She tapped on her keyboard and her eyebrows rose just a touch before she looked back up at me and smiled. “I just need to see some ID, Mister McCoy....I am sorry to ask, but we rarely have male patients here. We have had fathers, brothers and boyfriends who object to someone seeing a therapist. I hope you understand.”I showed her my license and tried not to be angry. Not at her, that some woman, or some girl, gets raped and then her family would try to keep her from seeing someone? Why? Afraid of. She unsnaps her jeans, and pulls them down at the same time as her panties to mid thigh, sits back on the chair and then pulls her legs free one after the other. She sets the jeans aside and stands again, facing us, completely naked. I’ve never labored under the misconception that the blush of youth guarantees flawless beauty. When I was her age (Dammit, there I go again – what am I, her granny???)… when I was her age, I was gangly and awkward, clumsy, weak, mousy, skin not that great, horny. More

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