unbridled1
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- Dec 21, 2022
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Ok, so I've seen a female psychologist. I admit it. Not in any creepy, demented way, a consummate professional. But after a few years, your mind is bound to wander into strange places. Here's where mine went a few years after our last meeting.
This place makes no sense Chase thought to himself as he sat in Dr. Patterson’s lobby. For the most part, it looked like any other lobby – a few chairs, end tables, plants, magazines. But the large, conspicuously hung framed portrait of a gorgeous, scantily clad perfume model wasn’t the typical bland wall art poster you’d buy in bulk during a Cyber Monday sale on Amazon. It made the room seem more like a lobby in a corporate office for a women’s clothing line. Maybe a photographer’s studio. The fact that it was on the second floor of a nearly vacant, bland office park complex made it more mysterious. Well renowned, Harvard-educated psychologist, here??? But Amy had said, because she was a bit unorthodox, Dr. Patterson kept a low-profile. Some of her techniques were outright banned by the American Psychological Association. Still, Amy swore by her. For this reason, the curious portrait filled him more with anticipation rather than disbelief as he waited for Dr. Patterson.
Finally, the door opened and a tall, drop-dead gorgeous woman in an impeccable black business suit approached to shake his hand. Chase glanced at the portrait, then Dr. Patterson, back to the portrait, then Dr. Patterson and stared at her, mouth agape.
“Yup, that’s me,” she said.
“Wow! You look…do you model on the side or something?”
“No. That shoot alone paid for two semesters at Harvard. Now I’m able to do something far more interesting: helping you talk about your problems.”
She smiled and placed her hand gently on his back to usher him into her office.
He was still buzzing with bewilderment when he sat on the easy chair across from Dr. Patterson’s desk. The room was modestly furnished: the simple, black, plush chair, her mahogany desk, a fern, and a half-empty bookshelf. Behind her, sure enough, were two diplomas: Yale undergraduate and Harvard Medical School. One thing did stand out, though: a folded-up massage table in the corner of the room. Dr. Patterson noticed his eyes wandering
toward it.
“Don’t worry about that. I do massage therapy with some of my patients.”
“Is that legal?”
“Put it this way… no law explicitly precludes a psychologist from using Reiki massage therapy on a patient. More importantly, my most satisfied patients swear by it.”
She sat, put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and opened a laptop.
A brilliant supermodel psychologist who massages her patients he thought. Am I dreaming? Does she blow you after the second visit?
“So,” Dr. Patterson said, “You and Amy have been dating about six months?”
“About that.”
“I see. First of all, she says you are a really great guy. Funny, exciting…”
She winked at him and smiled.
“…hot.”
“She said that?”
“She did. Of course, she also mentioned the anger problems you seem to have. Didn’t go into too much detail. After all, you coming to me makes you a patient, and HIPAA laws trumps girl talk.”
“I’m surprised she had anything good to say about me. I’ve been a total asshole recently.”
“Never put yourself down, Chase. But she did say you’ve been uncharacteristically angry recently. Which is why I’m truly glad you came to see me. I want to make sure you two are happy. But more importantly, I want to make you feel better. You must be confident and self-aware to be a good friend, boyfriend, husband…”
Her long, pink nails clicked on the desk as she drummed her fingers on it a few times. She removed her glasses and stared at Chase through her sparkling green eyes.
“The most important thing, Chase, is that you are totally honest with me. Nothing you say can shock me, trust me, and everything is confidential. I hope you are comfortable enough to share anything with me. Without complete honesty and open communication, we won’t be able to attack the core issues that trigger you, and I’ll feel like a failure as a therapist. I hope you don’t want me to feel that way. Do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“I mean, I have my own problems, and I know what it’s like. When things get bad, deep down, you feel helpless. Alone. Like you can’t purge evil from your heart, even though you know you are a better person. You want nothing more than someone to be there who will listen to everything you need to say to expel those awful feelings.”
“Which means you?”
She smiled.
“It’s embarrassing to say, but yes, I feel that way too. But enough about me. It’s your time. I hope I can help. I hate to see people in pain, and I can tell you are a good person, Chase. The fact that you are here shows that.”
