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Therapeutic Sessions Ch. 02
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"That went well," Allison Brown told one of her two newest clients, Dane Emsley. Moments before, they'd witnessed Gloria Emsley, Rob's soon-to-be-ex-wife stand abruptly and vehemently walk out the door, slamming it behind her.
"I did warn you," Allison continued, "that this might happen."
"You did," Dane sighed. "As soon as you started putting her into a corner, just like you said at our one-on-one session."
"It's going to be okay, Dane," Allison consoled softly but professionally. "Let's schedule you for your next session and see if we can make them more consistent. It will do you good to talk to someone, and since you're still on your wife's insurance, it won't cost you an arm and a leg."
"Hey," Dane chuckled nervously. "We still have ten minutes on the clock."
Allison knew exactly what Dane was doing. In fact, it was as normal as any human physical response. Feelings of ultimate failure, uncertainty of the future, concerns for his two small children - the finality of what had happened, and Dane was in shock. His nervousness and the uneven laughing were as normal as a person jumping to their feet after being struck by something suddenly, trying to prove to themselves they could still function.
"No," Allison said smoothly and softly. "I think this is a good place to stop for today. Dane, go home and reflect on what happened. Don't drink alcohol tonight. Just think about what happened here today, and then, if you can, write down your thoughts about it. If your mind allows, write down a few things you want to do as your next steps. I'll see you... day after tomorrow - same time, all right?"
Allison:
Every therapist has those examples that hit close to home. Sometimes, as I'd learned in school, trying to determine why was an exercise in futility. Other times, a therapist knows right away. Today's session was definitely the former. Something about Dane struck me and tugged at my heartstrings. It was clear he was one of the 'good guys,' and he'd suffered a horrible injustice.
Hearing Dane's story, it was difficult not to show my shock and disappointment. Gloria was a piece of work, and she would need years of personal therapy, possibly even intensive psychiatry to make her a healthy person, capable of a happy life amongst the other humans.
Dane had described how they'd married far too young, but Gloria displayed more than ignorant youthfulness. She also displayed narcissistic and sociopathic tendencies. Dane probably didn't even know half of the story. The poor woman had witnessed her own mother's death at the age of eight. It had happened right in front of the family home as a drunk driver jumped the curb and hit her mother on the front lawn.
At fourteen, she 'left' her home with a male friend, moving to Oklahoma, only to find out that she was a quasi-prisoner to the much older boyfriend. After a year, she stole money for a bus ticket home. The way she'd told it, I understood the man, not the boy, had been smart enough to make it seem like she couldn't leave, but careful to not implicate himself in an underage kidnapping.
Dane and she married after dating for eight months, and she hadn't even turned nineteen yet. She got pregnant, and during that time, Dane found out she'd been spending the mortgage payments on things for the newborn, or herself. By the time their daughter was born, Dane had already made plans to sell their mobile home, surrender the brand-new car to the bank, and then move to California to be closer to his family. Unfortunately, that took Gloria far away from hers. With no real support system, it was just a matter of time.
They made it two years, according to Dane. I, of course, believed that was quite naïve on his part. After their son was born, Gloria went back to work, in a supermarket deli, and shortly thereafter hurt her back.
She had insurance, and the chain food store had her checked out, and sent her to a local chiropractor. Two months later, Dane received a call.
Watching him tell it, I almost cried for him. He was only four years older than his wife and was now approaching his twenty-sixth birthday. The chiropractor's receptionist had called. Dane thought it was about a missed appointment until she explained.
"I'm calling to speak with you, Mr. Emsley," she'd told him. "This is my last day at the office. I'm a Christian woman, and I can't stay here, knowing what I know. Mr. Emsley, I'm sorry, but Dr. Burke is having sexual relations with at least a dozen of his patients and your wife is one of them. I'm sorry to spring this on you, but after some soul-searching, I thought you had the right to know."
When Dane confronted her that night, Gloria didn't admit or deny it, she simply told him she didn't want to be married anymore. When he'd asked for more information, she'd shrugged her shoulders despondently. Dane wandered through the next week in a fog, battling the first two stages of grief. Seven days after the confrontation, Gloria left the children, a three-year-old girl and a one-year-old boy with the upstairs neighbor, which he didn't discover until midnight when he came home from work.
Dane had grilled the neighbor, and she finally relented at that late hour. His wife had gone to the club. I watched Dane's expression change from blind rage to controlled anger as he related the facts to me. That night, when she arrived home at one thirty, Dane had her bags packed and told her to get out.
Drunk as Gloria was, she still had the presence of mind to call the cops to help her sort out the children. California laws, like them or not, are very different from most of the nation. The police came, listened to both Dane and Gloria, and then allowed her to take them. Dane told me there was no way she could pass a breathalyzer test, and he planned on suing the city over it.
After several days, Dane was able to convince his wayward wife to meet, so they could discuss the terms of their separation. By then, she'd moved in with what Dane described as a six-foot-four giant of a loser drug addict. Actually, she'd moved into his parents' house, where the giant also lived. He didn't have his place. Two days later, Dane was able to pick up the children for a 'visit.' He told me how badly he'd wished that he had just taken them right then and ran.
Within a week though, something went right for Dane. The new boyfriend's mother had convinced Gloria to clean up her business with Dane and told her she should go to marriage counseling, if for no other reason than to be fair and equitable to the kids. She obviously didn't understand couples therapy, but that proved to work out for both Dane and Gloria.
In my session with Gloria, she said she knew Dane had cheated with her bridesmaid. She never confronted him, but believed he was still seeing other women on the side. So, instead of talking, she'd decided she could step out of the marriage as well. The more Gloria talked that day, the more I realized she had some deep-seated issues, stemming from her childhood, especially trust issues.
Dane never brought up any infidelity on his part, which would be par for the course. He told a different story about his wife, her spending, her indifference, and the challenges that came to light almost right after they gave their vows. I didn't think we'd get past the third session, but my predictions weren't important. Only what was necessary for everyone's well-being was, and as always, I took that challenge.
The first combined session found Gloria railing into Dane. She had a laundry list of his inadequacies. Even the untrained could see she was trying to paint him as the villain. Some of what she'd proposed could have been legit, but from talking to him one-on-one, I was already suspicious of most of what she'd said. She seemed quite proud of herself by the end of that meeting. Dane looked beaten and unable to move. Even his breath seemed labored, as she attacked him with things, he'd had no idea about previously.
In today's meeting, I focused on her actions, asking open questions about what she could improve on in the relationship. We never made it to the end of the session. Gloria repeated her quest to no longer be married and told us both that Dane better get on board with her desires or she'd make sure the kids grew up hating him. With that, she made her big exit.
I felt horrible for Dane. He was most worried about her comment concerning their children, and so was I. He needed some time to clear his head, while I developed some guidance for Dane, so Gloria couldn't make good on her promise. We ended the session after setting up the next few.
I was troubled that night, lost in my thoughts until an unsettled voice broke my stupor.
"Allie!" my husband, Rob's voice brought me back to the living. "Will is trying to ask you about the school fundraiser." He gave me a perplexed look.
My son, Will, was sitting next to me, staring. "I'm sorry, honey," I told him, "Mom had a hard day. I'm listening now."
I hated those times when cases hit me like Dane's did. I hated letting myself become so immersed in my work that it took quality time from my family. It didn't happen often, but when it did...
William, or Will, as he preferred, was our oldest son. This would be his last year of junior high, and he was already getting nervous about being a freshman in high school. Emily was the apple of her father's eye, and she was leaving elementary school to attend the same school from which Will was graduating.
Our family is my pride and joy. Rob was an excellent dad, and both kids not only looked up to him, but they adored him. Rob had earned my adoration too, and hopefully, I, his.
Living in SoCal, we both needed to work to make ends meet. Before the kids were born, we'd discussed what many couples do: should we build some savings, or go with the flow? We were of two minds there, and I was proud of us for talking through a good compromise.
Rob worked in the packaging industry as an engineer. Quite a few of the designs involving your take-out food came from my husband. He worked so hard while I finished my degree program. On top of that, we split the cooking and cleaning duties. Compared to some of my friends and family members, Rob was a saint. I always made sure to let him know how much I appreciated him.
Once I was ready to enter the workforce, via my own practice, Rob supported me in other ways. It took a year before I had enough clients to spread the word of mouth. Rob found a friend to enhance my web presence. After that year, Rob settled into more manageable hours at his job and not long after was promoted to management. So, with a year and a half under my belt, we decided to start our family. I worked until I was eight months along.
My husband was so sweet. He'd rub my feet, even when he came home dragging. He wasn't just a great husband and father; his kindness and selflessness compelled me to be better, a better wife and a better person. Working with patients was more enjoyable because Rob was my partner. I had a more positive outlook, and my overall happiness kept me centered and grounded.
When Emily came along, we became even busier. Some of the luster began to wear off our fairytale lives. Still, we managed as a team. We somehow found extra hours in the day that didn't exist. Once the kids were both in school, we breathed a sigh of relief, but temporarily. Then came the activities and youth sports. Rob coached Will in Little League and basketball. I coached Em in soccer.
Life was good, or so I thought. The year Will entered junior high, Rob's company was bought out in a huge merger. His new management team gave an ultimatum. Travel to their other plants or look for another job. With Rob gone so often, I felt lost. I got myself and the kids through most days, but they missed him almost as much as I did. We'd been in this 'new normal' for just over two years when Dane arrived at my door. Rob and I had been fighting more. He was occasionally indifferent, which was a foreign emotion in our relationship. I worried about what he might be up to on the road, whereas I'd never, ever questioned his commitment and fidelity before. Wallowing at home by myself, I began to have the worst of thoughts and concerns. I begged Rob to find a new job.
