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The Couch - Part One |
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By Dirk Vincento
1
Brian caught himself yawning as he wrote the word insomnia and chuckled at the irony of it. His quiet laughter sounded loud in the empty waiting room and feeling slightly foolish, he glanced over to see if the receptionist had noticed. She looked at him through her sliding window in the wall, smiled pleasantly and then discretely returned to her work. The flush of embarrassment he felt in his cheeks renewed his skepticism about being here in the first place. Going to a therapist hadn’t been Brian’s idea. His girlfriend, Gretchen, who came to the clinic regularly for massage therapy, had been pestering him for weeks, insisting that they would be able to help him with his problem. Her constant badgering had finally worn him down and he had reluctantly agreed to let her make an appointment for him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her so happy as when she called to arrange his and hers visits for them. It seemed to be her idea of ‘doing something together’, the fact that they weren’t together while they were doing it having escaped her completely. So while Gretchen lay on her stomach somewhere downstairs with strong hands pulling and kneading the muscles in her back, Brian finished filling out the form and returned it to the receptionist. As he handed her the clipboard and the pen, it occurred to him how much more embarrassing this would be if he were coming to see the doctor for something more intimately personal. Fortunately, having trouble getting to sleep didn’t carry too many social taboos. “Thank you,” the receptionist said, as she took the clipboard and pen. “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes, so just have a seat and I’ll call you when he’s ready.” “Fine,” Brian replied, feeling even more certain that he would never have been able to go through with this if he were here for something more than insomnia. The receptionist was young and very pretty, and the idea of her thinking that he had some kind of serious emotional problem would be more than he could bear. Her eyebrows rose questioningly, as if to ask whether there was something else he wanted, when Brian suddenly realized that he was still gazing at her. His mind had wandered and for a moment he had no idea how much time had passed. “I’ll just wait over there,” he said awkwardly, before returning to his seat. She smiled again sweetly and returned her attention to her work. Brian sat down and waited. He yawned again and wondered why he never felt this sleepy when it was time to go to bed. He considered the possibility that he was yawning now because he was nervous. That was a habit that went back as far as he could remember. Or perhaps it was just because sleep is perverse: it’s never there when you want it and it always comes looking for you when you don’t. Either way, he was sure that if he could go home right now, he’d be able to get into bed and drift off without much trouble at all. “Mr. Peterson, the doctor’s ready. You can go right in,” the receptionist called out to him. “Thanks,” Brian said, getting up and walking to the door of the doctor’s office. He glanced at the receptionist as he passed by her window, hoping she would look up and show him her sweet smile one more time, but she seemed to have become oblivious to him already. He paused while holding the doorknob in his hand and took a deep breath before opening the door and going in.
2
Dr. Hasslett’s office was warm and friendly. Rectangular in shape, his desk sat at one end of the room and at the other, three chairs were positioned in front of the window, two side by side and the third facing them. Colorful window hangers caught the sunlight, projecting patches of red, blue and green against the wall. Everything else in the room was soft and pastel, creating a calming effect that you became aware of immediately upon entering. Dr. Hasslett was jotting down some notes from his last session when Brian came in. He looked up at the sound of the door, hastily scribbled down a few more words and then got up from his desk to greet his new patient. “You must be Brian,” he said, his tone very friendly and inviting. “Please come in and have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” “Thank you,” Brian said, taking a seat in one of the two chairs sitting side by side. He assumed that the single chair was reserved for the therapist. Dr. Hasslett sat down opposite Brian, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. He was a tall man in his mid forties, with a closely shaved beard and his shoulder length hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had a friendly way about him that made Brian feel a little more at ease. “So what brings you in to see us today?” Dr. Hasslett asked. