Sex Therapy

Ch. 1 - Nothin But Fuckin Problems

There's nothing worse....than opening a mail and to read a letter, typed with words of a warning, a warning that just clearly states, if you don't pay back your loans, your own checks could get taken and you can never get a tax refund. The credit score could be ruined and there's a high chance of drowning in debt. Harry refused to have that happen to him. He tore up the letter into pieces, brushing it out of his lap and onto the floor. "Fuck....fuck. What am I supposed to do?"

He didn't think that borrowing over $20,000 in student loans would have this type of consequence but he's thankful that he's got his master's degree. Graduating and managing to find a job, being a psychologist. The salary is good but not good enough for his taste and the bills, ridiculous. He even tried resorting to an apartment from a condo. It's easier, especially when your living by yourself. No roommates, no problems and no bullshit

"What... what can I do?" He could try bringing in more patients, which could circulate word about his work, like an advertisement to help his business or a billboard near the highway might work. But, of course that means more money. More money to pay for more advertisements. He pounded his fist on the wall as he got up from his bed. "Fuck! Aah!" He might have fractured his fist and now he has to explain the injured hand to his supervisor but who gives a shit? Harry has got problems.

****

"I'm sorry but we can't help you, Mr. Styles. I highly suggest you go to a credit counselor or better yet, file for bankruptcy." A tanned, older man with salt and pepper hair and an incredibly large mustache, sat in his leather, executive chair and his face settled in a smug expression; Harry found it quite annoying and wanted to slap the look off the old man's face.

"Bankruptcy? I can't do that. That would take too much time or ruined me." Harry doesn't know how this debate will go on but he has to win if he wants to consolidate for his debt. "Please, I'm begging you to help me." It didn't seem as though Harry were begging, physically but verbally, he think he is.
"Please, Mr. Logan, I need help. I'm desperate." He tried to sound as sincere as possible but apparently the bank teller wasn't going for it.

"I apologize deeply, Mr. Styles but I can't help you. We just can't settle for the amount you owe. If you don't agree with the route of filing for bankruptcy, then maybe it's best if you get a second job."

"What!" Harry palmed his mouth after shouting in a hushed environment. "Sorry...sorry. I already have a job and it's quite a handful. I have bills, I have the loans to pay off and...other things. Now, I have to settle in another job?"

Mr. Logan moved closer to Harry, attempting his best to reassure his bewildered customer and regular subscriber. "Try to budget, cut some things off. That's all of the options I could think of for you."
Harry nodded and got up from the chair in front of Mr. Logan's desk, patted down his own casual shirt and suede jacket. It's his own way of exiting with class and grace; to dust off the negatives. He just simply said: "Thank you. Have a nice day."
Logan almost believed the fake smile that Harry gave him until he heard a distant "Fuck your options" as Harry walked away and out of the bank.

****

Tomorrow is Monday; a day of work. The tasks of listening to other people's problems and diagnosing their underlying issues then a coffee break, slight flirting with the assistant/receptionist, some small thoughts of fucking the hell out of the young, pretty dark haired girl, finish the coffee, complete paperwork then move on to next client.

That is on repeat for seven hours. Harry could stand it some days and some days, he can't. There's an itching feeling he has that he can't itch, Tomorrow will be different. How? Why?
He can't clarify it so he gets drunk tonight. He invited his friend, Zoe, to a club so he won't be alone, just in case he doesn't get play from any women or men he has interest in.

"What about her?" Zoe asked, sipping straight from the beer bottle while Harry sips on a grey goose martini, sitting at the bar.
Harry's eyes followed to where Zoe pointed and his head instantly shook side to side. "She wouldn't be....she wouldn't like me." His slurring is almost noticeable and Zoe giggled at his demeanor.

"Of course she wouldn't like you if you're drinking like a twinklet."

"Fuck you, Zoe."

"You wish, sweetheart. Too bad, I go for my own team." Zoe patted his back then leaves to converse with the girl she had her eye on.

After a few minutes, Zoe and the strange girl are already making out, slowly and softly grinds to the music, being in their own little lesbian world. Harry is a little jealous of Zoe's game and ability to meet any kind of woman and to turn her out. Perhaps the strange girl is really drunk or just don't give a fuck; either way it annoys Harry.

He orders his fifth drink for the night and the room becomes faintly hazy, the music is slower and the people around him look more beautiful and handsome. He doesn't know where his friend is and he doesn't care. He just wants to have sex.

He's tried sparking up conversations with anyone standing near him but they all ignored him or rejected him. He decided to end the night by going home.

****

Zoe struggled to get Harry out of the taxi and up into his apartment. He's singing, belching loudly and grabbing onto her. She certainly can't wait to put him to bed. "I'm in the mood....to fuck you." Harry sings, tapping his index finger on her nose. He giggles after that, nearly falling to the floor.

"Yeah, I bet you are." She remarks, rolling her eyes.

They make it to his floor of the apartment building and she manages to get his keys, unlocking the door, escorting him inside then closes the door with the heel of her foot.

"Okay, in bed we go..." She drags him to his bedroom, gently pushing him on the bed. "I have to go. I love you. If you have to throw up...." She puts the trash bin closer to the bed. "There it is, okay?" She kiss him on the forehead, then gave him a small hug.

"Wait, Zoe." Harry's eyes are glossy and red, full of lust. "Can I fuck you?"

She laughs softly, huffing at Harry. "No, dear. I like pussy. And you sir, don't have one."

Harry pouts, making it dramatically obvious. "That's racist."

She laughs at him once again. Harry always says something ridiculous and she could have an honest good laugh because of him. "Race has nothin' to do with it, Harry you're drunk and you need to go to sleep"

"Can we kiss? Just one." He bites his bottom lip, looking her up and down, then to her lips. She has full, plump lips and he wants to test them, only if she lets him.

She seemed to consider it, making a grimaced expression then sat down on the bed next to Harry. "Alright. One kiss wouldn't hurt." She places her hands on either side his face, and Harry puts his hand on her thigh, savoring this little moment with his lesbian, black friend.

It's long and slow kiss, very enjoyable. He loved how she took control, using her tongue to search his mouth and biting on his bottom lip. Obviously, she's dominant and that turns Harry on.

His cock is getting harder as she moans in the kiss. "Lesbian, huh?" He asks, breaking the kiss. She smiles and then reconnects their lips.

Zoe giggles, shifting her body closer to Harry. This is a good time to make the move, he thought. He removes her right hand from his face, bringing it down to touch the outline of his cock.

The kiss suddenly stops as she stands awkwardly, staring down at Harry. "That was a great kiss. Good night."

"Fuck, you're leaving me dry like this?"

"You did that to yourself." She says on her way out. Harry heard the door slam shut and he fell back onto the bed, ignoring his erection and wonders, why can't I get laid?