Therapist Couch Novels & Stories

I surprisingly raised my head. Perhaps because she spoke out about the burdens in heart, her health was also improved, she seemed to be more and more comfortable. Every day, she whispered in my ear, saying half-true and half-false words: - Doctor, I'm not an expert, but seems that you want to make a national reconciliation, doesn't it? Are you sure you understood the customer's request? - I did some online research about your clinic. Do you know why he chose this clinic? - This place is very famous for the treatments, which break the rule, in both good and bad meaning, almost like following the customer's request, regardless of the principals.

Lukas immediately spotted the crisp white coat hanging from a hook by the door. “Come on,” Lukas said, half-whining, half-teasing. “Put it on. Please. Just once.” Aiden ignored him, settling into his chair and starting up his computer. “Not happening.” Lukas wandered the room, eyeing the setup. “You really leveled up, doc. Damn.” His gaze landed on a rack of yoga mats and a stack of soft foam rollers and therapy cushions. “Whoa. You ever have fun with these?” He bent over one suggestively, smirking over his shoulder.

Hillary POV I facepalmed myself for the umpteenth time as Loukas disagreed with my choice of exercise for him. Ever since we started therapy that morning, he had been against everything that I was doing. "Can't you massage my legs without caressing them?" "Loukas!" I turned to face Rotimi, who was moving the equipment needed for the therapy with three other men. After signing the contract a day before, he gave me one of his empty rooms and, within a few hours, it was remodeled into a physiotherapy room. Loukas made sure everything was made available, including a mini glass desk, a leather chair for me, and a brown couch that fit his height in case we decided to have a discussion, which I kne

Normally he liked to sit up for their chats, but today he wanted to act like a real patient and get his money's worth. He sprawled out on the couch and gazed at her ceiling, noticing for the first time in two years the elaborate yet calming design—and tonight, he liked staring at it as much he enjoyed listening to the sound of his therapist's monotone voice. "So what happened to taking things slow and meeting up with Eden in non-intimate settings?" She asked, not taking as many notes today. But Liam wasn't too concerned since, technically, this wasn't a scheduled therapy session even though she would surely bill him for it.

[Alice's POV] I finished rinsing and stacking the dishes, dried my hands carefully, avoiding the bandages, and headed into the living room. Adam was on the emerald sofa, his back against the armrest, his legs stretched out in front of him. The physical therapy equipment that Endall had set up — resistance bands, a balance board, a set of graduated weights — was pushed against the far wall, out of the way. The amber light was low, warm, almost golden.

Smiling, he said, “Of course. I’ll let you do anything you want to me.” Sarah motioned toward the couch. “Alright, Mr. Spencer, lie down here. Close your eyes and try to completely clear your mind.” “Okay.” He lay down, a little too eager. The couch had been custom-made overseas—designed specifically for hypnotherapy patients. It was covered in the softest material and filled with plush cotton padding. The moment Leon sank into it, it felt like he was floating on a cloud. Even before Sarah said a word, the comfort alone made him feel like drifting off to sleep.

he kisses my hand and I remain speechless. A couple weeks later, Eric and I stand outside our new therapists office, an hour away from home. Far enough that no one we know would see us here. Eric’s only condition. “Ready?” I ask Eric who looks squeamish. “Do I have a choice?” “No,” I answer and flash him a smile just before I pull him inside. The therapists office is calming. There’s plants of lavenders centered on clean glass tables, the walls are a soft grayish blue with gray hardwood floors and black furniture cushioned with white fluffy pillows.

He was sitting on a couch, facing his friends, family, an unfamiliar female doctor and also Dr Desai whom he hadn't seen in years. Dr Desai had grown a lot older. The wrinkles on his face were prominent and he had eyebags the size of tea bags. He was dressed casually and Aito remembered that he didn't like seeing Dr Desai in a suit. He wondered why he knew Dr Desai in the first place. He could recall that Dr Desai was his therapist but therapist for what? He couldn't remember why he'd need a therapist.

**Mia's POV** The therapy room was nothing like I'd imagined. No leather couch, no walls lined with dusty psychology books. Instead, soft grey walls surrounded comfortable armchairs, and large windows let in natural light filtered through gauzy curtains. Dr. Sarah Matthews sat across from me, her presence calm and grounding. "Are you comfortable, Mia?" she asked, adjusting the small device that would guide my eye movements. Her voice carried that perfect blend of professional and compassionate that probably took years to master.

If you'd like to get up onto the treatment couch, I'll soon have you feeling better,’ he said. Anna made herself comfortable while James put the covered tray of instruments on the side table. He glanced swiftly at a computer print-out of her case notes, then said, ‘No problem with your requirements. Ready to begin, madam?’ She nodded, feeling the usual mixture of anticipation. Each time she came to the centre her experience was slightly different. Her chosen therapist always found an individual way of meeting her particular demands. ‘Let’s just get you into the required position,’ James said.