John well remembered the deep, black flesh of Dr. Wright’s breasts and their thick nipples. He knew she was a nursing mother and pumped at work. She’d said that her clients who were themselves mothers really found her matter-of-factness around lactation very freeing.
Was the smaller woman white?, flat-chested? He realized that he had preconceived notions of a ‘Vivian’. She wouldn’t feel any different whatever the color of her skin, he knew well from experience.
John imagined the consulting room in the thermonuclear glow of Brooklyn across the Kill Van Kull on a February evening. The lighting would be dim, the doctor’s colorful prints muted, the indigenous masks and other trinkets shadowed beyond the circle of light around the soft, purple couch. In the circle sat two topless women and an adonis of a man about to reignite the Olympian power of human desire in one wounded woman.
Dr. Wright continued, “John, Vivian’s seeking your skills to help her recover from a trauma. Viv, will you tell John about it?”
A longer pause followed and he heard uncomfortable stirring, an intake of breath, a clearing of her throat. “It was a car accident, um, in 2017,” the woman had a small, cautious voice with an odd lisp. “I was hospitalized for a dozen broken bones and third-degree burns. My jaw had to be wired for a long time. I still don’t sound right. There were a lot of skin grafts…It took a couple of years of PT to be able to walk at all, then the pandemic kept me in my apartment mostly….”
“And you’ve only had a daughter to check in on you once in a while,” added Dr. Wright.
“Sounds lonely,” offered John, wondering at the woman’s age.
“Well, I’ve managed…but like I’ve been working on with Dr. Wright, I got to where I couldn’t hardly leave my place except to come here.”
“And you’ve made a lot of progress in this last year, Viv. To the point where I think you can do something that will en-courage you to engage with the world again.” John sensed that the doctor leaned forward and patted Vivian on the knee. She was very touchy-feely. “What do you want from John?”
Another long pause. “Well, um, I want him to have, um, sex with me?”
“Say that to him directly. It’s safe.”
“OK, um, John, will you have…sex…with me?” He could feel the heat of her anxiety from his end of the couch on his cheek, imagining the flush of embarrassment that must be pinking her skin, wondering what her breasts would feel like in his hands.
“Very good, Viv,” gushed the doctor, “May I suggest you put that request in the active voice?”
“What?”
“He’s not going to “have sex” with you like you’re just a passive recipient, is he? Remember what we talked about.” The doctor’s patience shone in her gentle prompting.
“Oh, oh, right,” the woman sounded determined, “I want to make love to you, uh, John. Need to, I guess?”
“Notice how sex became love there, Viv?” Dr. Wright turned to him, “So, John, if you accept this role we’ll take it one session at a time. Vivian can withdraw at any point, even mid-session, if she’s uncomfortable. As can you, as I’ve explained to her.”
“I’m comfortable now,” he said, giving his most calming inflection to the simple words. “I always want to ask just what my women want, like or need…so, Vivian, I’m here to be what you need right now and nothing more.” He leaned in her direction slightly, “What do you need, more exactly? Is it a feeling? A special kind of touch? A release?”
“Ooohhh,” her voice fluttered, “all of those, I guess.”
“What did you tell me you were longing for last week?” asked the doctor quietly.
Another pause…”um, pleasure?…um, confidence. I mean, I’m not even sure I can enjoy sex with this body. This damned broken body.” John heard the anger and pain.
“I’d say you’ve got nothing to lose by trying, wouldn’t you? Your sense of touch has mostly returned.” The doctor turned to John again, “We could start with a simple exercise to break the ice. It’s one I suggested to Viv earlier.”
“May I call you Viv, too?” He asked the timid woman.
“Oh, yes…yes, of course.”
Dr. Wright cleared her throat, “Vivian will take your clothes off, but you’re to remain still. No touching her until, and if, she’s ready.”
“Should I stand up?” He made to rise, feeling the blood filling his ever ready organ. John smiled to think of his prick’s reliability. Always up for an adventure. Nothing timid about him. His prick had no idea what the woman looked like, but she was willing and that was enough.
“Yes, here on the rug in front of the couch. I’ll be beside you both as needed.”
“I’ve got a good muscle memory of this room. And you, you know,” he smiled. His mental image of the black doctor’s astounding, sloping, full and pointy breasts, those deep-purple-tipped torpedoes, was enough to bring him fully erect.
“Well, John, I did tell Vivian that we’ve had sex, too, but let’s keep that out of this session, OK?”
“She gave a very glowing review,” piped up Vivian, with the first spark of energy he’d heard. He stood and turned to face the couch, felt Doris at his right, heard Vivian pull herself clumsily to her feet in front of him. Her breathing was shallow and quick. He could tell she was at least a head shorter than him, maybe a little over five feet tall.
“You just start where you want,” indicated the doctor, “John, you just make it as easy as you can.”
“Can I respond?”
“With words, if that’s OK with you, Viv?”
“Oh, OK,” and she began unbuttoning his shirt from the top. Her slight fingers brushed in the chest hairs, sharp knuckles hinting she was thin. With all the exposed buttons undone she paused and tentatively pulled the shirt front apart, breathing tremulously. Nerves or excitement, he wondered, or both?
John said, “Your touch is very delicate, Viv.”
She chuckled, “Your skin is very, uh, warm, so hairy. It’s been so long…Jesus.” Then she tugged his shirttails from his waistband and undid the last buttons.
“You can take as long as you need. Touch whatever you want,” said Doris. “This is the last session of the day, so we can go for hours if the Goddess spirit moves us.”
John encouraged her with a growl low in his throat as the woman put a hand on each pectoral and let them rest there for a moment, then stroked down along his chest, his ribs, his abs, following the curlies to his navel. Suddenly, she pulled at his sleeves and dragged his shirt off, dropping it on the floor. Then her hands were all over his shoulders and biceps, feeling him like she was blind, not him.
“I’ve never had one like this,” she breathed, “even before…”
“John’s got a fine body, you’re right,” the doctor stood with her hand on his lower back. Was she supposed to do that? Perhaps she couldn’t help herself.
“Maybe we should have started smaller,” Vivian chuckled nervously, “and worked our way up?”
“I’m certain John’s size will be an asset in your pursuit of happiness….” the doctor said calmly.
“I don’t deserve it,” Viv dropped her hands and seemed to be talking to the floor.
“This is stuff that goes back to before the accident, isn’t it?” The doctor prompted gently.