The Meeting
Felix stood outside the third floor office facing the door so he could read the impressive brass plate that was fixed on the wall to his right: Dr. Heather Riding, PhD., MD. Clinical Psychologist. He was wondering how he should address a double doctor when the door opened in response to his knock.
The
most striking woman heÕd ever seen stood there smiling at him. Dr Riding was
possibly in her late twenties and stood over 6ft tall. Her straight and
smoothed black hair had a sheen that gave it an almost oily appearance, but was
neatly pulled back and tied with a thin red band, one of those elasticised
types, forming a ponytail. Her clear, bright greyish blue eyes had a reflective
mirror quality and looked out from her ashen face like binoculars. Physically
Heather Riding looked fantastic. Even though he felt a little intimidated by
her physical presence, her stunning appearance hijacked his attention and Felix
couldn't resist a furtive glance at the outline of her extremely impressive
breasts beneath her blouse that had the top three buttons undone. They were not
overly large breasts, just wonderfully formed, yet almost unnaturally perfect.
There was something strange about her face too, but Felix couldnÕt put his
finger on what it was. He did know, however, where heÕd like to put his
fingers. FelixÕs healthy imagination had been kick-started into instant action,
yet he still felt the occasional dilemma of whether to openly admire a good
figure or not as gazing can be intrusive and a glance taken as flattery or
insult. Felix thought that perhaps his concentration was sometimes focused on
the wrong things as he closed his mouth and recovered some control of his lower
jaw.
He
felt dizzy and rather faint.
"Hello
Doctor," he said, hoping that was the correct form of address.
"Hi.
You must be Felix Lightfoot?" Riding asked quite simply.
For
Felix though it wasn't quite so simple. This may be his name, but heÕd never
heard it spoken in such a sensuous way before. He was mildly troubled that he
was not able to make out her accent and he found this odd as normally he could
nearly always detect the country if not the region, but it was in such a sweet
tone that he was truly mesmerised. His imagination had reached full speed as he
considered if the manner in which the question had been asked harboured any
sexual overtones, especially in view of RidingÕs appearance at the door dressed
in such a suggestive manner.
"Mr
T to my friends," he purred, thinking that although he may be confused and
in need of professional help, he was still playing the incorrigible flirt.
Heather
Riding presented an open left hand towards Felix as she took a step backwards
with right foot. He had intended to take the hand that he supposed had been
offered as a greeting, but missed it entirely and managed to trip his way
across the carpet almost falling into the chair near her desk. Felix steadied
himself as he reached the desk and hoped that the good Doctor hadn't noticed
his clumsy entrance.
If
the first few minutes of any meeting paint a picture, then the image heÕd
provided couldn't have been too favourable.
RidingÕs office was a single, large room with a closed door towards the left side of her desk that gave no indication as to what may be behind it. She glided over towards her desk and he noticed that she wore flat shoes. RidingÕs height was made all the more remarkable and her figure was absolute perfection. Wonderful. The desk had been carefully positioned at an angle facing the office door with the back of her chair directly in front of the window. She sat down and the bright sunlight flooded through the window glinting off her tightly bound hair and over a neat and organised workplace. Felix appreciated the warm air in the room on this clear October morning. When heÕd arrived outside the building, the air was fresh and quite cool.
"Mr
T?" Riding queried.
Felix
remained silent appearing rather preoccupied. He was certainly confused and had
actually forgotten why heÕd come to this psychologist's office. Forgetfulness
was not unknown to him as he did realise that he sometimes wandered so far off
a point he was trying to make that he could forget where he was going with what
he was saying. Felix was aware that this did not happen as often as it used to,
though it was still too frequent.
"Mr
T?" she gently probed.
Felix
blinked and snapped out of his dream state and nervously tried to excuse
himself: "Oh. Yes. Sorry." He stopped as he imagined he must have
looked like a schoolboy who had a crush on his teacher.
"Mr Lightfoot?" Riding continued patiently,
but in such a quietly assertive manner that she got FelixÕs full attention.
Fortunately he had recalled the reason for his visit to RidingÕs office and any
earlier thoughts he may have had vanished from his imagination.
"Mr
T does have some meaning," he teased and fell silent.
© Louis Brothnias (2010)