Not really, but the day sure as fuck is.

"Hey Quinn!" Tiffany gives you her trademark, scrunched up little smile as you walk into Morgan's office. You had an uneventful morning, and it looks like you've committed the perfect crime as your mother hasn't confronted you about her stolen panties. All through breakfast you waited for her mood to shift, for the other shoe to drop, for the fury and disgust to crash in on you but it never did. You finished your chores and grabbed the money your mother left you before arranging a ryde on your phone. "Go on in. Dr. Knight is ready for you." Another warm smile directs you toward the door. You open the door tentatively, a sudden trepidation overtakes you, as if you expect to see something awful on the other side but you can't figure out why.

"Afternoon Quinton." Morgan says with a grin looking up from her desk for a moment. "Take a seat, I just need to finish writing up a note from my last session."

"Take your time." You say politely in response as you take a seat on Morgan's couch. You sink in just enough to be ridiculously comfortable. Morgan's couch is legendary and you've been meaning to ask your mother if she would consider getting a copy of it if she ever wants to upgrade the living room. Morgan finishes whatever she was writing and looks up at you with another disarming grin. "So. How'd Tuesday go?"

"Alright." You respond.

"Just alright?" You squirm a little and try not to think about the stolen panties. You know you can tell Morgan anything, but you don't want to get distracted from your goal this time.

"Well I saw Molly. We hung out at our coffee place."

"Sounds like fun!"

"It was." You say with a half-hearted smile.

"Why do I detect a 'but' lingering in there somewhere?" Morgan says with a knowing little smirk.

"I'm worried Chris is getting to her." You say, trying to measure Morgan's response. She raises an eyebrow and looks at you pointedly.

"Do Chris and Molly hang out?"

"Not that I know of, I guess." You reply.

"Then why do you think Chris is somehow 'getting to her?'"

"She's changing. Just like my mom, she was never into weird fashion or any of that and now she's got a tattoo, piercings, she's dressing differently."

"Sounds like any young girl getting to know herself a little in her last summer before college."

"No it's Chris! I'm sure of it!" You start to raise your voice but Morgan silences you with a look.

"Now Quinn, we've talked about this. I understand Chris's return makes you feel uncomfortable-"

"It's not just in my head!" You burst out. Morgan holds her hand up as she continues.

"Hey now, I make a living off the very real pain and conflict that exists 'just in people's heads.'" Morgan says, placing air quotes around the last words. "I would never question the validity of what you're feeling Quinn. But I worked with Mr. Winters myself. I can't discuss the particulars, obviously, but he made real progress working with me and I can assure you he has no ill will."

"But everyone is going nuts right as he comes back, it makes no sense! Edgar's going to the gym for Christ's sake! I've never seen him lift anything heavier than a half-pounder from Burger Tzar!" You're exasperated, you want her to believe you but nothing you say seems to work.

"Quinton, you and Molly and Edgar are 18, you're young, still just trying to find yourselves. A little experimentation, especially with fashion and such, is to be expected."

"But what about Mom?!" You reply. "What about how she's treating me?!"

"I wanted to ask about that, how are things with your mom now?" You blush a little and stutter as you try to brush off the question.

"It was ok the past two days." You say quietly.

"So everything is calmed down now?"

"I suppose."

"Suppose?"

"Yes everything is alright since Monday, but she beat me! She's never done anything like that!"

"Well Quinn, has she ever caught you jacking off into her panties before?" You go red instantly and look down ashamed, unsure how to respond. "You have to appreciate what an embarrassing and stressful moment that was for her. Can you really be shocked she lost her temper a little?"

"No... I guess not." You don't want to agree but you just don't see how you can argue the point.

"Let's talk about these urges you've been feeling." Morgan leans onto her desk and interlocks her fingers. "Have you continued to feel the need to sniff your mother's dirty clothes?" You're a little shocked by her sudden directness.

"N-no." You reply, reddening once again. You're transparent as air to Morgan and she clicks her tongue.

"C'mon Quinn you know you can always trust me."

I must trust Morgan. You find yourself realizing Morgan can't help you if you're not honest with her.

"I-I-" You want to tell her, you need to confess but you're just too embarrassed to say it.

"Let it out Quinton, this is a safe place." You can't look her in the eye as you quietly mumble your confession.

"I stole a pair of her panties out of the laundry basket." Morgan sits back with a thoughtful expression and begins taking notes.

"Interesting. This was yesterday?"

"Yes." You reply still not daring to move your gaze from the floor.

"How did it feel when you stole them?" Morgan asks in her usual non-judgemental tone.

"I-I felt ashamed."

"Because of the violation of your mother's privacy?"

"Yes." You almost whisper.

"Was that all?" You think for a moment before replying, not sure how you can make any of this sound any better.

"No." A moment of silence descends between you before Morgan gently nudges you once again.

"What else were you feeling Quinton?"

"I felt... Excited."

"Excited like because you were worried you might be caught?"

"Yes." You say blankly, wishing you were anywhere but here.

"Anything else? I know you have feelings for your mother Quinn."

"I was turned on." You finally admit.

"Now we're getting to it!" Morgan says. "What part of the experience got you excited in that way?" You worry your skin might be permanently flushed forever now.

"The-the smell." Morgan's pen continues to scratch away at the paper.

"Of?"

"Of... Her." You're not sure how to respond.

"Of your mother? The scent of her body on the garment?"

"Not just that." You say trying to gather your thoughts. "I could smell her perfume, I've always loved that perfume."