I tried to talk to friends. They were no help. Drama leads to drama and the advice I got ranged from hiring someone to check up on my husband when he was away, to me having a little fling of my own to take the edge off. I soon realized that the people I thought were friends, really weren't. That almost made me depressed. Talking to Rob became difficult. I knew the things I said and the questions I asked made me look suspicious and petty. Besides, he'd already answered me a million times over. We trudged along, looking like a super-couple and parents of the year to all around us, while trouble brewed at our doorstep. Things in the bedroom were at an all-time low.
Dane:
He was pretty quick for a slimy fucker. The minute he realized who was at the door to his crappy little office, the door slammed, and the lock engaged. I'd guessed a few other husbands had already paid a visit.
I'd been watching Dr. Albert Cokaine in most of my spare time for two weeks. I'd watch movement in his office and parking lot before I went to work my afternoon shift at the restaurant. Some days, I'd be up early and get a donut at the little bakery next to his strip mall office. I also knew what time the donut shop closed, because the door to his office lobby faced that direction, with a little walkway in between. There was no back door from the prick's office.
The bartender I brought with me was our main guy at the restaurant. He was tall and wiry. Besides working in tandem as a manager and bartender, we had another role. Due to our cheap boss, we also doubled as bouncers. The restaurant was in a popular tourist harbor, which made things interesting. Grubby fishermen, young Cholo gangsters, and well-off couples often collided on any given night in our bar, either listening and dancing to our live music or waiting for a table in the dining room. Those three groups did not mix.
Steve Billings was trained in three martial arts. He could hold his own far better than me. I was a street scrapper, originally from Detroit. The best 'tossers' were movie, TV, or soap opera personalities who traveled up from Hollywood for a long weekend. Steve would play it cool, get his tip and then cut them off. They usually had their entourage with them, some sort of rag-tag security. When the celeb would order us to serve them, things got dicey fast. The fondest memory was that little fucker, Herve Villechaize. His guys were all Samoans - tough bastards. Just before the shit hit the fan, Steve called 911 from behind the bar and told them to hurry.
Steve and I were both beaten bloody during that fight. Those guys had no quit in them. Steve got super-pissed at some point after taking too many hits and started going for knees and ball sacks. To be fair, he was dealing with two of them, while I only had one. When they were all down, Herve's cocky smile disappeared. We dragged him to the emergency exit by the stage, Steve opened the door, and I had the tiny little bitch by one arm and one leg. Twirling him around in a circle twice, I let go, and he flew about ten feet, right out the door and onto the landing. "The plane, boss," indeed!
One swift, hard kick to the doctor's door gained us entry. He was shaking while attempting to use the receptionist's phone to call for help. I had him pinned to that desk by the throat, probably the same desk the nice women had called me from and destroyed my world.
"Fuck my wife, will ya!" My spittle hit him in the face. He was frantically shaking his head. I didn't need him pissing or shitting himself, so I open-hand slapped him across the face, but not hard enough to leave a mark.
"Listen up, you cocksucker," I told him through gritted teeth. "This is my friend, Indiana Jones." That was in case he was stupid enough to file a police report after we left, or at the hospital.
"He is well-trained in three disciplines of martial arts," I informed him still leaning on his chest. "His specialty weapon is the nunchaku. But this..." I moved to one side allowing him to see Steve extending the telescopic ASP Airweight baton.
"That he can wield with precision too," I sneered at the prick. "Tell me, doctor chiropractor, what would a precision strike to say - Lumbar three - do to a man?" He didn't answer, but he was thinking about it.
"Today is your lucky day, asshole," I continued. "Like a game show, you get a choice, which is more than you gave me. Lumbar three. Paralyzed from the waist down - forever. Or door number two. A well-placed strike to your pitiful nut sack. Choose. Ten seconds."
To his credit, he begged, pleaded, threatened retaliation, and jail time for us. That lasted about nine seconds until I started rolling him over on his stomach.
"Door Two! Door TWO!!" he cried out. I kept him rolling as he struggled, perhaps confused that I didn't hear his choice. I used my body to naturally spread his legs open, and then quickly jumped up, sitting on his waist, holding and taking both ankles with me. Almost immediately, there was a 'thr-whack' sound, followed by a blood-curdling scream.
Steve and I had worked this out before coming. "Two minutes - no more," Steve had cautioned. We didn't believe the prick would call the cops. Not because that wouldn't be his first reaction, but he would likely realize how many wives he'd fucked in his office, and not knowing which wife we belonged to, he'd have a long list for the police. He would, however, require medical attention. What Steve and I didn't want was a snoopy neighbor or passer-by preempting the good doctor.
Dipshit rolled back and forth across the reception desk, holding his crotch. The pain was real.
"I've been watching you for some time, fuck nut," I said cooly. Your license plate number, your address, and the names of your family members. I have all that. You talk to the cops or push an investigation, and I start hurting other people. Then I come back and finish you. Capice?"
I didn't mean to say that last part. I'm not Italian, but it sounded more ominous and professional under the circumstances. He only nodded and cried like a pussy. I'd have guessed I wasn't his only problem.
On the way back to the restaurant to work our shifts, Steve asked what my plans were for my wayward wife's long-haired, drug-addict boyfriend. I told him I hadn't decided yet, but he was definitely next up.
The truth was, there might not be any immediate retribution. My soon-to-be ex was a loser, just like her boyfriend. But that boyfriend's mother was caring for my children, and regardless of her compensation arrangement, whenever she talked to me when I picked up my kids, she showed remorse - maybe for raising a son that sucked in every way - but also, right below the surface, a certain disgust for her son and my wife.
I had to work. Not only to keep the bills paid, and take care of the children, but also, I'd assumed that Gloria would eventually start divorce procedures, so she could get money from me to support their combined drug habits. That meant I needed Anna, the creep's Mom, at least for a while.
Gloria was dead to me. I only thought about that a little bit, in terms of how fast and easily I lost my love for her, but never dwelled on it. Maybe we were both too young, as many family members had warned. I had, in fact, screwed around with her beautiful bridesmaid, but never actually screwed her. Oh, I'd wanted to. She was better looking, better sculpted, and unusually aggressive as a woman. Some sort of guilt, or maybe apprehension had stopped me just short.
But, as many of my co-workers pointed out, I was still young and had my entire life ahead of me. Of course, my children might put the kibosh on a single lifestyle, but I wasn't really worried about that either. Some of my co-workers, four waitresses, and one bartender offered a "sport-fuck" if I found the need. No strings at all. I'd have to be desperate to fuck someone from work. They'd probably want something in return. At twenty-six, I felt relieved that I found out about my slut of a wife when I did.
My first two sessions with Allison went better than I expected. At that age, I didn't know much about women's fashion or the current hairstyle. I'd heard the word 'frumpy' once, and that was the closest I could come to describing her. After spending a few hours at a time with her, I discovered she was even thinner than I'd originally thought. She was also tall, about an inch over my six feet. But her smile was a thing to behold. It warmed my heart, and immediately afterward, my groin.
At the end of our second meeting, Allison asked me what I thought about joining a group. I told her there wasn't any time for that in my schedule. She didn't relent and let me know that the group consisted of five women, and in retail grocery like Gloria. All suffering a loss of some sort, which included cheating spouses, and besides how much good she thought it would do me, she said I'd be helping the women with the lone man's perspective. I finally gave in.
I reluctantly accepted. I told her. "But if it cuts into my kids' time, or I don't find it useful, I'll need you to help me bow out gracefully, okay?"
"I can do that." She replied sincerely. "I think that's about it for today, then."
"Hey," I raised my voice accusingly. "I've still got ten minutes."
Allison looked at the clock on the side table. "Well, there's not much we can get into now."
"Twenty minutes," I said stoically.
"What?" she looked at me, not understanding.
"You owe me twenty minutes," I repeated. "I'm paying by the hour."
"Ah," she chuckled. "I see. Okay, I owe you twenty so when we get into something hot and heavy, I'll give you the time back."
Allison:
Dane was healing. It was a slow process, but it was obvious to anyone who'd noticed.
Sometimes I took my successes and my failures personally. That was my Achilles Heel when it came to my job. Thankfully, I was aware. I'd talk about it with my therapist occasionally. Yes, therapists have a network of other therapists they can talk to. The mental aspect of helping others often takes the same toll on us that massage therapists feel, although theirs is physiological. It's not uncommon for people who do massage to experience a transference of pain, and sometimes to the same affected area as the patient. My practice was doing well, and I needed to stay safe and sane.
Betsy Rivers was my go-to. We'd talked numerous times about my competitive nature as a child, in sports. I needed to measure things - who was winning and who was losing. I needed to know the score, and I felt a deep sense of pride when I ascertained that I was winning.
Besides my private sessions with Dane, the new group was doing exceptionally well. The four women had started quite shyly until they realized that Dane wasn't a threat. As they began to open up, they also began to ask, even encouraging Dane's input. Most often it was done under the guise of 'hearing the man's opinion.' But I could see them making mental notes too, hoping to learn something from Dane in a safe environment, that might help them in their next relationship.
Linda was the group's elder stateswoman. She was forty-four and had lost her husband to a rare cancer a few years earlier. The women, and even Dane, seemed enthralled to listen to her life story. The way she spoke of Earl, he walked on water.