Weird he thought. So personal after two minutes in here. He couldn’t decide if it annoyed him or comforted him. Who would want a psychologist so weak she was confiding in the patient? Seemed totally ridiculous. Then again, maybe she was doing it to relax him. Make it clear that he truly could tell her anything in this safe environment. Harvard Medical School and Yale undergraduate? She was a genius. That had to be it.
“That’s so nice to hear,” he said, “because I have a lot on my mind, and I feel really bad about it.”
“No problem at all. Like I said, you’re totally safe here.”
She turned to the laptop again. He eased into the chair and admired her beauty as she prepared to take notes.
“So, you’ve dated Amy for six months?”
“Yes.”
“What would you say the main problem you have with her?”
“My anger. I have a bad temper anyway, but she brings it out in me.”
“Why do you stay with her?”
“I think I like that she can bring out my vulnerability. To a point. She’s also very patient, so it’s perfect. And she loves physical contact.”
“Sounds like you really like her. Why does she make you angry?”
“It’s hard to say, but the biggest one is that she likes to tickle me. And I’m very ticklish.”
“I see. Being tickled bothers you?”
“Yes and no. Sometimes it’s a turn on and it leads to better things, but she can take it too far. I’ll tell her to stop, but she teases me, says I really like it deep down.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes I really don’t. And it pisses me off, especially because she’s not ticklish at all.”
“Do you ask her to stop?”
“At first I was nice about it, but now I’m not.”
“Explain.”
“I’ll scream at her, grab her hands and push her away. I’ve yelled at her in public a few times.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“The truth?” He paused, but Dr. Patterson’s compassionate stare eased him. Anything.
“I loved it. I enjoyed humiliating her.”
“It didn’t shame you at all.”
“Of course, it did. I’m not a total monster. But it was liberating, especially because, like I said, she’s so patient. To the point of being meek.”
“That’s surprising. Usually tickling is an act of aggression. Maybe she feels like it’s the only way to reach you. Maybe she has trouble directly telling you that your temper makes her uncomfortable.”
“Probably. She asked to restrain me once. Tie me up to tickle me. I told her no fucking way.”
“You were very aggressive about it?”
“Well, not terribly, but probably not so nice.”
Dr. Patterson paused the questioning and typed away at a feverish pace, seemingly trying to record everything he said. Wow, she really does care! He thought.
“I’m going to ask you a few more personal questions, Chase. Please tell me if you don’t want to answer them.”
“It’s ok. This is really helpful. I feel like I can talk to you about anything.”
She smiled and gazed at him. Her green eyes, pouty lips, perfect skin transfixed him like a siren. Repose and surrender overwhelmed him more than he could remember in a long time.
“That makes me feel so good, Chase. So, did you hit her?”
“Never. Well, I did twist her arm badly once. I know it hurt her.”
“It must have made you feel terrible.”
“Yes. That did.”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“A few times recently, yes.”
She shook her head and added to the notes. Then she sighed.
“Well, Chase. The good news is you have a classic case of anger dysnoctia and self-control issues. Very common in young men. Testosterone and proximity to young women are classic triggers. I have an extremely effective treatment I know will help you.”
She sashayed across the room and opened the massage table. She added the cradle to the top of it and beckoned Chase toward it.
“You’re going to give me a massage?” He smiled, helplessly, unable to shake the tingly feeling that overwhelmed him. I came to talk, and my supermodel psychologist wants to give me a massage. What a country!
“Not quite, but massage is an integral part of the treatment. Come over here. Lie on the table face up.”
He climbed on to the table, squirming in anticipation. She placed a pillow under his legs and a warm u-shaped pillow underneath his head on the cradle. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“I can’t believe you are doing this for me,” he said. “You are really kind. You must be very-well liked. You’ll get a 5-star review on Yelp from me!”
“Thank you,” she said, then began untying his shoelaces.
“Ummm…” he said.
“It’s ok. Trust me, remember. And like I said, massage will help you. I can’t count how many young men’s lives I’ve improved with this treatment.”
With that she removed his shoes and socks. Chase wiggled his toes as the cool air washed over his feet. Dr. Patterson began rubbing warm oil all over his feet until they were completely covered. She then clenched his feet pressed her thumbs into his soles, kneading the tendons.
“You have a lot of tension, Chase.”
Her hands on his feet felt so good he didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m going to ask you some more questions now. Try to answer them, okay?”
