 Her employer stepped into the reception area of her office, shaking out her umbrella. "Lunch was wet," she replied. "The streets lesboteen are wet, the cab teen was wet, and I'm wet." She lesbo folded teen her umbrella and ran her fingers through short brown hair. "My hair is a mess," she supplied. She started unbuttoning teen her raincoat lesbo. She stopped when she saw her receptionist was about to say something.
 "Well now," she said, settling into lesbo her professional demeanour lesbo, "Damien, is it? I'm Dr. Monica Sondgaard ." She extended a hand. The other lesboteen man shook it but said nothing.
 Monica sat down lesbo in the lesbo big chair beside her desk. She pulled out her notebook lesbo. She studied the distraught young man sitting in front of her. He was under thirty, of no unusual size or free character, with a bland, forgettable face lesbo. A rather plain woman herself, Monica had a lesbo lot of sympathy for the lesboteen ordinary.
 Anyone could see that lesbo the man was in distress; it didn't take a psychologist lesbo to figure that out. The first thing was to get him calmed down a lesbo little, Monica decided, work through the crisis, then look at the long-term situation. It didn lesbo't help that he had hardly said lesbo a lesbo word since he came teen in.
 "Doctor teen," the man lesboteen said, "You have got to help me. I can't handle this any more. I lesboteen read in the paper that you know something about lesbo the paranormal lesbo. Maybe you can lesbo understand. I have lesbo this -- this thing inside me lesboteen, this power or ability or something lesboteen -- and it lesbo's lesbo driving me crazy."
 Monica groaned inwardly. Not another one lesbo. Eight months earlier she had written a paper for a lesbo psychological journal about paranormal experiences such as hauntings and lesbo alien abductions. Even though her lesbo paper showed how all these traumas could lesbo be explained and lesbo treated by conventional therapy, it had led to a parade of oddballs through her office.
 Monica was struck by the intensity of his lesbo speech. Whatever was at the lesbo root lesboteen of Damien's problem, it was torturing him. She wrote "sex teen obsessed?" in her notebook. She lesboteen brushed back her long hair lesboteen, noting with approval that it had already lesbo dried. "But in reality such things don't happen," she free said reasonably. "So free any question of wish fulfilment is lesbo entirely hypothetical. Damien, why are you bringing lesbo this up?"
 "I must not give in lesboteen to the temptation. Because once lesbo I lesbo start lesbo using it, I know I won 't be able to stop lesboteen. The steps are so obvious. First, I'll lesbo start indulging my lesbo idle whims, then satisfying lesbo my baser appetites lesbo, and finally, acting out my most perverse fantasies."
 He wound down, looking at Monica expectantly, hoping for understanding lesbo. She arched a lesbo delicate eyebrow. Most of her patients didn't lesbo present such unusual lesbo symptoms. She shook off lesbo the clinging image teen of a schoolgirl having public sex on a lesbo bus long enough to realize that teen he had concocted an elaborate delusion.
 Monica opened lesbo her desk drawer and lesboteen pulled lesbo out lesbo a 500 lira coin, a memento from lesbo a trip to Italy. "Flip it," Damien said, "it will come down heads."
 She lesboteen flipped it five more times. It landed heads every time. She tried catching the coin lesboteen in the air. Still heads. She caught it and slapped lesboteen it on her wrist, reversing the orientation in which free she caught it.
 Monica sat down again. She noticed his eyes on free her nylons but decided not to pull down her miniskirt lesboteen. Let lesbo him look . Better men lesbo should admire her shapely legs than ignore her small free chest.
 Oh boy, Monica thought privately lesbo. This was getting lesbo weird. "OK, Damien. We lesbo'll work this out together. So far though, your conviction has not matched the lesboteen evidence teen. All I've seen you do is a coin lesbo trick . You lesboteen will have to do better lesboteen than that lesbo to convince me."
 "Please teen," he said again . "I don't want to do this lesbo."
 Monica dropped the curtain. She stepped back so fast lesbo she almost fell lesbo off her high heels. She turned toward the door, where she had lesboteen hung up her raincoat and umbrella when she came in. There was no umbrella. In fact, there was no umbrella stand. On the coat rack was a lesbo little red lesbo hat lesbo. It exactly matched the daring red ensemble she was wearing.
 Monica teen pulled herself together. Whatever was going on here, she still had a patient that needed help lesbo. She knelt down in front of him lesboteen. "Damien, listen to lesbo me lesbo," she said gently, lifting his head in one hand.
 "So, as lesbo long as lesbo I'm trying to make the correct decisions, as long as I'm doing my best, I shouldn't feel lesbo bad if lesbo temptation gets lesbo to me or I lesbo make a mistake now and again."
 Monica felt one lesboteen of those rare moments of lesboteen satisfaction that came from knowing lesboteen she had used her lesbo skills to genuinely help somebody. It was a good lesbo feeling, like the contented lesbo buzz she got from sucking lesboteen cock.
 Monica whirled to face Damien. Her breasts and heels almost made her lose lesbo her balance lesbo. "What -- what have you done." she lesbo almost shouted.
