Chapter 7
Lane
I wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but I’d been way too horny the past couple of days. It was like my last therapy session had opened the floodgates somehow. I supposed that it was most likely due to me addressing my negative feelings regarding sex, but that would mean the therapy was actually working. Which was something I hadn’t expected happening.
Sure, I had gone into it with the hopes that it would help, but deep inside I truly felt like nothing would ever change. Wanting to test out my newfound libido, I downloaded a dating app and told Oliver to bring over some alcohol. He was unsurprisingly excited for a night of critically judging my potential matches while getting drunk off our asses. He arrived a lot quicker than I had expected, which resulted in him continuously ringing my doorbell while I rushed to get out of the bathroom. I swung open the front door just as his finger rang the bell for the millionth time.
“ Jesus , fuck, Ollie! You’re lucky my neighbors didn’t just come out and shoot you,” I sniped, taking the grocery bags from him before practically kicking him inside the apartment.
He rolled his eyes, mimicking me, “ You’re lucky the neighbors didn’t shoot you, meh, meh, meh. They probably wouldn’t aim low enough to hit me. ”
He was pretty fucking short for a guy at 5’4. I couldn’t rib him for it much though since I was only 5’6. Rolling my eyes back at him, I carried the bags over to my kitchen counter. Looking inside, I found a six-pack of hard seltzer, a bottle of wine, and possibly the entire bakery section of the grocery store. I cackled at the assortment but was soon preparing us plates of baked goods and procuring cups from my cabinets. Once I was satisfied with our spread, I joined Oliver on my couch - a beat-up, but well-loved, lilac loveseat I had found at his store. He had offered to reupholster it - whatever the fuck that meant - but I liked it’s character and brought it home as it was. Taking a big sip of the wine, I brought up the app on my phone and casted it to my television so that Oliver had an easy view of our contestants. I wasn’t really looking for a relationship - I didn’t think it would be a possibility even if I wanted it - so I had my profile set to show that I was looking for a one-night stand. Oliver cuddled into my side as he knocked back his entire cup of wine.
“Drinking pretty fast there, buddy,” I quipped.
He ignored me as he nonchalantly shrugged and grabbed a cupcake.
While peeling off the paper wrapping, he sang, “Less judging me, more judging horny guys.”
I laughed, beginning to go through the profiles. For a virgin who’d never been in a relationship, Oliver sure had opinions. That guy’s dick was too small, that guy had weird ears, that guy looked too Mormon, and so on. Honestly, I mostly agreed with him, but had to remind him that we were just looking for a guy for me to hookup with, not marry.
“What about this guy?” I asked him, stopping on a profile.
The guy had a profile picture of his face and upper body - both relatively attractive - and was also looking for something casual.
“Ehhhh…” He groaned, pausing for a second before turning to look me in the eyes. “I mean… Do you really want to do this? I know you want something serious, so why are you suddenly intent on fucking some random guy and then never speaking to him again? I thought you were done with all of t his.”
“I don’t know…”
Suddenly feeling dejected, I thought back to something Dr. Cohen had said last session. About how I’d only ever had partners who just want me for sex. Trying to find a one-night stand was the same thing. I wasn’t going to magically break that cycle by hooking up tonight.
“Ugh. Okay, well we can just have a sleepover instead. I feel like if I let you drive back to your apartment you’re going to accidentally drive off a bridge or hit somebody. Wanna watch a movie? That’ll probably be more interesting than any of these guys anyways.”
“Oh heck yes! Can we please watch a nature documentary?” He pleaded. I shook my head in amusement and found an octopus documentary to stream for us. Oliver pumped his fist in the air.
We snuggled under a knit blanket, eventually both dozing off to sleep.
???
I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. Oliver was still fast asleep. He had apparently taken the octopus movie we had watched to heart as he had all four limbs wrapped around me. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, I let the call go to voicemail. A minute or two later, the ringing started again. Begrudgingly, I very carefully untangled myself from my sleeping friend and walked into my bathroom so that my voice wouldn’t wake him. By the time I managed to shut myself in, the ringing had stopped. I began growing concerned when I noticed that it had been my mother calling. We spoke at least every week, but if I missed her call to catch up, she’d just leave a voicemail and wait for me to get in touch with her.
She picked up immediately when I returned the call. With panic in her voice, she skipped her normal pleasantries and asked, “Lane, have you heard about your cousin, Tate?”
My stomach dropped, churning from hearing his name first thing in the morning.
“No, is everything okay, Mom?” I forced out.
“I thought you might have already heard since you guys were so close.” I gritted my teeth. “Paulette just called your dad and I.” My mom’s relationship with her sister wasn’t strained per se, but they didn’t speak much.
