His voice lingered long after the phone call ended. I was left in a quandary. Was he never going to let any visit between us just happen without trying to exert control from the beginning?

I could read so much into that. I had, in point of fact, teased him in an email he'd written me right after I sent in a request for a visit. I told him in the email that his need for controlling his interactions with some of us Sisters must stem from feelings of not having control in his own sex life. And then this phone call ... in that huffy voice he likes to adopt with me when he thinks I've gone too far, he'd asked me if I suddenly saw myself as a sex therapist. It had made me giggle. My take on sex therapy might be a bit unorthodox, I had said. Try me, he replied. As you wish, were my final words to him.

A week later and I was about to take up the challenge. A little sex game with another Brother. I appraised myself in the mirror and was pleased with the impact this would make on him. My hair was swept up in a severe bun that could be released with little effort; it made me look quite dignified. The chunky black glasses completed the look of aloof ice queen. But it was the white lab coat that was the crowning touch - I looked every inch the medical professional who would treat this Brother with cool indifference.

The office I'd rented for the day should also create an impression. Nothing too good for a Brother, right? I was having the hardest time controlling my sudden fit of giggles as the time drew closer.

Looked at my watch and registered that it was ten minutes before our "appointment." I stuck my head into the outer office, figuring if he was early, I'd invite him in. Hmmm. No one out there. I fidgeted until the clock read 2 p.m. on the dot. Opened the door and there he was, sitting with that erect posture and a semi-cockiness that I liked in him.

We peered at each other. His eyes flickered with the barest recognition of what I'd gotten myself done up as. I gave him a bland smile of welcome, glanced down at the chart in my hand as if I was checking his name and then inquired, "Maximus Decimus Meridius?"

He gave me that slight tilt he does, where the side of his head barely goes down and his eyes drift just the teensiest bit. I saw he was controlling a smile with some effort.

"Would you come this way please so we can get started with our appointment?"

"Certainly, Doctor."

I ushered him into the outer office. Inside, the only pieces of furniture were a leather couch and a leather chair. It wasn't a typical couch you'd find in your home; but was like any used in a psychiatrist's office so that the patient may recline upon it in ease. "Have a seat on the couch. If you'd be more comfortable, you may lie down. Many of my patients find this helps them feel more at ease and I do so want you to feel at ease. Um. What may I call you? Do you prefer Maximus or Mr. Meridius?"

His chest fluttered and I know he was trying not to laugh. It might have just hit him that he shouldn't have challenged me and then been surprised when I called his bluff. Finally, he said, "You may call me Maximus, Doctor."

"Well, that's just grand, Maximus. We're off to a great start." I watched him walk to the couch, examine it and glance up at me. He sat at first and then slowly turned to recline fully on the couch, with his hands folded loosely in the middle of his chest.

I took my place in the high-backed black leather chair. I had placed it so that when Max reclined, he was unable to see me as I was somewhat behind him and to the side.

"Let us begin with just a few simple questions so we can begin to determine where this therapy session will go. Maximus, have you ever undergone any form of sex therapy?"

"No, Doctor. However, you come highly recommended."

"Well, how very thoughtful of you to tell me that, Maximus. Would you describe yourself as a thoughtful man? Do you often find yourself placing the needs of others before yourself?"

He considered this. "I believe I have been known to be selfish, as any man would. However, I do pride myself on placing the welfare of others above me whenever it does not interfere with my duty."

"Ah, duty. What an interesting thing you raise that issue so soon in the session. Do you consider sex to be a duty, Maximus?"

I heard this sound from him and figured he was trying not to laugh. "Sex is a gift we give our partners, Doctor."

"Interesting. What an interesting viewpoint. Would you say that your gifts are accepted and cherished by the ones you love dearest?"

He turned and looked back at me. Like he couldn't believe I'd just asked that. "What are you attempting to learn from me?"

"Stay in character, Max. Haven't you ever played this kind of game before?"

He glared at me and turned to lie back on the couch.

