The Naked Lady Who Stood on Her Head Read Online Free

sound defensive.
    “That’s good, Gary, but do you think you did anything that might have provoked her seductive behavior?”
    “Absolutely not, Dr. Lochton. I was completely professional.” I was starting to get annoyed. Lochton hadn’t seen Sherry’s behavior, and he was insinuating that I was the seducer.
    He looked at his clock and said, “Our time is up here.” Now he was really talking to me like I was a patient.
    As I got up to leave, he added, “You know, Gary, a patient like this woman can stir up discomfort in her therapist. Be careful of that, and keep delving into her past. I’m sure you’ll find the trauma that’s driving her neurosis.”
    Although Lochton’s theory seemed like a stretch, I followed his advice and started meeting with Sherry twice a week. I kept probing her past but didn’t seem to get anywhere. At the same time, what I perceived as her seductive behavior escalated. She began wearing heavy makeup, shortskirts, and plunging necklines to her sessions, and I noticed a pattern—when her husband was out of town, Sherry’s outfits were more provocative than when he was home.
    I discussed the possibility of confronting her about it, but Lochton told me to ignore it and press on about her early trauma. I was relieved because I sensed that if I pointed out the sexy-apparel pattern, she would take it as a rejection of her possible seductive overtures and perhaps stop therapy.
    After about a month of my futile attempts to pry into her past, Sherry became exasperated with me and finally said, “Look, I had a normal childhood, okay? No abuse. My parents never went anywhere, and I did well in school. Your questions are making me uncomfortable.”
    It was clear that if she was going to talk about it, I needed to take a different approach. “That’s fine, Sherry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
    “Thank you, Dr. Small. Can I call you Gary?”
    “I don’t have a problem with that.” After a long pause I asked, “Is there anything else making you uncomfortable?”
    She stared at me. “Actually, yes. I need to confess something.”
    “Go ahead,” I said.
    “Ever since Eddie started traveling more, I’ve been going to this bar at night,” she said. “At first I would just stop in for a quick drink with a friend, but eventually I started going there on my own.” She stopped and looked away.
    “Are you concerned that you might be drinking too much?” I asked.
    “No, that’s not it. I only have one or two glasses of wine to relax me.” She paused and then continued, “One night I met this guy. We had a lot of laughs, and I took him home with me when the bar closed.”
    “How did you feel about that?” I asked.
    “When I woke up the next day he was gone. I felt dirty, disgusted, and I threw the sheets in the trash,” she said, looking down.
    “Did you ever go back to that bar?”
    “At first, no. I stayed away. But after a couple of weeks, I did go back. That’s part of my confession. I’ve done it more than once.”
    “So you’re going to a bar and having affairs when your husband is out of town?” I asked, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice and face.
    “They’re not really affairs; they’re just one-night stands. And I always feel dirty and hate myself the next day. I mean, I still love Eddie.”
    “If it makes you hate yourself and you feel dirty afterward, why do you think you keep going back?” I asked.
    She paused for a moment and then said, “I don’t really think about the dirtiness at the beginning. I just feel bored and empty, and I want to be with someone. It’s weird, when we’re having sex, it feels like these guys really love me; but once I orgasm, everything changes. I want these strange men to disappear.” She shuddered. “Eddie would die if he knew.”
    “How long has this been going on, Sherry?”
    “I don’t know, a year maybe, but it’s all different now that I started seeing you, Gary. You’re the first man who has