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Brian answered. “My girlfriend comes here to the clinic for massage therapy and she thought that you might be able to help me.” “We’ll certainly do what we can,” Dr. Hasslett said, punctuating his statement with a reassuring smile. “Have you ever been for any counselling before?” “Not really,” Brian replied. “I guess you’d have to say this is my first experience. I really didn’t know what to expect. To be honest, I was kind of surprised when I came in that there’s no couch.” “No, I don’t use a couch,” Dr. Hasslett said, chuckling at the idea. “Too many of my patients were drifting off to sleep and I was starting to get a complex.” “Really?” Brian asked. Dr. Hasslett laughed. “No, no! I’m just kidding. I don’t think you’ll find very many therapists using couches these days. They finally figured out that lying down in front of someone tends to make people self-conscious. Just sitting like this is much more relaxed and informal.” A moment of silence followed, during which Brian wondered if he was expected to say something, considered the possibility that maybe he should and then realized that he had no idea what he would talk about if he did. And then Dr. Hasslett spoke and the moment was gone. “So tell me more about your sleeping habits lately. You say you’ve been having problems.” “Well, I don’t know exactly what to say. I mean . . . I just can’t sleep.” Dr. Hasslett reached up and placed his hands behind his head. “Are you having trouble falling asleep or are you having trouble staying asleep?” “Oh, the problem is definitely falling asleep,” Brian said, beginning to understand better what the doctor was getting at. “Once I get to sleep, I’m fine. But it seems like every night when I go to bed, I just lie there and toss and turn for hours. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to drift off. Some nights I’m still awake at four or five in the morning.” Brian had been apprehensive about coming here, worrying that he wouldn’t know what to do or say, but now he was surprised to find how easily the words were flowing out of him. “I have to get up for work at seven o’clock, so you’d think after only two or three hours of sleep, I’d be so exhausted that getting to sleep the next night would be easy. But usually, the same thing happens again. That’ll go on all week and then I find myself sleeping all day Saturday and Sunday.” Brian paused and then let out a sigh as he decided that he was finished for the moment. “How long has this pattern been going on?” Dr. Hasslett inquired. “At least a couple of months, maybe three. It feels like it’s been going on for a couple of years.” Dr. Hasslett took his hands from behind his head and folded his arms across his chest. He stared out the window as if lost in deep thought. Brian couldn’t tell if he was actually looking out the window or if he was focusing on the colorful window hangers that dangled on strings from the clear suction cups pressed against the glass. After a few moments he turned back to Brian, looking directly into his eyes as he spoke. “Let’s talk a little bit about sleep,” he said, his tone having become more serious and scholarly. “I’m interested in your comment that no matter how hard you try, you can’t get to sleep. It’s important to understand that sleep is a natural process which simply cannot be forced. In fact, trying to go to sleep is probably the best way to ensure that you won’t. Also, sleep is an essential part of life, just like eating and breathing. It’s something we can’t live without it, so any disruption of the normal sleep cycle should be taken seriously.” Brian felt a strange combination of relief and anxiety. Anxiety because he was beginning to think that perhaps his problem was more serious than he thought, possibly even dangerous, and relief because Dr. Hasslett obviously had no intention of taking the situation lightly and appeared to be prepared to do whatever was necessary to help him get over it. “Now, there are a number of things we can do to get you back on track, “Dr. Hasslett said. “In extreme cases we can use medication to help regulate your sleep cycle, but before we go that route, I think there are some less invasive approaches we should try first. I’m going to show you a number of techniques today that generally tend to be quite successful in dealing with insomnia. You’ll be able to try them out at home over the next week or so and then we’ll check back in and see how you’re doing.” “That sounds great,” Brian said, feeling genuinely enthusiastic. “Alright. I’m going to give you a routine to follow and it’s very important that you stick to it faithfully.” Dr. Hasslett paused to emphasize the seriousness of this point. “I’ll do exactly what you say,” Brian agreed. “Excellent,” Dr. Hasslett continued. “Now, for the next little while, I don’t want you to spend any time in bed unless you’re sleeping. That means no eating in bed and no watching television in bed. I want you to get used to thinking of your bed as a place you go to strictly for sleeping.” Brian wondered if this included sex as well, but was too embarrassed to ask. “Do you live alone?” Dr. Hasslett asked. “No, I live with my girlfriend,” Brian answered, now wondering if he had been