“Of course,” he said and nodded; eyes still closed.
“Tell me the top 3 things you like about Amy. The first ones that pop into your mind.”
“Ok, she’s-“
Before he could get the next word out, Dr. Patterson dragged her finger across the length of his sole. He recoiled and his leg flailed so violently that he almost fell off the chair.
“What the fuck?” he said. Dr. Patterson giggled.
“Remember, self-control practice. We’re going to teach you to control yourself under duress… Because you are ticklish, this is the best way. And anger is best managed with spontaneous laughter. It stays with you long after you’ve stopped. Ok, let’s continue. Do everything you can to keep your feet still as you answer my questions. So, again, 3 great things about Amy.”
“Well…” Dr. Paterson dragged a finger across both oily soles this time. Chase tensed his legs like rocks to keep them still. “smart… mmmppphh … nice…” Her other fingers joined in, spider tickling his soles, then matriculating to the balls of his feet and the base of his toes.”
“great…” Chase’s entire body shook trying to keep his feet still. He could feel an explosion of laughter growing in his belly.
“Nice and great are kind of the same thing, aren’t they?” she, said, now sliding her fingers in and out of his toes. He kicked his legs free to avoid laughing like a fool.
“I can’t do this,” he said. “I’m too ticklish.”
“I know you are,” she said. “Which is wonderful. Don’t be afraid to laugh. As loud as you want. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Ok, I’ll try.” His feet went back into place, and he breathed deeply.
“She’s… mmmppphhh, beautiful… and playful…”
“And you like it when she tickles you? Like a little kitchy koo on your feet?”
At this he burst into laughter, He grasped the sides of the table so tightly he felt like his joints would crumble. Dr. Patterson pressed down on his ankle and tickled his foot more vigorously now, sliding her fingers over every bit of it.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…this…HAHAHAHHAHHAHA I can’t…”
She slowed the pace and returned to just stroking the top of his foot.
“Do you like it when Amy tickles you?”
“A little…” Her fingers went into action again, as did his quivering body and laughter response.
“Remember, tell me everything.”
“I love it!” he screamed.
“Then why do you get mad at her?”
“Cause…HAHAHAHAHA…I can’t…HAHAHAHA talk. Come on.”
He pounded his fists on the table.
“Self-restraint, Chase. Tell me.”
“It makes me weak…HAHAHAHA..No control!”
“The feeling bothers you?”
“I can’t stand it!” he screamed. He found the will to control the laughing for a split second, but her fingernails found a weak spot and he screamed laughter again.
“This…HAHAHAHAHAHA…torture…I can’t talk…HAHAHAHA. Questions…”
Her fingers ceased. He heaved breaths, heart pounding, feet still quivered.
“How the hell will this help me?” he said and sat up.
“Well, we already made one breakthrough,” she said. “You don’t like being out of control. It’s common. It is for me. Sometimes. Sometimes it’s sublimely invigorating. To be completely vulnerable. Like two spouses must, I suppose. Surrender. I think you’ve felt that, and it frightens you.”
After the laughing, and screaming, and squirming, now that he had time to think about it, Dr. Patterson was right. He did feel different. More relaxed…now that the tickling had stopped at least.
She moved around next to him and eased him back into the table.
“This technique is less intense, but patients really seem to enjoy it. Tell me a story about when you really felt vulnerable in your childhood.”
“I guess one time I was on the playground…” Dr. Patterson placed her fingers lightly on his stomach. Her fingernails crawled all over it, barely making contact. Chase felt weakness and giddiness course through his body.
“These two bullies…” her touch deepened a bit more. Her fingers occasionally wandered on to his ribs before returning to his belly. This caused him to giggle, like she’d turned on a switch.
“How did this make you uncomfortable?”
“They…hehehe…they…”
A brilliant smile emerged as she hovered over him, scribbling her long, pink fingernails across his belly and ribs.”
“Hehe…my…heee…I can’t…can’t…can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
“Talk…stop…hehehehe…giggling.”
“Do you like it?”
“You’re so good.” He squirmed and kicked, and clenched the table, but would have killed someone to keep the tickling fingers on his body.