The rest of the group's women were in the same boat as Dane, cheated on by a spouse. Sue, Desi, and Maricella were all between twenty-four and twenty-nine years old.
As the Fourth of July approached, the group was feeling a little downtrodden. They didn't feel like celebrating and had no real prospects to spend the day with. That spurned an idea in my head. At the last meeting in June, I asked if we could all get together at the local beach park, on the day before the Fourth. We'd build a bonfire, bring a potluck, and have our group session there, and then set off some small legal fireworks. After a moment of them all looking around the room, everyone agreed.
I worked on some group exercises, even digging out some of my college textbooks. The setting would be conducive to leading a chant, which was something I'd always wanted to do. Rob even showed interest in my sudden perky mood. He agreed to accompany me with the kids in the early afternoon to help set up and collect driftwood for the fire. Only after there was nothing left to do, and he was about to take the children home for dinner, did he ask a poignant question.
"Is it just me," he asked, "or is tonight's session a bit unorthodox?"
I was thrown off balance at first, but as I recovered, It struck me that I'd never had a session quite like this before. "I don't think so, Rob," I answered honestly. "I haven't had this lively and well-connected of a group before. We've made great progress in a short time, and the holiday was creating a downer. They feed off each other - both positively and negatively - so I had to do something."
"Just checking, babe," he said with a smile. "You talk about transference and maintaining a professional distance, so I just thought I'd remind you of your own rules."
I took offense to his comment right away, and I know it must have shown on my face. I did my best to recover quickly though. He was right, of course, and he was looking out for me, as always.
We shared a nice tight hug, and a long kiss, well, long for having the kids staring at us. With the kids teasing with 'ah, gross' calls, Rob was off. I promised not to be too late.
The party was successful from the start. Each of my clients had put some thought and attention into the dishes they brought. Linda seemed a little looped when she arrived, and I got into her space a few times to see if I could smell alcohol on her breath, but I couldn't.
We shared in a circle around the fire, and I led them in some appropriate discussion. Things like what they had to be thankful for. In the chant, at dusk, I asked them to envision a happy future life and then after a break, anyone who wanted to share could. Then we'd do some fireworks, which turned out to be a box of sparklers that only one person - Dane - brought.
When we all sat down after the chant things began to go sideways. Linda pulled out a joint and lit it without fanfare. Before I could even say anything, she passed it left to Sue. Dane said he'd take only a couple of hits because he needed to be up early, and Maricella declined. Dane passed the joint to me, and I simply passed it back to Linda without a word.
"You sure?" Linda asked as she took it from my hand.
"Yeah," I finally found my authoritative voice. "I'm not too sure that should be part of our meeting tonight."
Linda shrugged, and said, "Well, this isn't an official group session anyway."
The minute the joint was consumed, Linda was at it again. She stood and removed her top, which highlighted her petite braless upper body. For forty-four, Linda was an incredible-looking woman, other than her dark tanned, and alligator-like skin. She didn't believe in sunblock.
"Well, if I wait any longer," she announced, "it'll be too cold." She ran the twenty or thirty feet to the ocean, pulling her shorts down as she went. By the time she jumped into the wake, Linda was naked except for her tiny panties.
When I broke my gaze on Linda, I happened to look right at Dane, who was studying me carefully. By then, Linda was calling out to the others to join her. Trying to get some hold of the situation, I looked scornfully at Maricella and Sue.
"This isn't a good idea," I told them. I'd lost control of the night and still, a part of me wanted to let them have their fun.
"Don't be a downer," Sue said sympathetically. "We've had an incredible night, largely because of you. No one's going to get into any trouble or put your license in jeopardy. It's just a bit of fun, and I for one, am feeling more mellow than I have in a long time."
Both women stood and simultaneously reached a hand out to Dane, who was still sitting.
"Come on young man," Maricella teased. "We won't bite, but the sharks might."
Dane's nonverbal demeanor was begging me to intercede. For reasons, I'll never understand, I didn't.
My inaction seemed to stir his bravado. He got up and turned away towards the water, allowing the women to drag him along.
I sat there, glued to my towel, watching the other two women shed their tops and Sue, her bra. Dane pulled off his shorts and shirt, entering the water in his boxers. Like a voyeur I simply stayed rooted watching them all standing in the waist-deep water, all gathered closely. Too closely.
Some splashing ensued, and then some light roughhousing. I got up and walked towards them, the dusk turning to darkness. At the water's edge, I was sure I could make out roaming hands beneath the water's surface. Everyone was laughing uncontrollably, and then Linda went into the water until just her face was above. Dane hollered while the girls shouted in tandem.
"Pants him, Pants him!" they shouted. Sue and Marcella hooked one of Dane's arms on each side, pulling him off balance, and against their near-naked bodies. Linda shot up, looking quite proud of herself. The girls helped him upright again, and I could hear him chastising Linda.
She came running out of the water. I didn't see them at first. It wasn't until she walked past me, that I noticed she held Dane's boxers in her left hand. She winked at me.
"Looks like I got a souvenir," she giggled, high and staggering. Sue and Maricella were standing very close to Dane. Maricella started coming onto the beach, but Sue and Dane remained quite still. Then Sue came running out of the water, laughing.
Dane began hollering at Linda. The girls were taunting him cruelly. I finally found my voice.
"Okay," I commanded. "That's enough. Give him his underwear, Linda."
Sue and Maricella were already drying themselves as Linda came to stand by me with a towel.
"No way," She said playfully. "Sue gave him a boner and I want to see it! Then he can have a towel." Turning to an embarrassed Dane in the water, she said, "Come on Dane the vein! Let me see what you've got. Just a little peek, I promise."
Again I was slow on the draw. In fairness to myself, this was uncharted territory for me. Was it a party, or a counseling session? I'd certainly spent the better part of a week thinking about it as a party. I knew, yes, knew it wasn't. In the vacuum of me not taking charge, Dane became frustrated and took Linda up on her challenge.
God help me, I didn't want to look. I knew what was about to happen in that split second, and everything in my professional brain told me to look away. Instead, I stared like the others. Dane's anger was already causing his erection to wane, but even in the blinking light of the flames, it was easy to see that Dane was just as beautiful from the waist down as he was from the waist up. Nothing huge, nothing out of place, no visible birthmarks or oddities, just sheer beauty.
The first thing I did as my gaze left Dane's lower half, was to look him in the eye. I don't think I'll ever forget the hurt I found there. He didn't need to say I'd betrayed him - sold him out - it was right there in his eyes and expression.
Linda had been quick with the towel. She proceeded to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, only because Dane turned before she could catch his lips. That's when she noticed and began apologizing. Despite her words, it was clear that they lacked integrity and sincerity.
Dane picked up his shorts and shirt while trying to keep the towel in place with his free hand.
He gave me a last evil look, and then turned and started walking down the beach. Linda went to go after him, and I stepped in front of her.
"Let him go," I ordered.
By that time, Sue and Maricella, who'd been dressing by the fire, noticed what happened. The questions came in hot and heavy as Linda and I approached them. All three women then started apologizing to me.
"Save it for Dane," I admonished. "He's the one who deserves it." I sat heavily on my towel, rubbing my temples with my hands. Such a wonderful night had turned into a childish schoolyard hazing in just moments.
I could faintly see Dane in the dark, dressing and then coming back towards the group.
"Here's your chance," I told all three women. "What you did was cruel and hurtful to a member of our group. I expect you to respond to him appropriately."
Dane wouldn't look at any of us. He gathered the bowls he'd brought his meal contribution in and gathered his own towel while throwing Linda's down onto the sand. Sue wanted him to stop so she could say sorry, and she made the mistake of latching onto Dane's arm.
"Get your hands off of me, bitch," Dane spat at her. Sue was so shocked she let go immediately and recoiled. The women all at once tried to atone, ask forgiveness, and beg him to stay, as they got Dane's back. They were still at it, for at least a minute after Dane was out of hearing range.
There was a long silence around the bonfire. I was struggling to say something meaningful as the group's leader. I had no idea if I'd ever see Dane again, and that thought almost consumed me. Finally, shivering and shaking it off, I addressed the others.
"We have a lot to make up for," I told them. "When I see you this week, we'll be discussing how this happened, and your feelings. It's going to take a lot of soul-searching before you can provide Dane with any sense of remorse or regret, and just maybe earn his forgiveness."
There was more silence and then, as one, we began to pack up our belongings. The twelve-pack of sparklers that Dane had purchased for all of us, was never lit. The women seemed unable to decide what to do with them. Finally, Maricella offered to take them home since she was a single mom.
My drive home was riddled with guilt. I pulled over twice and cried. I tried to calm down and replay what had happened in my mind. Once the tears were shed, and I got my shame under control, I tried to think about how I could salvage the situation. Besides trying to make amends, I could be in real trouble if Dane wanted it. I'd sanctioned this impromptu session/ party.
Of all the mistakes I'd made that night, the biggest by far was not going home and talking to my husband, admitting what had happened, and gaining his input. At that moment, and immersed in the rawness, I was embarrassed - ashamed of myself.
Rob could tell something was wrong right away. He tried to console me and asked what happened. I feigned exhaustion, and when he kept on me, I made another huge mistake. I lied to my husband. As far as I can remember, it was the first big lie I'd ever told him.
"Things went horribly wrong," I began. "you know I can't discuss specifics, Rob. Let's just say I have a lot of work to do, and I've misread some of the inter dynamics of the group." It was a half-lie, but a lie nonetheless. Rob left me alone and I went to bed, as he held and comforted me.
