Hysteria [Father & Forbidden]

[Father Figure]

The song played in the background of his mind as he leaned back in his chair, idly flipping the pages of his upcoming patient's background and he could not for the life of him get it out of his head. He was an 80's buff, there was no doubt about that, and hearing the haunting notes of a Def Leppard song as he gazed at the sad eyes of the young woman in the dossier seemed to hint already at the emotions her gaze engendered inside of him. His own eyes held perhaps a measure of the same sadness, a loneliness that was bone deep, but it was not something he thought about overlong as he sat there. His fingers traced along the papers to once more review, his other hand coming to pick up his pen to make a few notations on the notepad next to him. His hand was sure and steady, the letters written in cursive and boldly expressed, the type of handwriting given to either the supremely confident or the quietly self-assured.

Doctor Elias Preston was definitely the latter.

Regardless of his abilities however, there seemed sadly little information about his upcoming patient. It was obvious trauma had occurred, a vague notation concerning hallucinations, and a small note with little detail concerning the death of her husband. It was the disgustingly shoddy workmanship he expected out of the State Hospital system and it was something that truly displeased him. They had placed her on suicide watch, leaving her alone and potentially drugged out of her mind, and had not addressed any of the underlying causes regarding why she was so troubled. Misdiagnosed, ill-treated, and tossed to the wayside. More than likely it had not done anything but worsen the symptoms. It was something he would have to address when he had her in his office, the State could only have held her so long, and now that they had released her at least she was coming to her appointed counseling services. Or at least that was what he hoped she would be doing.

He looked up at the clock, making a small sound in the back of his throat as he did so, if she were already here and in the waiting room then he had kept her waiting far too long. Straightening he placed the folder down and stood up, for a moment looking over the room he stood in. It seemed more like comfortable study than a counselor's office. It had little to do with the idea of the job and more to do with comfort for the person he was working with. Long ago he had learned the fundamental fact that nobody would ever talk to a doctor, not truly, that they had to feel like you were a friend...either that or a stranger. Strangers though had little guidance outside of the office, but a friend could be called. A friend could be confided in. That is why he took so few patients and why his wait list was so incredibly long. Those handful of patients he kept on after first meeting them had long term results....their lives were better, and that is what mattered most to him.

First impressions were always important and he knew what he looked like, knew exactly the kind that he gave off. He gave off the idea that he was a teddy bear. Six feet and broad shouldered, forty years of age and distinguished. His brilliant hazel eyes shone behind his glasses as he looked around to find her, the dark black hair on his head thinning just slightly and showing some grey at the temples. His beard was kept professional, the grey more prominent within it than in the hair atop his head. That frame held a heavy set man, muscled stature giving way more towards padding the older he got, and no matter how often he promised himself he would address the issue he always seemed never to do so. His clothing was simple professional, black slacks and a green long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves tugged up to his elbows. Looking around he smiled when he found her, his voice quiet and deep as he spoke.

"If you're ready we can begin...?"

 

[Fruit]

"Heidi Kohler". The thick German accent complimented her German name nicely. A throat dry as a rock rendered her voice akin to a whisper; as if she was embarrassed by her name. Her raven-colored hair fell past her shoulders in lazy waves losing itself in her checkered red and black shirt. Circles with shades of grey gave her icy blue eyes the look of an orphaned puppy, and matched the grey tank top whose neckline exposed the best angle of her cleavage. Her skirt was dark black with white dots that fell an inch shy of her knees. Her entire outfit seemed more befitting a college girl than for a widowed woman in her late twenties. "Take a seat, Mrs. Kohler". The judge seated in front of her said, then gave her a coy smile and took the papers from Heidi's hands. The German took her seat in the courtroom filled with witnesses and jury members. Her eyes moved nervously from one corner to another like an amateur thief facing accusation, and her lips trembled as she watched them move around her and point and whisper. They won't stop talking, she quickly came to realize, and covered her ears in frustration. The more she covered, the louder the words were. "Whore" one woman from the jury bellowed at her. "Murderer!" another old man roared while pointing at her and looking at the judge. "A psycho, that one" one of the witnesses hissed to his friend, she heard. Sweat started to accumulate at her forehead, and she was on the verge of tears when she heard her name again. The voice was warm and welcoming. Like a kindergarten teacher telling the kids to play outside. When she looked up at the man, the room changed around her. It was now a dark space but for the candle she was holding. It illuminated the space well enough for her to recognize. My kitchen she thought, and her heart beat started resting. The man calling her was her husband, and the realization drove her heart to skip a beat. "Francis.." she muttered loudly, you're alive... She sat the candle on the table and walked towards him. He was walking away from her; she couldn't even see his face. But it is Francis.. I'm sure she kept telling herself as she walked behind him. The faster she walked, the faster her husband moved further from her. Soon her shins were sore and a headache invaded her head like an army of piranhas devouring a mouse carcass. He walked through a door, and then turned sharply to the right. She followed him and fixed her eyes on his figure which was now growing darker than a shadow. The floor beneath her was now wooden, and on her right was a audience looking at her silently. I'm on a theater stage she realized when she spotted the red curtains on the sides. Francis didn't seem to stop, so she walked behind him. He walked into a door then turned to the right, and then crossed a tight corridor. The lighting around her seemed to get brighter, and slowly the place around her became recognizable. A.. clinic? The man entered a room on his left and she followed him and took a seat as per his command. That's not Francis... It took her ten seconds of slow breathing to calm the headache that made her head pulse and spin like a washing machine. "My name is Heidi" she managed to mumble. She twitched her nose and rubbed her forehead, then her neck, and continued. "I-I lost my husband, Francis, a few years ago". Heidi paused. Her blue eyes studied the man in front of her, and when she decided he was indeed a doctor, she began to study the small room the two were in. When it struck her that she had paused for ten seconds, she spoke again. "Um, the usual. Depression, trauma, short term memory loss, hallucinations". This time her pause was abrupt, as if she had decided to cut the list prematurely. She looked around for a second, then started rubbing her hands together and then her knees. Her body muscles were tensed, and even her ankles were in pain. No doubt from all that walking she reasoned, but the pain was going away the more she massaged, and her grip of reality seemed strong - for now. ​

 

[Father Figure]

My God what had happened to this poor woman?