“You didn’t pay me for nothing,” she said and giggled along with him. For some reason, it made him even more ticklish. At this point, the only thing he could get out of his mouth were giggles. They occasionally progressed into harder laughter, but Dr. Patterson immediately backed off the pressure when this happened.
“Doesn’t it make you feel like a little boy?” she said, slowly going higher and higher across his rib cage. He closed his eyes, and giggled, squealed, wiggled the oozing oil off his toes, and giggled more. Eventually he was so worked up that a mere scratch from a single finger caused him to melt into a giggling mess again.
“Finish your story,” she said.
“Ok, so…hehehehehehehe…they wrestled…please…hehehehehe…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Please don’t. I haven’t laughed so hard since.”
She scratched his ribs, drawing another giggle fit out of him.
“Ever!”
“Imagine lying on the floor with Amy, watching a movie," Dr. Patterson said." She curls up next to, starts stroking your ribs like I am. Your ticklish ribs, belly. You get tingly, giddy, you start giggling. Laughing. You roll over and she’s looking down at you, smiling, and the most helpless, ticklish feeling has overtaken you. You’re like a baby under the spell of her fingertips. It’s so hard to take, but you hope the tingly laughter never stops. she never stops until you pass out from ecstasy.”
She stroked across his ribs one more time to show him how right she was: until her fingers reached the muscles right at the point where his arms met his chest. She batted her eyes, smiled wickedly and inched them toward his armpits. He seized her wrists and sat up.
“Not there,” he said. She pulled away and held her outstretched hands in front of her to plead their innocence.
“Ok. Everyone has their spot, no problem.”
She pulled her chair from behind her desk and sat next to him.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“I’m in heaven. I can’t remember feeling so good. Relaxed. I’m going to call Amy immediately and take her to dinner.”
“Great!” Dr. Patterson said and stood up. She walked across the room, grabbed a set of foot stocks and stood over his feet. An instant wave of fear coursed through him, and he sat up.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“The final phase of the treatment is a minute of restrained tickling. Well, if the patient is ticklish. You certainly qualify. It’s a little rough, I know. But if you feel good now, you’ll feel much better knowing you can withstand one of your most extreme vulnerabilities. You’ll walk out of here ready to take on the world. Remember, trust me.”
Chase raised his eyebrows, sighed, and reclined on his back again.
“Ok, go ahead.”
Dr. Patterson fastened the stocks across his ankles, snapped the stocks shut and yanked each toe back, exposing them. She then tightly secured his waist to the table. But as she held one of his wrists and tugged on his arm to expose his armpits, he yanked it free.
“Not under my arms.”
“Trust me, Chase. It’s only for a minute.”
“I don’t care. No armpits.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. After Chase had reclined again and relaxed, She grabbed his arm violently and pinned it underneath her own while seizing his wrist. He tried to sit up, but her firm grip and the waistband made it impossible to gain any leverage. She dexterously snapped a handcuff on his wrist, stretched his arm out and fastened the other cuff to the base of the massage table. She did the same to his other arms, completely immobilizing him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed.
“I’m going to tickle torture you for a while, of course.”
“But I trusted you!”
“This is my treatment, Chase. When someone physically and abuses one of my sorority sisters and cheats on her, this is how I treat them.”
“Amy didn’t say anything about a sorority. And you’re at least 30 years old.”
“I didn’t say I was still in college. I was chapter president 15 years ago. And I will always help any of my sisters from abusive boyfriends like you.”
“The diplomas? The office?”
“C’mon. Chase. Any moron can print a diploma off the Internet. I’m a marketing executive for a women’s clothing line. My modeling stint opened that door. And this place? My father owns it. Been trying to lease it for years.”
She removed two feathers from her desk and stood above him, lowering them toward his armpits. He incessantly thrashed and grunted as they stopped inches from his tingling skin.
“Young men are so helpless in the presence of beauty and compassion. I would be a good psychologist, I imagine. You just admitted to me that you abused and cheated on a vulnerable young woman because, why, she tickles you now and again to defend herself from mental abuse? I’m literally crawling out of my skin thinking about how I’m going to destroy you right now. Buckle up Chase. Let’s put your self-control to the test!”
At that, the feathers lowered into his armpits and waved back and forth like a fan. Relentlessly, unwavering. Chase laughed so hard he thought he’d vomit. Bucking, squirming, screaming and pleading. Wondering how long he’d be stuck here, and how he’d be the most faithful, kind boyfriend on the planet from now on.
