Something I did for Writer's Club.

The Session with Dr. Burgot

Shari Adams

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I’m going crazy.”

“You’re not. It’s just a minor problem. We’ll fix it. You’ll be fine. You can be with everyone else soon.”

“I might kill you.”

Silence. Oh, that got him. Something about being told he could die bothered him. Well, good. She could kill him. She could kill him with ease. All it would take would be sinking her jaws into his neck and just rip. Easy as that, snap of the fingers—neck.

“You’re panting.”

“I’m hot.”

“It’s a little warm in here. I’ll go turn on the air conditioning.”

She watched him stand and go to the thermostat. Dr. Burgot was trembling and his brow was dotted with sweat. He smelled like it. Dirty and full of fear, his stench filled the room. It wasn’t too bad she supposed. It was more realistic than the perfume and colognes most of the other nurses and doctors wore. Them, with their aristocratic noses and full, pouting lips. Them, waltzing around the office with loud clicking heels and wretched smiles plastered on the faces. Them, with their extreme hair all pulled back into a bun and their shrilling laughter, telling her that she was a mistake.

“Their hair is not extreme, Josephine— Jo,” he grinned at her. She hadn’t realized she’d been speaking aloud. How embarrassing. Her cheeks felt hot and she reached up, covering them to hide the blush. “Yours is rather wild though. It’s pretty. Those thick brown locks, always free.” His look was heated.

“You smell.”

“You thought I smelled nice a few seconds ago. Didn’t you, really?” The look was gone.

He sat down across from her again in a plush leather chair. She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice, or at least pay attention. He just smiled and it embarrassed her more. He didn’t miss anything; he never did. She supposed it was all the years he’d spent doing this. All the years with people like her, the ‘weirdo.’ She wasn’t weird, though, not really. She was powerful and fearsome. She didn’t need to be going to these sessions. “Your mother’s worried about you, that’s why you’re here. You were clawing at your sheets she said, panting and howling while you slept. It frightened her.”

“You’re old.”

Silence again, but he was smiling this time. His head tilted to the side and a gray lock of hair fell about his face. Well, maybe he wasn’t that old. His hair was mostly black still, with only a bit of silver glimmering its way through. It was pretty. His face was firm and his lips thin, often pulled into an irritating smile. There wasn’t much color to his face. He was pale. Unlike the other doctors, he stayed inside with his patients too much to go to the dull, freezing lakes of England. He liked to make sure everything was okay and as it should be before he left, but nothing was ever okay at the asylum so he spent most of his time here. He was well built though, for an indoor man. His broad shoulders and lean body looked fine and dandy in his tight suit and strangling tie. He was a bit flabby around the stomach. Starting to get quite the belly. No one was perfect. He needed to get out and run. She’d take him out for a run if she—

“You’re doing it again.”

“I am not.”

“You are! I’ll have you know I’m in perfect health.”

“What are you here for? Let’s finish it already. I hate these sessions.”

“You get restless. Can you tell me why?”

“I’m supposed to be out there, in the forest. I shouldn’t be in this stuffy little office!”

He chuckled, as if truly dealing with a child of five, not a young lady of seventeen. Dr. Burgot adjusted to relax in the seat, pulling out his folder. It was filled to the brim with wrinkled pages, little notes, scribbled-on napkins, anything and everything he knew about her. She hated that folder. She looked through it and saw a crazy girl. She wasn’t crazy. She was wild.

“You are not wild and you are not crazy. You’re just a confused little girl who can’t keep her thoughts quiet. Now, tell me about your beau.”

“What about him?”

“Does he make you happy?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then what makes you happy, Jo?”

Silence, but it was her turn to be quiet now. What did make her happy?

“He’s meek and mild. I need a man that’s going to be assertive, not afraid to touch me. I need someone to run with me. Roughen me up, maybe. I’m not a fragile doll. I’m a rough—”

“—But you’re supposed to be a sweet, innocent, and meek girl, Josephine.”

He interrupted her. She hated when he interrupted her. She could already feel herself bristling. The stupid piece of meat, he shouldn’t interrupt her. She was supreme; he was nothing more than the haggard, old deer in the middle of the woods, tubby too. His brown eyes were that of a deer’s. She hated them.

“Josephine, you’re panting again.”

“I’m angry.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Here, let’s role-play and maybe it’ll make you happy again. I know you’ve always enjoyed our role-playing sessions.”

She could already feel her skin itching. She bit her hand, tasting the salt. It tasted like sweat and grime; it was still mostly hers. She could feel everything changing. It hurt, but she liked the hurt. It meant she was letting go again.

She stared at him, watching as he changed too. That was surprising. He didn’t often go along with her. Dr. Burgot usually sat back as she played in or destroyed his office and took notes. This time, he would play along.

He had changed with her once before. A deer with twitching ears and brown eyes-all frightened. No deer this time. This time he was the same as she. His lips were curled teasingly, like his smile, but fiercer, almost wicked and suggestive. He looked mean. Those brown eyes of his weren’t afraid anymore. They were fiery. His muscles became well defined and power glimmered in his posture. He too became supreme.

She rather fancied it all.

She got on all fours and he stayed sitting on his powerful haunches in the chair. His chin was tilted up. She crawled meekly forward. She could be meek and mild, when she felt like it. She supposed she felt like it now. She felt excitement well in her chest. He whined for her to come closer, licking his teeth slowly, and she did so gladly. She climbed up onto the large chair with him, allowing him to lie across her back. He seemed excited too, if not for that smile still on his face then for the glow in his blazing eyes. She felt warm inside, like some deep weight had been lifted off her chest again. She preferred it this way and she loved it this way. She adored just letting it all loose.

They tore up the office together.

They let out their hatred for what they should be and could be together.

They howled together.

It was beautiful, and she felt like crying but couldn’t really. It was still lovely, nonetheless. It was glorious to be free again and to have him there with her. They danced a strange dance through his office. Their bodies stayed near each other, sharing passion through thoughtless touches and the heavy smell of perspiration.

Josephine jumped when she felt arms wrap tightly around her. She snarled in surprise, turning about and bit furiously at the intruder. Her teeth sunk into a hard shoulder, but there was no cry of pain. There was just a grunt of discomfort. Irritated she bit down harder. She looked up as two large hands rubbed her arms. Dr. Burgot smiled down at her pleasantly.

“It must be too cold in here, see that? The hair on your arms is raised and you’ve got goose bumps. Would you like me to turn down the conditioning?”

She pulled away from him and stared at the shoulder of his suit, wrinkled with her teeth marks. He’d be bruised again. She wondered how many times she’d bit him since she first came here.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Good. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s great!”

He went back and sat down in the plush chair she’d occupied with him. He took out a sheet of paper and wrote some things down. The scribbling of the pen on the paper hurt her ears. She still felt like crying, but she wasn’t upset. She was confused.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked.

“Very much, we should do it again. I feel much happier.”

“I know, I understand. It’s nice to break loose sometimes, though I’m supposed to be under control of my lycanthropy by now.” He winked at her and chuckled. “Promise not to tell?”

“I promise.”

“Same time tomorrow, Josephine—Jo?”

“I’d very much like that.”