Sometimes they say that the ones who provide
help are the ones who need it the most. And I
agree to some extent. You see, I am a therapist
and a counselor, and I mostly specialize in addictions.
I am always intrigued to know what makes people
tick, what makes them go off the edge for that
one fix, what makes them feel good beyond the
ordinary. Because I myself am an addict, and
I am addicted to people's pleasures. I love living
vicariously through them. This is a secret, of
course. Because if anyone knew that I took pleasure
in any of this, it would be over for me. To be
fair, most, if not all, of my clients do get
better with time. But then there's that small
percentage that doesn't. They tend to regress
and get worse. No fault of mine. But those are
the ones I target. I want to feel what they feel.
My life is boring. I have a five -year -old and
an ex -husband who prefers men. There's nothing
really fun going on. My job is my excitement,
and I love it. For example, there's this guy
that comes every other week to see me. It's been
like this for over a year, and I don't think
he's getting any better. How do I know? It shows.
One, he's a sex addict. Two, He's switched up
between 12 girlfriends over the period since
we've been talking. The last one, he met a month
ago. And the reason why they don't ever make
it past a month is because he gets bored of them
easily. He takes pleasure in pleasuring others.
And when that woman becomes situated, he's no
longer intrigued. I could tell you where all
of this stemmed from and why it's happening,
but for the sake of time, and the fact that none
of this is any of your business, I'll just skip
to the good parts. Let's call him Mark. I've
had my eyes on Mark over the past two months
just because I know he's not going to get better.
And I say this with a heavy heart because it's
true. No matter what I do, Mark is not willing
to get better. I believe the only reason he returns
for these sessions is because of me. He's quite
obsessed. This is wrong. But as I said, I lead
a boring life, and I'm going to take whatever
the fuck I get. Anyway, on the bright side, he's
one of those safety freaks. And I'm surprised,
because most sex addicts aren't that careful.
They expose themselves to STDs quite often. But
Mark? He's special. He's like a monk. Do you
know the TV show Monk? Well, right. Monk. He's
a clean freak. He'll actually wipe down the chairs
before he sits on them. And it's really puzzling,
because most addicts do things on a whim. They
don't usually take their environment into consideration.
But Mark, he does. Which is why I admire him.
Which is why I'm invested. And today, he has
an appointment with me in just about 10 minutes.
I'm sitting in my office, and he's outside. I
actually wait until it's the exact time to call
them in. For me, it's control. For them, it's
that I have things to do, when really I don't.
I mostly just write in my diary about my feelings
or stare at the clock. Self -reflection after
a client is important. I try not to take things
too seriously. But anyway, back to Mark. I actually
get excited when he comes in because his stories
are so good. I get turned on by them. but I hide
it really well, or so it seems. Okay, the ten
minutes are up. I'm calling him in now. My assistant
ushers Mark into the room and closes the door
behind her. Mark stands by the door, but he eyes
me. He always does that. He has this kind of
stare that buries itself into my soul, and I
stare back. I allow him to stare me down, because
I love it. And I think it's a game. To him. To
us. Because whenever he stares at me and I stare
back, it feels like time doesn't exist. But eventually,
he breaks it and walks forward. Usually, he'll
sit on the chair first and then move to the couch.
But today, he goes straight to the couch, spraying
my leather and wiping it first. I say, How are
you today? I've never felt better. Have I ever
told you that your sessions are the highlight
of my week? Yes, you have. Every time. It's because
I can see you for who you are. I can be myself
with you. I cross my legs. Is that so? He nods.
So tell me, what have you been up to? Stuff.
How's your girlfriend? He sighs. We're no longer
a thing. I smile. And why is that Mark? He shrugs
and leans back into the couch. I got bored of
her. I got bored of her pussy. It no longer entices
me. I feel like I've been eating the same bread
every day. You should know how I feel. I scribble
what I need to on my notepad. Actually, I don't
know how you feel. Elaborate. He gives a soft
chuckle. You know, sometimes I feel like you're
fucking with me. That you just want to hear all
my stories so you can feel good about yourself.
