The Doctor and Desire

The office was overgrown with weeds and the shadow of the sun covered the building for almost the whole day. The patients came and went, sometimes leaving in a veil of tears. Dr. Kuferberg tried his best to keep his composure as the day marched on through the diatribes of unstable patrons filling his head. Sometimes he wanted to scream, sometimes he wanted to just leave it all behind. His first patient of the day complained of a desire to sleep with his mother, a desire that he said he would never act on, but he said if given the chance he would act on like a lightning bolt to a petrified tree, quicker than the speed of sound. The Dr. listened like he always did with a state of composure, a blank demeanor that rivals only a statue waiting in the square of a park. He had been waiting for his favorite patient, Miss Sullivan, who had come to him in the  last few months complaining of wanting to do undesirable things to everyone she sees. The Dr. found this nerve racking for the things she desired would turn a nun to stone and make a preacher gargle holy water if he were told the sins in a round of confession.

The patients came and went and the Dr. braced himself for the ride that Miss Sullivan would take him on. In their last visit she described the feeling she got when Her neighbor’s teenage son cut her grass. She watched him from the window shirtless mowing the rows meticulously as she played with herself, stuffing the money she would eventually pay him with in her twat, just to know that her sexual desires would touch the boy as he finished his task. The Dr. found this disturbing, but knew she had some good in her and the desires coil be curbed.

He knew that she only fantasized about these things for she was repressed and shuttered from her true inner feelings. In the visit before last she fixated on the waitress at the local diner bringing her her daily breakfast, pouring her coffee. She imagined her taking her tips as some payment for sex work. Eating her out under the table as the patrons of the inner went on as if nothing was happening. Cumming in silence as the waitress did her deed to collect the measly five dollars just to know she was her food service whore.

The Dr. realized these were fantasy’s not reality, but wondered how long it would take before she acted on these desires, before she turned imagination into reality. He wondered if he should bring her from one visit  a week to three. Secretly wanting to hear the depraved stories for they made him question everything in his practice. Why did he spend so much time thinking of Miss Sullivan and the way she thought about everything sexual.

She would find a glass of milk sexy, she would want to seduce a man on his deathbed just to know the feeling of a man’s last ejaculation. The Dr. pondered what made her act in just a manner far from the societal norm. He found himself thinking of her during other sessions, staring out the window as his patient blabbed about their life as he fixated on such a lost soul. He wondered if she had ever had these desires towards him. Finding himself caught in a day dream at times where he needed to be alert. His wife started to question his faithfulness as he would take long drives just to think about the intricacies of Miss Sullivan. 

He stared into the blank computer screen as he waited for her to arrive at her three o’clock appointment, feeling the urge to masturbate, feeling the urge to plot her into one of her fantasies. Would he break the oath of a doctor to feed the fuel of one of her desires.

This is the woman who wanted to bed the man who delivers her packages just to find out where he lives to tell his wife, just to know the sting she could cause, the trouble she could stir up. To leave her mark on this world, however dark it may be. The woman who hikes her skirt at her son’s football games just to revel in the gawks and stares from the other players’ fathers, even thinking of taking one of them under the bleachers to have her way with them, as their wives wonder where they could be. This woman must be sick, starved for attention and sympathy, just wanting the touch of someone to quench this thirst, to ignite the flame. The Dr. paced around his office as he waited for three o’clock to come. Feeling his pants growing as he ran through the stories she had told him over the past few months. They could fill up the largest leather bound book, they could give a man hope in the darkest part of the night. Still the Dr. raced through his memories. This is the woman who showered her  boss compliments and innuendos just to turn him down when he made an advance, just to show him who is really in charge. The woman must be from another planet for how can someone from this god given earth be taken by such thoughts that would turn water to wine than back into vinegar. 

The Dr. found himself taken aback by the woman who a man of medicine and science could not crack. She was a force of sexual freedom, like a cam girl on Nudelive, of emancipation of the social structure. The woman had turned him into her, daydreaming of the moment she would walk in the door, so he could fulfill her urges. He could be the one to cure her of the flame that persists in her womb, a fire that not even a terenchel rain could extinguish. The Dr. Found himself tortured by the thought of her body. He was a healer and she was broken and lame only his touch could be the prescription for her wicked ways.

The clock struck three and he waited for her to wrap his mind in a flurry of fornication, a sea of sex, a lapse into the labriynth of lust.