Surely he had not expected things to be in this state of disrepair. When he had entered the waiting room to bring her back she had seemed almost to be in a fugue state of sorts, completely disconnected from what was happening around her with barely the semblance of an ability to respond to the stimulus of the world. She may not have understood what was happening, she was hardly lucid, and so he guided her into his small office with a light touch on her arm...afraid to actually reach out to do anything that might set off a response. Often they warned you about touching a patient, yet he had discarded it several times in his professional career. Physical touch was something that most human beings needed, and as long as you were not taking advantage of them. As long as you were not causing them pain and suffering through your actions, then more often than not it was very appreciated. If the world they lived in was not so frightened of the offenders hidden in the corners, then he would recommended massage and touch therapy to practically everyone struggling with non-violent mental difficulties.

He shook his head as he escorted her in and she took a seat, and for once in his life he was trying to ignore the looks of his patient. He'd had his fair share of a beautiful woman sitting in his office. Had his few moments of appreciation for someone who was lovely, yet hers was a mingle sadness and beauty, making it even more painful to see in another human being. Her uncertainty, her shame, her pain was easy to see....and combined with the pertness of her chest and the show of pale flesh, the way her jeans tightened on her legs as she sat back and adjusted herself. It took his breath away and he merely watched her before once again shaking his head and setting it in the back of his mind. No matter how he felt he had one job, and one job only, and that was to help her through this trial in her life.

He knew though he had to be careful, it served nothing yet to make her face that pain, instead he needed to draw her out into trusting him and more than that...trusting herself once more. He watched as she moved, as she began to massage herself and he understood that the stimulus was part of what helped her manage, helped her bring herself back into line with the world. It was not uncommon for individuals to do so, in fact that was exactly why the autistic engaged in stimming patterns in order to help them focus properly, and he said nothing to stop her doing so. Instead he gave a small nod of his head, not smiling at her words...there was no need to be reassuring, this was serious and deserved him treating her properly...like an adult and not something broken.

So he moved a small seat over, a footstool really, so that he could sit within a few feed of her. It was something no Doctor had done with her, it was the kind of closeness that a friend might have...someone truly intent on her story, and his face was somber and quiet as he began to speak. "Heidi...," he said, his voice low and lulling. "I know you've got that litany down pat don't you. Everyone wants to know...what you did and how you're feeling. Everyone wants to ask...what is wrong with you. That's not what I want to ask you." He didn't touch her, he merely scooted closer and placed his hands on his knees as his eyes sought hers.

"What I want to know...is what is right with you. What have you been doing recently, what do you enjoy doing...does anything make you smile...does anything help you focus on the here and now?"

 

[Fruit]

[img=500x670]http://s6.postimg.org/9vt4wmeyp/post2.png[/img]

A few days ago, that question would have made her roar with anger and denial. "I AM focused on here and now!" she could almost hear herself. The German seemed to gradually relax as she massaged her limbs. Her panting was doused back to regular breathing, and slowly her surroundings became realer to her. Her cheeks now petaled with shades of rosy pink, her voice no longer a ghostly whisper. A few seconds went by before she answered the doctor's question. "Umm..." she muttered, before her lips curved in a smile. She rubbed her forehead with her left hand and started giggling, "I went back to working in the veterinarian clinic!". There was joy in her voice, and the blush on her cheeks grew redder. "I adore animals" she confessed as she looked down at the ground, her hand still supporting her forehead and her left toe drawing circles on the floor. "I spent the other day taking care of a kitten". It was obvious that despite her efforts, her German accent still peaked between the syllables. She could mask a few words, but a mere sentence can easily expose her exoticism. Suddenly, the tides turned. "I've not worked there since Francis..", she took a deep breath. Her lips quivered and her eyes pulsed, as if emotions were dueling for the right to conquer her face. After a few skirmishes, smiling won the fight. A gentle Mona Lisa-like smile appeared on her face. "Francis encouraged me to follow my dreams. When I thought I wasn't a good actress, he drove me to a local theater on audition week" she paused and smiled, "He told me we wouldn't go back home until I stepped in and auditioned". Heidi lifted her face from the nest of her hands and eyed the doctor, "I'd not even practiced". The smile grew larger on her face, "I got the role" she whispered, and a tear fell down her cheeks. She slowly started sobbing. The petals now had dew. "I'm sorry" she murmured as she wiped her tears. "You wanted happy thoughts", she smiled again, her eyes still sparkling with tears. "The other psychiatrists said I shouldn't go back to acting on stage. Stage lights make me lightheaded. I can't concentrate with many people watching me or talking around me. Besides, the whole thing just brings back bad memories and gives me nightmares. It makes me remember things I don't want to remember" she sighed, then took a deep breath and looked deep into the doctor's eyes. He looked handsome, with eyes the color of honey and hair with shades of black and grey. He looks like Francis.. she suddenly realized, and for a moment she saw her late husband sitting opposite to her. Heidi bit her lips and a million thoughts raced through her mind. What do I say? Do I smile? Do I hug him, kiss him, or fuck him? Does he hate me now? Is he angry? Does he even remember? She was contemplating on what to do. What to say. How to react. Memories upon memories played inside her head like a film reel, complete with sounds of crying, yelling, and wood burning. There were millions of things she could do. There were millions of things she wanted to do. However, in the end, Heidi made the wrong decision - she blinked, and just like that, the figure before her shifted to a man with hazel eyes, grey beard, and thin glasses. Francis didn't wear glasses.. the realization disappointed her. "Should I be on medication?" Her voice was weak, but hopeful. Her eyes would sparkle whenever her blue pupils danced around, and below her scimitar-shaped nose, her pink lips were smiling. Maybe she was broken in the inside, but on the outside she seemed content with herself. Perhaps it was the doctor's presence, Or Francis's. ​

 

[Father Figure]

He was worried for her. There was little doubt that she was having a hard time remaining on task and on one topic. The inability to maintain focus was something that he had briefly mentioned in passing and he could see that it brought a tightness to her even though she did not have an outburst concerning it. Well, that was something worthy of noting. He listened as she spoke, seeing her uncertainty ease as she came to discuss even a couple of the things that made her smile and he made his mental notations concerning it. It was these little things that might aid them along, these little moments that would provide an opening or two for them to explore her mind. He did not know what the other Doctor's had told her, but he did know that what they were interested in was ensuring nothing but their own backsides were covered. Very few seemed interested in the surety that their patient was integrated back into the world with the skills to keep them from harming themselves and others.

