I nodded. ‘All right, Beryl will give you some forms your daughter needs to fill out and she will also schedule an appointment for her.’
She smiled again. And I had a vision. Her in bed with her shriveled husband. It was not only she who had done a quick Google search. It was not every day that Lady Swanson, of the great Swanson dynasty, called my office for an appointment.
For a moment our eyes held and I saw something in hers. Interest. Desire. I let my gaze slide away.
‘Thank you… Dr. Kane.’
‘Goodbye, Lady Swanson.’
I walked to the door, opened it, and let her out. As she passed me her perfume wafted into my nostrils. Expensive, faint, but still potent. Up close, her carefully powdered skin was even more flawless. I closed the door and walked to my desk. I opened my drawer and taking out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s poured myself a huge measure. I knocked it back, swallowed, and closed my eyes.
Fuck. Was it ever going to stop hurting?
Then I walked to the window and watched Lady Swanson get into her chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce Phantom. She stared straight ahead. Distant, unreachable, from a different world. It was almost as if it was only a dream that she had come into my office and sat in my chair.
The intercom buzzed. ‘Can I come in?’ Beryl asked.
I sighed. ‘Yes.’
The door opened even before I had taken my finger away from the button.
‘Well?’ she asked, wide-eyed. ‘That was a very short first session. What did she want?’
‘She wants me to treat her stepdaughter.’
Her eyes became huge. ‘What? She wants you to treat her Lady Olivia?’
‘How did you know that?’
‘It was all over the papers. She met with an accident and lost her memory. You have your work cut out for you.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Lady Olivia is known in the tabloids as “Lady O”. She has never ever given an interview and furiously guards her privacy. Unlike the other “It” girls, there are no pictures of her behaving badly. Ever.’
Beryl came deeper into the room and went to my computer. She typed in a few words and turned toward me, her face filled with gossipy excitement. ‘Here. This is what she looks like.’
I walked toward the computer screen.
It was not a very good picture. A long lens photo. Grainy. And not even in color. But my cock twitched and woke up from its deep sleep.
2
I glanced restlessly at my watch: ten minutes to spare before Lady Olivia’s appointment. My heart was pumping strongly and there was a strange tension in my gut. I pulled the bottle of JD from my desk drawer, unscrewed the cap and took a long swig straight from its mouth. The fiery liquid burned all the way into my empty stomach. Heat sped along my veins warming, easing, dulling. Artificially relaxed I sprayed breath freshener into my mouth.
Horrible stuff.
I stood up and walked over to the window. It was late in the afternoon and the pavements were already full of people hurrying home. I had been there for less than a minute when a Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up on the street. Then, even though I really, really wanted to watch her slide out, I moved away from the window. I straightened my tie, shot my cuffs, sat in my chair, and twirled my pen. My pulse was jumping.
What the hell is the matter with you?
Behaving like a fucking hormone-crazed teenager.
The bell rang. I put the pen down and listened to the blood pumping in my ears while out front she was let in, asked to fill in the disclaimer form, and reminded to use the restroom before her session started. I glanced at my watch. Four minutes. I badly wanted to have another swig. I resisted and waited for Beryl’s soft knock.
It came three minutes later.
‘Come in,’ I called.
The door opened and she stood in the doorway dressed in a tailored, gunmetal-gray dress, thick black tights and flat black pumps. How should I describe her? Petite. Blonde hair tightly pulled back into a ponytail. Heart-shaped face. Straight nose. Absolutely enormous, glossy, gray-green eyes. And a full, small mouth that she had painted a frank red. She was neither classically beautiful like her stepmother nor pretty in the girl-next-door sort of way.
But she was…intriguing. Very.
‘Good afternoon,’ I greeted, standing up.
‘Hello, Dr. Kane,’ she said and took a step into the room.
Her voice held that fey, non-aggressive, aristocratic tone of the British upper class, and her expression was a politely closed door, but her sexuality reached out like a long tentacle and touched me. I can tell you now, it wasn’t pleasant. It was cold, sensual, compelling…and undeniable.
The Goat of Lust had me by the fucking balls!
I had never encountered anything like it before. I could liken the sensation only to the moment when a youth first discovers that he is attracted to other men. There is sadness and regret that he is not like everybody else, and dismay at the task of confronting his parents with the ‘bad’ news. Laced underneath the trepidation is intense curiosity, terrible excitement for the forbidden, and not an ounce of revulsion.