Figure 8 (4 page)

“Bottle of wine and take away sounds great to me, what do you think?”

“I think that is just what the doctor ordered,” I reply, with a massive grin on my face.

You just can’t get the doctor out of your head can you?

Today has been just what I needed, I feel refreshed and revitalised. I’ve had a manicure and pedicure, Indian head massage, spray tan, eyebrows threaded and full body wax. I don't treat myself very often. However, today was different, I really needed the confidence boost that it gave me. I glance at my phone that has been left on charge at home all day and flick through my messages and emails. I have a message and missed call from my dad, I reply telling him about my day and to let him know that I am well. I notice a voicemail in my inbox, pressing call on my phone I listen intently to the message.

‘Good Morning Miss Riley, this is Candy from Dr Harmon’s office. I would like to offer you an appointment for Wednesday morning at 9.50 a.m. If this is not convenient for you could you give me a call back. Thank you and I hope to see you soon.’ I press call end and smile.

Oh my
! I have butterflies this is ridiculous, how can I be excited over seeing this man! I have never reacted like this before in my life. I try to think back and honestly I don’t think I have ever reacted like this about a man ever. I mean I have had relationships before but I don’t think I have ever been in love. My last relationship, if you can call it a relationship, was a disaster from start to finish. Joe was a lovely bloke really, very loving and caring and I had feelings for him, but I don’t think I ever loved him. He was a selfish lover, his idea of foreplay was trying to shove his fist up me until I either told him it hurt or faked an orgasm. The latter the usual approach. I think I had one orgasm whilst dating the bloke, and that was helped on by a little bullet device I had bought myself from the sex shop in town. Eventually I had enough and called it a day. I haven’t seen him since. I glance up from my phone to see Jenny watching me like a hawk.

“Why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat?” she asks with a curious look on her face. I can’t get anything past this woman.

“I’ve had my appointment to go and see my shrink.” I shrug it off like it’s no big deal.

“Why has that made you smile like you just won the lottery then?” Oh why does she have to be so damn nosey? “What’s he like this head doctor then? I guess from the look on your face it is a he and not a she?” How does she tell these things? She’s like Mystic Meg.

“Yes it is a he, and he is alright, I suppose.”

In a captivating, smouldering, drop dead gorgeous kinda way.

Jenny rolls her eyes at me and laughs. “Shall we order some tea and open the wine?” she offers. I go to get in to my pyjamas and I bring our duvets out to the sofa. We settle down and find something to watch on the TV. The plan is to eat Chinese take away, drink copious amounts of wine and bang the world to rights. I start thinking about my appointment on Wednesday, and decide that I should treat myself to a new outfit. I make a decision to spend tomorrow clothes shopping. Retail therapy is just what the doctor ordered.

Can you get any lamer, Isabelle?

On Wednesday morning, I arrive at the offices of Dr Damon Harmon. Ph.D. promptly at 9.40 a.m. I thought I would show willing and arrive a bit earlier than my appointment.

Yeah you keep telling yourself that, Isabelle. It’s not because you have been desperate to see him and haven’t stopped thinking about him?

I admit the thought of seeing him again has delighted me, but it has also terrified me. I am wearing, my new summer Maxi dress, matching heels and clutch bag. I also bought myself some new costume jewellery, in the form of a silver chain with a lock and key pendant on. I also treated myself to the matching earrings. I had seen them in the store and thought how perfect they were, the lock representing my head and the key unlocking what hides inside.

The enzyme and the substrate.

I have decided to leave my hair down, letting the natural wave flow down to my breasts. I quickly pull my lip-gloss out of my bag, applying the soft pink gloopy mixture to my ever-drying lips. The receptionist looks up from her computer screen. She appears be in her late thirties, with short copper coloured hair, dazzling brown eyes and thick pouty red lips. She gives me a smirk and I wonder to myself if all Dr Harmon’s female patients come dressed like this.

Of course they do Isabelle, he probably has a string of girlfriends scattered across Manchester.