That was not the kind of Doctor he was.

Reaching out to touch her was perhaps not the proper thing to do, it was hardly ethical and something that anyone in the profession would look down upon. Especially since it was done without a nurse or assistant in the room. You never wanted to breach that contact, never wanted to put yourself in the path of being liable for malpractice. Yet once again he ignored the age old adages and continued down his own preferred path. His hands came out to take her own, seeing the emotional turmoil, and his strong fingers wrapped round her delicate skin and held it in safety and surety. He was laborer, there was nothing rough about those fingers, but even though the skin was smooth the strength of purpose was within those limbs. He was no weakling, no spineless man, and the hands cupped hers with a confidence that was able to provide an anchor in her time of uncertainty. Why he had felt willing to do so was something that bothered him, rarely did he initiate contact at the first meeting but he was self-aware enough to know what had him do it.

It was those eyes.

Beautiful and compelling, the stormy emotions held behind a gaze that was still wet with her tears. Even though the smile came and was offered, even though she was trying to please him, it was that which made this so painful for him. He had seen many people come through his office but never had he seen someone seem so sad and lonely, so lost and yet so eager to try to make him happy. He gave her a reassuring smile as his fingers smoothed over her palms, giving a gentle sound in the back of his throat as he finally answered her.

"I can't say yet, I would like you not to be on them. Nothing is going to change for you if you have to stay on medication. Maybe you'll be calm, maybe you'll be placid, but more than likely you'll be just a zombie. So...let's start slow, let's actually start moving you off anything they have you on and we'll go from there." He paused, his voice quiet and considering. "You have a hard time on stage, yet...there are ways to act without it, to enjoy your work and the thrill of doing so. Perhaps we can read lines from your favorite play together?"

 

[Fruit]

Staying connected with her surroundings had always been a challenge for Heidi ever since her husband died. She worked with many psychiatrists to erase that part of her memory, but the only thing they made her forget was how many of them she had seen. She doesn't remember their names, the names of their clinics, how they looked, how many time she'd seen them, nor what they'd done to her.

The only memories that were vividly haunting her were ones she wished to forget. She remembered everything about Francis. She remembered the first time she'd seen him was in her clinic when Shaggydog was sick, He made me laugh at day, and the memory still brought her a short lived smile before she would break into tears. She remembered the night he proposed to her. He took her to her favorite restaurant then proposed to her there. It took us three hours to drive back home. We lived ten minutes away from the place. She remembered the darkness of his hair, the gentleness of his eyes, the smell of his clothes, and yet all those fond memories served was to remind her of the last time she'd seen him. The night I killed him. She couldn't look herself in the mirror without seeing his phantom behind her shoulder. He would stand there with a gentle smile and a broken look in his eyes. Clad in white clothes stained with blood. She often saw the same stains on her hands. And whenever she wished to clean herself, the sink only spit fire at her.

The air was growing hot around her, and she was about to wail but the man's touch soothed her. The instant their skins made contact, she snapped into another reality; it was like waking from a dream only to fall into another. The two of them were in their bedroom. Francis.. her heart leaped forward. She giggled at his proposal, like a virgin teen being asked on a date for the first time. Or like a bride in her wedding gown blushing after a compliment. "Oh Francis" she purred to her husband with dreamy eyes. "You're just saying that because its your favorite play too" she giggled, then moved her hands to brush the man's knees. She caressed him openly, not aware for one bit that she was with a man she's only briefly met. "Okay, Henry" she said the name with a giggle then jumped up happy as a child on Christmas morning, then walked towards the door.

She turned to face him with a frightened face. "Henry.. please" she begged in a teary voice as she walked towards him hastily, her hands holding her skirt as if it was a long dress, "For the love you bear our child, for the love you bear our little one" she sank to her knees when she reached his seat, it was obvious that she had her own rendition of what a British accent sounds like, "HAVE MERCY!" she started crying, her forehead glued to her husband's knees as she looked up to him. Her chin inches away from his crotch; and she was trembling with fear. "I beseech you, your grace" she sobbed, then kissed his hand like a cat licking her own paws.
​

 

[Father Figure]

He was an intelligent man, that was true, and well trained in dealing with those who had suffered such mental defects in their lives. Yet this was something through him a bit, causing him to feel discomfort for the first time since he had met the woman and that was enough to make him wonder if he truly was the right person for this particular patient. It was the tumultuous emotions that were throwing him off, the inability to remain grounded in the present and the swift movements between not just trauma but disconnection. He slowly took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself in the face of what was in front of him, almost as if he was preparing to go into battle. There was more truth to that than he wanted to believe, because frighteningly she was more dangerous than any monster to slay. Mentally putting on the armor that would stop him from doing anything that was not only immoral, but in the case of a psychologist, very much illegal.

She was vulnerable. A woman in distress. Surely he would not be such a bad man to try to rescue her?

It was in every line of her body as she knelt before him. He had been practically shocked as she touched him. He felt her fingers on him and he could see the hint of her knees below her skirt, the silken skin bared to his eyes, the swell of her bosom as she inhaled and pressed so terribly close. He was nothing if not a man, nothing if not flesh and blood, and like any man he responded...feeling a stirring, the terrible desire manifesting in the physical flesh as he hardened. It caused him to move just the tiniest of bits, searching for a bit of comfort so that he could hide the equal amount of embarrassment. His gaze slowly raised along her lithe form, the beautiful curves accentuated in so exposed a fashion, before they finally centered on her face as her lips traced such tantalizing patterns along his skin. Her beautiful face, practically aristocratic and demure, a beauty if ever there was one...all that marred it was the suffering she had endured. It was not his intention in any fashion to abuse this moment with someone so very hurt, but he still responded.

He could not help but do so.

The play, he could center on that as well and provide some kind of direction to the conversation. It easy an easy leap to understand that she was playing the role of one of Henry's paramours, his wives, from Henry the VIII. Shakespeare. He might have seen it in his youth, but he in no way was prepared to try to recite lines from it. He struggled to remember the words, hoping behind hope that some Lit class in college might provide him a respite from his ignorance but he truly could not dredge up anything other than the historical significance. But, perhaps this would let them have interaction of a sort and a bit of a connection that could grow. It would let him use something at the very least. His hand turned over in her grasp, feeling her kisses as his tongue touched his dry lips and his cultured voice spoke.

