707 Park Avenue
The attractive blonde felt a twinge of embarrassment, and quickly looked down, pretending to study the notes on the clipboard she held in her lap. For some reason, this guy alone, of all her patients, had an unsettling effect on her.
She knew he was watching her; watching her every move. She could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of her face. In her eight years as a psychotherapist she had never been so affected by a patient, although she had learned quickly how to deal with passes from male patients, while always maintaining her professional
cool. Till now, that is.
"Are you alright, Dr. Heywood?" The young man, who reminded her of Tom Cruse, leaned toward her sending a shock of thick black hair falling down across his brow, while looking up at her with concern in his searching gray eyes -- those terrible eyes of his.
"Huh...yes,...I'm ok, I think. I just felt a little warm, that's all. I'm alright now." Her words came out shaky and hesitant. Not at all the calm, competent tone she adopted so readily the minute a patient came in for a session. She took a deep breath, determined to pull herself together.
"Ah...let's go on, Benjamin. We were talking about your problems with girls, I believe. You were saying that you thought you had some sort of ESP, and it was affecting your relationships?"
"Oh, that! That can wait," he dismissed his own concerns as trivial, while edging his chair closer to hers.
"You don't look too good Dr. Heywood." His voice was soft, surprisingly tender. "I hope you're not coming down with something?"
She was looking down as he shifted forward in his chair till their knees were practically touching. She could feel his genuine concern; the voice of a man who cared for her, who wanted to take care of her. She shook off the silly thought. He wasn't even a man, after all, just a college boy, barely out of adolescence, and a patient besides! She was the professional here; she was here to help him, not the other way around! Then why was it she suddenly felt like a fumbling schoolgirl in the young guy's presence? Why did she have such a hard time meeting his steady gaze?
Why did she melt when he flashed her that boyish smile of his? She shook her head. She simply had to get a grip on herself!
She nervously raked clawed fingers through her short blond hair, and passed a trembling hand over her brow, finding it moist and warm. She felt flushed all over. It was as if a hot flash that had suddenly come over her, but that was absurd! Bethany Heywood was in her middle 30s, much too young to be having hot flashes. She shook her head and gave her patient a weak smile that was meant to be reassuring. It was the best she could do.
"It is kinda hot in here," Benjamin allowed. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable if you took off your jacket?" he suggested helpfully reaching out to pat her shoulder with solicitous concern. His touch startled her, and something quicken in her. 'This really is not appropriate,' she told herself. Yet, there was this tenderness, the gentle caring in his voice. Should she take off her jacket? She was suddenly confused. It sounded like it might be the right thing to do.
"Go on, Dr. Heywood, I can wait till you get comfortable."
She blushed and looked aside. The boy was watching her so intently; she couldn't bear the penetrating gaze that drilled right to her soul. She set aside her clipboard, got to her feet, and without a word, slipped off the jacket to her
neatly tailored gabardine suit. She carefully folded the suit jacket and set in on her desk, all the while
avoiding his eyes.
"That must feel better now doesn't it, Dr. Heywood?"
"Yes, I think it does, thank you." She felt a wave of relief. A refreshing coolness. A feeling of...freedom.
"Before you sit down again, ah...why don't you take your blouse off, Doc?"
The startling suggestion took her aback. A silent 'oh' formed on her pursed lips. She nervously removed her glasses, folded them, placed them on the desk. Standing next to her desk, the attractive blonde seemed paralyzed as a part of her mind studied the suggestion with clinical detachment. Should she take off her blouse? It was certainly uncomfortable, hot and stuffy with the sun streaming in through the plate glass windows. It would be so nice to simply slip out of her blouse -- to be free of it. She longed to do it, to strip it off, right here and now. Yet, wasn't there something wrong about that? The thought occurred to her: If she took her blouse off, the boy would certainly see her in her bra -- that didn't seem quite right. Instantly, the searing image of her sitting there in her office chair in her brassiere, rocketed through her, leaving her weak in the knees. The slightly-built blonde swayed, put out a hand to steady herself on the desk.
"But Benjamin, I don't think..."
"Go on, Doctor H.," the boy urged softly.
She didn't move, but stood before the seated guy with her blond head tilted down. "Take off your blouse," he told her. Now there was a new tone to his voice, the last words clear and precise - an order quietly given, yet given with
such authority that there could be no thought of disobedience.
