Doctor's Visit

Smooth, warm hands reach for mine, taking them in a sort of squeeze that the good doctor thought to be another kind of greeting. His fine lisp and breathy voice came out from under his thick moustache, and I smiled at the same greeting he\'d been giving me since the fifth grade.
\"Moira, it\'s so good to see you here. Please, come in, sit down.\" I was ahead of him, already making my way to the small loveseat that sat before the large window. \"Would you like a lights-out for this session?\"
I smile courteously, declining the offer. \"No thank you, Dr. Rollin.\"
\"Tell me, how are you? Really.\"
I knew this would come but I still worried away my lower lip, guilty hands starting to wring themselves on my neat lap. I forced them apart and smoothed my skirt down, a nervous gesture I knew he would be copying into that notebook of his. But I didn\'t look up to see if I was right; there was no need, because in the end I could hear the faint scratching sounds of lead on paper.
\"I\'m a little better, if that\'s what you mean. I\'m sleeping now, but it\'s hard. I\'m eating regularly, and it isn\'t as uncomfortable to feel full as it once did. I...I\'m having dreams about her, again.\"
I could feel his eyes shoot to me, leaving the sight of his own neat cursive to pin me down. I could feel them narrow, burning holes into every inch of my body that they roamed over. My cheeks went red.
\"What happens in these dreams?\" he asks carefully, knowing better than to trigger that darker side of myself we had been working towards burying.
\"There\'s...there\'s only...a little blood this time. Nothing violent, but...purely loving. No, not loving. It\'s..I don\'t know if I could call it a dream, really. Sometimes it feels like she\'s there, beside me in this porcelain bowl; she drinks me empty, then fills me up. She takes and gives, and takes and gives, and each time it happens, I feel more of myself belonging to her.\"
He was silent, back to listening mode. Apparently, he wasn\'t quite as worried as he had been initially. Maybe that was a good thing.
\"She... She touches me, first, when I close my eyes. I fall into this state that has to be a dream, but feels nothing like one... And she touches me, softly, carefully. Her small hands roam over every inch of skin that\'s available to her, and I don\'t stop her. I\'m almost always wearing this cream-golden silk robe, and she pulls the loose knot out; those...those fingers brush just barely on my shoulders as she slowly drops the robe from my body. And I shiver. I\'m not shivering from cold, I\'m not shivering out of fear. I\'m not even worried or insecure, even though I\'m suddenly standing naked in front of her. No, I...I shivered because, maybe, her touch felt that good. That maybe, I wanted to feel her hands on me more.\"
I pursed my lips, swinging my legs up to lie on the loveseat. Tense, but trying to put myself into a more relaxed position; I\'d told him my wet dreams as a teenager, so why couldn\'t I tell him this as an adult?
\"What happens next?\" he asks softly. Not in perverted curiosity, maybe not even in curiosity at all; he was doing his job to help me relax, to help me open the most secret parts of myself to him. He was helping me bare myself, like SHE did- always, and always, in my dreams.
\"Her hands.\" I breathe, surprised I\'d been holding onto the next part with a sort of ferocity. I\'m in awe of my own body, which is reacting to my own tale, even just by a small tingling heat between my legs. I cross them at the knee to try and force it away from myself.
\"What about them?\" It takes me only a moment to realize I\'d gone silent. I blush in apology.
\"Her hands slide down around my shoulders to my back, then turn towards my sides. They smooth over the skin there, completely warm but at the same time, cool; and I can barely feel them, like the touch of a butterfly on your bare skin. Soon they\'re on my hips, her thumbs rubbing and pressing against me in such a manner that...that I gasp.\"
I paused, I knew I did. But I could see it in my head, relive it, and I didn\'t want to be doing that. Not here. Not in front of Dr. Rollin. But already, I could feel the warm spreading to my hips, and down my thighs; my heart start to beat faster, pulse racing as blood rushed to my cheeks in embarassment.
\"I...I can\'t stay much longer.\" I mumble, apologizing as I quickly stood. \"I forgot I made an appointment with my nephew\'s teacher-\"
\"Moira.\" he interrupted. I looked up, purse in hand and cheeks as red as tomatoes. He smiled kindly. \"Perhaps another time.\"
I nodded, numb and in a way, appreciative that he let it slip; he knew I was making it up, but as a friend, he let it go. As a friend of not only my parents, but of me as well. I was thankful.
\"Oh, and one other thing.\" he called, just as my hand had begun to turn the knob on the door.
\"Yes?\" I asked, looking back over my shoulder with a smile. Completely not worried.
\"Tonight, don\'t fight her.\"
My heart jumped into my throat, and my stomach dropped to my knees, and I didn\'t try to fix them while I practically ran out of his office.