"I...forgive me, I...," he gave a small laugh. "I forgot the lines, I'm not quite as good as you are without a script...should I wing it, do you think?"

 

[Fruit]

It was a dream engulfed in another. Within the boundaries of her own reality, Heidi was enacting a scene as Anne Boleyn opposite to her husband playing King Henry VIII. Francis loves this play, its his favorite. It was a scene where the British King is confronted by his distraught wife pleading for mercy prior to her execution. Francis loved the chaotic fusion of emotions Heidi embodied in this role. There was fear, sadness, nervousness, and complete absence of Boleyn's collective mindset, but what Francis loved most was the hint of hope that showed on the queen's eyes. "I feel like Anne Boleyn is secretly optimistic that she can win Henry's forgiveness back. The possibility of death terrifies her, but her own air of cockiness and confidence makes her dismissive of being killed. It is that final look on her face, when Henry shuns her away that shows her denial faltering and realization of her predicament taking place, that is priceless". He had once shared with her his fascination of this dramatic scene.

She had no grasp on any fragment of consciousness. No attachment to time nor space nor people; her memories were jumbled and her own sense of identity was stirred. The only pieces of her mind that were glued rigidly were those pertaining to her late husband. In fact, she remembered more of Francis than she should. She saw him more with him dead than she ever had when he was alive. She saw him in the way the veterinarian doctor smiled, the way the postman walked, and the voice the weatherperson spoke with. It was no wonder that she remembered how much he adored watching her act this particular scene and how warm it made her feel knowing that her husband was her top admirer. Perhaps it was an irony of fate that Francis played the role of the executioner in this scene given what she did to him that night.

She remembered exactly what she had done to him. That cursed night when he died on their bed with his blood on her hands and semen between her legs. She never wanted him gone. She could never bring herself to hurt him. Yet she'd done it regardless, and she blamed herself for what had befallen her husband. She blamed it on her idiocy and poor judgement.

Yet there he was. Alive in breathing flesh. She was so ecstatic with his presence that the hows and whens escaped her brain. Her mind was occupied with the warm moment. Her heart was busy wondering whether her husband knew what she had done to him, or if he hated her for it, but her lips denied her heart from confirming her fears. She loved the moment too much to ruin it by bringing painful incidents from the past.

After planting a few pecks on her psychiatrist's hands, she retreated back to her feet. "B-but its your favorite play" her voice had a whimper of disappointment with a hint of confusion, like a child denied her favorite toy without any justification. "I'm sure you'll remember it after we start". She smiled, if only for a second, then donned her acting face once again.

Then it was almost as Heidi had never known how to smile. Her face was a portrait of sadness befitting a wife facing an execution ordered by her husband. Her hands moved to tug at his shoulders and pull their bodies closer until their faces were only a finger away. "I loved you and I love you still. Please.. After everything we've been to each other, after everything we were!" She could feel his warm breath landing on her cheeks, yet it made her shiver with thrill. "Please" she begged, then leaned forward and kissed the man. Their lips found each other like magnets. "Please, Henry. I'm sorry", she kissed her husband again, tasting him and feeling his weight hold her close. "Francis", she muttered amidst her barrage of kisses, their two heads glued like two pieces of a cross.


​

 

[Father Figure]

There were many things he could do to immediately halt the moment, but he did not and he was not entirely sure whether it was surprise or a wish for it to continue that prevented him from doing so. Her lips were like heaven upon his own skin, the feel of her moving against him, and her hands tightening on his shoulders. He had allowed this, he knew that deep down inside of himself, allowed it for whatever reason. He could have prevented her from touching him, pushed her away from him, and had a measure of space between them...but instead he had let her hold him tight and mold her body to his own in order to kiss him. Did he feel her tongue against his own as the unasked kiss continued between them? The headiness nearly overwhelmed him in the nearness, her natural scent intoxicating in the close proximity and he found himself barely capable of thought.

Did he want to think though?

She had mentioned her husband in the midst of that kiss, and that frightened him deeply. Not that he felt she was a danger, but that he felt he had misjudged his true ability to aid her in her time of trouble. Perhaps she was far more damaged than he realized. Francis must have been so incredibly important, far more important than any person the doctor had ever had in his own life. The trauma, the responsibility, the guilt...why did it consume her so much that it had ruined her to this point? Made her uncertain not only of who and where she was, but in fact made her uncertain of what reality she truly existed within? The records had so little of what had truly happened and he would have to muddle his way through it just as he worked his way through this with her. As the kiss broke for a moment his teeth gritted, and he turned his face away to forestall any further affection.

As he caught his breath he hurriedly tried to find some measure to control the situation once more, to find his way back into angling the conversation in a way that would ensure not only the safety of his patient but allow for a break in the physical contact. He knew Henry had rejected Anne Boleyn, like many people he knew the vague historical ideas. More than that he knew Henry had executed her, though even with the ludicrousness of the moment he couldn't imagine doing any harm to this beautiful young woman. No, he would perhaps play the role to it's completion...merely to find out where it might lead, find out if there was anything more he could glean from what had happened to her and her....Francis, and then maybe later he could research this role and be better prepared for their next discussion.

He stood, pushing her away from him with his muscled thigh as he moved past her and towards the wall facing away from her. His face was hidden from her as he stood there and his hand reached out to turn off the music that had been playing on the 80's station, plunging them into silence. He stood there before speaking, the voice rough and perhaps there was a bit more to the act...a bit of jealousy having creeped in as he realized that he would never be as important as her late husband. That bothered him for some reason...bothered him deeply.

"Anne," he said, his head finally turning to look at her. "Accept your apology? Offer you mercy? What have you done to receive my forgiveness? What have you given, could you give, that I might pardon your crimes and accept you back?"

 

[Fruit]

They were all reality, but different layers where emotions transcended one layer onto the other. Guilt, doubt, and love toyed with her heart like a Frisbee.

