The next step

The pain she felt was crushing. After only being married a year, he was gone. He had been such an integral part of her life. He was her everything. Her best friend. Her lover. Her support system. How could she ever recover... The days dragged on endlessly, but the nights...oh God..the nights. Tortured her dreams, creating visions of only him. In all manners. The so umcomfortably intense and intimate conversations. How he smelled. His touch gliding across her ass anytime he walked past her. How he tasted. His deep blue ultramarine eyes. His naked form. How amazing their lovemaking had been. The arousal was so intense that she constantly woke to a tear soaked pillow and an essence soaked top sheet. Puffy eyes were her new makeup and no matter what methods for a restful night she tried- nothing was more fierce than her dreams. Therapy was her only reprieve. It had been six months with the therapist and still no relief in sight. He was tall, dark and handsome. Not a therapist she would have chosen for herself. She would have much preferred the Mrs. Doubtfire type. The older lady with both wisdom and kindness. A little grandmotherly type. Preferably one who baked cookies. Short salt and pepper hair framed his youthful face. For a man in his late 40's, he could easily pass for mid 30's, max. "How are we?" "Hmmph. Fine I guess. As fine as I can be. " She trailed off. Why is it we? She scanned his office. His picture-perfect family portrait in her direct line of sight. We are not fine. You are fine. She thought to herself bitterly. "Any changes in your sleeping habits since last Thursday?" "Nope. Still the same," she answered begrudgingly. "There has been..." She looked out the window, lost in thought. "Yes?" Her therapist said eagerly. "The dreams..they're so vivid." She recalled one particularly steamy dream. It was a memory of an evening her & her husband shared. There had been wine. Lots of wine. Inhibitions were lost that evening. They hadn't even made it home. The coat check had been closer. She had been so close to him all night that his cologne, above all of the other men in the room, took precedence. She couldn't smell anything else. Not the delicious food homemade with love from the caterer. Not his handsy boss, who bathed in cologne and was confused why no one ever hung around long. The one that always looked like the creepy uncle at a family picnic. Not the sweet honeysuckle grove in the extensive courtyard. Just him. That leather- woodsy scent that always made her panties wet. Then, after one too many glasses of red, she whispered him her confession. He was immediately hard. She even verified that. Her touch made him even harder. "We need to go home. Now. I'm going to make you scream so loud, for so long." He whispered in her ear, slowly running the tip of his nose across the back of her neck. His words repeated in her head over and over. Once outside of the banquet hall, he pinned her against the wall. She instantly had her legs around his waist. She didn't care who saw. She kissed him deeply. That was her man. Her body, mind and soul was his. All his. She had always had a high s*x drive. Higher than most of the men she met. But she'd been cautious about the men she'd slept with. She'd been picky. She'd been reserved. Even to the point of being called a prude. None of her boyfriends knew that the instant she'd get home from a date, that she'd immediately need to masturbate. Several men had even offered just to bury their faces between her thighs and go. She'd politely refused most of the offers..but not all. She was only human. Then she met him. HIM. He was beautiful. He had been leaning against the bar with some of his preppy friends at the local dive bar. It was apparent by his outfit that he attended college right around the corner. It had been a stressful day at work and she'd decided to say yes to grabbing a drink with the coworkers. She had just racked up when they walked in. She'd only slightly taken notice when his scent hit her. Leaning forward to break, she felt eyes. His eyes. She looked up and directly into them. A slight curl to one side of his mouth. As if it gave him pleasure getting her undivided attention. They froze in that position for what seemed like minutes. It was only when a slight smile began to form on her face that he started the long walk across the room. She was instantly wet. No one had ever captured her attention quite like him. Had that kind of immediate effect on her. She'd never seen anything like him. He was tall. Even taller than her with 3 inch heels. At 5'7, she often towered over boyfriends, so she continually wore flats to make it less awkward. "Jackson. Jackson Wyatt. My friends call me Jack." He said confidently with a slight grin. She moved in closer. Her cheek brushing lightly against his and in her most seductive, s*x-pot voice, whispered. "So what should I call you?" A mischievous grin replacing the curl and without hesitation, he whispered back, "Anything. As long as you call me." They spent the night together at the dive bar, then spent the night together at her apartment. His scent overpowered her subconscious. His touch lightly caressed each of her vivacious curves. He engulfed her, swallowing her whole. She allowed him to possess her. She matched him in every way. The way she moved her hips to align with his. The way she instinctively ground against him while he was in her. There were no holds barred. There were no no's. Only possession. She instantly knew she loved him. "Mrs. Wyatt?!" The annoyed voice snapped her into the present. The formality of her name still panged her heart. Was she still considered a Mrs. even after being widowed? A flushed look crept over her cheeks and up her ears. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. "Yes?" She remarked casually as if she'd been present the entire time. "You were saying...vivid dreams?" She brushed away the lustful thoughts of her husband. "Yes. Extremely vivid. As if I'm there all over again. Reliving the past." "Hmm. And how long have these dreams been severe?" Severe? She thought- torrid, painful, maybe even adulterous..but not severe. "That's a little harsh" she said in a whisper. A defiant look spreading over her face and a slight pout beginning. "I wouldn't call them severe." She shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "My apologies. We'll stay with 'vivid'. These aren't all negative memories then I'm gathering?" He seemed genuinely apologetic for the chosen verbiage and softened his tone as he continued. "Subconsciously reliving both positive and negative memories, by way of dreams, is a normal healing process. It allows the mind to recall.." He paused.."a time that your mind and body were in sync. A familiarity if you will. Prior to the current reality. A longing and desire to regress, without interruption." The therapist paused again. "Are you able to recall each dream when you wake up?" "Most times," she stated frankly. She did not mention the pillow and definitely not the sheets. They discussed the writing tablet she kept next to her bed and emphasized the usage of it each evening as well as every morning. A soft bell rang out from his desk. "Times up. I encourage you to write more in the evening about how you're feeling at that moment, and if you can recall the details of the dreams in the morning, I suggest you write about them as well. We can talk about some of your passages at our next session." With that, he walked her to the door and waved for the receptionist. "Same time next week?" She nodded in agreement.