Therapy (ADULT CONTENT 18+)

Therapy

Therapy

August 1, 2009 

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I did not write this. Link in bio
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It wasn’t possible to mistake her. The woman who pushed through the glass doors and entered the coffee shop looked exactly like her photograph. This was a relief. Philip had gone to a number of first meetings only to discover these women had sent him pictures of someone completely different. Ironically, what they looked like, within reason, didn’t matter to him, but they’d broken the only rule he insisted upon – honesty.

The woman who’d just arrived crossed over to coffee counter and ordered a drink. Then, she turned around and began to scan the room.

She’d been overly modest. The woman waiting at the counter was not nearly as plain as she had claimed to be. In her photograph – a head and shoulder shot – the auburn hair had been pulled back off her face, but she wore it loose now, a mane that tumbled down her back in shining curls. Her skin was very fair – the kind that would burn quickly in the sun. She wore a knee length black overcoat, a burgundy cardigan beneath it, and a pleated black skirt. Philip suspected that she was one of those people who felt the cold acutely. Despite the opaque stockings, he could see that she had lovely legs, and her feet were encased in neat, black pumps with a depressingly sensible heel.

The young man behind the counter handed her the drink but she remained at the counter still scanning the room. It wasn’t polite to let her stand there searching for him, but it was hard to resist the pleasure of watching her, before everything changed with their introduction. Reluctantly Philip walked to the bar.

“Are you Jill?”

She smiled nervously. “Yes! Philip?”

“Indeed.” He held out his hand and she took it. Her small hand was cold and shook slightly as he grasped it. “Shall we sit down?”

“Oh, yes. Please.”

She wasn’t just nervous; she was frightened – frightened of him. It hurt him a little inside to think of any woman being scared of him in this way, even if he understood that the world was sometimes a nasty place and it was a stupid woman who didn’t think twice before meeting a stranger off the internet.

He had left a post on the personals message board. He was careful to word it in a non-aggressive way but equally careful to be clear about what he was looking for. He’d posted his own photograph on the message itself. He wanted to be scrupulously honest about who he was and felt that he deserved the same in return.

Once seated, she looked down at her paper cup and picked at the label with her nail. She gave a small smile and said, “I’m not quite sure what to say. I’ve never done this before. I… I don’t know…”

“Jill? Look at me.” She lifted her eyes hesitantly. “I’m sorry this is such an awkward situation. I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t understand how hard it is for you. Okay?”

She nodded and inhaled. “Okay.”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

She nodded energetically. “Yes. I am. I really am.”

“I could tell you that you have no reason to be, that I am exactly who I say I am and want exactly what I’ve said I want, but you’re smart – it wouldn’t make any difference.”

He lay his hand, palm up, on the table’s surface. She looked at it, then at him, then back at his hand. Hesitating visibly, she lowered her hand on top of his and let it sit there. Philip could feel how cold it was, his own warmth leached away to fill her. He curled his fingers gently.