“Okay, well, what did she say?” I asked, wishing she’d just get on with it so I could go nurse the hangover that was starting to show itself.
“They found his trailer torched. Paulette said that the police think it had been like that for a few days before someone saw and called it in. They haven’t been able to find him. I just know that you two had such a bond when you were younger, so I thought that he might have said something to you about going somewhere or something?”
Missing? I didn’t know how to feel.
“No, we weren’t and aren’t that close. I don’t keep in touch with him. Sorry, Mom, I just woke up so I’m a bit blindsided,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Did Aunt Paulie say anything else? I just don’t get how he could be missing. Was his car gone?”
“No, it was still there. It’s just crazy,” my mom bristled. I really couldn’t have this conversation before breakfast and coffee.
Trying to sound worried about the news, I said, “Well, tell me if they hear anything else. If he reaches out to me, I’ll let you and Aunt Paulie know right away, okay?”
“Alright, honey, thank you. Gosh, I just can’t imagine how scared Paulette and Mark are! Just awful,” she tutted. “Okay, I guess I’ll let you get back to your morning, dear.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, Mom,” I sighed, hanging up the phone. I walked back out to the couch, finding Oliver awake and playing a game on his phone.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I asked, plopping down beside him.
He shook his head and said, “No– Chloe,” he nodded over to my cat sitting on the TV stand. “She bit my hand and then ran over there.”
I laughed, watching as Chloe elegantly licked her paw. She made eye contact with me and immediately started meowing and jumping down to the floor. She sauntered over to the kitchen where her empty food bowl was.
I walked over to get her breakfast taken care of as I addressed Oliver, “She was just hungry and probably mad that I was awake, but not feeding her. You were the closest target.”
He grunted, “Of course. So, what was the phone call about? It’s literally eight in the morning.”
Groaning, I replied, “It was my mom. She wanted to tell me that one of my cousins is missing.”
That got his attention.
“Your cousin goes missing as you’re being stalked?” He narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that suspicious?”
I shrugged, pouring out two bowls of cereal. “I mean, not really. He lives like 12 hours from here. I highly doubt my stalker traveled all that way to burn his trailer. Maybe he upset an ex or something? Or maybe he killed himself and burnt his stuff before doing it.”
“Sounds like you’re super worried for your cousin’s wellbeing,” Oliver said sarcastically.
“Super concerned,” I droned, gesturing for him to come to the kitchen table. “Do you need to get to the shop soon?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll just eat this and go. I have someone coming by before lunch to drop off a china cabinet.”
“Ah, yes, very exciting stuff.” I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, it is very exciting.”
“Well, I have therapy today and I think that beats a china cabinet,” I gloated.
But Oliver didn’t seem amused. He swirled his spoon around in the cereal milk for a few seconds before replying. “About that… Don’t you think your therapist acted weird when we saw him at the cafe? He was looking at you weirdly.”
I raised my brows. “What do you mean? I mean his brothers were pretty fucking weird, but Dr. Cohen acted how he normally acts with me.”
“Lane… Have any of your prior therapists acted like him?” He questioned, looking uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Well, no, but–”
Oliver cut me off. “There’s no but , Lane…” He reasoned, “I just feel like he acts off . Like for one, he totally isn’t supposed to be randomly telling people he’s your therapist. And two, he was looking at you like he was interested in you– and not as a client.”
“I guess. It’s just his personality and treatment style. He’s very laid back to create a comfortable environment. There’s no way he’d ever be into me though,” I said.
Oliver shook his head, brows furrowed. “Okay. I mean, you do spend more time with him and I only saw him for a couple minutes. Just be careful, okay?”
I nodded, understanding my friend wanting to protect me. I didn’t want to tell him that I’d actually be completely okay with it if Dr. Cohen was into me like that.
After Oliver left, I decided to take my mind off what was happening with Tate by getting some coursework done for my classes. When my alarm to remind me of my therapy appointment went off, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I’d gotten a few hours of work done. I had some time before I needed to leave, so I showered and picked out a cute outfit. I knew that my little crush on Dr. Cohen was not only inappropriate, but also never going to actually amount to anything. It was dumb to specifically dress up for our session, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d like someone skinny and feminine like me. I mean, he was probably straight, but even if he was gay, I felt like I looked childish compared to him. Even if I wasn’t a walking red flag emotionally, I didn’t feel like I’d be his type.
I had been dressing more femme each session, trying to judge where he drew the line. I’d worn a pretty - but very short - skirt last time and that had resulted with him touching my bare thigh. Just thinking about his large, strong hand on my thigh caused my dick to plump up. I shifted from foot to foot, trying not to get fully hard since I had to leave in just a couple of minutes. I quickly chose a lace camisole and a pair of shorts, throwing everything on before walking out my front door.
