will have to think about whether that will be an issue for me.”