"It reminds you of her, of course you love it." Morgan smiles encouragingly, trying to keep you talking.

"I suppose... That was the main thing but underneath it there was... Something else." If you could blush anymore you would.

"Something else?" Morgan prompts you to continue.

"Yes umm... It was tangy... Kind of... I don't know." You hide your head in your hands, too ashamed to go on.

"It was the smell of her vaginal discharge, wasn't it Quinn?" You begin to sob a little, utterly humiliated.

"Yes!" You **** out an answer.

"And how did... That smell, make you feel?"

"It was so hot, I got really hard. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I bet that's not true at all." Morgan giggles a little, trying to lighten the mood. You look up at her, unsure what she wants to hear. You don't know why but looking into her eyes seems to calm you. "Tell me what you were thinking when you stole the panties."

"I was worried about getting caught, I knew I shouldn't be doing it."

"But how did you feel once you had them? Once you smelled them?"

"I felt so aroused. I ran to my room and jerked off and came all over my floor. Right after that Molly texted so I hid them and cleaned up."

"You still have them hidden away?" You nod. "They're under your mattress aren't they?" Morgan says with a cheeky grin. Your eyes widen with a stupid, 'how'd you know?' sort of look. Morgan giggles as she responds. "Oh Quinn where else do teenage boys keep their guilty little treasures?" You feel yourself flushed once again.

"Yes, that's where they are. I didn't want to put them back."

"Why?"

"I wasn't sure I'd get another chance. I wanted more." Morgan looks at you seriously.

"Quinton, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Sexual feelings and masturbation are normal." Her reassurance gives you the usual warm feeling and you calm down a little. "Granted, these feelings are not usually for one's mother but we both know how complicated that history is." She gives you an empathetic half-smile. "I'm concerned however, with how strong these feelings are becoming in such a short time. You said you'd put these sorts of things behind you in our last sessions. That's part of why we decided you could stop seeing me, wasn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Well we're running out of time today. You really should consider telling your mother." Your eyes go wide at the thought. "I know it's scary but you promised her you would stop this. If you don't accept the consequences of your actions, how can she trust you again?"

"I'll... I'll think about it." You say.

"That's all I ask." Morgan replies with a smile. "You know I'd never tell her.

"I know Morgan, I trust you."

I must trust Morgan.

"Good. One more thing before you go." Morgan opens her desk drawer and retrieves a small bottle of pills. "I want you to take one of these whenever you feel overwhelmed like you were feeling when you stole your mother's panties." You rise and take the bottle, there's no label.

"What are they?"

"Oh just a mild sedative, to help calm you down when you get too excited. Just take one if you're feeling overstimulated." Her smile tightens a little as you take the bottle. "Alright well looks like we're done for the day, please confirm Friday's appointment with Tiff on your way out. Don't worry, we're going to get through all this together Quinn." She gives you one last heartwarming smile before you thank her and turn to leave. You feel confident your visits with Morgan are helping, despite the fact that you couldn't seem to convince her Chris is up to something. You suppose you'll just have to keep trying.

You call another Ryde from the app on your phone while Tiffany confirms your appointment time. You wait on the curb outside for your driver—Kelly Mason—according to the app. The expected Blue Honda with the little purple light stuck to the dash rolls up. You see there's another person in the front seat with the driver. You tentatively approach the window as it rolls down. A wiry woman with jet black hair cut in a neat bob at chin length addresses you from the driver's seat.

"Mr. Palmer?" Her voice is bright, high pitched but not girlish. Her tone is commanding and you feel intimidated by the simple question. Her eyes are hidden behind black-rimmed, circular sunglasses.

"Umm... Yes?" You confirm your identity turning to stare at the man accompanying your trendy yet frightening driver. He's wearing dark sunglasses as well, with a light blue work coat, and jeans. He seems more concerned with watching the street as if he is afraid someone may be following him, than with you. The driver pipes up once more in her bright but serious tone.

"Don't worry about him, he's my cousin, I'm showing him the ropes so he can start using the app too." That doesn't make much sense to you. You're very tempted to send her on and call another ryde. She senses your hesitation and pats the side of the car, sticking a long arm out the window. You spot an intricate geometric design tattooed all over her forearm, disappearing beneath her shirt at the bicep. "Hop in the back, meter's running." You begin to back away from the car, preparing to send the odd duo away. The man turns to you and swiftly reaches inside his coat. He pulls a snub nosed revolver and points it at you across his chest.

"Please get in the car Quinton." He says way too politely for someone aiming a presumably loaded weapon. You look to the woman who is now watching you from the driver's seat, ready to respond to any move you make. You know you'd never make it inside if they're serious about hurting you, and they'd just run you down if you flee up the street to the corner. You approach the back door with caution on shaky legs. Your hand reaches out to open the door as you keep your eyes on the man who follows you with his aim. You get into the car and it quickly drives off, cutting off a minivan which beeps its little horn at the dangerous maneuver. After they are sure no one is on to them, the man speaks again. "I am sorry it came to this." He gestures, indicating the gun. "But we need to have a talk my guy." The man continues to point the pistol at you but you manage to eek out a question through rapidly ascending panic.

"Who-who are y-"

"Nighty-night Quinn." You hear the woman say as she drives, you lock eyes with her in the rearview mirror for a moment as she lets her glasses fall down the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are endless blue pools but light, the color of the sky unlike your mother's deep azure. The words echo around your mind and without warning your vision blurs and your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Darkness takes you and you slump over in the backseat of your kidnapper's vehicle.