The similarities between Elias and Francis overwhelmed Heidi's mental capabilities. The way they moved, talked, smiled, and looked at her was the same. The way they both made her feel was the same. Sitting with Elias and practicing a scene reminded Heidi of all the time she spent with her late husband playing one scene after the other. Albeit for different reasons, Elias seemed equally interested in watching Heidi act and recite lines. It made her feel appreciated, admired, and in a sense, spoiled. She had felt loved and accepted when she was practicing with Francis, and now she was experiencing the same feeling with Elias.

And just like that, all the layers of reality she was living in slowly started to mirror each other as she found herself begging her husband for forgiveness. Heidi found the situation unbearably confusing; it was as if she wasn't even acting anymore. "But Francis.." she muttered, her British accent defecting to Germany as soon as the vanguards clashed, "I can offer you my love". Her face moved closer to him again, and then she reached down for his hand. If only I can show him the love I bear for him.. then gently guided his hand towards her left breast. "My heart beats nothing but pure love for you, Francis."

As a tear fell down her cheeks, she spoke, her eyes locking into his as she felt his clutch on her heart. My god, I'm crying again. He shouldn't see me like this. I've turned week.

She wanted to prove her love to him. She was prepared to demonstrate how much she cherished him with actions rather than words. Yet it was my own actions that killed him! Suddenly it was too much for her to handle, and the widow broke into sobs and sank to her knees. She moved her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his crotch as she cried. "Please, Francis.." she rubbed her nose against his zipper, not fully aware of what how sexual the context was even though she could feel the man's warm scent and growing erection under the tip of her nose.

Then she threw her head backwards, arching her neck away from him and giving him a perfect view of her cleavage. Her tears had trailed past her cheeks and moved through the valley of her bosom. "Francis, that night.. of the fire.. I swear I didn't mean to" she started wailing, "I forgot all about the candle I had left on the table. I didn't think it would burn the whole kitchen down. I.. I wasn't thinking straight. I'm so stupid" she went back to crying on his crotch, using the fabric as a napkin.

She was moving her lips against the man's erection as she repented her sins "I swear not a night goes by without my mistake haunting me in my dreams. There is always a flickering candle, always you, and I always lose you." The fabric was now very wet with tears, she could almost feel his flesh under her breath, his pheromones filling her lungs.

"But now you're alive, Francis. I want to make it up for you". Her eyes moved to meet his, sly and devious, but equally apologetic and full of doubt. "I want to show you how much I love you; How much I've missed you; How truly sorry I am. I want you do take me, Francis, take me however way you want. I want you, Francis, I want you in me!". Then she kissed his crotch. "Make love to me. Make remember how much you love me"

"One more chance.. One more! I beseech you, your majesty"
​

 

[Father Figure]

She was crying and it was nearly breaking his heart to see her so fundamentally damaged, to see her so aching and desperate for approval, so much so that she was offering herself to him. It was deeply painful, tearing him apart as he tried to fathom the amount of suffering she must have endured to feel and act the way that she was. She admitted it in her words, the thoughts that she was attempting to convey, and he finally hit upon something that the other physicians had failed fundamentally to find out. The cause of death. Oh, there had been suspicion of course but this was confirmation and would go a long way to maybe trying to gain her a measure of relief from the events that had caused her to spiral to such a moment in her life. A moment of weakness and uncertain on her knees before the very man who was supposed to be helping her.

Yet apparently his sorrow did not convince him to push her away.

No, instead his hand moved out as she nuzzled against that thick flesh hidden away still from her sight. Indeed, the Doctor had been completely unable to hide his arousal and now there was the feel of his thickness, the heavy girth pulsing beneath the fabric of his clothing. His hand touched her hair, caressed slowly, petting her as if to try to soothe her and his teeth came to click together...gritting hard as he struggled with the desire inside of him. His fingers slowly took a bit tighter hold of her hair as she spoke her words of offering herself to him, willing to give up everything just to make him happy, and as she did so...he ground up against her, moving that hardness along her beautiful lips and feeling her warm breath against him, his head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling and hissed out a slow beseeching for this to end. This was torment.

It did not seem an answer from the heavens was forthcoming.

He was a foolish man to even think that he could get away with this, foolish completely to even attempt to try it, and more so...sick to do so with her, no matter how beautiful she was. It violated everything that he was, violated his edicts and morals, and violated her. God, goddamn what was wrong with him that he would actually allow this to happen? Yet his eyes moved towards the door to reassure himself that it was closed and closed securely, and then they flicked towards the clock, worry over how much time that they had left. Barely over ten minutes, if he was going to do anything then they would have to be quick. His hand moved away from her, both of them coming down between the two of them as he bit his own lip this time, and his fingers quickly undid the top of his pants and his zipper to free himself before her very eyes. He knew not if he resembled her husband in this fashion, for not it hardly mattered, his fingers gripping the base of that heavy shaft as his free hand took her arm to begin lifting her up into his lap.

His voice was soft, quiet and intense, taking advantage of the illusion and the desire coursing through her. Taking advantage of her willingness to please him...and her fractured mind. At the end of the day he would remember, taking advantage of that fractured mind. He felt sick, but it still did not stop him from whispering the words. "You will never lose me again, I swear, never again. Hurry, love, hurry then...soon they will come back for you, but we have this moment...we can have this, right now."

 

[Fruit]

Heidi saw the hesitation in her husband's eyes. This is good. His vacillation made her even more determined to seduce him. It means he is thinking about it.. It all made perfect sense in her mind. If she had killed the man, he would only forgive her if she sent him to heaven. The German kissed his crotch passionately as she watched his moments of dither transform into a state of absolute lust. There was guilt in his eyes, as if he wasn't supposed to be doing this, but all it did was to rally Heidi into ravishing the man's libido. Soon, the his defenses faltered. His pants fell as he raised his white flags, and as his cock poked her forehead, her vanguard was knighted by the King - Anne Boleyn was spared. Sorry..

She was on her knees, her legs spread on her sides like butterfly wings. She looked up at his cock akin to a criminal asking the judge for atonement. Her eyes were shaky but full of desire as she watched her husband's cock pulse into erection before her own eyes. Thick, long, hardening and decorated with vigorous veins. "Oh Francis.." she cooed with her sultry voice.