 "I want lesbo to thank lesboteen you free, Doctor," her patient replied. "You have done so much lesboteen for me, in just one visit. You lesbo are one lesboteen hell of a good shrink. I feel completely liberated from all that guilt I was feeling."
 Unexpectedly, the image of Damien's hard-on sent lesboteen a thrill of excitement through her. She lesboteen set her teen jaw. She lesbo marched over to the desk, four-inch heels sinking into the plush carpet, and jabbed the emergency button on the intercom. Her fingernail was flawlessly polished.
 Monica straightened slowly. Diamond bracelets sparkled teen on lesbo her wrists. She turned to face Damien. He was still smiling. It had an edge of teen pure evil now. "What have you lesbo done to them?" she whispered.
 She tried again. "The point is, just because you have slipped once, given into temptation, doesn't mean your cause is lost. You can admit teen a mistake lesbo, fix it and carry on lesbo. That's what we all do. Remember a few minutes ago we talked free about ordinary people doing the best that we can? That's lesbo what lesbo you need to remember."
 Monica looked out lesbo to her outer office. Kerri, would be at her desk. She could lesboteen get help. "Kerri." she shouted, as loud as she could.
 There was a large, plush sofa on the far side lesbo of the outer office that Monica had never seen before. Yet she lesboteen knew it had always been lesbo there. Kerri had arranged the low couch to be right in front of the glass-topped table that lesbo served as her desk, so lesbo that male patients could see up her dress while they waited. That explained why so many patients walked in with a hard lesboteen-on. Monica shook her lesbo head. How did she know this?
 "That's Mr. Albright, your two -o lesboteen'clock," Damien supplied. "I helped him a little with his shyness and agoraphobia. Of course, a nine-inch cock and sheer animal magnetism that few women can lesboteen resist will lesboteen help a lot lesbo too."
 "Au contraire, my little sextoy teen," said Damien casually. "The good doctor has done so much for me. She found the key to free me from my guilt lesbo. It's lesbo like lesbo being let out of prison. For the first time in my life I'm lesboteen truly free."
 "These accusations are very serious lesbo. Very serious indeed. I will not tolerate such indecent behaviour in this school. Do you understand lesbo?"
 "Yes teen, sir," Monica said contritely. She was standing lesboteen in front of his desk teen in her teen school uniform lesbo, a starched white blouse and plaid kilt, knee lesbo-socks and lesbo patent black mary lesboteen-janes. At sixteen she was tall for her lesboteen age and exceptionally well developed lesboteen. Her thin free blouse strained lesboteen over bursting breasts that were already the envy lesboteen of every girl in the lesbo school lesbo.
 The headmaster took a deep breath. "All lesbo right," he said at free last. "Ordinarily, this would be grounds for free expulsion." His eyes roamed over her lesbo svelte curves as Monica gave him lesbo her best puppy-dog look. "But," he amended quickly, "I don't lesbo want to be harsh; especially to a student free that seems otherwise so... promising . His gaze lingered on lesbo her overfilled blouse. The top two buttons had come undone.
 "Thank you, sir," Monica lesboteen said sweetly.
 Monica's uniform skirt was so short that bending even slightly was sufficient lesboteen to reveal whether she lesboteen wore panties, but she complied with the teen headmaster lesbo's lesbo command. He lesbo got to his feet and lesbo stepped around behind her. Looking up at lesbo him from between her legs, she could see the insistent bulge tenting the front lesboteen of his lesbo dress slacks lesbo. She lesbo smiled inwardly. She wondered lesbo briefly if he was as big as Mr. Hill, the geography teacher.
 The room lesbo was semi-dark and smelled of antiseptic. "Please, please Monica, my darling lesbo, I can't wait any longer." She lesbo was in the arms of a much older lesboteen man. He was eagerly planting kisses all over her lips, her face, her hair. "You make me so hot. I want you lesboteen now."
 The man was still kissing her wildly lesbo. "She's... not here," he replied, desperate lesbo. "It's just you and me. Please, Monica, darling lesbo, let me lesbo love you lesbo. I'm lesbo going insane." His groping hands found their way under her racy uniform.
 "Georgy," Monica whispered lesbo a few minutes lesboteen later, "remember what we talked about the other day?"
 "There, you see lesbo," Monica lesboteen said lesbo as teen George began to lap and suck hungrily, "it's really lesbo simple. I want in. And I know you want in, don't you tiger free. So why can't we both get what we want?"
 Monica lesboteen leaned back in her plush leather chair and plopped her free four and a half inch heels up on lesbo the desk. She was wearing her favourite hip lesboteen-boots, soft as butter and tight as a coat lesbo of paint. She lesbo pulled up her teen brief lesboteen skirt and ran her hand lovingly up and down one lesbo black-encased leg.
 Monica was glad he had backed out. It lesboteen gave lesbo her a few moments to relax. She remembered a lesbo boyfriend in high lesbo school named Damien. Best lesbo damned lover she lesbo'd ever had. She wondered what ever happened to him.
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