Brandon sat uncomfortably in the waiting room although there didn't seem to have been any expense spared to make the waiting room as comfortable as possible. No month old expired magazines spread on the tables. No annoying TV playing stale talk shows. Coffee table books and leather bound volumes could be found here and there. Soft spa music could be heard, flameless candles "burned" and there was a soft fruity fragrance in the air. Everything meant to induce a calming relaxing atmosphere. Brandon hated it.

More to the point he hated being here. It was part of the stipulation for him to return to work, counseling. Never mind to the fact he knew he did not need it, never mind he knew this would not change his attitude or behavior. But that's not what they were looking for was it? They weren't expecting him to complete his required 120 hours. They expected him not to finish and to go away quietly. He had technically only finished 15 hours, however he was also through 5 different therapists. Dr. Samantha Geist, was his 6th and first woman. He imagined what she would look like, most likely over weight, old, ugly and depressing.

He looked towards the receptionist. She sat typing on her computer. She had barely given Brandon a cursory glance when he first walked in. But after he checked in, once he had her attention, she had developed new ways to look at him out of the corners of her eye. He noticed the looks and returned them, but wasn't trying to be subtle about it the way she was. She started to flush. He could tell what she was thinking. He knew the look and had seen it before. He could never completely understand the need for game that lead up to the inevitable but on occasion he did enjoy it.

Currently the receptionist was weighing the possible scenarios. Would they be able to steel away? Where would they go? Would they have time? Would they get caught? But getting caught was most of the fun he thought and smiled from it. She happened to be looking at him at that moment and smiled with him. She was his.

"Brandon?" The doctor chose that moment to walk into the waiting room.

"Yes," he said smiling standing up. He took one last look at the receptionist before sticking out his hand to the doctor.

"Samantha Geist," she said shaking his hand. "You can call me whatever you feel comfortable with, Dr. Geist or Sam is fine." She explained

He didn't think he would be with her that long for it to make a difference what he called her. She wasn't at all what he expected. She was black or most likely mulatto. She had light curly brown hair with gold highlights. Her eyes were a beautiful light brown almost gold, a color he hadn't seen before. She was about his height and curvy. She was handsomely beautiful. His mind quickly flashed an image of her topless with her hair cascading down her back, a look of pure ecstasy on her face. His smile broadened at the thought of putting that look on her face. The next image his mind conjured up was of her head in his lap, her hair splayed, covering the important parts, taking the image from NC17 to maybe PG13, if the censors were in a good mood that day.

She motioned to her office.

"Please come in," she stepped aside so he could walk in ahead of her. He missed the look she gave the secretary.

He stepped into her office and was surprised yet again. The d├ęcor of the office didn't necessarily match the waiting room however it again contained comforting sights. The doctor's couch was a huge comfortable sectional. There was of course a chaise lounge. Two oversized chairs with a small table between them set up in front of the windows that over looked a brilliant view of the city.

"The view must be spectacular at night," he said nodding towards the windows.

"It is lovely," she agreed. She hung back by the door waiting for him to decide where he would sit.

He was impressed with the doctor and the size of the office. It was not what he had expected at all. Most of the doctors he had seen were exactly as he had expected. Stuffed shirts who didn't know what they were talking about. Small offices with smaller minds. Two had tried to sympathize with him, one doctor was immediately prejudice against him, and one pretended to be a recovering sex addict himself, of course Brandon didn't believe for a moment he was addicted to sex. So speaking to someone who claimed to be a recovering one was counterproductive, and he told him so, in less than kind terms, which lead him here. Although now that he was here, he was sure it was some kind of mistake, surely they didn't expect him to tell his "problems" to this woman. Not when he couldn't stop thinking about how she would taste.

He looked around for her and realized she was waiting for him.

"Where should I sit?" he asked.

"Where ever you feel comfortable." She answered.

"Is it all about my comfort?" he asked.

"It is how the office was designed."

"Proud of it?" he asked his tone was mocking.

She smiled and shook her head. "I actually share this space with a few other doctors," she explained.
"We each see patients on different days. The design is not my own." She walked over to the chairs in front of the windows and sat down in one. He instinctively sat in the chair opposite her. "Why don't you tell me why you're here," she suggested.

"I would think you would know." He said a little sharply, picking up chocolate from the bowl on the table, unwrapping it and popping the candy into his mouth.