I smile. Really? I believe so. You take pleasure
in my escapades. Interesting. Do you want to
know something? Please, go ahead. Whenever I
talk about my relationships and get into detail,
Your nipples get hard, your eyes dilate, and
there's a slight parting in your lips. Mark leans
forward, a dazzle in his eyes. Tell me I'm wrong.
If that's what you see, then I can't tell you
otherwise. Oh, yes. There's one other detail
I didn't disclose. Mark is a surgeon, a doctor.
He's quite observant, especially with me. And
just because I'm forbidden to him, he uses all
his skills to pick me apart, to make me fold.
I like how open he is, but sometimes, his accuracy
is unnerving. One day he'll figure me out, and
I won't be able to come back from it. With signs
like those, he says, I'd say I turn you on. If
that's what you think. Mark chuckles. And my
god, his smile is contagious. It's also beautiful.
A guy like him can win anyone over with a smile
and dimples. And that may be his problem. He'll
get away with what he does because he's easy
on the eyes. But honestly, I just love hearing
him talk about the things he wants to do to me.
I hide my arousal very well. But knowing he can
sense it? That's dangerous. This is a professional
setting and I need to keep it that way. You are
like a forbidden fruit. He continues. I can't
explore you, sadly. So the more you evade me,
the more I crave you. You're like a fantasy in
my head. A fantasy that I live out through other
women. Do you know, when I fucked my girlfriend,
I imagined it was you. Just so it'd be exciting.
I blink at him. I pretend it's you so I can get
off. But you said, and I quote, her pussy had
become like everyday bread. Mark touches his
chin, a stubble just beginning from yesterday's
shave. Are you saying that? No. He cuts me off.
I smile. I know her pussy could never be yours,
so the feeling wears off eventually. His eyes
drift down at my blouse. Your nipples are hard
again. He says with a smirk. Note to self wear
padded bras and silicone covers. I redirect the
topic. So what have you been up to since you're
no longer in a relationship? He tilts his head
and clicks his tongue. The usual. I go to work.
I go to the clubs. I read. Did you know you can
easily find a woman at a library? Reading might
be my new hobby. Is it reading or library hunting?
Both. Mark, do you remember what we talked about?
How you should respect people's boundaries, learn
to spot the cues of... Yes, I know. When was
the last time you had sex? He tilts his head,
stares up at the ceiling. About four hours ago.
How many times today? Three, four. Was it the
same person? He shakes his head. Mark? He rubs
the back of his neck like a kid being scolded.
Are you at least using condoms? That's a stupid
question. But yes, I am. Good. I'm getting the
feeling you really don't want to get better.
Actually, I do. No, you don't. You're not making
any kind of effort. You're not even doing the
homework I've given you. You see, I told you
to stay away from it for at least two days. That
was your homework. Two days feels like torture.
See? If you won't do the work, I have to assume
you don't want to get better. What if I get better
and then I don't get to see you anymore, Miss
Trent? You can still see me for updates. I don't
want that. I want to talk to you about my sexcapades,
my adventures. I want to see your reaction. So
what you're telling me is that you're purposefully
sabotaging your lessons just so you can prolong
your sessions? He nods. That is unacceptable.
Maybe I'll change if you take me up on that offer.
It's unethical to date my clients. I don't want
to date. I want you to be my wife. Are you going
to secure a wife when you change girlfriends
every month, when you get bored of them, of sex?
The moment it feels dull, you'll toss me like
tissues. I'm all about stability, something you
don't have. He exhales. Maybe I'll change for
you. I laugh louder than I should have. You should
be changing for yourself, Mark. I reach into
the small basket beside me and pull out a small
chip with an emoji of a heart on it. Okay, tell
me, what have you done differently since our
last meeting that would warrant you this token?
Mark eyes it carefully. I haven't brought anyone
back to my place since Molly and I broke up.
Do you usually do that? Are you really asking
that question when I've been telling you the
same thing this whole time? I'm just checking.