Dane:
After my horrible night at the beach, the message I received at nearly seven the next night was beyond welcome. I knew Gloria had gone back to work and was on the night shift for a month. That meant that sooner or later, her dipshit boyfriend would go out and party without her. The Fourth of July, and the idiot couldn't even go to watch the fireworks. The restaurant and bar business was a tight community, and I had my feelers out weeks before. When I got the call, the next thing to do was to get ahold of a few buddies from my basketball league. It is the one I participated in before becoming a single, working dad.
Both Chuck - Chuckster on the court - and Rodney were happy to help if it didn't take long. They had plans for the holiday, like most others. I told them where to meet me, and we discussed a quick game plan in the parking lot.
I expected I'd have to draw him out of the bar, and that whomever he was drinking with would follow him out. After all, he hated me as much as I hated him.
My concerns were moot. J - as he called himself, not Jay - was sitting in a dark booth with a woman. I was pushing that description. She was younger than Gloria, by the looks of her, probably a barely legal teen. Fucking dirtbag.
"Hey dirtbag," I said sarcastically as I made about half the distance between him and the door. "I'm pretty sure you have a bunch of flat tires." I turned and walked away. The idiot was out of his seat like a shot, never considering I might be baiting him.
I hit the exit just moments before he did. Once I had about five feet of distance, I turned to face him. He never saw my guys on either side of the doorway. I kept walking backward as he approached, with evil in his eyes, trying to get as far into the parking lot as possible. J was big, a lot bigger than me. He'd likely been intimidating people with his size since grade school. One of his club-like arms went up as if to deliver a haymaker, and Chuckster grabbed his arm, while Rodney almost lifted him off the ground, grabbing under his other arm. He was duck-walked to the hood of his car, in stunned silence. I guess he wasn't expecting to meet anyone bigger than him.
As my two friends held his arms out to either side of the hood, I climbed onto his back. "Listen good, loser," I pulled his hair back and said it into his ear. I also pulled my blade and held it to that same ear. "You're going to do as you're told. If you don't, my friends and plenty more of them will be back to fuck you up permanently, while I'm at some party across town with dozens of witnesses.
"I've got nothing to lose, even if caught. Your gonna dump that bitch, in exactly one month. If you want to keep fucking her until then, go ahead. You'll know when she gets the divorce papers. You'll dump her, and then you'll side with your mother when my attorney calls you to court. I want my kids, and I'm trading your life for them. Don't get any stupid ideas. Your mom is doing a good job taking care of them, and you never will. Got it?"
J nodded. He seemed to have lost his voice. "You won't tell my ex or your mother about tonight. You tell anyone, and I find out, you die. You don't follow instructions, you die." I put the blade to his neck and applied light pressure. Rodney alerted me to another car pulling into the lot, and I quickly dismounted the slimeball.
The guys let go, and J turned towards me with venom in his eyes. "Go ahead bigshot," I got in his face. "I'll gut you right here. Nothing to lose, remember? Do as you're told and move on. Oh, yeah," I said as I turned away. "Stop fucking teenagers and other men's wives."
Of course, J's mother, Anna, had already offered to testify in divorce court if it would help me. I found that quite odd, going against her own kid, but I guess she felt he needed a jolt since his father was infirmed and bedridden.
I thought a lot about my plight that evening, after getting the kids from the babysitter and putting them to bed. I thought about the past few weeks and my rage. In elementary school, I was what most would call a 'sissy.' Often, I was picked on and hit by kids a grade or two below me. My dad was an abusive drunk, and he beat me too. But he always told me I better walk away from a fight. I never understood that. I was twelve when my mother finally divorced him, and I was moved from the Catholic school to a public one, within walking distance a few blocks from our home. I wasn't there for two weeks when one of the kids started pushing me at lunch, trying to bully me. For some reason, I'd just had enough. I told him we could settle up after school, and that's what we did to a crowd of about twenty boys and girls.
I was so damned angry. The guy was my size, but he'd obviously heard something through the rumor mill. He lasted all of about two minutes. After that, four or five other guys wanted a shot at the title, and then a few more the following year in junior high. I never lost any of those fights. That was a good thing. The bad thing was that I could hardly remember anything about them. It was like my mind went to some other place. When I became aware of my surroundings, my opponent was either on the ground or running.
That was something about myself that I wanted to work on with Allison. But I doubted we'd ever get there after she betrayed me the previous night at the beach. She and those other women really showed me their true colors after pretending to coddle me in the sessions, playing on my feelings, and acting like they felt bad for me.
My phone rang while I was listening to fireworks in the background. There was no caller ID in those days, so I simply answered it. I heard Linda's voice on the other end.
"Hello?" she said tentatively. "Dane?"
"Yeah, Linda. What do you want?" I asked with a long sigh for effect.
"I'm... I called to apologize," she said quietly. "I was a horrible bitch last night, although I didn't start out to be. But I was, nonetheless. I'm hoping you can forgive me, and we can still be friends. If you have your kids tomorrow, I was kinda hoping you might let me take you and them to the zoo, so I can start making up for what I did."
She sounded sincere, but my trust in almost everyone was shaken. I wasn't about to be played anymore.
"I don't know, Linda," I said cautiously. "They don't even know you. I'm not sure I do either."
"You do, Dane," she quickly replied. "I know you do, but I understand how you'd feel that way after my behavior last night. I just want to do something nice for you, so you can see that isn't the real me."
I was too tired to argue, or so I told myself. The truth was, the kids deserved a fun day with all the turmoil they'd been going through. I relented and Linda asked for my address so she could pick us up. I told her it would be easier to meet at her house since the car seats were already set up in my car. That quickly became another worry. My car was an old piece of shit Junker that badly needed repairs. I was suddenly embarrassed. Linda had seen me coming and going at Allison's office and she glossed over my plight.
"That works," she said. "I can still help you move the car seats into my car. I don't want you to spend any gas money when you're trying to take care of two small children."
The day was surprisingly cathartic. Linda and I focused most of our attention on my children but still found time to engage in plenty of adult talk. She was very good with kids, and when I told her so, she giggled and reminded me that she had a grown son and a daughter who was just leaving for college.
We talked about her husband's death. She told some things about her life that she hadn't shared in group therapy. As cloudy as the conversation was, we still found several instances to laugh.
After dinner, at Chuck E. Cheese, which she insisted on paying for, Linda turned to my kids.
"Do you like puppies?" she asked them excitedly. I knew immediately what she was doing, but didn't stop her right away, seeing the looks on the kids' faces.
Of course, both my daughter and son got super-excited. They looked at me. My son was barely talking and was worn out from the long day.
"It's kind of late," I said, giving Linda a look. "He's about to nod off." I pointed at my son.
"So?" she asked playfully. "We have to go to my house anyway to get your car. I have two Collie pups. Let them play until their eyes are droopy. I've got plenty of room. They'll even get a fresh-cooked breakfast in the morning."
There it was. That had been about the most blatant way of telling someone they wanted to have sex without actually saying it. Maybe it was her age, or maybe she was that good.
I found out about two hours later how good she was. Linda was... generous. I don't know any other words. I chalked it up to her experience, and maybe due to a long drought. She wanted a lot of kissing and touching before we got started. I didn't mind that. Much later in life I realized that she needed it to get her motor revved. And it was.
I'd never had someone swallow my entire cock - every bit of it. When she changed it up, she went lower with her tongue, and then lower still. I'd never experienced that, and I was glad she'd let me take a shower before we started.
The only complaint for me was her leathery skin. For a white woman, she could have easily passed for being black, or Latino. Many years of unabashed tanning were the reason. I pushed my thoughts aside and focused on our combined pleasure.
The first time was urgent - animalistic. Her hips were grinding like a person rubbing their itchy back against a door jamb. A few times during the frenzy, I felt way out of my league, but I stayed with it, riding her like a bronco buster.
After, she went downstairs and brought us a glass of wine and some water. Not ten minutes later we were at it again. That time it was tender and loving. She pulled me over on top of her and let me catch a rhythm missionary. But her enthusiasm took over again, and she rolled us back over until she was on top of me, both hands squarely on my chest as she controlled the action. The way she rolled her hips, and her muscle control grasping my cock like a glove, had me climaxing in short order. She came with me and collapsed onto me, breathing heavily. I remember thinking, 'I hope she doesn't have a heart attack!'
She wanted to cuddle and talk. I was wiped out, from the day, and the sex, but she seemed to need it. It struck me that it was probably something she did with her man, and maybe she also needed the familiarity. But I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I woke up to sunshine blaring through the bedroom window. Linda was there, stroking my hair gently. My first thought was worrisome. I hoped she wasn't falling in love or something. Then I panicked wondering if the kids were awake. She saw the distress.
"Don't worry," she said softly. "Your son is still asleep, and your daughter is watching the Little Mermaid. I understand it's her favorite."
My face relaxed. "Dane," she changed direction. "I can tell you love those kids to death. For a man, it's a very endearing quality. Don't ever lose that. You're doing right by them, and as they get older, they'll never forget it."
It was one of the finest compliments I'd had in quite some time. As I was thinking of how to respond, she filled the silence.
"I mean it," she said getting off the bed. "Now, go get a shower and get dressed. I'm gonna get breakfast started. My daughter spent the night with friends saying goodbye. She'll be home in a couple of hours and I need to see her off to college."
As an afterthought, she leaned over, kissing me on the cheek. "Thanks for letting me make things up to you - and thank you for a wonderful and much-needed night of bliss. I'm always up for a rematch."