"All right, Maximus, perhaps we'll return to that later. Let me explain a bit about how I practice sex therapy. If you've never done it before, it can be quite confusing. You must know that you are free to ask me any question you wish if you do not understand what we are doing. But, I hope I will build your trust to the point that you will believe that everything I do is done with your best interests at heart."

"I shall attempt to trust you, Doctor."

"Oh, that is grand, just grand. I should explain that my particular claim to fame is an approach I actually invented and which has gained much popularity recently. It is a mixture of Freudian, Jungian and a bit of Erica Jongian. It is called Zipless Therapy."

As I was talking, low and modulated, I was taking off my glasses. Next, I undid the pin that captured my hair. I stood, shook my hair out and tossed my head back before retaking my seat.

"Would you like to try this form of therapy, Max?" I asked.

"I am in your hands, Doctor."

"Not yet, but soon ..." I muttered. I walked into his field of vision, looked down at him with a soft, come-hither yet remote smile. It was a difficult mix to attain, but I pride myself on believing that I achieved it. I give Max credit; he didn't look in the least fazed. "Now the most important element of Zipless Therapy is that the patient may have no clothes with zippers on during the session. So, first, let's just remove your pants for I spy a zipper there."

He rose slowly before me, his eyes never leaving my face. His small, polite smile never left his face. When he had his pants off, I said, "Okay, that's such a good start, Maximus. But, this therapy works best if there are no barriers of communication between us. So, let's just do away with that shirt. And your underwear as well. There. Doesn't that feel better already? Don't you already feel more open to me?"

"Yes, Doctor, that would be a way of expressing how I feel at this moment." He lay back down and then impassively regarded me standing there at his side. "There is the little matter of your white coat, Doctor. It intimidates me. I feel naked before it. In fact, I am naked."

"Ah, the White Coat Syndrome. Yes, it is a well-known clinical condition and we simply cannot have that interfere with our therapy. It would be counterproductive if you were to feel uncomfortable with me. Here, I'll remove it. Is that any better?"

He gave me this little groan that made me smile. He should have known me well enough to have guessed I'd be naked underneath.

"There, see? We're communicating better already. Now, I shall start by asking you to just lean back and get comfy. And now simply close your eyes."

"I'd rather keep them open."

I leaned over him and fixed him with a serious look. "Then I will have to resort to hypnosis. Hmm. What shall I dangle before you that you can watch as I hypnotize you?"

"You already are."

"You are such a good patient. So receptive to autoerotic suggestions. This shall make the therapy so much better. You will see."

"Does this therapy include sensory stimulation?"

"Only if I deem it necessary. That can be quite an awesome experience for the patient. I must determine you are up to it. So shall we start with the primary examination first and then go into the therapy?"

"Yes, I think I am ready. Though, I must warn you, Doctor, I find it hard to verbalize emotion."

"That's not a problem as long as you are free to verbalize your response to external stimuli. Let's just start by determining that your sensory perception is within normal range. I believe you have told me that you have had more experience with cold than you prefer. It's important for me to understand if your perceptions of cold are normal. Therefore, I want you to feel this, and then tell me - would you describe it as warm or cold?"

His eyes flickered open wide for only a fraction of a second as I climbed over his lap on the couch, putting my knees on either side of his hips. He cleared his throat. Looked uncomfortable at first and then ... obviously decided to not let me get the better of him.

"Just your finger, Maximus. One finger only."

"That is definitely warm. In fact, hot would be more accurate."

"Okay, now, we know there is nothing wrong with your sensory perception. Next, let us see if there are any physical abnormalities that may contribute to the problems you reported in your initial interview. I must make a minute examination. Maximus, I am a professional at this. Will you leave yourself in my hands? And mouth?"

At that, I scooted down until I was kneeling between his knees. He was really such a good patient - he'd already grown to just the perfect level of hardness. I touched said hardness with five professional fingers, and he jerked to alertness. His eyelids drooped for a long moment and he pulled in a steadying breath.

