Seen: A Taboo

A Sexual Fantasy

— By Frances St. Luz

This is a true story. And a fantasy about being seen. I am hungrily, brutally, passionately attracted to my therapist.

I told him, “I want to sleep with you.”

He can see to the core of me, the deep red center.

Seen. The word is an exhale from my lips, I breathe it out and my body ignites.

I told him about a fantasy I have where I stand in front of him and take all my clothes off so he sees me naked. He was nervous, and breathing shakily, and seemed overwhelmed. He told me it was beautiful.

I wrote him a postcard that said, “This is me taking my clothes off in your office.”

He is part of my secret life. I want. I want. I want this man. We have an unspoken agreement. I know I can’t have him, so instead I talk to him about wanting him. And he let’s me show him anything I want to. I think it excites him.

In my fantasy, he sits in the leather chair in his office.

I kneel down in front of him, trembling from nervousness. Between my legs, I am every shade of heat. He leans over and ties a blindfold, covering my eyes.

I am here to touch his body. I want to feel every fault line, find all his hard edges.

He sits back. He waits. I am consumed with desire. I want to know what he feels like, uninterrupted by anything but touch. I want to read the story of his desire in braille. With my fingers. With my tongue.

I start with his feet. I take his boots off, slip my hands into his jeans and hook my fingertips around his socks, taking them off his feet, gently one at a time. I cup his heels.

I trace the crispness of his jawline, run my hands along the length of his legs, from his ankles to his hips. I like that he’s watching me do it.

I unzip his pants. I lean over and I taste him. He rises in my mouth like yeast. I love his hardness. I trace it with the tip of my tongue.

The whole time I am in suspense, waiting for him to touch me. When does, he slides his hand into the lace of my panties. He finds my clitoris, touches it slowly, like a light switch it turns on on on on on on. When he finally enters me, he takes the blindfold off and looks me in the eyes.

I felt so ashamed of it at first. But here is the truth: it’s really common to be attracted to your therapist. And very, very secret. I’m an American journalist, and I’ve been researching, and talking to therapists, because I had to know. And what I’ve found is that people are attracted to their therapists all the time.

Erika Lust, please make this film. If you do, I will share it with him and add a chapter to the story. It’s beautiful and bizarre and I want it to be seen. And it I want it as a sweet kiss, a love letter, to all those others out there with a closeted desire to fuck their therapist.