Allison:
I spent the weekend in a fog. I had no idea how to set things right, no matter how hard I thought about it. I felt so bad for Dane. But worse, I felt like I'd wronged him terribly. There were many milliseconds at the bonfire where I should have interceded and never did. When Dane came out of the water, all I did was stare at his privates. I'd never be able to forget the look of betrayal he gave me.
The women, all my patients, were going to be easier to deal with. I could admonish them and spend time talking through how they felt that night, so they know exactly what they'd be apologizing for at our next group session. I suspected, from my experience, part of it was payback, for the men in their lives who had wronged them.
Rob was as supportive as usual. God, I loved that man. He made it through the weekend, barely.
I knew that come Monday morning he'd begun to worry. Usually, we could talk through things, even without divulging anything private with the clients. Rob seemed frazzled and at his wit's end, not being able to get me out of my funk.
Sue and Maricella had their standing appointments that day. Linda was my first appointment on Tuesday morning. I dreaded Wednesday. That was the day I always met with Dane at 4:00 unless something came up at his restaurant job, in which case I had an open time slot on Friday.
Both ladies that day showed a great deal of remorse. They also tried to blame Linda, to a degree, which I had expected. We talked at length about what a sincere apology would look like, and they also admitted that at least a small amount of taunting was related to getting some back for themselves after being screwed over by their ex-husbands.
Monday had been productive. Rob felt relieved when I came home acting like the woman he was used to. We made love that night, and I began to feel some confidence that I could help the group work through the debacle.
Tuesday was the polar opposite of Monday. Linda came in floating on a cloud. A beautiful puffy white cloud, as she put it. As the story of her weekend began to unfold, I sat dumbfounded at her revelations. Had I been in my right mind, I'd have recognized that some of my feelings were jealousy. A larger part was centered around how upset I'd been all weekend - how poorly I'd treated my husband and children - all because Linda had played out a horrible prank - and that I needed to find a solution to.
Several times during the hour, I had to relax my jaw, which had my teeth mashed tightly together. I wanted to lash out, blaming Linda as the other women had. I knew deep down that Linda had not only proven her sorrow and remorse to Dane but had also gotten something very important out of it for herself. I should have been shouting words of encouragement and reinforcing much of what we'd been discussing for the better part of six months, but I couldn't. Finally, I should have been introspective and canceled my appointment with Dane for the following day.
I didn't. I told myself I was still responsible and needed to take the lead in setting things right providing the healing he needed.
That night at home, I was a nervous wreck. Rob point-blank asked me what the hell was going on. I decided to tell him some - not all - of what had happened at the bonfire. He looked very worried, even as I left out the parts I thought would implicate me the most. Even with him snuggling me in bed that night, my body felt like a piece of rebar.
Thousands of thoughts flowed through me on Wednesday, as I tried to prepare for Dane. The problem was, after hearing Linda recount her weekend with him and his kids, I had no idea which Dane might show up for his appointment. Worse than what he'd endured last Friday night at the beach, I had no idea how I'd deal with Dane fondly recounting his night and morning with Linda.
That worry turned out to be a waste of time and energy. Dane sat, considering me cautiously, and it felt like he was staring right through me. I began my well-rehearsed apology. I asked leading questions about how he felt at the time, and then later that night. He answered with the same level of caution. It wasn't going well.
Twenty minutes into the session, things changed. Dane became emotional about how the women had treated him. He opened up more than ever before, telling me about his first love in high school, and how she'd walked out on him with another male student at the homecoming dance. He talked about his next love interest, a girl he dated for two years, and gotten engaged to. How he felt things were going wrong somehow, and then how he'd caught her in a guy's pickup truck one night when he went to the bowling alley where she worked as a bartender.
His entire demeanor changed, as he told me how the guy, a big, tall, Tony Orlando-type, made the mistake of rolling down his window instead of getting out of the truck. Dane languidly explained how he'd beaten the man, as he was defenseless hanging out of a half-rolled down window. Dane described how he felt he'd blacked out, not remembering sending the man to the hospital.
He related how he went back to the liquor store he worked at. How a married woman who was his co-worker, had covered for him. Then upon his return, she'd tended to his bruised and bloodied hands. He explained how after locking up at midnight, he'd had maniacal revenge sex with her in the back room. How she'd given herself freely. My overloaded and confused mind went back to some of Linda's detailed revelations from the previous day.
There were many tears. I had to give Dane at least three breaks to collect himself. He blamed himself for Gloria and all that occurred. The poor man, actually said that "his 'picker' was broken."
With that, Dane put his head down into his hands and sobbed soul-pounding, shoulder-shaking sobs.
I grabbed a box of Kleenex and moved to his side on the couch, putting my hand gently on his back. He began to regain his composure and looked up at me. He looked so sad - so lost.
We both leaned in at the same time, like some damned Hollywood movie.
I kissed him.
Not a gentle motherly kiss. A real kiss. I felt myself falling down a rabbit hole, as my body betrayed me. The kiss lingered, and then our tongues met. I was breathless. As we broke the kiss, I inhaled deeply, because I'd stopped breathing, maybe forgotten how.
All at once, my personal and professional brain kicked in. "What are you doing?" My inner voice yelled. I stiffened and stood immediately. Dane reached out for my hand, my left hand. I'd become so overwhelmed by my actions - so numb - that I didn't realize my hand was in his until one of his fingers gently rolled my rings. I pulled away.
Dane stood facing me.
"Uh... Umm, I think that's all for today," I told him unconvincingly.
He stared into my eyes, our faces just inches apart. His eyes wandered to the clock over my left shoulder. I swear, I knew exactly what he was going to say before the words left his lips.
"Hey, I still have ten min..."
He never finished. My lips mashed against his, passionately, urgently. A fuse had been lit, deep in my belly, and it sent shock waves down below, as up above, my craving multiplied in time with the compulsion in my loins. I felt like a rag doll on fire.
Dane was completely in tune. He lifted me up, even though we were the same height, and carried me the short four feet to my desk. Instinctively, my traitorous legs wrapped around him. We never broke the kiss. My flats were pulled from my feet. My dress was hiked up, all while I heard his zip coming down. His pelvis ground hungrily into mine.
When he broke the kiss so he could remove my panties, I had the first coherent thought. "Stop!" I said to myself, but not out loud. Honestly, as much as I wanted to stop at that moment, I also didn't. I wanted him - so badly that I ached for it.
Dane moved to go down on me. I grabbed his forearms, gently saying, "No. I want you inside me."
He grabbed my hips, lining up his steel-hard cock. I braced myself for his youthful exuberance.
Everything became a blur, as Dane took me - lashed out at me - using his penis as a weapon. My ears barely heard the desk squeaking and trying to stay together under our lustful rutting. I was crying both immensely happy and sorrowful tears. Happy to take away Dane's pain, and sad for the utter violation, I'd committed on my loving husband.
If the clock had anything to do with it, I'm sure I still owed Dane a few minutes. For me, it was over too quickly, but I'd cum at least twice, by the time he finished on my pubic hair. Even though he'd thought to pull out, I'd need a plan B pill as soon as possible.
While my brain had been in overdrive, Dane had put his cock away. He bent over to kiss me.
"No, Dane," I said in a little voice. "You need to go."
I sat crying in my car in the pharmacy parking lot for at least thirty minutes. A man in his seventies gently tapped on the window, asking if I was all right. I nodded sadly, started my car, and drove off. I drove - and drove - aimlessly, for nearly another half hour, and then pulled into a Starbucks at the end of our street and redid my make-up.
I had no idea how I was supposed to face Rob. I had no desire to lie or to tell the truth. I had no idea exactly how long it would take him to figure out what a worthless slut I was. The self-deprecation was flowing worse than the tears I'd shed. I could never go back to what we were. I didn't think I'd be able to face either Rob or Dane ever again, but I had to try. There weren't any other options.
While getting myself together, I decided telling Rob would hurt him most. Like so many of my patients, I thought it was better if only I knew; as such, I could repay him for my betrayal in any way. I now understood how they felt. It was one thing to give advice, and something entirely different to live it.
Whatever I did, and however I acted, Rob didn't notice. I found it odd that he could sense my distress or sadness on many levels, but not a cheating wife's tells. I spent most of the evening playing and talking with the children, before putting them to bed.
As Rob climbed into our bed, he asked, "How did your session with Dane go?"
I thought my heart stopped. I purposefully didn't answer right away, putting my book on the nightstand and then turning to face my husband.
"It went better than I expected," I so hoped my voice didn't crack. "Linda probably had something to do with that. She apologized to him for causing problems at the beach, and he accepted that."
"I'm glad to hear it," Rob answered, reaching to turn off the light on his side. "You were starting to worry me. I've got a big day tomorrow, babe, and I'm really tired. We'll go to a movie on Friday, and make up for tonight then, okay?"
I kissed my husband good night. I felt like Judas. It took me a long time to go to sleep that night.
Thursday's group session occurred without incident too. At first, I wouldn't make eye contact with Dane, just in case he was shooting looks of his own that said, "We know something the rest of you don't."
But I soon realized that he also had a secret with Linda, and he wasn't treating her any differently, even while looking right at her. That settled me, and I was more active in the conversation. The only time I felt something from Dane was right at the end as everyone was leaving. He gazed my way and his expression was one of... adoration.
The weekend was uneventful. I spent the time implementing my big make-up plan. I may have had a moment of temporary insanity, but I wasn't a stupid woman. Well, at least I didn't think so. I'd had the exact conversation with dozens of female patients.