thinking out loud. “Well, if you’re going to have sex and you haven’t explored other areas of the house, now would be a good time to start. As I said, for the next little while, we really want to keep the bed for sleeping only.” Brian felt a flutter of anxiety in his stomach. He hadn’t come here expecting to talk about sex and even this reference to where he would be doing it was coming much closer that he had planned. Dr. Hasslett, on the other hand, seemed quite at ease with the topic, discussing it with the same clinical objectivity that he used when talking about eating and watching television in bed. “I also want you to set regular times for going to bed and waking up. You said that you have to get up at seven o’clock for work, so I think eleven-thirty and seven should be appropriate times. Now, if you go to bed at eleven-thirty and find you can’t sleep, I want you to get up. The worst thing you can do is lie there for hours, tossing and turning. I’d give yourself about forty minutes. So if you haven’t fallen asleep by shortly after midnight, I want you to get out of bed and do something. You can read or watch television, but only for half an hour, so don’t get involved in a long movie that’s going to keep you up all night. After half an hour, try going back to bed and see if you can sleep. If you still have trouble, repeat the same procedure. Now, you may find that you’ll actually get less sleep at first, but after a couple of days, I think you’ll find this technique very effective.” Dr. Hasslett noticed a look of apprehension on Brian’s face and paused. “Is there a problem?” “Well, it’s just that my girlfriend’s a very light sleeper and I don’t think she’ll be too happy about me getting in and out of bed during the night.” “I’m sure she’ll understand if she’s aware of your problem and you explain what you’re trying to do.” “I guess you’ve never met Gretchen,” Brian said, with a bit of a chuckle. “She has what most people describe as a strong personality. She’s pretty much used to getting things her way. In fact, I’m not sure that she’s even aware that there is any other way.” “All I can suggest is that you try to explain the situation to her as best you can and if it becomes a problem, we may have to consider having her join us for one of your sessions so that I can talk to her myself.” “Well, I can already tell you that she isn’t going to like it,” Brian said, “but I’ll see what I can do.” Dr. Hasslett leaned forward in his chair, a slight frown appearing on his face, as if something disconcerting had just occurred to him. When he spoke, he sounded a little perplexed. “So if you feel that you can’t get out of bed for fear of disturbing your girlfriend, what have you been doing all these nights that you couldn’t sleep?” “Just lying there in the dark . . . staring at the ceiling.” “And you don’t get out of bed?” “No way!” Brian said emphatically. “Not unless I want to deal with a seriously ornery woman in the morning.” Dr. Hasslett uttered a thoughtful hmm, as if contemplating the pieces of a curious problem he had yet to solve. “Do you think you’ll be able to at least discuss the situation with her?” “I can try,” Brian answered, sounding somewhat doubtful about his chances of success. “That’s the best we can ask for, isn’t it?” Dr. Hasslett conceded. “Now, there are just a few more points I’d like to cover before we finish up. Try to get some exercise every day, but not just before bedtime. Even a short walk will do the trick. Also, you can try a light snack and a glass of milk before you go to bed.” “You mean the warm milk at bedtime trick really works?” Brian laughed. “It’s one of the old wives’ tales that actually has some basis in fact,” Dr. Hasslett said. “Milk contains L-tryptophan, which is a natural substance that will help you sleep. And try to avoid caffeine, particularly at bedtime. And that doesn’t just mean coffee. There’s caffeine in tea and chocolate as well as a number of other foods. And I’d stay away from alcohol, too. It may make you drowsy at first, but it will actually disrupt your sleep habits more than help them. Any questions?” “That’s a lot of information,” Brian said, “but I think I have it all straight.” “Excellent. Then I think we’re all done.” Dr. Hasslett stood up and extended his hand. “Brian, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. Talk to Susan on your way out and make an appointment for sometime next week and we’ll see how you’re doing. I suspect by then you’ll find things will have improved dramatically.” “Thank you for your help, Doctor,” Brian said, as he shook Dr. Hasslett’s hand. “You certainly sound like you know what you’re talking about.” “Trust me, I’ve been down this path many times before,” Dr. Hasslett said, with a friendly chuckle. “You’d be amazed if you knew how many people have trouble sleeping. And most of their problems could be avoided completely if they just knew what to do.” “Well, thanks again,” Brian said on his way out the door. “My pleasure,” Dr. Hasslett called after him. “Take care. I’ll see you next week.”
