Tristan Carcer
As Paul sat down, preparing to discuss his feelings for a gay porn star with his homophobic therapist and colleague, he asked himself, as he did every week, why he remained a patient of Jack Castle. Maybe because he was your mentor, Paul told himself, but more likely because you like torturing him with your fantasies. Now, with his right leg thumping in nervous frustration, he realized he’d become distressed by his own desires.
Paul lit a cigarette. Another reason he stayed with Jack was the smoking. The aroma of Dr. Castle’s pipe had seeped into the cherry wood paneling over the years. Thus, Jack didn’t care if Paul went through half a pack of Marlboros every session.
“Any progress?” Jack asked as Paul looked around Jack’s dimly lit and dusty office for an ashtray. Jack
