Linda

We need to rewind for a moment back to my naive high school days.

At age 17, when I described my brother's situation and my choice to my high school counselor, she decided to pass the buck. I agreed to meet with a professional therapist because, well, I was able to get out of class for the afternoon. It was a good decision...

Linda was a professional indeed. She was in her mid-20s and already owned her own practice, a small office in a stip mall. Every week I reclined on her couch and described my temptations, guilt, academic struggles, whatever. It was a welcome relief being completely honest with someone. I told her everything...details a male in high school doesn't reveal to anyone else. It was cathartic. We became somewhat close over the years.

The difference back then was, high school guys are basically repulsive, and I was no exception. My struggles were primarily academic and social because, well, asking for chastity as a teen-aged male is like asking for eggs with yolks. Resisting an assault of forbidden carnal desire is not really a fair test for young male...in hindsight, that was a fact not lost on Linda during our sessions.

After high school, as I became more thoughtful, I discovered much of her advice was tailored to my youth and naivety. She seemed wise beyond her years, although I had no way of knowing, and never opened any doors I couldn't handle. In our last session, before I was off to college, she had some parting advise: "Magnus. You are in control. If you ever feel out of control, call me and we'll have a chat." I cheerfully agreed, shook her hand and walked out the door.

Fast forward back to college, after the doctor's office...

Re-reading Vanessa's last post, it seemed like an appropriate time to call her.

"Hi Linda, It's Magnus."
"Hi Magnus. Good to hear from you."
"I need to talk to you."
"Are you feeling out of control?"
"I think so."
"Is it a woman?"
"Several."
"Let's meet. Tomorrow."

That was easy. It was like she had been waiting for the call...

I walked into her office the next evening. She had a fresh glow about her as we shook hands. I had forgotten how charming and beautiful she was. She seemed delighted to see me and curled her index finger to invite me down the hall towards her office.

I couldn't help but notice her hand casually scratch her neck as she turned. She was wearing a scarlet turtleneck sweater, a short skirt, and high stockings. I shook my head and followed her elegant legs into the office. This was not the Linda I remembered.