I remember the dreams that I have been having for the last few nights, about Damon and I’m sure I am blushing the colour of the carpet in the waiting room. The room is lovely and cosy, amazing artwork adorns the cream coloured walls, soft red furnishings cover the cream couches and there’s a weird-looking sculpture in the corner. I am not sure what it is supposed to be; it looks like someone threw some scrap metal in the corner. I reach for a magazine off of the oak coffee table in front of me and start to read the cover. A door opening makes me look up and I see a chubby man with dusty blonde hair leave the office in front of me. Behind him, seeing him out is Damon. My heart literally stops beating and I try to regain my composure, but it’s impossible, the man is pure heart stopping, amazingly beautiful. I watch fascinated as he says goodbye to the man. Slowly he turns his face towards me and I sit hypnotised as he motions for me to enter his office. My body won’t move and I just sit there looking like a twat for a good few seconds. He is wearing a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie. He looks heavenly. I am pretty sure some drool just dripped out of the corner of my mouth.

“Isabelle, would you like to join me in my office?” he finally says after I don’t move. His smooth raspy voice sends tingles through my whole body. I wonder if he has noticed my reaction to him, as I pull myself off the couch and tentatively move towards him. I see the side of his mouth pull up into a half smile as I head past him into his office.

Oh, he knows I’m affected.

He swiftly closes the door and guides me to a seat, touching the small of my back as he offers me the chair. The bolt of electricity that was evident the first time we met is back and I practically convulse in the middle of the room. As I go to sit down I stop and glance around the room. We are on the third floor of an old brick building in the middle of the city centre. There is a large window to the left of me, parading the busy streets below. The décor is again painted cream with abstract pictures dotted around the vast walls. The carpet is continued into the office and there is a white chaise lounge over towards the corner with a high-backed leather chair next to it. In front of me is a huge oak desk; intricately carved into the legs are long-stemmed roses. It’s beautiful.

“Would you like to take a seat?” Damon offers, and I realise I have been stood staring for a good few minutes at my surroundings. I take the seat and Damon strolls around to other side of the desk, easing his slender body into his office chair. “Did you manage to find the office easily?” He smiles, and my insides giggle like a twelve year old in high school when the popular boy acknowledges her
.

“Yes, no problem at all.
”

Oh, she does speak then!

“That’s great. I would like to start by getting to know you a little better. I have some of your personal details from the hospital but it is only the basics, so I would like you to start by telling me a bit about yourself.” I feel really foolish. The manner in which he is talking to me is professional, he shows no emotion towards me, yet here I am thinking all sorts of erotic things about him. I need to sort myself out, get my act together and just continue this conversation as I would with any other counsellor that I have been to.

Yeah, but the other counsellors weren’t hot.

My brain really is a pain in the arse at times. “Tell me about your family, your mother and father,” he encourages, when I don’t offer him any information. My brain registers that I need to say something, before he thinks I am completely stupid.
.

“Well erm,” I start to think about what I need to say. “My father is a wonderful but incredibly overbearing man, who I love more than anything in this world. My mother died when I was a child.” I don’t elaborate any further on the last bit of information. He nods his head and then jots something on his notepad.

“What about brothers and sisters?”

“I am an only child, my step-dragon has a son, sorry I mean stepmother.” He raises his eyebrows at my nickname for Carolyn. I blush at my slip of the tongue. I am so used to saying it in front of Jenny, that I hadn’t even thought about it when it slipped out. “He lives in London, so we don’t see him often,” I splutter, trying to shift the attention from the nickname. I watch as he again scribbles something on his notepad.

“Okay, so what about your current situation, do you work, socialise?” My favourite topic.

“I currently work in a bar near to my flat.” I smile thinking of my job. “I have thought about looking for a new job that pays more, with more sociable hours, but I love my Job. I love the people that I work with and the people that I meet every day. Apart from the regulars no one knows me and no one at all knows my background, not even my workmates, so I feel comfortable. I love it when it is busy and I am running around, I like to feel useful.” I watch while I talk. He seems so genuinely interested in everything I tell him. I watch him smile when I smile and I watch him frown when I mention my past.

“I live with my best friend Jenny, she studies at university and she works in a local grocery store.” He doesn’t need to know that. “My passion is literature. I would love to do something along those lines in the future. I would like to go back to uni. I started a degree in English Literature, but I had to leave as I was struggling with my depression and fitting in.” I am rambling on now. I start to chew my nails, looking up at him from under my lashes. He is staring intently at me and I squirm in my seat trying to abate the sensations that I am feeling down below.

“What do you do to wind down?”

“Occasionally, I go out with Jen. We go to some local clubs and we have a spa day every now and again, which always makes me feel better. We have lots of girly nights in, sat in front of the TV too.” I smile when I speak about Jen, I love her dearly.