3
By the time he had returned home, Brian knew all about Gretchen’s session with her massage therapist. She spent the entire drive describing the experience in the most minute detail, only pausing to reprimand him for driving too slowly and for not taking her route home, which she assured him was much quicker. It wasn’t until they were in the house that she asked him how his first session with Dr. Hasslett had gone. “How did you like Dr. Hasslett? Is he nice?” she asked. “Yeah, he seems like a good guy,” Brian said. “He certainly knows his stuff. He had quite a few ideas and he gave me some things to try for the next few nights. He really thinks it will help. I’m supposed to go back and see him again next week.” “What do you feel like having for dinner, dear?” Gretchen had been watching Brian intently while he talked, giving the impression that he had her undivided attention, but within a split second of the last words leaving his lips, she had gone on to something else as if he had never said a word. It was something she did often enough that Brian hardly noticed anymore. He found it simpler to just follow the conversation wherever she led it. “I could really go for some pork chops,” Brian said. “I think we have some in the fridge and . . . ” “No, I don’t feel like pork chops,” Gretchen cut him off. Brian felt a wave of frustration coming and let it slide by. “How about something simple, like hamburgers?” he suggested. “That would . . . ” “I don’t feel like hamburgers either,” Gretchen cut in again. “Well then, what do you feel like?” Brian asked flatly. Gretchen stood before him with a totally blank look on her face, as if everything inside her head had completely shut down. She stayed that way while Brian watched and waited. After about a minute, her expression suddenly became animated again and her eyes began to sparkle. “I feel like a good chicken casserole!” she declared. “That’s fine with me,” Brian said, simply relieved that a decision had been made. “I’m going to need a few things from the store though. You don’t mind going for me, do you?” she asked, her voice suddenly becoming coy and little girl-like. “No, I don’t mind,” Brian said, resignedly. “That’s perfect,” Gretchen said, sounding quite satisfied with the arrangement. “I’m still feeling pretty mellow from my massage so I’m going to lie down while you’re gone.” “Okay, I won’t be long. While I’m out, I’ll pick us up something for dessert and . . . ” Brian was about to suggest to Gretchen that he rent a movie for later on that evening, but she had already turned and headed toward the bedroom and by the time he finished his sentence, she was long gone. He stood silently and watched after her. Somewhere inside, his heart was breaking, but he was too numb to feel it. And then, after a few moments, he left for the store.
4
Brian met Gretchen Rothgiesser three years ago. They were set up on a blind date by his best friend, Paul McMillan, who in turn was doing a favor for his girlfriend, Gail. Gail was Gretchen’s best friend and she had asked Paul to try to find her a boyfriend, both to help Gretchen out and also so she would stop tagging along with them everywhere they went. At first Gail hadn’t minded Gretchen joining them when they went out to dinner or to the movies, but now she had started hanging around even if they were just spending an evening at Paul’s apartment, and to be honest, it was getting to be a pain in the ass. Brian had recently broken up with the girl he was seeing, so to Paul it seemed like an ideal situation. He could do a favor for his friend and his girlfriend, and get Gretchen out of their hair all at the same time. He told Brian that Gretchen was available and interested in meeting someone and that she was attractive and had a nice figure. What he didn’t tell Brian was that Gretchen also had a personality like a cobra. She could be very nice when she wanted to, but if the mood came over her, she could strike out savagely, quickly finding her victim’s weak spot and moving in for the kill. And to say that Gretchen was self-centered would be an understatement at best. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Gretchen got what she wanted. (And on the rare occasion that she didn’t, she was usually letting the other person have their way as part of a plan to manipulate them later on!) Being a first date, Gretchen likely would have been on her best behavior. But even Gretchen’s best behavior couldn’t begin to hide her more dominant personality traits, making it seem unlikely that Brian wouldn’t have noticed to some extent the kind of woman he was getting involved with. However, it really wouldn’t have mattered how much of her darker side he had seen that night because there were two factors at play that overrode all other considerations. When Paul told Brian that Gretchen was attractive, he had been telling the truth. No one would ever accuse her of being the most beautiful woman in the world, but her looks were definitely more of an asset than a liability. On the other hand, Paul’s comment that she had a nice figure was misleading at best. While from the waist down, Gretchen’s body was trim and shapely, with attractive legs and a nicely rounded behind, above her waist, she supported an extremely ample bosom that rose up from her chest with gravity defying proportions. Jutting out proudly, her breasts seemed to demand the attention of anyone they came in contact with. When Gretchen entered a room, every head turned, the men staring out of erotic curiosity and the women just staring. No one who saw Gretchen for the first time could help