away.
Sandra sank into the easy chair and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Wow. This is really comfortable.”
“Isn’t it?” He was unwrapping a cassette tape and looked up at her. “Twenty years old, and it’s been patched more times than I can count, but I can’t find another one that’s nearly as cozy.”
She nodded. “What’s the tape for?”
“To record our session. Do you mind?”
Did she? She wasn’t sure. “Why?”
“Often my clients like to take the tape home and listen to it in private, to practice the progressive relaxation techniques I teach them. It’s completely up to you.”
“So I take the tape?”
“Yes. It’s for you. Value-added, you might say.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded. It made sense. And if she was serious about getting better—and she was—she needed to use every tool at her disposal. “Great.”
He put the tape into a machine, pressed a button, and a red light went on. “Now, if you’re ready to begin, lean back against the chair and close your eyes.”
She did so.
“Listen to the sound of my voice. Let me be your guide as you enter a new world of carefree, worry-free, existence….”
He had a good voice for this. Not too deep, but not too high. Mellow. Calm.
Familiar.
She tried to follow as he led her imagination down a flight of marble steps and into a great marble hall filled with doorways, but she was so distracted by trying to place his voice that she couldn’t concentrate on the exercise.
“When you look at the doors, you’ll notice each one has a word on it. Words like love, hate, anger, fear… whatever you see. It’s entirely up to you.”
She had it. He was one of her callers. Not frequent, like Steve, but she’d talked to him more than once. Whenever she asked him what he wanted, he’d say, “Surprise me. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Go through the door that says relax on it,” he went on, completely unaware of the revelation Sandra was having. “See what’s on the other side. See what makes you feel most at ease.”
Whatever it was, she was damn sure it wasn’t lying in a darkened room having a man who had, only a few weeks ago, told her to spank me again, I’ve been a bad boy lead her into the dark recesses of her psyche.
“What do you see, Sandra?”
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to leave. This was a waste of time. There was no way she was going to relax and take this seriously.
But on the other hand, she couldn’t very well tell the poor guy she knew who he was and that he liked his balls sucked after having an orgasm.
So she did what she usually did with him.
She faked it until he was finished.
“I see a big green meadow….”
Chapter
7
T he first thing you’ll need to do is cut up your credit cards and give them to me.”
Lorna looked at Phil Carson—short, fifty-ish, bald—as if he’d just suggested she drop a kitten in a blender and push FRAPPÉ . “What, now ?”
He laughed. He was kind, but he didn’t seem to fully appreciate how hard this was for her. “No, no.”
“Oh.” Relief. “Good.”
“First you have to read me the numbers and the bank names—” He took some scissors out of his drawer and passed them across the desk to her. “— then you’ll cut them up and give them to me.”
She looked at him, hoping for a sign that he was joking, but his small round face was still, his thin lips a straight line.
And he’d taken out a pen and poised it over a black leather-bound notepad on his desk.
“At that point, I’ll call your creditors and negotiate a lower interest rate and payment plan,” he went on, sweetening the deal marginally. “It will save you hundreds, maybe thousands, in the long run.”
“But…” She knew what he was saying was true and that she shouldn’t voice any objection to it at all. Still, she had to wonder, “What happens if I have an emergency? Will I be able to use the credit cards then?”
He glanced
Sandra sank into the easy chair and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Wow. This is really comfortable.”
“Isn’t it?” He was unwrapping a cassette tape and looked up at her. “Twenty years old, and it’s been patched more times than I can count, but I can’t find another one that’s nearly as cozy.”
She nodded. “What’s the tape for?”
“To record our session. Do you mind?”
Did she? She wasn’t sure. “Why?”
“Often my clients like to take the tape home and listen to it in private, to practice the progressive relaxation techniques I teach them. It’s completely up to you.”
“So I take the tape?”
“Yes. It’s for you. Value-added, you might say.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded. It made sense. And if she was serious about getting better—and she was—she needed to use every tool at her disposal. “Great.”
He put the tape into a machine, pressed a button, and a red light went on. “Now, if you’re ready to begin, lean back against the chair and close your eyes.”
She did so.
“Listen to the sound of my voice. Let me be your guide as you enter a new world of carefree, worry-free, existence….”
He had a good voice for this. Not too deep, but not too high. Mellow. Calm.
Familiar.
She tried to follow as he led her imagination down a flight of marble steps and into a great marble hall filled with doorways, but she was so distracted by trying to place his voice that she couldn’t concentrate on the exercise.
“When you look at the doors, you’ll notice each one has a word on it. Words like love, hate, anger, fear… whatever you see. It’s entirely up to you.”
She had it. He was one of her callers. Not frequent, like Steve, but she’d talked to him more than once. Whenever she asked him what he wanted, he’d say, “Surprise me. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Go through the door that says relax on it,” he went on, completely unaware of the revelation Sandra was having. “See what’s on the other side. See what makes you feel most at ease.”
Whatever it was, she was damn sure it wasn’t lying in a darkened room having a man who had, only a few weeks ago, told her to spank me again, I’ve been a bad boy lead her into the dark recesses of her psyche.
“What do you see, Sandra?”
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to leave. This was a waste of time. There was no way she was going to relax and take this seriously.
But on the other hand, she couldn’t very well tell the poor guy she knew who he was and that he liked his balls sucked after having an orgasm.
So she did what she usually did with him.
She faked it until he was finished.
“I see a big green meadow….”
Chapter
7
T he first thing you’ll need to do is cut up your credit cards and give them to me.”
Lorna looked at Phil Carson—short, fifty-ish, bald—as if he’d just suggested she drop a kitten in a blender and push FRAPPÉ . “What, now ?”
He laughed. He was kind, but he didn’t seem to fully appreciate how hard this was for her. “No, no.”
“Oh.” Relief. “Good.”
“First you have to read me the numbers and the bank names—” He took some scissors out of his drawer and passed them across the desk to her. “— then you’ll cut them up and give them to me.”
She looked at him, hoping for a sign that he was joking, but his small round face was still, his thin lips a straight line.
And he’d taken out a pen and poised it over a black leather-bound notepad on his desk.
“At that point, I’ll call your creditors and negotiate a lower interest rate and payment plan,” he went on, sweetening the deal marginally. “It will save you hundreds, maybe thousands, in the long run.”
“But…” She knew what he was saying was true and that she shouldn’t voice any objection to it at all. Still, she had to wonder, “What happens if I have an emergency? Will I be able to use the credit cards then?”
He glanced
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