His eyes never left her small-breasted form, watching her slight bosom in the cream-colored blouse as it rose and fell with the ragged undulations of her heavy breathing. Her eyes were downcast, unseeing gaze locked on the richly carpeted floor at her feet. He waited, then watched with a smile as her hands slowly rose up as with a life of their own, to reach up to her collar and with calm, businesslike movements undo the top button of the slick blouse she had
worn that day. He admired the deft fingers of that opened each button in turn, the slim hands working their way downward, hands that seemed detached, disembodied, as though some unseen force was undoing the front of her blouse for her as the girl stood passively by, simply submitting, letting herself be undressed. She peeled the open blouse back off her twisting shoulders, drew her thin straight arms from the sleeves, and carefully folded the silky blouse, to set it next to the discarded jacket on the polished cherrywood desktop.
Now she stood before him, letting him see her in her bra, a mocha-colored Bali, trimmed with a narrow edging of lace. Her prominent nipples were dimly visible through the thin wispy cups that softly cradled her petite breasts. She saw his eyes widen with delight when her blouse came off and he took in her bare neck and shoulders
and her reedy torso banded by the pretty brassiere. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, but the anxious feelings were immediately lost by the warmth of the pleasure his eyes gave her. A feeling of well-being surged through her. She smiled, looked to the seated boy for guidance.
"Just keep going Doctor H. Get undressed. All the way."
The words cut through her like a hot knife through butter, leaving her feeling loose, tinged with sexual freedom. A surge of eager randiness rushed up from her loins. The full realization hit her: she had to undress for him! But a tiny part of her brain cried out in alarm, and she hesitated.
"But Benjamin, I'm not sure..." Her voice was strained, low and breathy.
"Look at me," he ordered. Torn with indecision, the woman raised her agonized
eyes to meet his.
"Keep looking into my eyes. You're not to look away," he warned her.
Looking deep into those mesmerizing gray eyes, she heard his voice tell her.
"Now listen to me, Doctor Heywood. You are to take off the rest of your clothes. Now! I want you naked."
The erotic command thrilled her to the core. 'He wants me naked.' Bethany bit her curled lip to suppress a tiny moan that still managed to escape. Her eyes fluttered closed. The blond girl swayed against the desk.
"No! Open your eyes. Look at me. I told you ...keep looking into my eyes."
Her eyes flew open. Big, brown and shiny, they were instantly captivated by his
hard, unflinching, snake-like gaze.
"Good. That's better. Now take off your skirt."
Bethany's hands were trembling as they went to obey, blindly finding the catch at her hip, lowering the little zipper, bending foorward and bringing her knees together as she tugged down the narrow beige skirt of her business suit with a girlish wiggle, all the while remembering his injunction to keep her eyes on the masterful man-child who held her in thrall.
She stepped out of the fallen skirt and picked it up, holding it between the fingers of her right hand as she straightened upright. She paused for an indecisive moment. It had come to her that if she were to move to set the skirt
down on the desk with the rest of her clothes, she'd have to turn away from the those terrible eyes, ....and that she could not do! So she simply held out her discarded skirt, kept looking the masterful male in the eyes, and opened her
fingers, letting the skirt of the expensive suit drop to the carpeted floor.
His eyes were on her, all over her body, slowly sweeping from her pretty face down her lithe half-nude form to take in her narrow hips and the sleek, smooth lines of her pantyhosed legs. She felt a creamy surge of sexual excitement; a twinge in her vagina. She knew she was getting wet between the legs, and wondered if he
Still looking at him, she reached up behind her to fumble with the catch on the brastrap. The bra popped free, and she peeled the dangling straps off her shoulders. So far this summer Bethany had managed to acquire a light tan, and the smooth tawny chest contrasted strikingly with the breasts she now released: pale white, soft and small, and cuddly.
Considering the size of her breasts, Bethny’s nipples were surprisingly large. Already, they felt engorged; the tips stiffening with the exciting knowledge that she was exposing herself to him. She felt the heat rising in her, her cheeks burning as she realized his eyes were now fixated on her newly-freed breasts: delicate mounds, firm and taut. He watched them move with just the slightest wobble, as the blonde sat back on the desk to lean over and raise each leg in turn, reaching down to slip off her flats. In the act of taking off her shoes, she forgot his injunction.
