Chapter 2
Chapter two
Dr. Quentin Long
“Dr. Q, your last clients just arrived. They didn’t fill out the questionnaire, so I’ll give them a paper version and bring them back when it’s done,” my assistant said, poking her head in before closing the door without waiting for a reply.
Finally, the door opened, and in walked a person who didn’t need any introduction to me.
I would remember that pretty ass face, brown skin, and those long ass legs from anywhere.
It didn’t seem like she needed any help remembering me either, because as soon as she saw me, she froze, stopping mid-stride, before gathering her composure.
I stood to greet them both, and she handed me the clipboard before I shook her and her husband’s hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I said before I motioned for them to take a seat. She sat underneath his arm, and her eyes roamed my office. I could tell that she was anxious now.
“Let’s start with introductions. I’m Dr. Quentin Long, Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. Ten years of counseling, eight years specializing in Marriage and Family Therapy.” I clicked my pen, ready to take notes.
I motioned toward her husband so that he could break the ice.
“Timothy Thompson,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“Breeze Thompson.” She cleared her throat and leaned back.
I kept a poker face, but her name was just as pretty as her. It fits her perfectly.
“Your ages?” I asked.
“Thirty-two,” he replied. I nodded and jotted it down.
“Gotcha. What brings you by today?” I asked as I flipped through the questionnaire that I normally review before a session with new clients.
The papers cited no marital issues, so I was confused about the reason for the visit. And when nobody spoke up, I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Uh,” He started before he chuckled. “I’ll get straight to the point.
My wife and I have been together for almost twenty years.
I’ve never been with anybody other than her, and vice versa.
About a week ago, we went to a game night, and some things went down.
Nothing sexual with other people, but afterward, we talked about it and decided that we wanted to incorporate some things like that into our marriage.
I guess we wanted to figure out how to do it and still have our foundation. ”
As he spoke, I could see her shrinking, as if she regretted coming. I know when she agreed to or suggested the session, she didn’t expect me to be the therapist they saw. Now she was sitting here, flustered, because her freaky side had been exposed.
Admittedly, I normally didn’t see clients who wanted to navigate being swingers or whatever the hell they were trying to get into. This was probably a first for me; usually, they’d come to me after the fallout from what they did, but never to know how to do it properly.
I wrote down what he had said. I took the opportunity to ask Breeze questions to ensure she agreed with her husband's statement.
“Mrs. Thompson, you’re quiet. Is this something that both of you want?”
“I suggested it,” she said softly as she shifted in her seat and pulled down the end of the skirt that she was wearing.
I took another moment to write some notes before I looked back up at her.
“Is it something that you want to do? Or is it something you think your husband wants to do? I ask because I see this type of thing more than you would imagine. A wife who has a bit of resentment for her husband after she feels like she gave him what he wanted. I’ve never seen anyone come to me beforehand, so I commend you both for that move.
But still, if this isn’t something you both want and know how to navigate, the visits will look a lot different in a year or two. ”
I had to be honest. I saw this situation more often than people think. If both didn’t truly want it, I’d advise against it.
“My husband and I have been together for twenty years. I had never thought about letting anyone else touch my body until I was in a room that didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, but just made me feel alive.
I never cared about what I was missing and only saw him.
But that night, I realized there were experiences we would never have because we had only been together.
I mentioned it to him, and he said that he felt the same, so here we are,” her tone was confident, but she never made eye contact with me.
Her hands stayed on this one loose string on the end of her blazer. She twirled it around her finger.
“So now, knowing what I know about Mrs. Thompson suggesting the arrangement…are you comfortable with it? Would you be able to live with knowing the person who has given her body to only you for twenty years had sex with someone else?” I asked Mr. Thompson.
I had to extend the same question to him.
It was only fair, because I wouldn’t be okay with her fine ass leaving the house from day to day.
He stared at her for a moment, smiling. I knew I’d made my point. He chuckled, “All the time? Hell no.” I laughed too.
Then he continued. “I guess I can’t say what I’d be cool with until it’s a reality.
But if I had to guess, I feel like I’d be okay with it knowing that it was a one-time thing.
Like she had her experience, and we moved on from it.
I’d be way more comfortable if the one experience were a woman. But that’s not really her thing.”
“Mrs. Thompson, same question. Would you be comfortable with knowing your husband was with someone else?”
She chuckled and glanced at him with an unreadable expression. After a deep breath, she covered her face, and I gave her a moment before rephrasing. Then she looked up.
"I’d probably want to watch, but I wouldn’t care."
I would like to think that I had heard the wildest shit on a daily basis, but even I couldn’t hide the surprise on my face when she said that. My eyebrows shot up, my mouth opened a little, but I nodded, though, and wrote it down on my notepad.
“Oh my God, I’m embarrassed.” She groaned, her voice muffled as she pressed her palms to her cheeks, looking down to avoid our eyes, cutting me off before I could ask the next question.
“Nah, don’t be. This is a no judgment zone.” I assured her as I continued to write.
He laughed and pulled her closer to him and kissed her temple.
“So, do you see this as a one-time thing? Your husband says he wouldn’t be okay with anything ongoing with another man.”
She looked up at me quickly. “Definitely not a long-term thing. Like a weekend, picking a fantasy and fulfilling it in that weekend. I don’t want anyone long-term except my husband. But that game night just made me realize that there were things that I didn’t know that I liked.”
If I’m being real, the next question had nothing to do with therapy, but if I needed an excuse for asking, I’d make one up on the spot.
“If you don’t mind me asking, without names and going into graphic detail. What was the catalyst that made you come to this conclusion?” I chuckled at my wording. Because, in all honesty, I was just curious about what the hell happened that night to drive them to therapy.
“There was a game night, with four of our friends. Six of us total. We played a game. Not only were our answers ‘no’ to every question about what we had done, but we got drunk and-”
The alarm rang, signaling the end of their session. I pressed the button, silencing it quicker than anything that I had ever pressed before.
She paused, but after I nodded and urged her to continue, she started back talking.
"They started having sex." She glanced at me. "I didn’t run out the door. I wasn’t physically attracted to either of them. I had no urge to join in." She paused. "But I liked the idea of watching them."
Watching. I underlined the word on the notepad and continued writing down what she had said.
I nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. The first step to a healthy marriage is knowing when mediation is necessary. Again, I commend you both for that. This is the end of your session, but because we were cut short with paperwork, I suggest at least one more before you make any decisions on moving forward with a solo encounter. If you are willing to come back, I’ll give you all the homework.
I want to give you five different exercises for you all to complete over the next week and then come back to me so that we can discuss them. ”
“That’s cool, we’ll be back,” Mr. Thompson said, sliding to the end of the couch to stand.
“Good, if the email address on this form is correct, expect a follow-up with the exercises by 9 p.m. tonight.”
“Preciate you,” Mr. Thompson said as he extended his hand to shake mine.
“No problem, thank you for coming.”
“Thank you,” Breeze said as she also shook my hand and walked toward the door.
I waited until they left, then sat and chuckled. All I got was that Breeze had been turned out on some freak shit and wanted to explore it.
Since they were my last session of the day, I started packing up my things so I could leave the office. I grabbed my bag and my keys and walked toward the front waiting area. The lobby was empty and quiet. The only sound was a car cranking up outside the door, probably the Thompsons leaving.
“You ready?” I asked the admin. I never left her alone in the building; I always made sure she made it out safely.
“Yeah, just let me grab my food from the fridge.” She said as she got up, walked around the desk, and disappeared toward the breakroom.