"You can make things up or better," I'd tell them. "But you'll still carry the guilt and shame for a long time. Telling the truth is the only thing that can set you free from that guilt."
Many of my clients couldn't or wouldn't believe it. That's when I'd also tell them that skirting the truth and trying to placate their mate would inevitably lead to them cheating again. But there I was, pissing on my own good advice. Besides all the hurt and anguish, should Rob discover what I'd done, it was the possible destruction of our family that scared me. I didn't want either Rob or I to be part-time parents.
So, I went ahead, putting logic and reason aside. How good a job I did was hard to discern. Rob was quiet and if I had to use a word to describe his demeanor, it would have been 'indifferent.' That caused my anxiety to go sky-high, even as I tried to tamp it down. There was no way he could know, I told myself. Had I been rationalizing my inner-self, just like analyzing a client, I would have understood that I'd already been different for several weeks. It wasn't just the beach party, that night had only been the catalyst.
Wednesday, I was prepared for Dane. The tension began as soon as he took a seat. That was in my favor because that's what I'd expected and planned for. Through the thick air, I sat patiently waiting for him to make the first move, say something.
"I'm not sorry about what we did," he began confidently. "I've thought a lot about it. I know you felt something too. You're not like Gloria. Hell, you're nothing like Linda or anyone else I've ever been with either. I can tell you love your husband. I'm sure you're worried and feeling bad about it. Still, there's a reason you gave yourself so freely. Can you tell me why?"
"No," I said, trying to regain my confidence and the upper hand. "That isn't appropriate to any of our future conver..."
"Tell me, Allie." It was a command more than anything else.
"Don't call me that!" I lashed out, angry that my plan wasn't working, and angry that he had this magical hold over me. "I'm your therapist. You don't use pet names with..."
"Why?" he asked. "Is that what he calls you?"
Even the slightest hesitation told him the answer, and that's exactly what I did. I stared - no, glared - at him, trying desperately to recapture the high ground. He stared back, matching my intensity.
Then Dane did the thing I least expected. He humanized our plight and made us partners in crime. He burst out laughing, working hard to maintain eye contact, and mostly succeeding. That beautiful, happy youthful, and sincere face disintegrated my will.
My smile formed almost immediately. The half-smile that followed was my last-ditch effort for decorum. Then the dam burst and I gut-laughed with him. It lasted at least a minute for both of us. Dane became serious ahead of me.
"Today is our last time," he stated as if a foregone conclusion. Then he stood and walked toward the door. I thought he was going to leave or pretend to. Instead, he locked the door and turned back to face me.
"Allison, I'm serious," he said sternly. I just stared sideways at him. Never in my adult life had I been that conflicted.
"I've been fucked over," Dane continued. "By a cheating wife who I barely knew at all. You've helped me, more than you know. I'm not going to put your family in the same jeopardy as mine. You say you love him? Then today is the last time. Let's enjoy it and move on."
He'd already crossed the distance between us, as he explained. I felt like he was running to me across a field of poppies and daisies, in slow motion. His hand reached out for mine as he said that last part, not quite in my space, his arm fully extended.
"Dane, I ca..." I started, coming back to my senses somewhat.
"Yes, you can," he interrupted. "Come on Allison, you owe it to yourself, and I want to give you that gift, freely."
I knew it wasn't free. I knew he'd derive as much pleasure from it as I would. I wasn't giddy or lovestruck. If I had to describe my heart and mind, it was something like I truly appreciated the massive effort he was undertaking with me. Recognizing his value of my worth, and forgetting my husband's was wrong. I knew that too. Dane wasn't just trying to get in my pants. He wasn't out for some twisted revenge from the beach night either. He was valuing what we shared. Maybe even trying to repay me.
Of course, all that went through my mind in a matter of nanoseconds as I reached for his hand. Of course, flawed logic abounded. I was thinking more like a drunk college girl at a frat party, and at least a part of me knew it. The promise of 'last time,' pushed me over the edge and into the abyss.
We ended up on the sofa that time. He went straight for the panties with the same urgency, but then, he lightly stroked my sex, kissing his way from my toes to my molten-hot center. Each kiss carried a twelve-volt charge, that resonated into my abdomen and back to my sex. Each time a finger gently swiped my clitoris, the charge was released with an intensity I'd seldom ever felt before.
By the time he had worked his way up my inner thigh and was about to breach my inner sanctum, I was on fire and ready to explode through my first orgasm. Since he was ignoring my breasts, I squeezed my nipples through my dress and bra. I squeezed my eyes shut and came hard, making my legs shake.
Dane lifted my dress high on my stomach, and then stood, kicking his shoes off, and quickly dropping his shorts and briefs. He didn't bother with the socks. I followed his lead and pulled my dress over my head and tossed it aside. The bra was barely off before he crawled up onto the couch, that time with a knee behind my head on the arm of the sofa. His mouth was back on me right away.
His rigid penis was staring me in the face. It wasn't much different than Rob's, but it was new. His balls were already tight up against his scrotum, in anticipation. I ran my fingernails along them, and his hot breath burst against my labia as he groaned in pleasure. That did it for me, and I came again even harder. Before I could scream out, I pulled Dane's cock towards me and engulfed it.
I stroked him hard, with one hand, using my tongue and lips on the sensitive head, all the while kneading and squeezing his balls with the other.
I felt him tense up in short order. He refocused his efforts on my clit, while teasing the area between my ass and pussy with his finger. We both came at the same time and as we both started to come down and relax, I remember thinking what a stupid woman Gloria was.
But Dane wasn't finished, and I watched him in my post-orgasmic bliss, as he fished a condom out of his pants pocket and put it on. He was on me in a flash, and I helped guide him inside. We were kissing with full tongue as he began a slow, but steady rhythm. I was on the edge the entire time, my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him - urging him - into me. Dane's pace quickened, and we had to stop kissing to breathe. My hands ran through his hair, and when the pace increased yet again, I reached under his arms and clasped down on his shoulders holding on for dear life.
We finished with one more orgasm each. As we lay there recovering, Dane's face millimeters from mine, he said, "Thank you."
Dane kissed my lips sweetly. Then he got up and went into the office restroom. I sat up and watched him like a voyeur, as he tied off the condom and flushed it down the toilet. I hadn't even noticed he'd grabbed his clothes on the way there.
When I sat up looking at where I'd tossed my dress, those feelings flooded over me once more. I was now officially a cheater. The once might be forgivable. A mistake - maybe. Caught up in the moment, out of my mind with lust. What just happened though? No, that's convictable evidence, premeditated, even though it wasn't on my part. Premeditated or not, I didn't say no. I played around, trying to straighten my dress absent-mindedly. Dane walked back into the room, watching me carefully. His smile immediately faded as he noticed the despondent look.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked nervously.
"I've ruined my marriage," I said without much emotion.
"No you haven't," he tried to argue. "You love him... Rob, and he loves you. What just happened... let it go."
"Easy for you to say," I spat, getting angry and trying to transfer blame. "I'll never be able to hide what we did. I'll never... Just go, Dane. Just leave me alone. And don't come to group tomorrow, either."
Instead, Dane sat next to me. "Allison, listen to me," he said calmly. "Or at least, listen to yourself. I told you this would be the last time, and I meant it. Wash away the guilt, or whatever, and live a good life with your family."
"Why, Dane?" I asked out of nowhere. "Why did you do this?
He paused and with a deep sigh, "Because, Allison," his voice was reconciliatory, but I was still steaming mad. "We have a connection. I know you felt it right off like I did. Then you hurt me at the beach. You hurt me badly."
"So, revenge is it?" I asked incredulously. "That's it? Payback. And today?"
"Today was making up for me trying to pay you back." He looked away, out the window.
"Bullshit!" I said loudly and bitterly.
"Allison," he answered even more quietly. "You didn't resist in the slightest. You never said no. I can see you're angry, and I think I get it. As I said, this was the last time. I won't be coming to any more individual sessions, either."
"You presumptuous bastard!" I screamed. "You have some nerve. Professionally, I agree, and personally too. You're no longer my patient. Now get out!"
>>>>
Rob knew something was wrong right away. No amount of driving around, trying to collect my feelings and thoughts, was going to hide that. As soon as Will and Emily went to do homework, Rob started on me.
"What the hell is going on, Allie?" his voice was a mixture of concern and impatience. "I've never seen you like this. Come on, honey, talk to me."
"I can't, Rob," I blubbered, already crying again. "It's confidential."
"That sounds like an excuse, Allie," he responded in disbelief. "You better go see Barbara then. You're an emotional wreck."
Rob stormed out of the room. I knew he was frustrated, and I had to hold it together so that frustration didn't morph into something else.
Dane:
"Hey, Steve," I said to my favorite bartender. I was running reports from the POS and pulling the tills, as Steve polished the back bar brass.
"Didn't you tell me your wife was a counselor?" He stopped and then he chuckled.
"Well," he joked. "I'm the actual counselor - working for tips - so I can help pay the therapists' student loan debt. She hates it when I compare my 'real-world' experience to her precious education."
I guess he had cause to tease his wife because he noticed quickly that I didn't even smile at his humor.
"All right," he said, setting down the towel and polish. "Tell me what's going on? I know you have your own therapist already. Something to do with the ex or with your therapy?"
"My therapist," I sighed and then I told him my story.
"That's heavy shit, Dane." He admonished. "What were you thinking, brah?"