Her delicate fingers wrapped themselves around the meaty erection tenderly as she held it upwards in front of her face and gave it a few loving strokes. Heidi reached to kiss the base, her chin moving shyly against her husband's balls while her lips made kissing noises. Her tongue soon crawled out of its den as she licked the length upwards like an ice pop. The shaft's weight rested on her nose and forehead for support, but soon it was standing proudly erect like a rhino's horn. She reached for the top and kissed the tip, then parted her lips and took it in. As her tongue swirled around the royal crown, she bobbed her head up and down, diving deeper with the scepter poking her throat with every bout as she moaned. Precum leaked unhindered down her throat as memories of her husband flooded her mind. Sorry..

Heidi summoned her hands again and they wrapped themselves around the firm manhood like snakes around a tree branch. Then she held the tip closer to her lips and kissed it again, her eyes locked onto his as she gazed into his eyes for signs of forgiveness. Her lips soon parted for another dive as she took the entire length in, twirling her tongue around and flicking it against the sensitive head. Sorry.. Her hands moved to make do of her clothes, and within seconds her shirt and bra fell next to the doctors pants. She exposed her perfectly shaped breasts, two perky mounds of life adorned with nipples dark as sin. Perhaps they were some of the few things about her that weren't broken or damaged. Pink-hued and soft, they jiggled as her head moved.

Soon her skirt landed on the ground. Her white panties remained to obscure her privates, but they failed to obscure her lust as a large stain of wetness was visible on the fabric. Sorry.. Her clit radiated warmth, its juices flowing shamelessly as she moaned and kissed and sucked her husband's erection.​

 

[Father Figure]

The concept of heaven might have been a foreign one to the man, one which he had only heard of in song and psalm, but at this moment he was quite sure he had found the earthly equivalent. The way she practically worshipped the heavy shaft that had been placed in front of her was beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life, the sheer exquisiteness of the actions, and if her Francis had ever been gifted such a treat then he had been the truly blessed to have found a woman such as Heidi. The good doctor never had though and the act of not reaching orgasm right then and there was one of monumental effort. The willpower to hold back in order to have more of her lips wrapped around him and the potential of having other more delicate places of her womanly figure becoming his was something he could barely summon...but summon it he did and he panted up into the air as he tried to regain a measure of control. A woman had so much power in a moment such as this, over the emotions of a man, and Heidi was playing him like a virtuoso.

His hands flexed in the air for a moment as she so ardently worshipped the flesh within her mouth, his fingers twitching slightly as if they did not quite know what to do with themselves. He had trouble opening his eyes as, the heated moment causing them to roll slightly back, but when he heard her moving to undress he forced them open so that he could admire the display that was provided to him, the ample feast before his very eyes. His flesh pulsed against her tongue, the heady taste of his precum on her flesh, and he caught his lip to stifle a loud moan that would have split the air at the sight of her alabaster skin. She was indeed perfection, the beautiful arch of her throat leading to her delicate shoulders and exquisite bosom. Her voice cooed his name once more and he felt a sickness inside of him as he realized that it was not his name that she was calling into the air. Her husband'ss, of course her husband's name.

The guilt ran through him but he still did not stop the assault of her lips.

His voice gave out a soft cry, a solemn moan held within as he whispered quick entreaties. "God..oh God...Heidi, fuck...Heidi...." He wanted to touch her, to touch her just once, if this was the only time he could have that feeling of her beautiful body offered in supplication to him then it would be the opportunity he would not pass up. His hands finally moved to take her, one caressed into her soft hair to take hold of it, to pull her head back so he could gaze into her beautiful features...his eyes meeting hers, and he leaned in to kiss. God yes, to kiss those shining lips as his other hand found flesh clasped beneath it. Strong fingers moving to grip one beautiful breast, feeling the hardness of her nipple in his palm as he cupped her and unbidden he cooed soft platitudes into the air. That things were well, that she was forgiven, that she was adored and wanted. He swore he could smell the heady excitement of her arousal on the air, but his heart lurched as he realized the vulnerability of them both at that moment.

He did not quite know what world she was currently within, what her shattered mind made of the moment between the two of them, and for once he doubted that he cared. Yet he had to live in reality and even if he was wrapped into the carnal pleasure of that moment he could not help but glance towards the door in absolute fear. He knew that more than likely they would not be interrupted, at least not until they'd overly gone beyond the time allotted for her, and yet he could not help but experience the irrational fear that something would happen...someone would suspect, the noise would draw them, was it all worth it? Guiltily he knew it was, that she was worth the risk, and even if it might be the hormonal surges of testosterone and adrenal pumping through his veins...at least for now he could live with his decision. He caught her lips once more, kissing slowly before leaning his head against hers and whispering. "If you wish me to love you, then let me love you."

 

[Fruit]

It was like a lucid dream. Once again Heidi was reunited with her soulmate. It nearly brought tears to her eyes as she reflected on the reality of the situation. Love played her like a puppeteer. It showed on her soft, high voice. It manifested on the way she looked at him, almost swooning at his approval of her. All she wanted was to hold him close to her, to hug him until their were one entity, until their hearts would beat as one.

Her husband helped her up to her feet, and she eagerly met his lips with hers. "Francis" she moaned his name as their lips wrestled and moved together in perfect harmony. Hers parted and her tongue darted out, and then their tongues dueled and danced. "Francis, I love you so" she shyly murmured, her cheeks sparkling a lively pink as the warmth of the moment possessed her. Being between her husband's arms had been her dream for too long, its all real now. Her husband's name kept coming of out her lips every time she kissed the man's lips unaware of the pain and guilt it caused the doctored husband. Her love was mass produced but badly distributed; Elias was inheriting the love that was meant for Francis.

She flicked her tongue against his, her lips moving gently against his in gentle waves. "I'll never love another, Francis. Its always been you" she admitted as the tides turned. Her arms circled around his neck, and her hands found the back of his head. She scratched his hair softly, her fingers moving through his hair fondly as she held his face closer to her. As the embrace tightened, she she found her nude chest glued to his shirt. Her legs gently rose and she wrapped them around his waist. Her drenched panties glued to his sticky shaft as she devoured his mouth with her hungry kisses. She could feel his pulse, his warmth, his breath, his desire. It was building between his legs and the only thing that could douse him was between her's.

Heidi sucked on her husband's bottom lip as she moaned onto him. Her taste filling his mouth while she took his in her's. She moved her fingers around the man's back, feeling his muscular shoulders and lightly brushing her nails around his flesh. He tasted exactly like Francis; masculine and salty.

