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(for J. with so much love)

“There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.”

–Sir Francis Bacon

I’d like to start this story by telling you a little about myself.

My name is Tori, and I’m 48.

I’m a mom. My daughter is 23, and she’s my angel, my everything, and my support system.

I live alone in a small apartment in Bay City, Texas.

It’s hard living alone.

I’m not your average woman. I suffer from bipolar depression. All my life I have felt so very different from other people, so irrevocably alone and haunted by an eternal, ineffable sense of sadness and yearning. I cry a lot, and I’m extremely sensitive.

I’m also very overweight. I have an extremely addictive personality and I’ve had drug issues in the past, as well.

And I’ve been single for decades. In fact, I’ve only had one romantic relationship in my entire life, and that was when I was married to my daughter’s father. He was a good guy, but we were very young. I left him after only 18 months of marriage.

But it seems like he was the only man who ever loved me, I guess.

Most people crave and dream of having one thing more than anything else in their lives. That one thing differs from person to person. Some people want money. Some people desire fame. Others just search for simple peace of mind.

Me, I always wanted love. A man who cared about me as much as I cared about him.

I can’t remember not feeling this way. Even as a young girl I dreamed of finding a romantic relationship. I used to get painful crushes on male celebrities. My first crush was when I was 11 years old and saw “The Goonies” for the first time. After I left the movie theater I couldn’t stop thinking about Corey Feldman. I mooned over his pictures in magazines and cried because I knew I would never get the chance to meet him.

I don’t know if my morbid preoccupation with the male sex had anything to do with my upbringing. My parents divorced when I was 6, and my dad vanished from my life.

I suppose I desperately long for the male love and affection I never received.

Basically, I have always been obsessed with men, and I become infatuated extremely easily. At the drop of a hat, really. I even love the sound of male pronouns, he, him.

His.

I worship the symbols of the father. And I have always believed that the chronic hole in my soul could and would only be filled by the right male partner, and nothing else.

*

“Come in, Tori,” Dr. Jacob Sanderson says.

I pick up my purse and lift myself slowly from the waiting room chair. I’ve gained so much weight lately it feels difficult to walk today.

That’s the problem with antidepressants. They make you voraciously hungry.

My heart is already beating fast.

Or perhaps fluttering.

I make my way into Dr. Sanderson’s office. With every effort I try to sink gracefully into the therapeutic sofa.

Dr. Sanderson takes his chair opposite me.

“So, Tori. How are things going with you lately?”

I have been seeing Dr. Sanderson for about six months now.

After our initial meeting six months ago, I came home and looked him up on Facebook. I found his profile and sent him a message via Facebook Messenger:

“Dear Dr. Sanderson,

I truly and deeply apologize for this intrusion upon and violation of your privacy. Please forgive me for this. But I felt an undeniable urgency to reach out to you. Maybe you will understand why when I tell you what I need to tell you.

In our first session I touched upon my fixation with men. But I probably didn’t fully illustrate my issues with them. When I have an object of affection I never fail to ruminate upon him excessively and obsessively. It’s a problem I’ve never been able to conquer, unless he is removed from my life completely. I don’t know if it is possibly an addiction to limerence (forgive me, I don’t really know what I’m talking about) and the mere neuro-chemicals of infatuation or…

Let me iterate strongly that in no way did you invite this in me. I can’t say how professional you are, how brilliant and learned and capable a therapist. I in no way meant for this to happen nor wanted it to. I simply find you extremely physically beautiful and appealing and have found that since our initial meeting I can’t stop thinking about you. I realize that I have done some type of transference already and it can’t be good for therapy.

This is going to break my heart. I feel like you are the answer to my prayers as a therapist. But I suppose these deeper and inappropriate feelings for you would negate our visits and possible progress. I suppose I am going to lose you as a therapist. I understand if this is the only natural and possible repercussion of my innermost feelings for you.

Again, please forgive me for intruding into your personal life like this. I’m finding it uncomfortable to deal with these feelings again. The thoughts about you are excessive and intrusive, and it’s difficult to do anything else. If this means that we need to end our eryaman eve gelen escort professional relationship, believe me I understand completely.

Thank you for what you did for me alone during our initial visit. I’ve stayed sober, and I feel this has greatly been inspired by you.