On the drive over, I went over every reason that Dr. Cohen could not and would not be attracted to me. Still, after parking my car outside the office, I applied a fresh coat of clear lip gloss. It wouldn’t hurt anything.
As I walked in, Amelia looked up from her desk and brightly smiled at me. “Hi, Lane! He told me to just have you walk back to his room again today, is that alright?”
I shrugged and returned her smile. “Sure, it’d be hard to get lost on the way.”
Within a minute, I was standing in front of Dr. Cohen’s door. I gently knocked and waited to hear, “Come in!” before turning the knob. As I entered, Dr. Cohen turned to face me from where he was standing behind his cluttered desk.
“Lane, how are you? Please, take a seat. I’ll be with you in just a second,” he smiled. I smiled back and headed over to the couch to take my usual seat.
“I’m good! How are you?” I asked politely.
Dr. Cohen rounded his desk and to my surprise, seated himself next to me on the couch.
“I’m doing lovely, Lane. Thank you for asking. You have such great manners.” He praised me. My eyelids fluttered from the praise. I 100% blamed him for now having a praise kink. “So, I have a few topics I want to talk about today, but firstly, has anything new happened since our last session?”
“Well… Actually, yeah,” I winced. “Apparently Tate is missing. The rest of my family are really concerned. Is it bad that I kind of hope he never comes back?”
Dr. Cohen nodded empathetically, laying his arm on the top of the couch. “It’s not bad to feel that way. In fact, I’d expect it with anyone in your situation.”
I gave a brief nod, nervously swallowing, “Okay. That’s good that it’s normal. My mom said that the police can’t find him. I just hope he stays gone– whether he’s dead or alive.”
Dr. Cohen hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips, thick fingers drumming on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it some more?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay, I’m not really upset about it. What were you wanting to talk about?” I asked.
“Firstly, I wanted to try something a bit different during this session that I think could be beneficial for you,” he smiled.
I raised a brow, wondering, “What did you wanna try?”
He slid closer to me on the couch, causing me to quietly gasp.
“Would you like to sit on my lap while we talk?” He asked, chucking lightly as I recoiled in confusion. “I feel like we made an extraordinary amount of progress last time, when I was a bit closer to you. I think you may feel even more comfortable this way.”
There was no way I was going to tell Oliver about this, but fuck - I wanted to sit in Dr. Cohen’s lap. I tried to rationalize it to myself, hanging tightly onto the belief that he was only doing this to help me. It may not be normal, but so what if he had some unconventional methods?
I took a breath before murmuring, “Yes, we can try that.”
Suddenly, I was being lifted and arranged onto his lap. Talk about being manhandled. I bit my lip harshly to contain the whimper threatening to escape. He positioned me over his thighs, feet on the couch cushion, head tucked into his chest. I immediately regretted it as there was no way in hell I’d be able to focus on the therapy questions when I could feel his thighs underneath my butt. I tried to exhale, but it came out as a pitiful whine instead, causing him to smile.
“Comfortable?” He teased me. I began squirming to get myself off his lap, deciding I was too close to him to think straight. His arm tightened around my back and waist where he was holding me up. “Come on,” he coaxed, “Give it a try. It might feel a bit weird at first.”
“I– I don’t think I can,” I stammered, held in place by his strength.
He chuckled, “I think you can, sweet boy.” I blushed furiously, wiggling my bottom half to try to get free. His free hand grasped my chin, moving my face so that I was looking straight into his. “Try to stop squirming, please.”
“Dr. Cohen, I– I really can’t,” starting to breathe faster.
He sighed, relenting and letting me go. I scrambled backwards off his lap.
“I pushed you too hard, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it,” I said, disappointed in myself. “Umm… It wasn’t bad, I just– I’m not used to being so close to someone like that and– I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, nothing to worry about,” he said tenderly, reaching out a hand to ruffle my hair. I unconsciously began to lean into his touch. When he gazed into my eyes, I felt like he was reaching deep inside, soothing my anxiety. He removed his hand and clapped it against his thigh. “Are you okay to continue? I wanted to talk a bit about your social life.”
I breathed deeply, feeling settled once more. “Yes, I’m okay,” I assured him.
He gave me a small nod and opened up his leather-bound notebook. “ Good. So, you have Oliver as a platonic friendship, and your parents as familial support. Do you have any other friends or good acquaintances? Classmates that you get coffee with– that sort of thing?”
“Not really. Oliver is the only person I’d consider a friend. I guess I talk to people in class but besides from group projects, I don’t really spend time with them. I know a lot of people, I just don’t really feel like furthering any of those relationships,” I shrugged.
