Unknown - fifty shades darker

“Christian has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions,” Dr. Flynn begins gently. “Just so you know, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality—” I raise my eyebrow at Flynn, halting him mid-speech.

“Oh—um . . . I’ve signed an NDA,” I murmur, embarrassed that he’s stopped. Both Flynn and Christian stare at me, and Christian releases my hand.

“A non-disclosure agreement?” Dr. Flynn’s brow furrows, and he glances quizzically at Christian.

Christian shrugs.

“You start all your relationships with women with an NDA?” Dr. Flynn asks him.

“The contractual ones, I do.”

Dr. Flynn’s lip twitches. “You’ve had other types of relationships with women?” he asks, and he looks amused.

“No,” Christian answers after a beat, and he looks amused, too.

“As I thought.” Dr. Flynn turns his attention back to me. “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about confidentiality, but may I suggest that the two of you discuss this at some point? As I understand, you’re no longer entering into that kind of contractual relationship.”

“Different kind of contract, hopefully,” says Christian softly, glancing at me. I flush and Dr. Flynn narrows his eyes.

“Ana. You’ll have to forgive me, but I probably know a lot more about you than you think. Christian has been very forthcoming.”

I glance nervously at Christian. What has he said?

“An NDA?” he continues. “That must have shocked you.” I blink at him. “Oh, I think the shock of that has paled into insignificance, given Christian’s most recent revelations,” I answer, my voice soft and hesitant. I sound so nervous.

“I’m sure.” Dr. Flynn smiles kindly at me. “So, Christian, what would you like to discuss?”

Christian shrugs like a surly teen. “Anastasia wanted to see you. Perhaps you should ask her.”

Dr. Flynn’s face registers his surprise once more, and he gazes shrewdly at me.

Holy shit. This is mortifying. I gaze down at my fingers.

“Would you be more comfortable if Christian left us for a while?” My eyes dart to Christian and he’s gazing at me expectantly.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Christian frowns and opens his mouth but closes it again quickly and stands in one swift graceful movement.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” he says, his mouth a flat, grumpy line.

Oh no.

“Thank you, Christian,” Dr. Flynn says impassively.

Christian gives me one long, searching look then stalks out of the room—but he doesn’t slam the door. Phew. I immediately relax.

“He intimidates you?”

“Yes. But not as much as he used to.” I feel disloyal but it’s the truth.

“That doesn’t surprise me, Ana. What can I help you with?” I stare down at my knotted fingers. What can I ask?

“Dr. Flynn, I’ve never been in a relationship before, and Christian is . . . well, he’s Christian. And over the last week or so, a great deal has happened. I haven’t had a chance to think things through.”

“What do you need to think through?”

I glance up at him, and his head is cocked to one side as he gazes at me with compassion, I think.

“Well . . . Christian tells me that he’s happy to give up . . . er—” I stumble and pause.

This is so much more difficult to discuss than I’d imagined.

Dr. Flynn sighs. “Ana, in the very limited time that you’ve known him, you’ve made more progress with my patient than I have in the last two years. You have had a profound effect on him. You must see that.”

“He’s had a profound effect on me, too. I just don’t know if I’m enough. To fulfill his needs,” I whisper.

“Is that what you need from me? Reassurance?”

I nod.

“Needs change,” he says simply. “Christian has found himself in a situation where his methods of coping are no longer effective. Very simply, you’ve forced him to confront some of his demons and rethink.”

I blink at him. This echoes what Christian has told me.

“Yes, his demons,” I murmur.

“We don’t dwell on them—they’re in the past. Christian knows what his demons are, as do I—and now I’m sure you do, too. I’m much more concerned with the future and getting Christian to a place where he wants to be.”

I frown and he raises an eyebrow.

“The technical term is SFBT—sorry.” He smiles. “That stands for Solution-Focused Brief Therapy. Essentially, it’s goal oriented. We concentrate on where Christian wants to be and how to get him there. It’s a dialectical approach. There’s no point in breast-beating about the past—all that’s been picked over by every physician, psychologist, and psychia-trist Christian’s ever seen. We know why he’s the way he is, but it’s the future that’s important. Where Christian envisages himself, where he wants to be. It took you walking out on him to make him take this form of therapy seriously. He realizes that his goal is a loving relationship with you. It’s that simple, and that’s what we’re working on now. Of course there are obstacles—his haphephobia for one.”

Oh jeez . . . his what? I gasp.

“I’m sorry. I mean his fear of being touched,” Dr. Flynn says, shaking his head as if scolding himself. “Which I’m sure you’re aware of.”

I flush and nod. Oh that!

“He has a morbid self-abhorrence. I’m sure that comes as no surprise to you. And of course there’s the parasomnia . . . um—night terrors, sorry, to the layperson.” I blink at him, trying to absorb all these long words. I know about all of this. But Flynn hasn’t mentioned my central concern.

“But he’s a sadist. Surely, as such, he has needs which I can’t fulfill.” Dr. Flynn actually rolls his eyes, and his mouth presses into a hard line. “That’s no longer recognized as a psychiatric term. I don’t know how many times I have told him that.

It’s not even classified as a paraphilia any more, not since the nineties.” Dr. Flynn has lost me again. I blink at him. He smiles kindly at me.

“This is a pet peeve of mine.” He shakes his head. “Christian just thinks the worst of any given situation. It’s part of his self-abhorrence. Of course, there’s such a thing as sexual sadism, but it’s not a disease; it’s a lifestyle choice. And if it’s practiced in a safe, sane relationship between consenting adults, then it’s a nonissue. My understanding is that Christian has conducted all of his BDSM relationships in this manner. You’re the first lover who hasn’t consented, so he’s not willing to do it.” Lover!

“But surely it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Dr. Flynn shrugs good-naturedly.

“Well . . . the reasons he does it.”

“Ana, that’s the point. In terms of solution-focused therapy, it is that simple. Christian wants to be with you. In order to do that, he needs to forego the more extreme aspects of that kind of relationship. After all, what you’re asking for is not unreasonable . . . is it?” I flush. No, it’s not unreasonable, is it?

“I don’t think so. But I worry that he does.”

“Christian recognizes that and has acted accordingly. He’s not insane.” Dr. Flynn sighs.

“In a nutshell, he’s not a sadist, Ana. He’s an angry, frightened, brilliant young man, who was dealt a shit hand of cards when he was born. We can all beat our breasts about it, and analyze the who, the how and the why to death—or Christian can move on and decide how he wants to live. He’d found something that worked for him for a few years, more or less, but since he met you, it no longer works. And as a consequence, he’s changing his modus operandi. You and I have to respect his choice and support him in it.” I gape at him. “That’s my reassurance?”