I sit down with Emmy and we start to chat about anything but her now Ex- Boyfriend. I struggle to concentrate as I start relishing my new confidence i... wearing lace. In my mind my jeans have disappeared and I am just sitting there with my cock bound in lace, and it looks glorious. A few drinks later and we are both getting visibly more giggly so we decide to move to a darker, more private part of the pub. Emmy sits down next to me and I start to feel an urge from within. Her closeness has. It's quite nice and polished, maybe a bit posh looking, but with a twist to it: if the patient tries to relax too much by sinking in the couch, her (hopefully her) eyes will gaze at a very good copy of Munch's "Scream" on the opposite wall; if he (and i think it's going to be a he) tries to boredly or evasively look out through the window, there's a splendid copy of Raphael's "Fornarina" between the windows, and it'll bring at least his gaze, if not his mind back. At the front of the room. More

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