(Tina handed Bette the gift box. Bette ripped off the paper and opened the boxTina knelt down in front of Bette and took her face in her hands. I have fallen in love with you again, Bette. Were so different this time. The bond is stronger, two equal parts coming together to join as one. Im ready to give you my heart again. I love you babylets go upstairs — its time to make some new memories.

After all these months Ive thought of you often. You are the one that touched me when I was alone and pleasured myself. You make me so wet. This is for you Bette, taste me again, be mine forever.: CHANGING PLACES . . . Chasemenow)

So it aint so Chase, so it aint so . . . You are killing me with this stuff. How can any read that story from the beginning and not be so totally hooked on your words. You make me stupid for all things BnT, Chase. Your words tear my heart out – the story was so different, so compelling way before some of this new addictive stuff.. And you are writing another? You are killing me Chase and I dont know how to thank you.)


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I am still lying on the living room sofa, 18 hours after my session with Dr. Addiction, still wearing my work uniform, a pillow over my face and my arm over the pillow. If it were really possible to die of embarrassment, they would have buried me minutes after I left her office, having told my therapist that I wanted to bend her over her desk and ***** her brains out. Please, I am begging , someone, inject me now and end my misery.

K has done her best to try to console me. Last night she joined me on the couch, lying next to me, not saying anything but just trying to get close. I was on my back, pillow and arm over my face, she on her side stroking my arm. I brushed her away like she was a mosquito. Again she tried to touch me, this time rubbing my stomach under my uniform shirt. Again I swatted her hand away – no words exchanged. Once more she tried to get close, moving her hand under the waistband of my uniform shorts. Once again I took her hand and gave it back to her.

She turned to her other side, her back now facing me, still lying with me on the couch.
After a minute or so I finally said, Gawd, youre weak, giving up so easily.

I heard her giggle excitedly and turn back on her other side to face me, my head still covered with the pillow and my arm. She moved me just a little and straddled me kneeling over my waist. Without removing the pillow she leaned forward, her body covering mine, and whispered, its hot in here, babe, and I felt her get up, flip on the ceiling fans and go to open the doors of the house to let the cool evening breeze blow through. Then she put Elvis in the back yard. (~~*****, Im in trouble now~~).

I am still lying with pillow over my face and my arm over pillow. I hear K go the fridge and come back, lift my feet from the end of the sofa then sit. She starts removing my shoes and socks and massages my feet – I can hear the sounds of the neighborhood and feel the cool breeze blow through the house as she begins to talk.

Ready to tell me about what happened at the doctors office Monday? her magic hands are soothing away the physical strain of the weight I carry from the guilt – – her words relaxing the emotional pain I feel as I seem unable to control the events which make up my life.

No need to beat around the bush, I thought, just get it over with., her hands kneading my calves as if they were bread dough , making me absolutely vulnerable to her every whim.

The good doctor seems to think I have a crush on her so I told her I wanted to bend her over her desk and Bette ***** right there, I spoke without removing the pillow still unable to face my reality.

Is she attractive? Do you have a crush on her? K asks, her hands never stopping, not for one second, as she speaks.

Does it really matter, K? *****. I told the woman I wanted to ***** her right there in her office. What is wrong with me?

Just answer my questions, babe. Is she attractive, do you have a crush on her and did you want to do her right there? Just tell me.

K is the only person in the universe who understands me – she knows I dont want the good doctor, she knows I say those kinds of things because I am a mental midget, she knows that if the good doctor ripped her shirt off and jumped onto the desk I would have run at the speed of light out the door, into the street, got hit by car, then would not have to worry about dying of embarrassment. K knows me, but she still punishes me, makes me face myself – I dont need to lie on the therapists couch spilling my guts – all I need is K lying on top of me on my own couch.

Ok, ok, ok, yes, she is attractive, I dont have a crush on her and I would only do her if you were there, watching or participating. There, I said it. Happy? But Im not worried so much about all that stuff, K as I am about her not understanding L – I dont think she has ever seen the show or read any of the stories. How is she supposed to help me?