“You don’t feel like it or you’re scared of their rejection?” I thought about his question, finding two different answers.
“When I was younger, I was afraid of rejection. Afraid that if they found out about… everything… that they’d be disgusted in me. I was scared of destroying my safe haven. Especially when the abuse was actively happening, school was really the only place he couldn’t reach me. I wanted to be a regular kid, not that gay kid that sucks his cousin’s dick …” Dr. Cohen’s jaw clenched. “I can’t remember feeling that way in adulthood, though. I feel like my social needs are taken care of. Oliver is my designated friend, my parents are supportive from afar, keeping in touch and paying for school. The only role I feel is missing is a boyfriend.”
Dr. Cohen spoke gently, watching my expressions, “Do you think that feeling like you don’t need anyone else could be a trauma response? I believe you when you say that you genuinely don’t feel the need, but I also think that your brain learned during a very impressionable age that in order to be safe, you need to be alone. It’s possible that it’s been so deeply ingrained that your conscious mind tells you that you don’t feel lonely and don’t care about being rejected, while not understanding why .”
I frowned, picking at the skin around my nails. I responded, “I guess I get that. But if my conscious mind doesn’t have an issue with it, why would it need to change?”
“Think about it this way. Your subconscious is that ten-year-old boy. He’s confused and scared. He’s the one who’s lonely. He’s been trapped behind an unbreakable wall of ice for eleven years. Your consciousness is your current self. Because it’s been so long, you’ve stopped wondering what’s behind that wall. Maybe you used to even talk through the wall, comforting the boy. But, as the years went on and you grew up and he stayed the same, you gradually stopped talking to him, stopped hearing him, eventually forgetting he was even there. But he is there. And in order to truly heal, that ice needs to melt in order to set that boy free.”
He continued, “During our first session, you said that it wasn’t that hard to talk about your trauma. But, I don’t think you’ve been talking about your trauma. I think you did last session and that’s why you had such an emotional response. That’s why during that first session, for most of your story, you seemed detached, like you were describing it happening to someone else. There were some points where that boy was pounding on the ice, letting his emotions shine through, causing you to choke up. Why I keep telling you how much progress you made during our last session is because you were actually confronting your real emotions regarding the abuse.”
I picked a piece of imaginary lint off of my skirt before inhaling and flatly said, “It’s easier having hardly any feelings at all rather than being crushed under their weight.”
Dr. Cohen nodded sadly, leveling me with his gaze. “Isn’t it hard always holding back?” He murmured.
“Well, yeah. But, I’d rather feel numb than devastated and angry.”
“Hmm,” he hummed. “It would hurt greatly to address your repressed emotions - true - but once you did, you wouldn’t have to feel that pressure any longer. I have a feeling this is why you’ve been struggling with arousal.”
If only he knew I’d been getting horny in his presence. Actually, maybe he’d have an explanation.
“What if I’ve not been having that issue around someone?”
He stilled, and when he looked at me, his eyes were devoid of any of his usual warmth.
“Who?” He gritted out.
“Just someone. It doesn’t matter. I just want to know what the absence of my issue around him means.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose before taking a long inhale and exhale. When he met my eyes again, his were no longer empty, but instead felt…off somehow. He spoke slowly and carefully, “I suppose that would mean you allow yourself to be more open with this man. You feel comfortable and safe with him.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
“Are you in a relationship with this person?” He questioned, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“Oh, no. It isn’t like that. It can’t be like that.” I sighed, “I’ve never felt like that with someone. But shouldn’t it mean that I could eventually have that with someone else?” I asked, hope shining through my eyes.
“I see,” he stated. He seemed to be searching for something in my expression before continuing, “I can’t see why you couldn’t.”
“I tried looking for a hookup last night. Maybe instead I could actually be looking for a boyfriend! It would probably take awhile for me to open up, but once I did, I would be able to have a normal relationship, right?” I excitedly pondered, thinking of all the fun things I could do with a partner. I could finally go on a first date!
He cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. His voice was strange, robotic almost, as he spoke, “In theory, yes, you should be able to have a perfectly normal relationship. Only if you address your trauma though.”
I nodded, a small smile on my face. It’d be hard, but then I could be hard! I giggled in excitement, which finally gave some of Dr. Cohen’s warmth back.
“Don’t think you can magically stop coming to therapy now,” he chided.
I laughed, “I know, I know! I’m just excited.”
He shook his head in jest before getting up and offering his hand to me. I took it, allowing him to pull me up from the couch. We had some small talk on the way back to the lobby. I scheduled my next appointment before leaving for home with renewed hope.