"Ye gods," he whispered.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, that was a yes."

"Grand, Maximus, just grand. Okay then, let me continue the exam." I bent slowly toward him, not looking at his eyes, only concentrating seriously on his shaft, and ... licked. Couldn't resist a sucking kiss. Or two. Maybe three. Who's counting?

"Hmm. Yes. Taste seems fine." Cleared my throat. "Quite fine, in fact."

I tried not to smile when he whimpered.

"Girth is ... well, quite impressive. Let us test the tactile strength, shall we? This won't hurt a bit. May even be pleasurable for you."

As I stroked, his breathing turned heavy, almost a laboring sound. It ... um, well ... I liked hearing that response.

"Oh, yes. oh . I mean ... um. Hold on. I need to just switch instruments. Hold on and ... mphfffffffff."

"Instruments?" he panted out finally.

"Just wanted to examine you with my mouth," I said as I pulled off.

"That is...also good."

"It's a well known technique in my line of work."

"Carry on. It is a very satisfactory method."

"Are you sure? I sensed it might have caused some tension."

In this quiet voice, he said, "No tension. I was just taken aback. I hadn't been prepared for this."

I sat back on my heels and smiled at him. Stroked along his thigh as if attempting to soothe him. But I also never stopped jerking on his cock. "Well, sometimes, we sex therapists find that taking a patient where he doesn't expect can have wonderful results. However, I shall try to go slower with you. I don't want to frighten you or lose your trust."

"I do not dislike the method. In fact, it was becoming very soothing."

"That is good to know. I shall do it a bit more. I wasn't sure you got the full benefit before. You let me know if you need me to stop. If it becomes more intense than you'd like."

Therapy continued until ... from nowhere, I heard a husky Max voice: "It depends."

This aspect of therapy was suspended as I asked, "On what?"

"On...what other benefits this therapy could offer."

I couldn't hide the smirk but Max just had this almost placid look on his face when I glanced up at him. I must ask Uma sometime - is this what she means by stoic? "Oh, well I could list your options for you?"

"Please do."

"It does sound as if you're ready to regain some control of your sex life. This is such good news, Maximus. I feel we've made our first breakthrough. I believe you shall make a full recovery." I gave his cock a little squeeze and he shifted in the couch. "All right then. Perhaps I should just demonstrate a few of my favorites? Then you can make a more informed choice?"

"Perhaps you could speak of them first. I find the contemplation quite arousing."

"Ah! Really? Actually, aural sex is one of the options, Maximus. Perhaps we could combine techniques. I could talk about the various sexual acts that could be performed, purely for therapeutic measures you see, and as you listen, I would hope to learn just what turns you on ... I mean, just what may be your favored form of sexual therapy."

"If that is the aim."

We smirked at each other and then I gave him this warning look. "All right, then. Aural sex. Here, I will do it the right way though. There is a technique to it. If you will allow me? I will just ..." I climbed back over him, taking a seat in his lap. "Just give me room to put my knee just here beside your hip."

"Yes, I am very partial to the sound of a woman speaking of her desires for me," he said, adjusting his hips just a bit to give me room. "Like so?"

"Just so. Now, there is an art to this. See how I place my lips at your ear?" I leaned right into his chest. He never moved his hands, just keeping them folded to his chest. "Now you may feel free to hold on to me for support. I am here for you in any way you need me. I want you to feel that way about me as your therapist."

He took the suggestion and I felt his hands move out from between us. They slid gently down my sides until coming first to rest on my hips and then to cup my buttocks. I suppressed a squeal. Cleared my throat. "And so ... your first option is known as the Missionary. Many swear by it. Many pray for it."

"I am not familiar with this word." He shifted the tiniest bit ... but it brought his hardness into a more concerted contact with my wetness. I squirmed ever so slightly and may have said 'God' under my breath as my hands on his shoulders gripped his shoulders. "Ah. It has religious implications?"

"Well, it's basically aligning the body as we are now. Except I would be on the bottom."