Again I am so sorry for this. Have a good evening.

Sincerely,

Tori Spencer”

But Dr. Sanderson didn’t fire me as a patient. He did block me on Facebook, but he didn’t fire me.

I remember what happened the next visit with him.

He led me into his office. I sat down on the sofa.

Immediately I said, “Dr. Sanderson, I’m so very sorry for what I wrote to you. It was extremely impulsive on my part. Please forgive me. I’m hoping I can still be your patient.”

He didn’t smile, but his beautiful face was kind and softened and understanding.

“I’m glad you recognize that your action was impulsive, Tori. But I’m not going to fire you as a patient. I admit I am flattered. You of course must understand that you and I share a professional relationship, and that is all it can ever be. And I’m attached, of course. If you can refrain from being intrusive into my personal life and realize the reality of our situation and not have issues with it, I am fine with continuing to counsel you.”

The relief I felt was immense.

But I noticed after every session that I couldn’t stop thinking about Dr. Sanderson. And sometimes I would be thinking about him, and suddenly hot tears would begin sliding down my cheeks.

You should get a female therapist, I thought to myself.

But no. I couldn’t.

I knew I was crazy. But it didn’t change the fact I was in love.

With Dr. Jacob Sanderson.

Dr. Jacob.

Jacob.

*

When I sit across from you

I am lost in your strength and grace,

Your elegance and wit.

I grow lost in the warm, dark caverns

Of your eyes that, like your words

And the surroundings I find myself in,

Promise the ultimate gift of sanctuary.

I find myself hungering for the paths

Only you can take me down.

But I also itch to touch you, to wrap

Myself in your arms. And now

I cannot seize thinking about you.

When something is hard to do

I tell myself, Do it for him.

I know you will never be mine,

But perhaps I can dream of a day when

I might find someone just like you.

I didn’t mean to commit such a sin.

I pray I don’t lose you because of it.

*

Why does it feel so beautiful?

You make me feel exhilarated.

So alive.

You’re older than me.

I just… I just want to curl into you.

Put my head on your chest.

You’re so tall,

I know you would make me feel

So deliciously small.

Inferior and vulnerable,

The way I yearn to feel.

You’re hauntingly beautiful.

Your features aren’t perfect, but it only

Makes you more beautiful, somehow.

And you have the most beautiful smile.

When you smile at me,

I feel giddy as a school girl.

Even your large, beautiful hands…

I can’t think of another word

To describe it all

Except beautiful.

And this beautiful, soft burning

That I feel for you…

I have to never say a word again.

Because you’re not mine

And never will be.

But now I know exactly what I want

In someone.

I want him to wear glasses.

I want him to have your humor,

Your compassion.

That sparkle in his eye.

Thank you for that.

*

What is it that feels so different about today?

Maybe it’s because, of all days to have a therapy appointment, it’s Valentine’s Day.

Understandably, I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with the holiday. All my ache for love and romance and male affection culminates on this particular day, but my prayers are never answered.

Still, I am in a surprisingly good mood. I try to ignore the fact that it’s because I get to see Dr. Sanderson.

But I’ve been in the habit of buying myself a new dress every couple of weeks (to say it’s not for him would be lying), and I’m wearing my newest purchase. It’s a floor-length spaghetti strap number with a black and red floral pattern and white calla lilies at the hem. I’m wearing the new expensive perfume I ordered from English Laundry. It smells so delicious, so sensual and warm. I’ve curled my hair into a loose chignon with small tendrils delicately framing my face.

I look… As pretty as I can look.

Now I fold my hands gently in my lap in Dr. Sanderson’s office.

“I guess things are pretty much the same…” I begin to tell him.

Our session goes by as it usually does. The sweet back and forth, inside jokes. I have to keep continual focus on the conversation so I don’t lose myself in his deep, warm brown eyes behind his glasses. When he talks, his answers to my questions are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally falling into place–he has been able to provide answers for bala escort me that no other therapist has. He is so brilliant, so educated, so good at what he does, he knows and understands me like the back of his hand.

You’re like God to me, I think.

I try to ignore the other voice inside my head. It’s his job, you crazy idiot.