This place makes no sense Chase thought to himself as he sat in Dr. Patterson’s lobby. For the most part, it looked like any other lobby – a few chairs, end tables, plants, magazines. But the large, conspicuously hung framed portrait of a gorgeous, scantily clad perfume model wasn’t the typical bland wall art poster you’d buy in bulk during a Cyber Monday sale on Amazon. It made the room seem more like a lobby in a corporate office for a women’s clothing line. Maybe a photographer’s studio. The fact that it was on the second floor of a nearly vacant, bland office park complex made it more mysterious. Well renowned, Harvard-educated psychologist, here??? But Amy had said, because she was a bit unorthodox, Dr. Patterson kept a low-profile. Some of her techniques were outright banned by the American Psychological Association. Still, Amy swore by her. For this reason, the curious portrait filled him more with anticipation rather than disbelief as he waited for Dr. Patterson.
Finally, the door opened and a tall, drop-dead gorgeous woman in an impeccable black business suit approached to shake his hand. Chase glanced at the portrait, then Dr. Patterson, back to the portrait, then Dr. Patterson and stared at her, mouth agape.
“Yup, that’s me,” she said.
“Wow! You look…do you model on the side or something?”
“No. That shoot alone paid for two semesters at Harvard. Now I’m able to do something far more interesting: helping you talk about your problems.”
She smiled and placed her hand gently on his back to usher him into her office.
He was still buzzing with bewilderment when he sat on the easy chair across from Dr. Patterson’s desk. The room was modestly furnished: the simple, black, plush chair, her mahogany desk, a fern, and a half-empty bookshelf. Behind her, sure enough, were two diplomas: Yale undergraduate and Harvard Medical School. One thing did stand out, though: a folded-up massage table in the corner of the room. Dr. Patterson noticed his eyes wandering
toward it.
“Don’t worry about that. I do massage therapy with some of my patients.”
“Is that legal?”
“Put it this way… no law explicitly precludes a psychologist from using Reiki massage therapy on a patient. More importantly, my most satisfied patients swear by it.”
She sat, put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and opened a laptop.
A brilliant supermodel psychologist who massages her patients he thought. Am I dreaming? Does she blow you after the second visit?
“So,” Dr. Patterson said, “You and Amy have been dating about six months?”
“About that.”
“I see. First of all, she says you are a really great guy. Funny, exciting…”
She winked at him and smiled.
“…hot.”
“She said that?”
“She did. Of course, she also mentioned the anger problems you seem to have. Didn’t go into too much detail. After all, you coming to me makes you a patient, and HIPAA laws trumps girl talk.”
“I’m surprised she had anything good to say about me. I’ve been a total asshole recently.”
“Never put yourself down, Chase. But she did say you’ve been uncharacteristically angry recently. Which is why I’m truly glad you came to see me. I want to make sure you two are happy. But more importantly, I want to make you feel better. You must be confident and self-aware to be a good friend, boyfriend, husband…”
Her long, pink nails clicked on the desk as she drummed her fingers on it a few times. She removed her glasses and stared at Chase through her sparkling green eyes.
“The most important thing, Chase, is that you are totally honest with me. Nothing you say can shock me, trust me, and everything is confidential. I hope you are comfortable enough to share anything with me. Without complete honesty and open communication, we won’t be able to attack the core issues that trigger you, and I’ll feel like a failure as a therapist. I hope you don’t want me to feel that way. Do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“I mean, I have my own problems, and I know what it’s like. When things get bad, deep down, you feel helpless. Alone. Like you can’t purge evil from your heart, even though you know you are a better person. You want nothing more than someone to be there who will listen to everything you need to say to expel those awful feelings.”
“Which means you?”
She smiled.
“It’s embarrassing to say, but yes, I feel that way too. But enough about me. It’s your time. I hope I can help. I hate to see people in pain, and I can tell you are a good person, Chase. The fact that you are here shows that.”
Weird he thought. So personal after two minutes in here. He couldn’t decide if it annoyed him or comforted him. Who would want a psychologist so weak she was confiding in the patient? Seemed totally ridiculous. Then again, maybe she was doing it to relax him. Make it clear that he truly could tell her anything in this safe environment. Harvard Medical School and Yale undergraduate? She was a genius. That had to be it.
