And so their first hour together had mainly been spent educating Geeta about the process and what to expect.The second session had torn Geeta apart. She had not been prepared for the speed with which Ilena had broken through her defences. Indeed, it seemed Geeta had no defences at all where her therapist was concerned. Geeta's innate secrecy, strengthened by her desperate need to hide from everyone around her the fact that she was a prostitute, had simply evaporated a few minutes into the session, and she found herself telling her therapist secrets that only a few weeks before she thought she would take with her to the grave. Geeta had broken down repeatedly, shocked at just how deep was the pain she felt inside. It helped that Ilena was utterly imperturbable, her demeanour calm at all times. Geeta was relieved to find in her therapist no condemnation of her, no disgust - just calm acceptance. The second session had taken place on a Friday, and Geeta was puzzled at just how frantic. "Huh?" I said, finally. "Get it while the gettin's hot," she said. "I know you need it and I am here for you." I felt uneasy with what she was saying, or more to the point the way she'd said it, but she was right about me needing it. Needing it, hell! I was desperate. I'd worry about the niceties and nuances of her linguistics later. I came to her and took her in my arms. Her being taller than me, especially in her pumps, let me rest my face and lips against the softness of her breasts quite naturally. It felt good. It felt like I remembered in the early years. She had me and she knew it. I hated feeling helpless with this woman, the same woman that had killed my heart. She led me to the couch and pulled my face to hers and kissed me. It was a tender kiss, but one that was also laden with anxiety and wishful thinking on my part. Dueling tongues became the game of the moment. My dick had never been so hard. "You gotta get naked, Harlan, don't make me do all of the work," she.
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