"Ah, then, the conventional method. But still has much to commend it," he said, that voice of his soft yet deep. He turned his head into my neck and I felt his breath there. It sent the most delicious shiver down me. "In my land, the position we are in now would be known as Worshipping The Goddess."

I swallowed against him and couldn't go on with the farce at first. He finally said, "So the Missionary...you will use that in what circumstance?"

"I'm sorry, Maximus. But what you are doing with your hands ... it has quite made me lose my train of thought. Give me a second to gather my breath."

"Am I not allowed to interfere? I wouldn't want to make your task more difficult than it is."

"You are such a good patient, Maximus. Have I told you that?" Whispering to him, trying to regain my place. Finally: "Shall I tell you another position you may wish to explore?"

"Yes, I am interested in other positions. I am a military man."

"Grand, just grand. Tell me first a little about things that you like. For instance, do you prefer positions where the man is on top or the woman? Or perhaps lying facing each other? Or from behind? Or ..."

"I have found many things to recommend all of these. I believe I am eminently open-minded about such things, in fact." His hands moved up my back, gently massaging as he was going. I could feel myself losing control of this. I wondered if that's what he wanted. "Doctor, do you have any advice for a man who might prefer the seated positions? It seems we might want to start with that. Since we are, in many ways, approaching that position just as we are."

"Why, there are two that I believe I most enjoy ... I mean, I think I might have a few suggestions that would allow us to explore your area of interest."

I wiggled lightly above him, trying to regain some semblance of authority. I loved the sharp intake of breath and the way his hands gripped into my thighs.

"Both require the man to be sitting on the edge of a chair or even a couch such as this. He puts his feet on the ground and ..."

"Should you care to show me?"

"Not just yet, Maximus. This is the aural stimulation part. Whether or not we advance to actual practice of your chosen sexual technique will be determined by how you act in this phase."

Should have known that might be the right ... I mean ... the wrong ... no, perhaps it was the right ... tact to take with him.

He sat up slowly against me. His mouth light on my neck - not kissing, just like he wanted to feel my pulse there. I just knew he'd decided to take over. "Doctor, does this particular position have a name?" he asked me, his voice setting off a low throb deep within me.

"Well, Maximus," I said and tried to control the quiver in my voice. But ... just the feel of him ... that chest against mine, his hardness pressed along me, his arms around me. "This is a very interesting question. There is a position I'm familiar with that is very similar to this. But, as I seem to recall, the Easy Lotus Posture would require me to wrap my legs around you ... like this. And, of course, we would have to be joined. I would need to be, so to be said, 'mounted' on you."

"Ah, this is a position that I believe I may be familiar with," he said. His hands slipped to a firm hand-hold on my ass and he lifted me like it was no effort whatsoever. "You did say it was a good thing for me to regain control of my sex life, Doctor. Is this permitted under your therapy?"

I moved so I could see his face; he was concentrating on me in that way he has that makes me feel like I know nothing of sex at the same time I just know I must have him. My hand dove between us, took a soft hold of his hardness and positioned it at my opening. He graced me with a small, hard smile and let me come down upon him.

My eyes shut; I pulled in an anticipatory breath and then relaxed into the feeling of sinking down, being filled up. "Perfect mounting technique, Maximus. I am not sure there is much I can really teach you on this. Perhaps whatever unhappiness you have in your sexual life is not your problem. Perhaps it's someone else's issues? Is that possible?"

"I am not certain, Doctor. Perhaps after I show you my preferred manner of pleasuring my partner when we are in this position, you will be able to offer me any advice."

"Grand, Maximus ..." suddenly it became a moan ... "... grannnnd. Oh, just grand. Oh."

We worked together; moving slowly, rocking in opposing rhythms that soon had me gasping with each stimulation of my clit. It truly was such a divine position. But let us not forget the hands ... "Maximus? Your use of your hands is first rate. Oh ... That's right, just like that ... it's so ... so good."

