Therapist Couch Novels & Stories

I sit on the bed and stare at the door for a moment until the men arrive. To my surprise, I find my therapist is also accompanying them. The very one that I seduced and helped in emptying his chamber. I follow them out and am led to a transport van where I’m told to sit in the back once they open the doors. The back was essentially a metal box separated from the front cabin of the van and lined with benches. I get in and watch in silence as the therapist enters as well before the doors are shut and the van roars to life.

Jasper slipped into the hot tub and sat next to me. “How have you been?” He questioned. “I don’t know, okay I guess. It’s weird being back.” I admitted. “But it’s nice.” “I love having you home again. I really missed you, Jovie.” “I know…um how’s therapy going?” “Good, I’ve been making a lot of progress. Learning to heal and all of that.” “Do they make you lay on the couch?” I asked. Jasper chuckled. “Nah, I get to sit in a kind of uncomfortable chair for an hour while a man tells me everything that’s wrong with me.”

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.

**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.

“When I get home, I’m gonna mark this day on my calendar!” I chuckled airily. Once we had changed and were lying face down beneath fresh towels, the therapists began their work with practised hands. Firm pressure eased into my shoulders and upper back, pressing tension from muscles I hadn’t realized were so tight. Maya let out a contented groan from the table next to mine. “This,” she murmured, “is exactly what my overworked soul needed.” I smiled into the face cradle. “You say that every time you get pampered.”

[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.