During the week leading up to this session, Alan felt freer than he had in years, the weight of his secret no longer pressing so heavily on him. Emboldened by Dr. Morgan’s willingness to listen without judgment, he even grew bold enough to search out and download more risqué material onto his phone—clips where the women were catfighting topless or even naked. He told himself it was only to be clearer for her, to show the intensity of what drew him, but he couldn’t deny that part of him thrilled at the thought of her reaction.
Alan arrived for his third session with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. The familiar lamp glowed in Dr. Morgan’s office, casting that same intimate light across her features. She welcomed him with a quiet smile, but there was something behind it—an expectancy, as though she’d been waiting for this continuation all week.
“Alan,” she said, gesturing to the chair. “You remember what I asked last time—bring me more detail. Memories, images, moments that capture what stirs you. Did you?”
Alan sat down carefully, hands clasping and unclasping in his lap. “I did. I’ve thought about it a lot. There are certain images I can’t forget. Times when I’ve watched two women so determined, so locked into each other, that it felt like the whole world had shrunk to just them. Sweat, breath, every muscle straining—it was… overwhelming.”
Her eyes stayed fixed on him, softer than clinical observation, though she kept her voice steady. “And what do you feel in those moments, Alan? Not just physically. What is happening inside you?”
“I feel… alive. Like I’m watching something stripped down to its purest form. Two wills colliding, neither willing to give.” He hesitated, then added more quietly, “Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who sees it that way. Like I’m carrying it alone.”
Dr. Morgan leaned in slightly. “Not anymore,” she said gently. Then, after a beat: “You said you brought more than just memories.”
Alan nodded, hesitant. He reached into his pocket and held his phone for a long moment before speaking. “I… I have videos. Clips I’ve kept. I thought maybe—if you wanted—I could show you. To explain better than words.”
The room seemed to still. Dr. Morgan’s expression didn’t shift to disapproval, but something flickered in her eyes: a mix of caution and a spark of curiosity she didn’t entirely conceal. She folded her hands slowly in her lap. “You’re suggesting something unusual, Alan. But I did ask for images, and perhaps seeing what you see would help me understand more fully. If you’re comfortable sharing them.”
Alan unlocked his phone, his thumb trembling slightly, and handed it across the small space. Dr. Morgan accepted it with careful fingers, her gaze flicking to his before lowering to the screen.
For several minutes, the only sound was the faint hum of the lamp and the muffled audio of the video. Two women wrestled in close, desperate struggle, their faces taut with exertion. Dr. Morgan’s breath caught almost imperceptibly, though she quickly composed herself. Her eyes tracked every movement, every shift of advantage.
Alan watched her, his pulse hammering. “Do you see?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
She exhaled slowly, still focused on the screen. “I see. The intensity is undeniable. The closeness… the fight for control. It’s not just physical. It’s almost… intimate.” Her voice dipped lower on that word, and for a moment she didn’t look away from the video.
Alan shifted in his seat. “That’s what I feel. Every time.”
Finally she returned the phone, her fingers brushing his briefly as she did. The contact was light, but it lingered in the air afterward. She folded her hands again, though not as tightly as before. “Alan, this is powerful. More than I expected. Watching it, I could feel why it stays with you. It’s visceral. And yes… it is stirring.”
She didn’t explain the last word, and Alan didn’t ask. But inside, Dr. Morgan felt a tangle of confusion she hadn’t expected. She was trained to observe, to analyze, yet what she’d just seen had unsettled her in a way that was oddly personal. It stirred something she hadn’t known about herself, a flicker of heat and fascination that defied her professional detachment. The silence between them deepened, charged, both of them aware that the session had crossed into new territory—one where curiosity and understanding now carried something else beneath.
“Next time,” Dr. Morgan said quietly, “I want us to talk about what role these images play for you beyond the moment. How they shape your relationships, your needs, your sense of yourself. But for today… let’s leave it here.”
Alan stood slowly, phone back in his pocket, heart thudding with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. As he turned to leave, he could feel her gaze following him, warmer now, and undeniably changed.
When the door finally clicked shut behind him, Dr. Morgan remained in her chair, motionless. She stared at the lamp’s glow for a long time, then down at her hands, which still tingled faintly from where their fingers had touched. A heaviness sat in her chest, not unpleasant, but unsettling. She tried to tell herself it was empathy, professional immersion—but she knew it was more than that.
The video replayed in her mind: the locked bodies, the raw exertion, the closeness that had seemed almost intimate. She realized with a start that she had been aroused by it, stirred in ways she had never encountered in all her years of practice. There was a tingling low in her belly, a wetness she was embarrassed to even acknowledge, but it was undeniable.
Confusion and intrigue fought for dominance inside her. Eventually she closed her notebook, though no words had been written in it for the last ten minutes. Alone in the quiet office, she whispered to herself, almost defensively, “I’m only trying to understand.” Yet a deeper part of her wondered if understanding was no longer the only reason she wanted to see more.