As the time goes by, I realize that our session will soon be over.

No, I suddenly think.

I will have to go back home afterwards, I realize.

Back to myself.

Back to the pain. The aloneness. The emptiness.

Back to nothing.

I want to cry, but I won’t let myself. Not today, despite the fact I have cried many times over my issues during our sessions. I don’t want to ruin the delicate makeup I applied so painstakingly this morning.

I’ll cry in private. Where he won’t see me.

Just wait, I think to myself. Wait until the session is over.

Only then will I let myself feel.

*

The session is over. I’m preparing to leave and forcing back my tears with every ounce of strength I have in me.

It’s then that Dr. Sanderson takes me by surprise.

“Tori, there’s something serious I need to talk to you about. Can you stay here just for a moment?”

Oh no, I think to myself. He’s finally going to fire me as a patient. I’ve done something wrong, said something wrong. Or his caseload is too full and he has to let me go. Something… Something is just very, very wrong.

I don’t know how to react when he gets up and walks to the door, closing it softly and locking it behind him.

My eyes notice for the first time that the parking lot is empty through the window. Everyone has gone home for the day.

I was his last patient.

Suddenly I realize that Dr. Sanderson has always been right about something.

He once said, “You know, Tori. You don’t really know the person I truly am. There are qualities you like in me that you desire to find in a partner of your own. But I’m really like a blank slate for you. A tabula rasa, if you will. You can paint your desires and dreams on my statue. But you only know a side of me that I show at work. You might not like the real me. You might not like Jacob.”

Those same words came rushing back to me now.

And I wondered…

Is this man going to kill me?

Is this man whom I believed I was infatuated with and whom I have longed for desperately for six months now going to murder me in his own therapy office?

Dr. Sanderson quickly returns to his chair in front of me.

“Tori, I don’t know an easy way to tell you what I need to tell you,” he begins to say.

Oh no, I think. My worst fears are going to come true. At least, he’s not going to kill me. He is just going to leave me. Just like my dad did when I was so young.

I remember being 6 years old and playing with my Barbies alone and thinking to myself, Where is Daddy? Where did he go? I guess he doesn’t ever want to see me again. I guess he has gone away forever…

But then why did Dr. Sanderson feel the need to close and lock the door? Just what is going on here?

“Tori,” he begins again, more slowly and methodically, and his face seems somewhat pained.

God, I think to myself. Just let me have it. Let me know I am being abandoned so that I can leave this place and never come back and go home and cry and sob over you, the most wonderful, beautiful, unforgettable man I have ever met in my life.

My therapist. My mentor.

My father figure.

My love.

Suddenly, he looks up. His eyes lock with mine behind their glasses.

“Tori, I’m going to have to let you go as a patient. I’m going to have to refer you to someone else.”

I hold my breath, trying not to break down and weep. Just get through it, I think. It will soon be over. Even though it feels like my world is crashing down around me.

“Tori, the reason I can’t counsel you anymore is because… Well, I’m in love with you.”

My heart seems to stop beating in my chest.

What? Did I hear him correctly? Is all this a… A dream?

“J-Jacob,” I stutter, speaking his first name in our conversation for the very first time. Its sound surprises me on my lips. “Is this some type of joke?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No, Tori, it’s not a joke,” he says in a deathly serious tone. “Over the course of our therapy sessions, the more I have come to know you as a person, the more I have found myself pulled to you as a love interest. You see, I’m as infatuated with you as you are with me,Tori. I never forgot that letter you sent me on Facebook. I had to block you, of course, but I saved your message… I was attracted to you from the very beginning, and my attraction has only grown deeper as I’ve gotten to know you so deeply and thoroughly. And I don’t trust myself around you anymore. I can’t deny my feelings for you any longer. Because every time I look at your face, I just want… I just want… To kiss you.”

My world has stopped revolving. A feeling is hurtling its way towards me, and I’m scared because etimesgut escort I don’t know what it is. But it’s threatening to overtake my entire body and soul.

“Jacob,” I hear myself say from somewhere far away, lost and searching as if he might know the answer to my question of what this foreign emotion is thundering its lightning path towards me. And suddenly I realize what it is.

It’s happiness.

Joy.