"I wasn't," I told him honestly. "She's hot. We had an instant connection. I saw how she looked at me that night at the beach when I got out of the water, and I knew then I could have her. I needed it too. After my night with that Linda chick, I had to make sure I wasn't just getting a pity fuck. If I could be with Allison, that would get me my mojo back."
Well, if her hubby finds out, it could be trouble for you," he replied. "And if he's the vindictive type, she could lose her license. They take an oath about that shit. But that isn't the problem, is it?"
Steve was great at drawing it out of me. We'd be leaving the bar very late that night, but he helped me see some things about myself.
"Dane," he said at one point. "You're a good guy. Hell, one of the best managers I've had. Mostly, your heart is in the right place. But damn, brah, you sure have a thing for getting even. That quack doc, that we beat on? He could have gone to the cops. Someone could have seen us. I still worry about that. This therapist? Different story, Dane. You liked her - had a thing for her. She didn't stand up for you while some other bitches played with your head, and you want to destroy her family. Not cool, brah."
We talked about what I should do - what I had to do - and it became clear. I had to make things right.
>>>>
Finding Rob and Allison's home was easy. Brown is a very common sir name, but right there in the phone book was "Brown, Robert, and Allison."
I parked down the street, waiting for Allison to leave for work. She'd told us at the beach how Rob worked at home a few days each week. I took a deep breath before ringing the bell. To say I was nervous would have been an understatement. After all, I'd been in Rob's shoes. That's the only reason I had the Glock in my jacket pocket.
Rob didn't know me, so when I introduced myself, he was already getting suspicious. By the time I got him to invite me in he was riled, almost as if he knew it would be bad.
"Why are you here?" he asked pensively as I sat in his living room. He stood just on the other side of the coffee table, rather than sitting.
I didn't know how to start, so I hesitated. I couldn't say something cute, like, "It's complicated," because it wasn't. With a deep sigh, I said, "This isn't going to be easy. You should probably sit."
That made things worse. He didn't like a stranger coming into his home, telling him what to do. It was a lame way to start.
"I've... Allison and... I'm here with a confession." I paused. Well, not really. I couldn't have said another word if I tried. His mind was racing and I could tell because I swear, his eyes were spinning like the reels on a slot machine. As the realization set in, they stopped, but not on a jackpot.
"What the fuck did you do?" he groaned and spat at the same time. "You and my wife, what?"
"We... I had sex with her." The rage was back in full force. I wondered if my face had been that red when it happened to me. "But you needed to know," I added. "I seduced her."
"GET THE FUCK OUT!" He screamed. Things weren't going well - nothing like I planned. I stood and turned to leave. That was a mistake, showing him my back.
"Wait!" As I turned toward him, the fireplace shovel was already upon me. It ricocheted off my shoulder and hit the side of my neck. That allowed me to reach my left arm up to block the next one. Fuck! The pain in my forearm was excruciating. I steadied myself for the next, but Rob had a different idea.
It took a second. His foot was already heading back to the floor before it started. I reached for my nuts, unable to breathe, and felt my legs crumble. Curled up in a ball of tremendous agony, I felt the metal handle hitting my back, my ribs, and my hips as I could only keep rolling.
Rob made his mistake when he dove on top of me. My face was turned toward the floor, and as I turned to look up at him, he landed a hard right hand to my mouth. While I was already in pain, he'd cut himself on one of my front teeth. It must have hurt, because he stopped momentarily. I quickly bucked him and used both arms to get him off of me.
I pulled my gun. "Stop, fucker!" I warned him, the weapon was only a few feet from his chest. I pointed it at his face for effect. "Don't you fucking move," I warned. "Goddammit," I said out loud but to myself. Now my mouth hurt worse than my balls.
"Move back, slowly," I ordered him. When he complied, I saw his worried expression. "Relax. Nobody dies here if you calm down and listen. You're gonna listen, and then I'm leaving.
"Yeah, I had sex with her," I spat some blood on his tile floor. "It shouldn't have happened, but it did. The second time shouldn't have either."
That took the tension, and any fight, out of Rob. I felt for him, I really did.
"I targeted her and laid on the charm," I told him. "That's on me, but she didn't put up a ton of resistance. If you care about her at all, you need to get her and your family away from here - away from that job. She may have been infatuated with me. But that means she could fall again. I'm telling you because you need to know. You also need to know how much she loves you and how guilty she felt afterward. Women in my experience, don't feel the guilt or embarrassment right after like Allison did. If she didn't realize immediately that she'd made a mistake or betrayed you, she wouldn't have felt like that so fast. Get her some help and see if you can forgive her over time. Shit, go get yourself laid, if necessary."
I scrambled to my feet and headed for the door, watching him sit there over my shoulder.
Allison:
It wasn't just Rob. The women in the group gave me accusatory looks when I couldn't adequately explain Dane's absence after the second week. I called Dane and asked him to return to the group sessions, but made it clear we were not going to be in the same room alone again.
I saw Barbara too. She listened without judgment, or at least she was good at keeping it hidden. Barb was not a personal friend, which made my story, my confusion, more painful. She could have reported me to the state board. Near the end of the session, she finally gave her opinion.
"I'm not going to try to tell you what to do," she said evenly. "Nor will I try to tell you why. That's for you to figure out. We both have the same degree hanging on our walls. I will say, based on what you've told me, you still have plenty to figure out, Allie. Deep in the corners of your consciousness, there was more involved with your actions.
"You know the drill. Get to a place where it feels safe and serene, then start writing. Get it all out on paper. Read it - out loud. Then burn those pages. You're not ready to confront the truth with your husband. If you can't be honest with yourself, you certainly can't be with him, and he deserves the truth.
"Beyond that," she continued. "You need to stop seeing patients. Take a sabbatical, regardless of whether your family can afford it. For sure, this group thing with Dane and the others needs to end."
I felt better when I left, but that was short-lived. After the children went to bed, Rob said we needed to talk. He brought me a glass of wine and sat across from me, not next to me. Only then, did I see the concern on his face. I saw more too and began to panic.
"Allie, I'll get right to it," he said with dismay. "I've been offered a promotion. I want to take it. It's across the country - White Plains, New York - I want you and the kids to come with me, but I'm not going to force you."
It took a bit for that to sink in. Did he somehow know about me and Dane? I wondered. I worried that my next words might also be my death sentence.
"That's wonderful, honey," I said deflecting from that last part. "Tell me about it."
Rob sighed, looked at the floor, and then he looked me dead in the eye. Regardless of my denial, and I was still there, I knew - just knew - at that moment that he knew what I'd done. He did go on to describe the events leading to his new offer, half-heartedly, and ended in a mundane, anticlimactic tone.
I told my husband that of course, the family would go with him. I swore I saw a half pitch of an eyebrow as if challenging me about who decided the fate or happiness of 'the family.' I went to him, giving him a warm hug, and he almost reciprocated. It's almost impossible to fake happiness when you're scared to death.
Two days later, I was back in Barbara's office. The dread and panic were too much to take.
"This may be a good thing, Allison," she said optimistically. "Think of it as a fresh start. You get all the new scenery and distance to help you with a clean break. That sabbatical, for instance." Barb was reflective momentarily. "However, what if he does know, or at least suspects? How will you deal with that?"
It was my turn to reflect. "I'm not entirely sure. I know for a fact that Rob's the love of my life, despite my actions with Dane. I suppose I'll dedicate myself to proving that love, even if he rejects it initially. I'll be truthful about anything and everything. I'll be committed to building a new life with him."
"Those are all the right answers, Allie," she replied. "And what if he doesn't want that, or needs to separate for a time?"
"That would make me sad," I told her, "but I wouldn't fault him. I'm also willing to wait him out until he feels he can trust me again. If he doesn't know, or if this is about something else, then I intend to deal with it once we get to our new surroundings. It's funny, in a way I'm excited about the move."
>>>>
A month later, Rob and I were hosting a bon voyage party on a Saturday afternoon. Our friends, neighbors, and a few people from Rob's work were there to send us off. The only other people there were the three women from my latest group session. Maricella and Sue brought going away gifts, but Linda did not. I worried that she had gotten closer to Dane, and perhaps he spilled the beans to her.
Around five-thirty Rob walked out of the house talking to a guest. When I heard the voice answer him behind me, I almost threw up all over the neighbor I'd been chatting with. What was he doing here? was all I could think. I turned instinctively, and there was Dane, smiling at me.
He walked right up to me and looked at the neighbor excusing himself for interrupting. He took my hand, not as a lover, but rather as a business acquaintance.
"Hello, Allison," he said warmly, placing his other hand on my forearm. "I can't stay long, but I wanted to wish you success, and much happiness in your new adventures."
I was lost for words. I'm sure my face was white or flushed. "Ah... Thanks." That was my great response.
"Sorry I've interrupted," he replied releasing his touch on me. "I'm going to go say hi to the group."
I turned and locked eyes with Rob, who was directly behind me. That's when I almost passed out. I hastily excused myself, claiming I had to use the ladies' room. There's no way Rob wouldn't know I was in there a long time for a potty break.
Forty minutes later, Dane came back over, bid me farewell, and walked toward the house with my husband. Minutes later I heard a familiar car engine start and walked over to the gate. I got there in time to see my car driving away. I turned and there was Rob again. I had no words and simply stared at him. I couldn't imagine what was happening.
"I sold Dane your car," he said with little to no emotion.
"What? Why?" I asked in a stupor, trying to understand if I'd heard him correctly.