And then his mouth. Getting it into the act as if he was simply giving me time to take in a full-pronged effort on his part. When I started whimpering from the feel of his lips on my neck and shoulders ... when one hand was caressing my breast while the other was helping me keep the rhythm between our bodies steady ...

"And my use of oral stimulus, Doctor? Are there any tips you could give me? Any improvements I should make?"

"Oh, God!" It came out unbidden; this high squeal from me as his fingernail dragged over my engorged clit. He chuckled against me and withdrew his hand, bringing it back to my breasts. I swallowed hard and deep. Squeaking voice: "The oral stimulus is ... exquisite. But ... oh, God, Maximus, have mercy ... but the use of your hands is ... Oh my God."

"I could show you a technique I have developed for prolonging this encounter," he whispered against my fevered throat long, long minutes and many fevered declarations later.

"God damn you."

Chuckling at me. "That did not seem like the professional language I have come to expect from you, Doctor."

"Max! If you don't ..." Panting like I was about to die from the pleasure, which I was. Shuddering with each movement of his that brought him rasping across the part of me that was so excited and so ready to let go. Trembling inside at the impending doom I welcomed for its promise. "Oh, God, Max. Please ... don't tease me this way."

"Stay in character. Have you no experience at this type of game?"

I pulled my head up from his shoulder and shot daggers at him from my eyes. And then suddenly my eyes and my mouth went round; I just whimpered out this noise that was some version of his name and a plea.

"Kiss me," he ordered.

And I did. 

And I felt it start. Inside me, a wave rolled hard and another followed on its heels. I was thinking about how that happens ... like you get disconnected from what's happening to your clit and where his cock is and his mouth and his hands ... and you just feel it inside this one place where he shouldn't be touching but he is.

His breathing got more ragged as he felt me tense and I concentrated on his sounds to keep me stay connected to him. When I came in true force, it felt like an explosion that started inside where his cock was making those deliciously harsh in and outs ... it was like it expanded inside me and flew out of me as sounds of near pain.

When he came, I was in the mumbling stage of simply not being aware anymore of the need to be a certain type of woman. This is always I think when the real person inside me shows. I also think many men don't see that because they're concentrating on other things, like their own impending orgasm or simply that they like watching a woman come for them.

But somewhere in that haze, I came aware enough to watch his face as I felt his final thrusts up into me. His head back, neck muscles straining, his eyes barely slits, his mouth slightly open. I concentrated on the spasms inside me and controlled my response enough to squeeze him rhythmically; it earned me a heartfelt shout just before his movements slowed in the wake of his coming.

"You are so beautiful like this, Max," I whispered, my voice slurring the words and I wonder if he heard me.

After, we stayed locked in that final embrace, letting our breath come back inside. I enjoyed the feel of slick sweat between us. I loved the smell of sex, pungent in its headiness.

There is a memory of this time I will carry with me. Of after ... when we were both calm ... he leaned back into the couch and pulled me in to rest against his chest. I ran my hands along whatever of his body I could reach, lazy in tempo, heedless in action. And he started talking to me. Nothing big, no real emotional investment on his part ... and yet, I read things into this. And I wondered ... doesn't everyone like to just talk a bit of nonsense every so often? Don't you feel most like it in the post-coital haze with a partner you feel you don't need to be wary with?

He called me the night after he left. His voice was soft in my ear and he thanked me for my prescription. I giggled as he said he'd found it in his pocket when he'd returned home.

"I had not known that therapy could be so cathartic," he told me.

"Will you be filling the prescription as written?" I pictured him holding the scrap of white paper I'd tucked inside the back pocket of his jeans, knowing he'd only find it after he'd left me. I'd mocked up a doctor's prescription pad on my computer before he left and written in the appropriate patient information. The drug information area read: "Take One Uma And Don't Call Me In The Morning."

"I had only one question about that. May I have three a day?"

I laughed out loud. "You have your doctor's permission to exceed the dosage as needed to relieve your symptoms. One word of caution, though, Maximus. You do realize it's habit forming?"

He chuckled. "I believe it would be."