"Take me, Francis. Take me like you always do"​

 

[Father Figure]

Whatever kind of man he might have been went out the window at the feel of her body against him. What did one say when an angel wrapped her legs around you and ground her hungry flesh against your erection? What could he truly think of at that moment with her lush bosom pressing hard against his chest, her arms wrapping round him as she pleaded for him to take her? He would be a complete idiot to deny himself such a thing, a complete fool to even try to resist the heat between her thighs. The moment felt like a surreal dream and he was tired of acting like he could not do this, tired of trying to prevent himself from acting upon his need for her and showing her that a man could save her from the torment she was experiencing in her life. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her need for someone to show her love, show her some kind of compassion and want that would take those demons away from her and provide her that long lost solace she had dreamt of.

Any guilt inside of him was quickly squelched with desire.

There was no need to think anymore and no need to refrain from his wish to have her. He lifted her tight against him, making sure she was well braced, before moving her over to the nearby table to sit her perfect ass onto it. The act knocked over a set of files, spilling them onto the floor as he hungrily lowered his head to catch hold over her mouth once more. That mouth was not the only part of Heidi that received the attention of his lips, for he moved further down, his hands taking hold of her thighs as he tenderly kissed his way down over the peak of her right breast, tugging slightly with teeth before continuing his lavish attention further downwards. He spread her as he hunched his shoulders, kissing her inner thigh as he opened her beautiful form up to his sight. His tongue flicked just slightly, teasing, wondering what he needed to say to have everything, to have all of this. He knew the answer deep inside of his heart already and he almost quailed at the thought of speaking those words. Yet at the moment in lust, the feeling of euphoria rushing over him, he meant every single bit of it as he whispered back..."I love you too."

His fingers slowly tugged her panties up and off, tossing them to the floor in one swift expert motion. He felt like a God in that instance, seeing her for the first time and it was everything he might have dreamt of. The beautiful folds of her flesh exposed made him groan in his own delight for more of her, his eyes widening as his features flushed with hunger. He did not want to take her just yet, they had enough time for him to ensure that she was properly shown how very much she was loved. He was no Francis, but he was a man already infatuated with her, and he would do much to ensure she was well pleased with the results of her acquiescence. His fingers slid along the silkiness of her labias as he parted her and then leaned in to slowly caress her with his tongue, the hot air of his breath exhaling outwards over her skin as he began to work that exquisite form. His hands slid to cup her, like a man dying for a drink of water in the dessert, and he feasted...it was the only word to describe the moan of delight as the taste of her nectar touched his tongue.

 

[Fruit]

She ached for him.

The fact that the man wanted her just as much as she wanted him melted her heart like candle wax. She returned his touch with her flesh; their two bodies glued together like magnets. Soon he was on her like a tiger devouring a gazelle, and she was soon on the table like a sacrifice to appease the gods. He found her breasts between his fingers. Heidi squealed with pleasure as the doctor ravaged her nipples. They stiffened under his mercy, reddening and electrifying her body, rendering her blind and overwhelmed with pleasure. She rested her head on the table and watched the roof, her eyes fighting to stay open, her legs struggling not to spasm in bliss.

The conqueror resumed his march as he traversed down her body, past the valley of her torso towards the plains of her flat stomach. His hands flanked her waist and his lips assaulted her's. He feasted from her nectar and she moaned his name. She curled her toes and spread her legs for him shamelessly as warmth consumed her body. The table beneath her was shaking, she kept kicking and pushing the papers and folders down on the ground as she fumbled for something to tug on. Their shadows wrestled on the wall, and soon her moans echoed in the room as the man plundered her body.

"Oh Francis" Let them hear us. Let them know you still love me.

Her fingers dove in the black sea of the doctors hair. She scratched him behind his ear and pulled him closer to her forbidden fruit folds. My man is between by legs again. The thought filled her with excitement enough for her juices to gush down her husband's throat. Her legs gently closed around the mans head as she held him between her for a few seconds, enjoying the tender embrace and the heated proximity. The two bodies were now sweating like two animals in heat, moaning and reaching for one another like a drowning person for a lifebelt.

She helped him up the desk and atop herself. Her husband hovered above her, his eyes locking into hers, her lips yearning for his. The doctor's cock was fully erect, and crawling towards her crotch like a spear. It hardly needed guidance, but her eagerness forced her hands to steer the sword towards the sheath. "Ahh" her lips couldn't seal the whimper of approval as he entered her.

Show them that you forgive me. Let them see that you're still mine and I'm yours. She was tight as a virgin and wet as a whore.

The widow felt her walls widen as her husband sunk deeper inside her. She curled her toes and rolled her eyes. "France", she muttered, "fill me up", she almost commanded. With each thrust her moans because louder, till they eventually rhymed with the sound of Elias's balls slapping her in a harmonic symphony. The table shook and creaked with each wave, and the German's breasts jiggled and bounced merrily the more Elias bucked his hips.

The fucking intensified rapidly. The doctor as relentless as a warrior who'd sworn that his sword would never dry cold. The patient was like a virgin at her wedding night, squealing and moaning, blushing and kissing and kicking. He fucked her till the table felt soft as a bed and the world secluded as a cave. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his neck, nibbled at his earlobes gently, then whispered into his ears.

"machen sie mir schwanger"
​

 

[Father Figure]

He had no idea what she was saying into his ear, but the urgency in her voice was enough to convince him that whatever it was it was an encouragement for the act that they were consummating. She was more than perfect, she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and now he was touching the flesh of an angel and finding her to be more than just transcendental but a true reality beneath his hands. His hands slid to cup those amazing breasts, digging into the flesh to hold onto them, his eyes burning down as he gazed at her with wanton lust permeating every part of his being. Yet he was worried, frightened, fearful of the power of that moment. Of what it meant and what it could do to his career. It started to trickle into the back of his mind, interfering with his ability to really appreciate what was happening, and the logical side of him...the one that seemed to try to warn him of what all of this could mean started to intrude, started to speak about what would happen...what would happen if she came out of this disconnected state in the middle of all of this?

But he was so close to cumming...