“That’s so nice to hear,” he said, “because I have a lot on my mind, and I feel really bad about it.”
“No problem at all. Like I said, you’re totally safe here.”
She turned to the laptop again. He eased into the chair and admired her beauty as she prepared to take notes.
“So, you’ve dated Amy for six months?”
“Yes.”
“What would you say the main problem you have with her?”
“My anger. I have a bad temper anyway, but she brings it out in me.”
“Why do you stay with her?”
“I think I like that she can bring out my vulnerability. To a point. She’s also very patient, so it’s perfect. And she loves physical contact.”
“Sounds like you really like her. Why does she make you angry?”
“It’s hard to say, but the biggest one is that she likes to tickle me. And I’m very ticklish.”
“I see. Being tickled bothers you?”
“Yes and no. Sometimes it’s a turn on and it leads to better things, but she can take it too far. I’ll tell her to stop, but she teases me, says I really like it deep down.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes I really don’t. And it pisses me off, especially because she’s not ticklish at all.”
“Do you ask her to stop?”
“At first I was nice about it, but now I’m not.”
“Explain.”
“I’ll scream at her, grab her hands and push her away. I’ve yelled at her in public a few times.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“The truth?” He paused, but Dr. Patterson’s compassionate stare eased him. Anything.
“I loved it. I enjoyed humiliating her.”
“It didn’t shame you at all.”
“Of course, it did. I’m not a total monster. But it was liberating, especially because, like I said, she’s so patient. To the point of being meek.”
“That’s surprising. Usually tickling is an act of aggression. Maybe she feels like it’s the only way to reach you. Maybe she has trouble directly telling you that your temper makes her uncomfortable.”
“Probably. She asked to restrain me once. Tie me up to tickle me. I told her no fucking way.”
“You were very aggressive about it?”
“Well, not terribly, but probably not so nice.”
Dr. Patterson paused the questioning and typed away at a feverish pace, seemingly trying to record everything he said. Wow, she really does care! He thought.
“I’m going to ask you a few more personal questions, Chase. Please tell me if you don’t want to answer them.”
“It’s ok. This is really helpful. I feel like I can talk to you about anything.”
She smiled and gazed at him. Her green eyes, pouty lips, perfect skin transfixed him like a siren. Repose and surrender overwhelmed him more than he could remember in a long time.
“That makes me feel so good, Chase. So, did you hit her?”
“Never. Well, I did twist her arm badly once. I know it hurt her.”
“It must have made you feel terrible.”
“Yes. That did.”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“A few times recently, yes.”
She shook her head and added to the notes. Then she sighed.
“Well, Chase. The good news is you have a classic case of anger dysnoctia and self-control issues. Very common in young men. Testosterone and proximity to young women are classic triggers. I have an extremely effective treatment I know will help you.”
She sashayed across the room and opened the massage table. She added the cradle to the top of it and beckoned Chase toward it.
“You’re going to give me a massage?” He smiled, helplessly, unable to shake the tingly feeling that overwhelmed him. I came to talk, and my supermodel psychologist wants to give me a massage. What a country!
“Not quite, but massage is an integral part of the treatment. Come over here. Lie on the table face up.”
He climbed on to the table, squirming in anticipation. She placed a pillow under his legs and a warm u-shaped pillow underneath his head on the cradle. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“I can’t believe you are doing this for me,” he said. “You are really kind. You must be very-well liked. You’ll get a 5-star review on Yelp from me!”
“Thank you,” she said, then began untying his shoelaces.
“Ummm…” he said.
“It’s ok. Trust me, remember. And like I said, massage will help you. I can’t count how many young men’s lives I’ve improved with this treatment.”
With that she removed his shoes and socks. Chase wiggled his toes as the cool air washed over his feet. Dr. Patterson began rubbing warm oil all over his feet until they were completely covered. She then clenched his feet pressed her thumbs into his soles, kneading the tendons.
“You have a lot of tension, Chase.”
Her hands on his feet felt so good he didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m going to ask you some more questions now. Try to answer them, okay?”
“Of course,” he said and nodded; eyes still closed.