"I have the other doctor's summaries and I have other notes. But I would prefer to speak with you to get an understanding of how you feel."

He flattened the wrapper from the candy on his slacks, careful to smooth out all of the wrinkles. He then spent a considerable amount of time folding the wrapper into a small perfect square. He placed it on the table between them. Looked up at her and smiled.

"I don't know why I'm here." He said flatly.

"Can you at least tell me why you think you're here?" Brandon avoided her gaze. He looked out towards the window. His appointment was a late day one and the sun was just setting. Although not directly in line, you could see the sun setting beautifully. He thought there was at least a few days out of the year where the sun set directly in the window and it lit up the office brilliantly.

"I guess," he started, but paused. "I guess my lifestyle makes some uncomfortable."

"Are you comfortable with it?"

"Of course, it's what I chose for myself."

"So, no reservations? Any idea why others are uncomfortable with your behavior?"

"No reservations. I would think others are jealous. They see a beautiful woman like yourself and can only wish they could have you."

"You feel differently?"

He sat back into his chair smiling. Brandon's eyes looked her up and down from head to toe. If he were to have her, it wouldn't be easy. Not impossible, he thought, just not easy.

She shifted , sat up and leaned toward him.

"I think we should come to an understanding, I'm here to do my best to help you, if that is what you think you need. We should move forward with the assumption that we will be spending an hour with each other every two weeks. We will be talking in our sessions, nothing more."


"Yes, talking. It's up to you what we talk about."

"Anything?" She nodded the affirmative.

"Do you have patients who are sex addicts?" he asked settling back into the chair.

"I treat patients with a number of problems."

"That's a very evasive answer."

She smiled, "I would much rather talk with you. I'm interested in what you have to say. Not really discussing my other patients which I cannot talk about anyway."

"I fucked a woman before coming here." While it was true he did have a quick tryst in the bathroom of the restaurant where he had lunch, why he chose to tell her and why he selected such a harsh terms to describe it he was unsure.

"How do you feel about that?"

"Would you like me to describe it for you?" he asked a mischievous smile played on his mouth.

"It is not necessary however if you would feel better I can allow you some leeway."

"I thought this was our time together, if I wanted to describe the way she clawed at my back as she came, why wouldn't you want to hear that?" He looked straight at her as he said this, refusing to break eye contact.

"Does it excite you to describe to me what happened?" He snorted, typical shrink. Everything was a question.

"I think you would kick me out if you knew what excited me." Again the mischievous smile played on his lips.

"Are you usually this open about your ventures?"

She was selecting her words carefully. He was intrigued and wanted to know if this was something she did out of habit or did it come naturally. But more importantly he was interested in finding out how she felt and tasted. He picked up another candy from the bowl. This time instead of popping it directly into his mouth he played the candy around his lips and tongue, taking a slow bite from it, letting the sweetness play in his mouth. He looked around the office and tried to keep careful eye on the window reflection. She didn't stop looking at him. She was just as interested in him, as he was in her.

"Can I ask you a few things?" He nodded, whether he chose to answer them, that would be the rub, wouldn't it?

"Could you tell me how many women you've slept with or do you think you would need to estimate it?"

He shifted his eyes down. He thought for a moment to tell her a lie but decided against it. "I would have to estimate."

"How about this week, could you give me a number for the week?"

"8" he confirmed with a small bit of hesitation.

"Do you only sleep with women?" She asked her questions mater-of-factly. She was looking for information but he still wanted to treat it as a game so he didn't answer right away. Instead he stood up and walked away from her stopping in front of a bookcase, putting his attention for the moment into reading the titles.

"Brandon, does this mean you don't want to answer the question?"

"I find pleasure in both sexes."

"Do you masturbate?" again a clinical question.

"Yes" he said not turning around.

"Do you think it gets in the way of your life?"


"All of it, any of it. Your current life style."

"I don't think I have answer for that."

"Did you want me to know anything else today Brandon?"

He smiled at her looked over to the wide sectional, and then shook his head. "No, I cannot think of a thing."

"Let's end today. I would like you to think of the direction you would like our sessions to take." She said standing up. "I'm aware of your history with the past doctors. If I let me help you I think I can, if you don't want my help then we should talk about other options."

He had no other "options" and he was a little off put by her insinuation. But he nodded his agreement.


"Have a good day Brandon."

"You as well Samantha."