"Look at me." He quietly reminded her.
She looked up. Their gazes met and stayed locked together, as she slid her butt to the front edge of the desk to perch there with nyloned legs dangling down.
When she reached for the waistband of her pantyhose, she saw the hunger light up his eyes. She gathered up two handfuls of the honeyed nylon at her hips and dragged the tightly-fitted pantyhose down, lifting her bottom to ease their descent, tugging the clingy nylon down her legs, and pulling the stretching fabric off her feet.
Now the doctor sat on her polished wood desk clad, naked, but for her thin, hip-hugger panties. The briefs were of a matching set with the bra: the same pale mocha in color, also opaque, with a slick reinforced gusset, and trimmed with the same narrow band of elastic lace. Bethany was super-aware of the lad watching her strip; the effect she was having on him had her tingling with excitement. She felt the dampness in her crotch, knew her panties were wet down there. The girl was burning up with heat, breathing through open lips as she reached for her underpants, but then she paused and a half-formed question came to her eyes.
"Go on," he nodded; his voice a silky whisper.
A wildly erotic thrill rocketed through her, as she lifted her butt, and quickly slid the silky panties down her legs and off her feet. She let them lie where they fell. For a moment no one spoke.
"Stand up." A quiet order. She was a puppet in his hands.
She eased herself up off the desk and stood with bare feet on the thick carpet only inches away from the seated male, standing before the young man completely naked. Standing there before the man, she felt cool and free and deliciously naked, randy, wishing to flaunt her tight young body, every inch of which was wonderfully alive and tingling. She was extremely sensitive of the situation, aware, super-aware of his eyes on her, greedily drinking in her slender form. It was turning her on.
He eased back in his chair, letting his gaze leisurely take in Bethany Heywood's nude body: the modest bosom, the slight swells of breasts that were small but appealing. The slender lines of her well-toned body, the flattened belly with skin pulled taut over jutting hipbones, and her womanhood exposed now for him to see: a modest tuck in a slightly bulging pubis, adorned with its puffy bush of soft brown pussyfur. He wanted to fuck her. And he would fuck her. But not just yet.
"Yes. Very nice, Doc. You are one hot chick, do you know that?"
The words burned her ears. She flushed, but otherwise the neutral expression on her face never wavered, even though she was secretly pleased and the pleasure she took in her feminine pride brought a flare of lust that heated her up even more.
"Now I want you to sit down again, and we're gonna go on with our little chat, right where we left off. Maybe you remember, I was telling you about this ESP thing I had."
Now the inner voice that had been niggling at her quietly, persistently pointing out that something was wrong here, broke through to scream into her head. This was crazy! It had to be a dream! Here she was -- stark naked in her office...and in front of a patient! And even as that desperate scream rose up in her it was instantly flooded out again with sexual excitement, thrill after thrill surged through her, each more intense than the last. The creamy rise of pleasure drove her to the very edge of orgasm.
Her body was no longer under her control. It responded to orders from another, with movements that were calm and collected, belying the raging conflict of emotions going on inside her. Moving as in a dream, the nude woman obediently took her seat in the large overstuffed armchair, plunking her bare bottom down on the cool black vinyl seat
cushion and easing back into her familiar pose. All business-like now, she took up her clipboard, re-settled the glasses on her pert nose so she might examine her notes, then leaned back and automatically crossed her slim legs; the last
gesture got a frown from young Benjamin.
"No! Don't do that! Don't cross your legs like that," he warned. "Keep 'em open, and spread your knees...wider. I want you showing me your cunt while we talk. Remember Doc, I'm paying for this hour, and I might as well enjoy it."
Her knees slowly parted. It was all so bizarre; utterly surreal. Here she was: sitting in her office with a male patient, in nothing but her birthday suit, brazenly exposing herself to him. The full realization might, in another time,
in another world, have seemed absurd to her. So absurd as to be unbelievable! Was she losing her mind?! But the jarring disconnect never entered her mind; she felt perfectly at peace. What the two of them were doing seemed the most natural thing in the world. The pretty doctor took up her pen, and gave her handsome young patient an inquisitive look.
"Now where were we?"