I saw the car sitting outside my house. While I’ve spoken to Ava via text, I was never able to get confirmation that it was her. The vehicle definitely looked like her Nissan, but in the dark, I couldn't really tell the color. I’ve asked Ava multiple times if it was her, and she has denied it over and over again. I want to believe her, but there’s something in me that can't. To be honest, it’s nearly impossible for me to believe Ava with something like this. I know her too well.
Since the night of the incident, I haven't actually seen Ava. She seems to be playing a little game with me, one that I find impossible to tear myself away from. It’s one of those things Ava knows I can't resist, and even though she's manipulating me and I’m falling right into her trap, I can’t end the game because it excites me too much. I guess we all have our weaknesses, even therapists. Some would say especially therapists.
Ava’s game lately is a simple one. It’s masturbation. Since we haven't seen each other in a few days, Ava has been texting me daily, telling me she's about to touch herself. The text usually comes at night when I’m home with a drink in my hand. Who doesn't get a little hornier after having a drink or two? This is how I know Ava is manipulating me, because she knows I like to cap off my night with a drink after a long day of sessions. So, she texts me in the evening when I’m winding down, and tells me she’s thinking about me, and that the thought of me and our sex makes her wet. Seeing her messages is like reading an erotic novel, and while men are visual creatures, we like sexy literature, too. Maybe that's just me, but the thought of Ava rubbing her clit with thoughts of me running through her mind is an aphrodisiac if there ever was one.
Ava texts me that she's dying to rub her pussy while she thinks of me, and asks for my permission. She knows how much I yearn to control her, so she offers me an opportunity, knowing I can't refuse, and sure enough, I give in. I try to fight it away, but if I say no once, she just texts back five minutes later. If I say no again, she sends another text, this time with a picture attached—a picture of her bare, freshly-shaved pussy. Once I see that, any semblance of strength that I had crumbles. I end up telling Ava that she’s allowed to touch herself, but that she’s not allowed to come without me being present. She spends the rest of the night texting me about how good it feels and how she wants to come so badly, but needs to do it with me. By the time we’re done texting, I’m on the verge of masturbation myself, although I try to keep that to a minimum. I prefer the real thing if I can help it.
I know this is a bad idea. Ava has broken the rules by staying in my house against my wishes, and I’m certain it was her parked in front of my mailbox, because if it wasn't, then I have an even bigger mystery to solve. With all of that in mind, I know I should back away, but she has her hooks in me.
Maybe we’re dysfunctional, and if a patient told me they were seeing someone who does to them what Ava does to me, I’d tell them to be very careful, and to end it if things get any worse. But we all know doctors make the worst patients.
All things considered, I accept the situation for what it is. I know what I should do, but I’m still looking for that last bit of information to give me the push I need to back away from some amazing sex. I need to get to the bottom of the car outside my house, because once I know for a fact that Ava was essentially stalking me, I’ll know what needs to be done. So, as I sit in my office waiting for my next patient, I take out my phone and try to start the investigative process. I text Ava.
Me: Hey. You busy tonight?
As I expected, it only takes Ava a minute to respond.
Ava: No. I want to see you.
Me: Good. I want to see you, but