Sometimes it's easy to ask the same questions,
even when I already know the answer, because
maybe you'll give a different one this time.
I don't feel like I should bring them to my place
anymore. Bring who? The women I fuck. So, where
do you fuck them? At their place, maybe at the
bar itself, in a room, in the washroom. It's
hard seeing you do that when you're such a controlled
person. Sometimes the urges get the best of me.
but I do make sure the places are clean. So does
this change mean that you're doing it less? He
nods. But you've already done it four times today
and it's only 3 .30. He laughs. I'm a work in
progress and sometimes knowing that I'm coming
to see you keeps me on edge. I like to let off
some steam or else I'll be too stimulated while
talking with you. How do you feel now? Aroused.
But it's under control. I see. I blink at him
again. Would you ever give me a chance? I hand
him the chip. He takes it and smiles. Why don't
you ever answer my questions? Because they're
inappropriate. It's not inappropriate when you
ask them. That's because I'm asking them in order
to understand you so I can find the best solutions
to help you get better. Mark rolls his eyes.
I hate it when you give me textbook answers.
Time to change the topic. Okay, I've got a task
for you. Tell me something I don't know about
you. He leans back into the couch again, wrapping
one arm behind his head. This man reeks of sin
and he knows it. Well, he begins. I've just started
going to this elite club. It costs $500 per week.
You don't get access to it easily. You need an
invitation. And you've got an invite? Yes. A
friend of mine invited me. Is that friend male
or female? Male. Interesting. And who is this
friend? There's no one right now. I scribble
on my notepad. He eyes me. This is the first
time he's withheld information from me, something
he's always freely given, especially about friends.
This person, apparently he's protecting them
somehow, probably a family member. Okay, I say,
setting my pen down. No, wait, I want to talk
about it. About your friend? No, the club. He
says this elite club, which is members only.
lets you watch women in glass containers. They're
usually naked, he says, but some wear cosplay
costumes. They'll dance or just stand there for
you to look at them. You can either rent a booth
or sit among the others and watch. And have you
gone to this club? Twice. Why only two times?
Because the limit is twice a week. Yes, but I
haven't seen you in two weeks. I'm saving my
time for when you join me. I laugh. You're quite
optimistic. He tilts his body to the side and
retrieves a small card from his pocket, then
leans over and hands it to me. I read it. Essence
and Leisure Club. You have been invited. I set
the card aside. I don't think this is my thing.
What really is your thing, Miss Trent? Things
that don't always involve sex. Your life must
be boring, then. I guess it is. Mark's legs move.
He taps his feet, rhythmic and slow. I want you
to come. I'm inviting you. You can be a spectator.
Or, if you're really up to it, you can get into
a glass. He grins. You can wear a mask or even
a blindfold if you don't like seeing people watch
you. Are you baiting me? Is it working? No, it's
not. He feigns a frown, like he's disappointed.
I'll be there next week, Wednesday and Friday.
If I see you, it'll be a good night. If I don't,
then I'll sit there until I'm tired. Then suddenly,
Mark glances at his watch and stands. Unfortunately,
I can't stay. I have a barbershop appointment.
A barbershop? His hair is immaculate. Mark sports
a full head of large, beach blonde curls. Kind
of messy like those surfers. Yes, just a trim.
And I'll need to get there if I want to look
good for next week. I smile up at him and stand.
Well, this is a first. You've cut our session
short. Why do I feel like you came here just
to give me the invitation? Maybe I did, but I'm
about to go now, so we'll talk. Or maybe we'll
see. I shake my head. Goodbye Mark. He exits.
I exhale a breath and grab the card from the
table. I've heard about the club. Heard stories.
But I've never gone. If this is what he likes,
then I want to see it. Experience it. Maybe it'll
give me clarity on the kind of man I'm working
with, and I'll make better informed decisions.
Hey Raiders! You have met the end of Invitation
to Darkness, Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2. And
don't forget to subscribe, share, and follow
me on TikTok and YouTube. See ya. Bye.