Yea, if she knew anything about the show Im sure she would have taken you up on your offer to Bette ***** her. I know I would have a hard time passing up an offer like that !! And Im flattered that you would invite me to watch – you know I like to do that, dont you? Ks voice is slowly losing its jovial tone and taking on a more sultry inflection. Couple that with her opening all the doors , letting the dog out, and going to the fridge, I knew I was a goner.

Babe, you dont go frettin about the good doctor being unable to help you – Ill take care of anything she cant fix. I wont let you go somewhere in your mind that you cant get back from – Ill take care of everything. As she spoke, she grabbed the can of whipped cream she had brought from the fridge and started decorating my feet and shins as if they were layers of a banana split.

Suddenly I didnt give a fat rats ***** about Dr. Addiction, about my addiction or about any chance of recovery. And I had to speak before words would elude me – before K tried to cure me in her own special way.

Uh, K, do you think we could count this as one of our public places? I asked through the uneven breaths I was attempting to inhale.

K and I have a life goal of having ***** in over 300 public places before we die. I figured since she opened the doors (purposely I might add) this couch trip might just be added to the list.

Through a mouth full of whipped cream, she replied, barely understandably. Weve been over this, babe, ***** in the house, pool, patio, garage, back yard, or car in the driveway doesnt count even if the neighbors watch. So NO, this doesnt count.

I knew what the answer would be before I asked the question. I just needed a minute to prepare for the inevitable assault which was about to become so much more intense.

I moved the pillow which was still over my eyes closer to my mouth to stifle the screams of joy I was about to release. I just didnt want to scare the neighbors.

After several hours of a different kind of therapy , I was still lying on the couch, still in my work uniform, well, what was left of it after that maniacal wife of mine busted buttons, unteethed my zipper, de-cupped my bra, and covered everything in whipped cream. I still had the pillow over my face, well what was left of it after I ripped it to shreds with my teeth trying not to break our living room window with the decible level of screams I was spewing. That woman is out of her ***** mind and there is no way on this earth that I would try to deny, defy, or disappoint her – she is the best and I love her so much I am quite sure that she will literally be the physical death of me. What a way to go – thank you sweet baby Jesus.

K decided to make us something to eat and went to shower first while I remained on the couch covered in pillow threads and whipped cream. It wasnt until I heard her in the kitchen, banging around the pots, pans, and plates that I mustered enough strength to go shower myself. K may have worn me out on the outside, but my brain was still deflated and defeated by the thoughts of my embarrassing encounter with Dr. Repp.

After all the hours on my own couch I had decided two things must be done for me to have success with good doctor. One I must admit some attraction, pull, addiction, need, desire, whatever, to L and the stories of the FAN FIC writers. And two I must hook the doc on the same two sources of my pleasure. She cant help me unless she falls into the same state of BnT weakness in which I exist day in and day out. Im gonna bring her down, introduce her to the drug of choice of such pathetic, weak, lying addicts such as myself. Yep, shes going down . . Shes gong to L via the Beach Nut.

I was feeling a little better about my state of mind and realized just how hungry I had become after not eating for nearly 18 hours. I was towel drying my hair after an invigorating shower when I heard it.

Walking into the kitchen in nothing but a tank top (white of course) and baggy gym shorts, I came up behind K as she cleaned vegetables at the sink. I stood behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, lay my head on the back of her neck and just breathed in her scent, feeling so safe and loved. Whats up the ambulance over Mr. Johnsons place? I asked not moving. I heard the sirens while I was in the shower.

Oh my gawd, K explained. You wont believe it. I went out to see all the commotion and Mrs. Peters said he had a heart attack – and get this, hon, he had a heart attack while he was jacking off1 Can you believe it?

A little light of UH-OH popped into my head as I backed away from K and asked the question I didnt really want the answer to. Mr. Johnson was an 86 year old retired accountant who had a nasty habit of watching K and me have ***** in our pool. We heard him one day fall against his sliding glass doors as he smacked his face when he lost his balance jerking off as we fucked.

K, you dont think he heard what we were doing over here with all the doors open and was jerking off watching us, do you? Do you think we killed him? I asked hesitantly not really wanting to know what K thought.

Well if thats what happened, babe, I just hope he came and went at the same time you did.

(~~*****~~~ just what I need . . MORE guilt to deny at next weeks session with the good doctor~~~) . . . .


TBC . . . . .