Just as she was about to leave, Cass watched him get on his knees and place his hands on his lap, one over the other.
"Anything you tell me to, Cassandra." He followed her every movement, his eyes jumping around her face, looking for any sign of wha...
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The early December chill crawled over Cass' skin even through the long black coat she was wearing.
Tiny snowflakes kissed her face and landed on her phone, melting onto the screen.
She'd seen 17 therapists over the last week and a half and none of them were good enough. Scrolling to the bottom of the list with crossed-off names, she looked at today's victim.
Thomas Fischer. Kink-aware psychotherapist.
He seemed like a good fit from what she could tell by reading his reviews and profile online, but the previous 17 had seemed like a good fit, too.
She was happy to be doing this, knowing that if Ent had to do it himself, he'd never in his life see a therapist.
Her heeled boots thudded on the polished tiles as she entered the building. Ent would like it here. It was decorated in a dark industrial style, similar to the decor at the bar.
There was a small front space with a receptionist and two side tables with puffy pleather armchairs on each side of each table.
The small hallway to the left of the receptionist's counter led to three dark blue doors with small golden nameplates on them. Out of the three therapists here, Dr. Fischer was the only one who branded himself as a kink-aware specialist and she wouldn't have settled for anything less.
So she'd just googled the other two to make sure they weren't fascist or neo-n*zi.
"Hello," she greeted the receptionist as she walked up to the tall counter. "I have a 4 PM appointment with Dr. Thomas Fischer."
"Hi, welcome!" the guy smiled widely, typing something on his computer. "I've just let him know and he's asked that you go into his office. Down the hall, last door to the right."
He pointed to the hallway and then curled his wrist outward to show the direction. Germans and their hand gestures, I swear to God.
She knocked and walked in when his voice sounded from the other side of the door.
"Hi, I'm Cassandra," she walked to his desk and shook his hand.
"Hello, Cassandra. If you'd like to sit on the couch over here, we can get to know each other."
She placed her bag next to the leg of the couch and draped her coat over the backrest.
"So, I'd like to start by explaining what kind of therapy I practice here."
"Client-centered therapy, yes," she nodded. "I read your website and I've been to therapy in the past so I know what that entails. It's actually one of the reasons I chose to book with you."
"Right," he nodded and wrote something down. "I'm glad to see a proactive client."