"Because you don't need it and he did." Was his simple answer. Then he turned his back on me when I didn't have anything immediate to say and walked away. He knew. Dane told him, or he found out and went to confront Dane. I almost called off the move. I've never been more frightened in my entire life. I was frozen in place and my body didn't want to do anything.
Finally, I went back to the party and pretended that my life wasn't unraveling until everyone left. Rob seemed pleased with himself and I caught a few smirks when our eyes met.
Later in bed, I waited for my husband with dread. He never arrived and I was too petrified to go looking. If I got two hours of sleep that night, It was a lot. The next morning I was in my small office, gathering my personal belongings. I stared at that damned couch for quite some time, cursing it and my stupidity. The movers were coming later that afternoon, and I had to stop off at our doctor's office and the kids' school to finalize some things.
Two days later, we were in Rob's car, driving through Bryce Canyon, Utah. The kids had fallen asleep in the back, probably a combination of boredom and a lack of sleep the previous night. They had been acting out, either because of the abrupt move, or their parents being so off, or both.
I was staring out the passenger window. The trip had been very quiet between me and Rob. I decided it was time. We had at least another four-day drive, with the kids in tow, and I wouldn't be able to take it.
"So you talked with Dane," I said turning towards him. It wasn't framed as a question.
Rob let out a nervous breath. "Allie, the kids." He said without looking at me.
"They're asleep," I quickly responded. "If they wake up, we'll stop and continue later tonight."
Another sigh, and then Rob took first his left hand, then his right, and wiped them on his pants. He'd been white-knuckling the steering wheel.
"Yeah, I spoke to Dane," he finally answered. "Even before he came to see me, I think I knew. I knew something was horribly wrong."
So, Dane did initiate the contact. I had to find out how bad it was. Before I could though, he continued.
"Why, Allie?" His voice breaking made me break with him - for him. "That's all I need to know. Why would you do something like that to me? I can't imagine that you still love me, although Dane was adamant that you do."
"What did he say to..." I began.
"No!" Rob's volume rose as he interrupted. "You don't get to ask questions. You answer me. Tell me why, Allie, or we can drive in silence and go for a divorce when we get there."
I realized then the precarious perch I'd put myself on. Rob was a loving man, a calm, rational, and even-keeled man. Just then, I understood the pain. His eyes looked dead. If I screwed up - said the wrong thing - I or all of us could be in real trouble.
"I don't know, Rob," I said in the most passive voice I could. "If I did, you would have heard it from me first. I've thought of almost nothing since, and I still can't answer, at least not one I'm satisfied with."
Rob relaxed a bit. I guess he knew me as well as I knew him. "Okay," he went on. "The second time then. Why did you go back to the well a second fucking time?"
"That's the thing I'm most ashamed of," I said right away. "I know how bad it looks because it's just that bad to me. If it had been you, that's what I'd want to know. That's the thing I might not be able to get past." I allowed a sniffle, but I held back the tears. He deserved answers - honest ones - not a sobbing wife.
"Some things will be changing when we get to White Plains," he was more stoic and controlled now. I knew he was about to lay out his demands.
"First," he continued, "I've set up three appointments with therapists for you. You can choose the best one, and you'll figure out 'why' or we're finished."
He paused to see if I'd object. When I didn't, he kept at it. "Dane told me he seduced you. I'm not sure I can buy that. He's five years younger than you for Christ's sake and he's your patient. I'm not sure what to believe, but he seemed sincere. He told me that he wasn't some Casanova, so we must have issues in our marriage. My biggest issue with you is, if you can fall that easily with him, what happens the next time? He suggested a change of scenery. I think he was suggesting a cruise or something. I wanted to kill him, Allie. I've never felt like that before. It took every fiber of my being not to kill him. Later, I realized that if he was telling the truth, then I needed to get us as far away from everything as possible. Your job, those people, our home. So, I made some calls and talked to my boss."
Rob was right about everything he said, which left me silent but listening intently. All except the seducing, that is. There would be time for me to correct that later.
"Second," he said with more urgency, "There's something I need to do if we're going to try to make this work." His long pause sent a chill through me. "My old college girlfriend lives south of Buffalo."
He stopped again as if wanting me to figure out what that meant. I knew, but wanted to make him say it, so I just stared questioningly into his eyes.
"You know me, Allie," he said quieter. "I have the capacity for forgiveness. For compassion, and perhaps even grace, but I need certain things as a man, in order to grant those things. My ego and I suppose my pride have taken a big hit here. If we have any chance at all, I'll first need to be able to get the images of you two out of my head. Do you understand?"
I was a licensed therapist, so of course I did. It didn't mean I had to like it.
"Please, Rob," I almost begged, "I don't think I could hand..."
"Too bad, wife," he snarled. "You need to feel what I feel. But this isn't about some twisted revenge. We can't move forward if you don't understand my feelings, and I need to get my self-esteem back. Once we're on more even footing, and you can delve into the root causes for what happened, then we can try to rebuild a life. The past is simply that, for me anyway. There's no going back to what we had."
I couldn't help but bawl. Knowing what he was saying, and the calm, yet resentful way he explained, sent my mind reeling. The reality in those few words stung. That we might indeed be finished, and any chance for a future would be based on a new relationship, brought the angst to the surface where it morphed into profound sadness. I had ruined the most beautiful thing in my life.
When you know - deep down how someone feels about you, someone very important to you - what is their absolute opinion of you, and then you do something to radically change that opinion, it hurts. I felt physically ill sitting there. My brain hurt and so did my heart. The pressure in my chest felt like I might have a heart attack. I knew it was simply my tensed muscles, but I decided to bask in that pain. It was the least I could do at that moment for the man I loved.
"Whatever it takes, Rob," I replied. "You've given me a new lease, so to speak, and I love you too much not to do everything I can and more to prove it."
He made a noise under his breath and refocused on the highway. I'm not religious and hadn't been to church since I was a kid, but staring at my husband then, I said a thank you prayer in my head.
>>>>
The first week in our new life was hectic. The movers arrived two days after we did and started to bring things in. I had to register the kids at school since we were almost a month behind. They at least seemed to get through the craziness okay.
After that, I immediately made appointments with the therapists. I settled on Haley Whelan. She was a very heavy lady which sort of turned me off, but her manner was 'no-nonsense,' and that was just what I needed.
Over time, she helped me understand that I had indeterminately allowed my deep need to help Dane mesh with my desire for his charisma. While placing the blame squarely on my shoulders, she also hinted that Dane could likely be an infant predator - a young version of the middle-aged, debonaire, hunter, that we all saw portrayed in the movies. Haley was hard on me, and that was because not only was I her client, but it was her responsibility to help ensure therapist-to-therapist that it would never happen with me again.
Nothing about our life in White Plains was easy. I hated the weather. Just going to the downtown area after dropping the kids at school was an exercise. Everyone was so different from the people in California. All that village stuff we learned in psych school was a crock. They judged me openly with their eyes. It took me a week to realize it was my clothing that brought on the looks. I had to get a new wardrobe. And that was the least of it.
At home, it was worse. Rob was working long hours at his new job. We decided - well, he told me - that I was going to be a stay-at-home mother for a while, at least until I worked through my issues with the therapist. I felt lost, and often worthless. Many times, I thought about throwing in the towel. Then I would think about Rob and what he must be going through - we didn't discuss what happened or even talk much - all the hurt and feelings of betrayal. The strength it took for him to rearrange our entire lives and to work toward forgiveness.
I never knew if he kept good on his promise to screw his old lover. If it happened, it must have been on a long business lunch, because Rob was always otherwise where he was supposed to be. Over time, the anxiety I had about it faded. I decided that if he could get his man card back, then it was better for our relationship in the long run.
It was three-and-a-half months after the move before Rob relented to intimacy. I say 'relented' because I was a dutiful wife and dressed to please his senses. It wasn't pretty either. Rob kept going soft, and then hard and soft again. That soon became an elephant in the room, and we ended up cuddling. I could see his heart wasn't into that either, but I held onto him for dear life.
We tried again two weeks later. I put on some of our favorite music, on low volume, along with some candles. Of course, he knew what I was up to, but things got better. We still couldn't complete intercourse. Weeks later, Rob came to a counseling session with me - his first. That was when he learned what the therapist and I had discovered together.
After the kids were tucked in, Rob and I sat down and had our first meaningful conversation in a long time. He didn't seem to expect me to throw myself at his mercy, so we just talked like two adults. I saw him wince at a few statements, but he plowed through. I sat in wonder about the strong, self-controlled man I'd married.
Later, we made love. It was a long time coming for both of us. We still had plenty of apprehensions, but we were healing, my spirit was uplifted, and it gave me the strength needed to put everything I had into our marriage - something I realized I'd taken for granted in the months leading up to my encounter with Dane.
Rob forgave but never forgot. I gladly took that. Things could have been so much worse for all of us. I never spoke to Dane again. After the kids started junior high, I went back to work - as a forensic psychologist for the county.
The children are grown now, and Rob and I are planning to retire next year. I've booked a surprise Caribbean cruise for us. I love and respect my husband more today than when we first met. Not many men that I've encountered over the years - both within my practice or outside of it - would have had the courage or the foresight to do what Rob did, certainly not being so level-headed while going through the five stages of grief.
Besides being my husband, Rob is a person after whom I've tried to model myself. He taught me things I never learned in school - any school. Things like compassion, grace, and virtue, while still standing firmly on his morals. He led our marriage with all those things - from a place of loving strength, not an iron fist. I try to emulate them with the children, grandchildren, and of course my patients.
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Posted on : Mar 29, 2025
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