The noise they were making was far too much and the worry crept back into him as he tried to stifle the noises coming from her throat. His hips hammered into the desk, rocking them, and luckily for both the furniture withstood the heated blows that strained their lovemaking. Though this was hardly lovemaking, now was it, Elias? He thought to himself. His tension was deep as he realized that the only way through this was to finish this and his body began to move into the work of that very fact. He had provided her pleasure, wanted her to feel that he was worthy of this attention....not just Francis, but him...Elias. Yet he knew that it was a foolish gamble, that in the end none of this might matter, and it was a momentary fling that would be gone...because surely he could not continue it now could he? Yet thank god for her, thank god for her beauty, because as she tightened up around him he felt those thoughts finally trickle away and he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her hard and thanked his lucky stars to have this one moment with her.

His orgasm hit like a freight train and came far quicker than he wanted, but probably timely if the clock was any indication of the matter. The intensity shook him to the core as for the briefest second he forgot all of his fears and unloaded deep within her. The moment stopped the hands of that clock, his head tilted back as the agony and pleasure seared his mind. The shaft flexed deep witin her, sliding to the full length of his thick flesh and he held still as those teeth gritted together and his eyes finally closed. He moaned hard and his head came back down into that kiss, demanding she open her mouth to his searching tongue, his whimpering growl almost a mewling noise against her lips as his ass flexed and he filled her with seed. He panted out, shaking softly as he whispered against her lips. "Heidi...oh fuck...Heidi...you're so beautiful...so...good..." He shivered as the last words left him and he found himself spent within her, shaken as the thought hammered into his mind as ecstasy left him...

Oh my God, Oh my God...we didn't use protection... Slowly he raised his head from hers to gaze down into her exquisite features, searching her eyes for something, some hope to cling to, to somehow console himself with the act he had done...to make it right, no matter how wrong it might have been.

 

[Fruit]

The woman's moans rallied the doctor like a soldier inspired by his national anthem. The friction seared her loins, then the warmth spread to her chest, neck, head and limbs. The two sweaty bodies rubbed together like two rocks wanting to start a fire. The same fire that killed Francis. The thought was disturbing. It came to me now. It wants to consume me. Guilt woke her up amidst her sins like a war prisoner woken up in the middle of night for another round of torture.

God, what was she doing? She was in a clinic. She had gone to see a psychiatrist, but she was now fucking him on his desk. She gasped in shock as the realization hit her, her eyes widening at once. I killed Francis and now I'm cheating on him. Her eyes grew heavier with tears, her cheeks red with embarrassment. I went to church to repent before God, and I winded up fucking the priest. It was darkly comical and sickeningly ignominious. I got on my knees and kissed his crotch. It was so pathetic that she wanted to cry. I begged him to fuck me. She bit on her lips like a whore finding it in herself to feel guilty.

Then she remembered everything. All the shrinks she'd seen the past few weeks. All the Francises she'd fucked. All the sins she'd committed. Her body shook with guilt, her fist clenched tight in a fusion of anger and remorse. I'm better than this! She told herself. I need to stand up for myself; I'm practically being raped here But it was like blowing into a dying fire. She wanted to shove the doctor away, but she froze like a corpse. She wanted to shout for her, but all that came out of her lips were moans and grunts of pleasure.

And her grunts bounced from one wall to another. She couldn't tell what the other patients outside were thinking; whether they'd leave, call the police, or barge in to save her. Were there people outside, even? How long had she been fucking this man? Was it past business hours now? Perhaps there weren't people to witness her sins. Even Anne Boleyn's execution had an audience. Didn't she betray her husband as well?.

Then suddenly, the doctor came inside her. A torrent of semen filled her hole to the brim, and his juices dripped from her folds down to the desk. Like a bucket of ice cold water dumped onto scorching flames, her fire withered and died. No, let the fires eat me out she thought for a millisecond, but it was gone. All the guilt, all the anger, all the sadness. It was violently stolen from her. Now she was Heidi; the love-smitten wife, and Elias was Francis, the lucky husband. And she was moaning, and moaning, and moaning.

Heidi's point of view: The End​

​

 

[Father Figure]

The orgasm was torrential, it drove him to the edge of pleasure and over it, and much like the woman underneath him it came as a sudden shock of cold water when he spilled his seed inside of her and the fire of lust was replaced with the utter stunned realization of what he had done. Looking at her as she lay there his eyes widened as he still finished, the powerful moment seeming to draw out as if he was trapped in that timeless eternity with her. He could see her on horror, her on confusion, and her own lust running rampant over her features and his brow furrowed as he realized that even in that moment of understanding he did not stop. No, his hips continued to piston deep within her until he was fully spent in her fertile womb. His body ached, his entire soul ached, but in the end he could not in any fashion feel sorrow for himself. No, he deserved the terrible guilty feeling that began to take hold of him as he finally came to a faltering stop...his legs trembling from the desire and the vigorous fucking after all these lonely days.

It was inexcusable.

What was more, he could see the sudden changes moving swiftly over the woman underneath him. The woman was clearly mad, no matter her beauty, no matter the flesh which had promised salvation. No, that flesh promised eternal damnation, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever foolish thoughts had been inside of him that he suggested he was capable of helping her had flown away with the spreading of her perfect thighs. He had cast aside everything that was good about him, which apparently was very little, just to have a taste of what she was. Oh, surely she had played her own part, but how could he hold her culpable when she was clearly not in her right mind? No, the answer was no, and more than that it was criminal what he had done. He could actually go to jail over this, and the thought made him pull away from her in disgust, not at her...but at the act they had just consummated.

Sliding out of her he stepped away, seeing the cum drip from her hot hole, revulsion and a sick delight inside of him at the view of it. He fumbled as he left her there, his voice almost desperate as he whispered frantically. "Quick, quick, get dressed...," it was all he could think of to say as she seemed to come to some kind of terms with what had happened and reveled in the moaning of her lust. He had little doubt that they'd been heard, little doubt in the slightest. Would people come, would they find them? Almost certainly it was a yes. His hands moved down to grip his pants, jerking them up so that he could button and zip them, his desperation quickly coming to fueled panic. He would lose everything, he would lose it all, was it worth it for the few moments of lust with this woman? Was it worth it to forever be ruined because he couldn't think past the need of his own cock? Whatever those answers were he did not have enough time to find them.

The door opened....

Elias's Point of View: The End​