“Tell me the top 3 things you like about Amy. The first ones that pop into your mind.”
“Ok, she’s-“
Before he could get the next word out, Dr. Patterson dragged her finger across the length of his sole. He recoiled and his leg flailed so violently that he almost fell off the chair.
“What the fuck?” he said. Dr. Patterson giggled.
“Remember, self-control practice. We’re going to teach you to control yourself under duress… Because you are ticklish, this is the best way. And anger is best managed with spontaneous laughter. It stays with you long after you’ve stopped. Ok, let’s continue. Do everything you can to keep your feet still as you answer my questions. So, again, 3 great things about Amy.”
“Well…” Dr. Paterson dragged a finger across both oily soles this time. Chase tensed his legs like rocks to keep them still. “smart… mmmppphh … nice…” Her other fingers joined in, spider tickling his soles, then matriculating to the balls of his feet and the base of his toes.”
“great…” Chase’s entire body shook trying to keep his feet still. He could feel an explosion of laughter growing in his belly.
“Nice and great are kind of the same thing, aren’t they?” she, said, now sliding her fingers in and out of his toes. He kicked his legs free to avoid laughing like a fool.
“I can’t do this,” he said. “I’m too ticklish.”
“I know you are,” she said. “Which is wonderful. Don’t be afraid to laugh. As loud as you want. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Ok, I’ll try.” His feet went back into place, and he breathed deeply.
“She’s… mmmppphhh, beautiful… and playful…”
“And you like it when she tickles you? Like a little kitchy koo on your feet?”
At this he burst into laughter, He grasped the sides of the table so tightly he felt like his joints would crumble. Dr. Patterson pressed down on his ankle and tickled his foot more vigorously now, sliding her fingers over every bit of it.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…this…HAHAHAHHAHHAHA I can’t…”
She slowed the pace and returned to just stroking the top of his foot.
“Do you like it when Amy tickles you?”
“A little…” Her fingers went into action again, as did his quivering body and laughter response.
“Remember, tell me everything.”
“I love it!” he screamed.
“Then why do you get mad at her?”
“Cause…HAHAHAHAHA…I can’t…HAHAHAHA talk. Come on.”
He pounded his fists on the table.
“Self-restraint, Chase. Tell me.”
“It makes me weak…HAHAHAHA..No control!”
“The feeling bothers you?”
“I can’t stand it!” he screamed. He found the will to control the laughing for a split second, but her fingernails found a weak spot and he screamed laughter again.
“This…HAHAHAHAHAHA…torture…I can’t talk…HAHAHAHA. Questions…”
Her fingers ceased. He heaved breaths, heart pounding, feet still quivered.
“How the hell will this help me?” he said and sat up.
“Well, we already made one breakthrough,” she said. “You don’t like being out of control. It’s common. It is for me. Sometimes. Sometimes it’s sublimely invigorating. To be completely vulnerable. Like two spouses must, I suppose. Surrender. I think you’ve felt that, and it frightens you.”
After the laughing, and screaming, and squirming, now that he had time to think about it, Dr. Patterson was right. He did feel different. More relaxed…now that the tickling had stopped at least.
She moved around next to him and eased him back into the table.
“This technique is less intense, but patients really seem to enjoy it. Tell me a story about when you really felt vulnerable in your childhood.”
“I guess one time I was on the playground…” Dr. Patterson placed her fingers lightly on his stomach. Her fingernails crawled all over it, barely making contact. Chase felt weakness and giddiness course through his body.
“These two bullies…” her touch deepened a bit more. Her fingers occasionally wandered on to his ribs before returning to his belly. This caused him to giggle, like she’d turned on a switch.
“How did this make you uncomfortable?”
“They…hehehe…they…”
A brilliant smile emerged as she hovered over him, scribbling her long, pink fingernails across his belly and ribs.”
“Hehe…my…heee…I can’t…can’t…can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
“Talk…stop…hehehehe…giggling.”
“Do you like it?”
“You’re so good.” He squirmed and kicked, and clenched the table, but would have killed someone to keep the tickling fingers on his body.
“You didn’t pay me for nothing,” she said and giggled along with him. For some reason, it made him even more ticklish. At this point, the only thing he could get out of his mouth were giggles. They occasionally progressed into harder laughter, but Dr. Patterson immediately backed off the pressure when this happened.
