Vanessa
[This work is a complete novel of just under 66,000 words. That would make it a 220 page book. I’m submitting it here hoping that you will enjoy it and feel like helping me. I would like to become a professional novelist. It would help me a lot if some of you tell me what you think of this story. Are the characters interesting? Do you care what happens to them? Do they act in a logical fashion? Are their actions believable? Is the story properly paced? Too slow? Too fast? Is there too much exposition? Too little action? Did you detect plot holes? Do the main points of the story get resolved in a logical and believable manner? Did I manage to avoid the deus ex machina problem? Does each of the main characters have a unique voice? Can you imagine them saying the things they say in real life? Thank you very much for your consideration. I appreciate all of your comments.]
Session 01
I met Vanessa Fontaine on a Tuesday afternoon at four o’clock when she appeared for her first appointment. I found her extremely interesting the moment she walked through the door. She looked pretty and sexy. Neither term necessarily includes the other, but she was both. From her eyebrows I could tell that she was a natural blonde. She wore her hair down to her shoulders and parted it on the right side. Her smile lit up her tawny eyes and her full lips invited kisses. A severe critic might opine that her disproportionately long front incisors spoiled her otherwise perfect teeth. To me, this slight defect only increased her attraction; it showed she was real, not manufactured on some doctor or dentist’s operating table.
Her smooth tanned skin indicated that she liked outdoor activities. The trimmed nails at the end of her fingers and toes sparkled like diamonds from the clear polish on them, unlike the silly green, blue, black, and God only knows what color some women currently wear or that damnably garish red they used in former years so exclusively. In summary, her prettiness stemmed from her healthy and wholesome “All American Girl Next Door” appearance. My heart melted.
Her sexiness came from her body and the way she moved. At the start of her initial session, I took her height and weight. She stood 64 inches tall and weighed 135 pounds, so, by the books, she was near to the limit of the optimum weight, and nowadays might even be considered fat. But back in the early 80’s she seemed curvy and feminine.
She moved with a sensuous and fluid grace. Her unlined and thin halter style dress revealed the perfect roundness of her large breasts as they swayed and bounced along her way toward me. In my life I’ve had lovers of both sexes and whenever I’ve chosen a woman, she’s been large-breasted. The rest of her was impressive as well. Like her bosom, her bottom looked full, round, and firm. Her legs contributed more than half of her height. Her hands and feet were well-shaped, even dainty. My mouth watered.
For that first session she looked more as if she were going out on a date than seeing her psychiatrist. Her legs were encased in high-quality flesh-toned hose and her feet in high-heeled sandals. When she lay down on the couch the hem of her dress rode up and I could see that instead of pantyhose she wore stockings and a garter belt. She didn’t bother pulling the hem down. Either she was so nervous she didn’t realize it or she didn’t mind showing me a small bit of her sexy lingerie. My lust stirred and I struggled for an instant to get my mind back on my job.
I have a pat speech that I use at the beginning of my first session with any “abnormal sexual activity” patient. The goal is to relax her, build up the trust between us, and develop her confidence in me. Most people fear the judgment of others. I alleviate that fear by undermining the very concept of a STRICT definition of NORMAL.
I told her, “What’s ‘normal’ anyway? Truth be told, ‘normal’ is often an amalgamation of ideas imposed on us by a variety of sources, mainly religion, family, and societal expectations. But nobody measures up to ALL those criteria and therefore NONE of us have much right to JUDGE others so long as they’re not hurting anybody. So, Vanessa, what would you like to talk about?”
I offer all my patients the opportunity to lie on a small and slightly inclined couch. Most do and when they do I encourage them to remove their shoes while I dim the light so that they can relax better. The more they relax, the easier they find it to talk freely.
Her smile faded. There she lay, all pretty and sexy, but troubled. I sat at a right angle at the head of the couch so I wasn’t facing her unless I turned. And she couldn’t see me unless she sat up and turned. When she didn’t respond to my prompt, I stretched my neck to get a look at her face. Several times she opened her mouth to speak and closed it before saying a word. Obviously, either she didn’t know where to start or couldn’t bring herself to say what was on her mind.
I decided to help the process along. “I see from your patient information that you’re twenty three years old, single, have a B.A. in English Literature, are certified to teach in Mississippi, live in Port City on the coast, and you list Wilson’s Electronics as your employer. You’re paying for your treatment with a credit card in the name of Aaron Wilson, I assume with his permission?” I said this last with a light tone so that she could tell that I was joking.
She responded in the grand old Southern fashion. “Yes ma’am.”
I tried to put warmth into my voice. “You may call me ‘doctor’, ‘Dr. Cole’, ‘Suzette’, or just plain old ‘Sue.’ ‘Ma’am’ is appreciated but, in your case, unnecessary. I’m only a few years older than you.”
“Okay, Sue.”
“Good. Now, you indicated on your patient info form that you’re seeking treatment for ‘abnormal sexual activity.’ Well, I’ve just said that I probably won’t consider anything you’ve done as ‘abnormal’ and I absolutely won’t judge you no matter what. I am your doctor and I have sworn to help you and to keep everything you tell me confidential. I am on your side. It will be you and me against the world if it comes to that. You have my word.”
She choked and began sobbing. I hadn’t expected such a strong reaction so soon. It usually takes several sessions to get that kind of a response. I got up, grabbed a box of tissues, walked over and sat on a chair next to the couch facing her.
I tried to sooth her. “That’s it. Just let it all go. You’re safe here, nowhere safer.”
She snatched a tissue and grabbed my free hand. Had she been sitting up, she surely would have thrown an arm around my neck and hugged me tight, like a drowning person trying to be pulled to safety. That much contact with such a sexy woman might have aroused me, compromising my professional integrity. I was glad she remained lying down.
Her sobbing stopped but her voice cracked when she spoke. “I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve made a mess of my life and I don’t have anyone I can talk to, that is, that I can trust to give me good advice and not tell others.”