but notice her voluptuous figure or the tempting line of cleavage that was almost always protruding from the top of her low cut sweaters. And Gretchen had learned long ago how to take advantage of the attention her enticing chest drew to her. For her, having big tits was just another tool she could use to manipulate people and get what she wanted out of them. Brian had been quite nervous that first night, having never been on a blind date before and really not knowing what to expect. But his feelings of nervousness couldn’t begin to compare with the sensations he experienced the moment he saw Gretchen for the first time. As his eyes fell instantly to her alluring bustline, his skin began to tingle from head to toe. His stomach fluttered like a schoolboy’s and his cheeks instantly flushed hot. He felt like every hair on his head was standing straight on end and the warm prickly sensation in his groin was so intense it almost buckled his knees. He knew that staring at her breasts wasn’t going to make much of a first impression, but what he didn’t know as that the trap he had stepped into had been carefully baited. Gretchen wanted Brian to look at her tits and was dressed to make sure that he would. She had on a clinging, black dress that closely followed the contours of her figure, hugging her bosom and leaving little to the imagination. The neckline plunged deep enough to expose a considerable amount of flesh and cleavage and the hem stopped at mid-thigh, intentionally leaving her long legs on display. Like most of the clothes Gretchen wore, her dress exaggerated her feminine attributes to the fullest, turning her into a mantrap that few could resist. And Brian was no exception. He had already fallen completely under Gretchen’s spell, the seductive lure of her enticing breasts and soft cleavage offering far more pleasure than he could possibly hope to resist. He spent the entire evening of their first date trying not to get caught peeking at her bosom, never realizing that the inviting poses Gretchen held and the view they provided of her protruding mammaries were meant to temp him. By the end of the night, he had no idea what the future held, if a second date would follow or even if she liked him at all. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had enjoyed the evening immensely and that from the minute they met, he had hoped this night would turn out to be the beginning of a lasting relationship. As soon as Gretchen saw the expression on Brian’s face as his gaze fell to the sensuous mounds that filled out the top of her dress so completely, she knew she could have him if she wanted him. She had seen that look many times before. There was a distinct difference between the men who were merely interested in her tits and those who were completely overwhelmed and captivated by them, the ones who had a compulsive fetish for big breasts, loved them and longed for them and were completely helpless before them. And Gretchen could tell them apart with ease. It wasn’t just the way their eyes grew wide or the way their mouths fell open as the muscles in their jaws went slack. Nor was it just the way their faces went pale and beads of perspiration appeared on their brow. It was all these things and more. It was a feminine instinct, or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a predatory instinct, a sixth sense that let her know that she had found her prey, a helpless victim who wouldn’t be able to put up any meaningful resistance. It was the sense that told her, from the minute she met Brian for the first time, that she would be able to manipulate him and dominate him. In her mind, the battle had already been won and his fate was sealed. By the end of their first date, Gretchen had decided that she did want Brian, even though he wasn’t exactly her type. She usually went for the athletic, ex-jocks. Most of them turned out to be assholes, but there was something about the way the muscles on their stomachs rippled and the size of their biceps that she just couldn’t resist. They were like some sweet, decadent dessert that you knew was bad for you but you couldn’t help eating anyway. Finding Brian to be so different, Gretchen decided that this might be a good time to try and change her luck. He didn’t have the macho bravado that appealed to her so much, but she could see right away that he was nice, honest and caring. At the very least, she decided that between his kind nature and the way he looked admiringly at her abundant chest, he was certainly worth a try. All night she teased him mercilessly, squeezing her breasts together so that her cleavage became irresistibly long, leaning forward until Brian was sure that she would spill out of her dress at any moment, and never missing an opportunity to rub the side of her soft bosom against his arm. It was guerrilla warfare at its finest and Brian succumbed without a fight, his surrender total and unconditional. After a few weeks of dating, they officially became a serious item and by the time they had been seeing each other for three months, Gretchen was already talking about moving in together, dropping subtle hints at first and then gradually applying more and more direct pressure. As she turned up the heat, a little voice in the back of Brian’s head was trying to tell him that moving in with Gretchen would be a big mistake. But the voice emanating from his loins was much louder. The chance to go to bed each night and wake up every morning with those irresistible breasts was more than he could possibly
To Be Continued
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