Breasts

“Don’t get me wrong, I do love my wife, I really do. We’ve been married twenty-three years, and I love living with her, talking with her, sleeping with her. And I would be faithful to her if it weren’t for one thing. Or two, strictly speaking.

“Breasts. I’m obsessed by them. They’re just endlessly fascinating. The variety, I mean. From the barely there to the biggest in the world, all the different shapes and sizes. From eighteen years old to eighty, all races and nations, I love them all.

“If they were uniform, if God in His wisdom had decided on standard issue, I wouldn’t have any problems whatsoever. But they’re not. Each pair is unique, an unexplored paradise.

“I genuinely believed I could stop when we got married. I thought that was it for me. But the first day of our honeymoon in Jamaica, with all the sunbathing and bikinis, I felt I was drowning on the beach. I told my wife the heat was too much for me and I needed to go and lie down.

“I did lie down. With a university student from Dumbarton. And then a hotel chambermaid. Then the hotel manageress. And so it went on.

“Whenever I see a woman I like, which you can imagine is several times a day, my imagination just runs wild. I kind of move into autopilot and I just can’t rest until I find out how the reality matches up to what’s in my head.

“I know what you’re thinking and I don’t honestly know how I do it either. God knows, I’m no George Clooney, am I? I only have one goal in mind when I’m talking to a woman, but they all seem to agree to come to bed with me. And quickly.

“There’s no doubt about it, I can turn on the charm. I don’t even know what I’m saying most of the time but it works and before I know it, I’m burying my face in a pair of beautiful breasts.

“More than once a woman has looked down on me and asked if I’d be moving on to another part of her anatomy anytime soon. I try to remember to pay more than lip service to the other bits of a woman, if you see what I mean. But really I’m just killing time until I can get back to where I’m truly happy.

“I just get lost; the world disappears, time and space are gone, and it’s just me and them. Those other parts just pale in comparison.

“I liken it to books. My friend Gemma, she has beautiful breasts, a little on the small side, soft like silk pillows. But anyway, she reads. She reads a lot. In bed, on the train, at dinner, at parties, in the toilet, everywhere. She is driven to read as many books as she can in her life and even then she knows there will be hundreds, thousands even, that she’ll miss out on.

“Sometimes, she wrestles with the dilemma of wanting to reread a book. She knows that it could be a different experience the second time round. But each book she rereads means one new book that will never be read.

“I feel exactly the same about breasts. My life could be richer for the experience of a second visit, but is it worth forgoing the thrill, the pleasure of the new?

“I just think about them all the time. I gave the internet a go. Thought that might help. And there’s certainly the variety out there. But the novelty quickly wore off. I could see hundreds, thousands in an evening but I need to do more than just look.

“It’s out of my control. The excuses, the lies I have told my wife. Work meetings, conferences, away days. They mount up, and mix together, I can’t keep track. She must suspect something, I live in constant fear of her finding out.

“And yet. And yet, I want her to know. I want to tell her. Maybe she could accept it, this weakness of mine, like I accept her need to buy horse figurines. Is it really so different? If I was obsessed by model trains, or golf, or cars, it wouldn’t be such a problem, would it? Would it?”

“That’s not something I can answer,” Dr Hadley put her notebook down on her lap and looked at him over her glasses. “Do you want to see my breasts?”

“What? Will that help? Well, alright, go on then.”

“Just to be clear, I wasn’t offering to show you my breasts, I was merely trying to ascertain whether you were thinking about them to see how your… interests are affecting our relationship as doctor and patient.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re not going to show them to me?” The disappointment was plain.

“I feel that would be inappropriate, don’t you?

“I suppose so.”

“Can we try and make eye contact now please?”

“Sorry, yes.”

“That’s better. Now, tell me about your mother.”

“My mother? What about her?”

“Did she breastfeed you?”

“I don’t know, doc, what are you getting at?”

“How do you feel about your mother’s breasts?”

Jesus, I’ve never thought about my mother’s… I’m not a pervert, I just really like breasts.”

“Do you remember seeing your mother naked?”

“Doc! No, can we talk about something else please?”

“Very well. Can you answer this question: if you had to give up one thing, what would it be; your wife or your… liaisons with the other women?”

“That’s a tough one.”

“Is it? I think you know the answer, deep down.”

“Do I? Yes, you’re right. I do.” He put his head in his hands. “Am I a hopeless case, doc?”

“No, not at all, we have five more sessions and plenty of time to talk things through. We’ve reached the end of this session now, but we’ll meet again next week. Please make arrangements with Francine, my receptionist, outside.”

“Right, okay, thank you. Bye then.”

“Goodbye.”

The door closed behind him and Dr Hadley heard him talking to Francine.

“Uh, hi, yeah, can I make an appointment for next week please?”

“Certainly, would Thursday at three o’clock suit you?”

“Yeah, that’s great, thanks. Hey, that’s a nice top you’re wearing, really suits you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Do you mind if I ask what time you finish work?”

Dr Hadley frowned and made more notes. This was going to be a tough one.