It’s such a strange, bewildering feeling that I don’t know how to handle it, or quite what to do with it yet.

“Tori,” I hear Jacob say softly, and his voice sounds strained and pained with some unknown emotion. “Come here. Now.” His forceful tone sends a delicious little thrill through me. Because it’s what I’ve yearned for all my life.

To be dominated and fully taken by a man I love.

I can only obey him. I lift myself up off the sofa and make my way slowly towards him. I’m standing up, and he’s still seated. But he is so tall that we are still almost at eye level with each other. He shuts his eyes. Then he opens them. They are like two black storms of churning emotion.

“Put your hands on my face,” he whispers. I obey his command once more. His skin is baby soft, and yet I can feel the afternoon stubble underneath my fingertips. It’s electrifying to be so near him, touching him like this.

“Kiss me, Tori. Do it so that I don’t have to.”

I lean in to kiss him. But I’m like a wary animal. I still don’t trust the situation. It has to be some crazy, mixed-up dream. Some strange distortion in reality.

But I keep going. I’m helpless to.

I’ve never known what he smelled like before. But now that I’m this close to him I can make out the sweet, woodsy, deliciously male scent of his sandalwood cologne. We begin to kiss, teasingly at first, tantalizing each other. My tongue reaches out to taste his lips. I have never tasted anything sweeter in my life. He tastes like sweet wine and something so hauntingly, wonderfully masculine.

Jacob reaches out to remove the clip from my hair, running his hands through my loose tresses. He deepens the kiss, and suddenly I feel his tongue in my mouth.

It’s almost too much for me to bear. I feel like my legs are going to buckle underneath me. “Jacob,” I whisper into the sweet, warm interior of his mouth, pleading with him.

He doesn’t miss a step.

“Go back to the sofa, Tori.” He follows me to the sofa, my hand clasped in his. “Lie down for me.”

I do as he asks. His hand caresses my forehead as if to soothe me.

“I want to make love to you, Tori. May I?”

“Yes,” I whisper in response.

“Then let me see you. You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment. And I could never let you know. Not until now.”

I’m not wearing a bra or panties underneath my dress today. The weather has been too hot.

Jacob kneels before me and pulls down the straps of my dress with an agonizing slowness. My body is on fire for him. I have never wanted a man this badly in my entire life. In fact, everything I have ever wanted and dreamed of seems to be contained in this man before me who is now slowly, gently revealing my large breasts, swollen with arousal, for his viewing.

“I, I,” I begin to stammer self-consciously again, lost in sensation. “I always thought I would be too fat for you.”

He laughs, and the sound is pure music to my ears. But his face and voice grow serious again. “Hush,” he breathes sensuously. “I’ve always loved your luscious curves. You drive me mad with your perfume, the clothes you wear…”

I’ve never known anything so effortless, so right as that which is happening between us. It’s like a dance, and Jacob knows every right step, every correct movement that just falls into perfect place and takes my breath away.

He finally leans down to take one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, and I gasp. The pleasure shoots straight to my core, and I moan his name and entwine my hands in his soft, dark hair, urging him on and pulling him closer. He gives my nipple lavish attention, then moves to my other nipple and begins to suck there, gently but firmly.

By this time I am crazed with lust, feeling like I’m on the verge of climax from his ministrations to my breasts alone.

He lifts his face from me and stares deeply into my eyes. “I need to see the rest of you, Tori.”

I can only give silent assent as Jacob lifts my dress, and I helplessly bare myself to him, opening my legs, my most secret place pulsating with need and an already slick feeling of lubrication.

I ache desperately to feel him inside me.

“Please, Jacob,” I say. “Please put yourself inside me now. I’m ready. I’m already on the verge of–“

“No,” he says, placing one of his long, elegant fingers on my lips, shushing me once more. “We have so much time for that. So much time. Let me have you the way I’ve wanted to, and for so long.”

The world seems to turn upside down as I feel his mouth at my innermost place. I hold my breath as his own heated breath fans against me. He is tasting my folds, so gently, delicately. But the pleasure is too much when his tongue encircles my little quivering bud, and I can’t help but immediately burst and release violently into his mouth. I tremble and he steadies me with his arms. He lifts himself above me and towers over me.

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