“Doesn’t it make you feel like a little boy?” she said, slowly going higher and higher across his rib cage. He closed his eyes, and giggled, squealed, wiggled the oozing oil off his toes, and giggled more. Eventually he was so worked up that a mere scratch from a single finger caused him to melt into a giggling mess again.
“Finish your story,” she said.
“Ok, so…hehehehehehehe…they wrestled…please…hehehehehe…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Please don’t. I haven’t laughed so hard since.”
She scratched his ribs, drawing another giggle fit out of him.
“Ever!”
“Imagine lying on the floor with Amy, watching a movie," Dr. Patterson said." She curls up next to, starts stroking your ribs like I am. Your ticklish ribs, belly. You get tingly, giddy, you start giggling. Laughing. You roll over and she’s looking down at you, smiling, and the most helpless, ticklish feeling has overtaken you. You’re like a baby under the spell of her fingertips. It’s so hard to take, but you hope the tingly laughter never stops. she never stops until you pass out from ecstasy.”
She stroked across his ribs one more time to show him how right she was: until her fingers reached the muscles right at the point where his arms met his chest. She batted her eyes, smiled wickedly and inched them toward his armpits. He seized her wrists and sat up.
“Not there,” he said. She pulled away and held her outstretched hands in front of her to plead their innocence.
“Ok. Everyone has their spot, no problem.”
She pulled her chair from behind her desk and sat next to him.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“I’m in heaven. I can’t remember feeling so good. Relaxed. I’m going to call Amy immediately and take her to dinner.”
“Great!” Dr. Patterson said and stood up. She walked across the room, grabbed a set of foot stocks and stood over his feet. An instant wave of fear coursed through him, and he sat up.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“The final phase of the treatment is a minute of restrained tickling. Well, if the patient is ticklish. You certainly qualify. It’s a little rough, I know. But if you feel good now, you’ll feel much better knowing you can withstand one of your most extreme vulnerabilities. You’ll walk out of here ready to take on the world. Remember, trust me.”
Chase raised his eyebrows, sighed, and reclined on his back again.
“Ok, go ahead.”
Dr. Patterson fastened the stocks across his ankles, snapped the stocks shut and yanked each toe back, exposing them. She then tightly secured his waist to the table. But as she held one of his wrists and tugged on his arm to expose his armpits, he yanked it free.
“Not under my arms.”
“Trust me, Chase. It’s only for a minute.”
“I don’t care. No armpits.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. After Chase had reclined again and relaxed, She grabbed his arm violently and pinned it underneath her own while seizing his wrist. He tried to sit up, but her firm grip and the waistband made it impossible to gain any leverage. She dexterously snapped a handcuff on his wrist, stretched his arm out and fastened the other cuff to the base of the massage table. She did the same to his other arms, completely immobilizing him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed.
“I’m going to tickle torture you for a while, of course.”
“But I trusted you!”
“This is my treatment, Chase. When someone physically and abuses one of my sorority sisters and cheats on her, this is how I treat them.”
“Amy didn’t say anything about a sorority. And you’re at least 30 years old.”
“I didn’t say I was still in college. I was chapter president 15 years ago. And I will always help any of my sisters from abusive boyfriends like you.”
“The diplomas? The office?”
“C’mon. Chase. Any moron can print a diploma off the Internet. I’m a marketing executive for a women’s clothing line. My modeling stint opened that door. And this place? My father owns it. Been trying to lease it for years.”
She removed two feathers from her desk and stood above him, lowering them toward his armpits. He incessantly thrashed and grunted as they stopped inches from his tingling skin.
“Young men are so helpless in the presence of beauty and compassion. I would be a good psychologist, I imagine. You just admitted to me that you abused and cheated on a vulnerable young woman because, why, she tickles you now and again to defend herself from mental abuse? I’m literally crawling out of my skin thinking about how I’m going to destroy you right now. Buckle up Chase. Let’s put your self-control to the test!”
At that, the feathers lowered into his armpits and waved back and forth like a fan. Relentlessly, unwavering. Chase laughed so hard he thought he’d vomit. Bucking, squirming, screaming and pleading. Wondering how long he’d be stuck here, and how he’d be the most faithful, kind boyfriend on the planet from now on.
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