“That’s really good. The key to happiness is doing things that make you happy. Depression has a nasty habit of creeping up on you when you least expect it, but if your mind is busy and focused then you can avert it. I know it is easier said than done, but in the coming weeks we will go through a lot of things, some will be uncomfortable and those sessions won’t be easy, but I don’t want you to give up. Depression can be beaten and we will beat it together.” I smile at him, I don’t know what it is but being in his presence is making me feel calmer, like I can take on the world. “I love that your eyes light up when you talk about your job and your friend. It’s really good that you do something that you enjoy and also, that you have someone you can rely on.” I smile at him and nod my head. He looks uncomfortable before he asks the next question. “Now, I want to ask you about your mother. Can you talk about her, tell me what happened?” I shake my head and feel my body tense, as he mentions my mom.
My calmness from earlier has vanished, replaced with anxiety. My palms start to sweat and I clench them together. I think he senses my unease.

“It’s okay Isabelle, we don’t have to talk about it. We can work up to that.” He stands up from his chair and makes his way towards me, kneeling down beside me. “Take a deep breath and relax.” He places his hand on the top of my back and I jump from his burning touch. He flinches at my reaction and I watch as his eyes fill with something, lust maybe? I see him shake his head then move slightly away from me. “You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. You have a passion in your voice when you talk about things you love. You have so much to live for and I want to help you so that you never get into the situation where you want to take your own life again.” Did he just say he thinks I am beautiful? My heart just stopped.

“I am sorry,” I murmur, my voice shaking. “It’s just I don’t talk about it, I can’t talk about it. Not yet anyway.” I feel my throat starting to close up. I can feel the sweat on my nose and I think I am about to hyperventilate.

“Breathe Isabelle, It’s okay, I won’t push you on this.” I take a deep breath and then I look into his eyes, I can see sympathy in them and I hate it. He stands and sits in front of me, leaning his delectable arse on his desk. I take a deep breath. His crotch is directly in line with my eyes and I can’t help but notice the bulge he has there.

“I saw a couple of grief counsellor’s when I was younger and my dad made me speak to someone a few years back but I never could open up to them, it’s not you, it’s me.” That sounded like an, ‘I am sorry but I am breaking up with you,’ speech
.

“That is fine, you don’t need to apologise to me. These things take time. I didn’t expect you to come in here after one session and be magically cured. We will schedule another appointment, at the end of this session. I would normally prescribe a mild anti-depressant but I don’t think it will help to be honest with you. We need to treat the root of the problem with therapy, rather than paper over the cracks with pills.”

We spend the next few minutes talking about what will happen over the coming few sessions, and what he expects from me, before he finally stands and makes his way back around to his chair. The close proximity in which he had been standing, had made my head fuzzy but I had enjoyed the warmth his body radiated.

“When are you next available to come and see me?” he asks as he flicks through his diary. I don’t really want to leave but my time is up.

“Erm, I can do anytime really, if you give me notice, I can easily swap shifts around at work. I don’t work early mornings, so any morning is good for me.” He smiles at me and I melt.

“How does Monday sound?” I have to wait five whole days to see him again. I pout.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” a tang of disappointment is evident in my voice “What time?”

“Shall we say, the same time again?”

“That’s perfect,” I say enthusiastically, feeling anything but. He gets to work scribbling into his diary, and then rises from his seat, again. I watch his muscles flex underneath his jacket as he pushes himself up out of his chair. He starts to walk towards the door and I realise it is time to go. I get up from my seat and follow him towards the door. He opens the door, and then pauses to let me walk past him. I can feel his hot skin closely behind me. My breath hitches as I turn to face him. I offer my outstretched hand, he takes my proffered hand and as his skin touches mine the charge is evident once more. I look at him, a shamefaced expression etched on his beautiful features, he felt it too. I know he did. He shakes his head and then beams a dreamy smile that touches his eyes. We stand like this for several seconds just staring into each other’s eyes. Damon is the first to break the exchange.

“Take care, Isabelle.”

“Until next week,” I breathe, and I see his face light up as I slowly exit the waiting room.

Once I exit the tram, I practically skip the three roads back to my flat. That went so much better than I thought it would. I know it sounds crazy, -
that’s because you are crazy
- but I feel like I have known him for ages. I find myself at ease and safe in his presence. When he touches me I feel like I’ve been awakened, like my whole body is tuned to him and him alone.