I stepped in and as I did, the door slammed shut behind me.It took a while to get used to the dark, there was a window that was blacked out, and that ...ave a token amount of light, that showed shapes within the room. Apart from that, there was a tiny red light in the corner, it looked like the sort they have on an alarm or camera. It really was tiny and didn't help with the lighting.I made out a bench like object in front of me, and a chair in the corner. I then noticed a shelf, and could just. Recently I attended a three day seminar on sexual counseling. This enabled me to list sexual therapy on my list of qualifications. Was I really qualified? The state of NC said I was. This is when my lack of professionalism came into question. This is when I crossed the line. A line might I add is one I have no intention of giving up. I now have a need for the sexual control I have. It was a Monday, and Mondays for me are just like everyone elses. I dreaded it. The workday began at 9am with Mrs.. First of all, to be fair, experts (such as Dr. Joyce... ) have always maintained that fantasies (of any kind) are okay so long as you don't try to act them out. [Obviously, dreaming of flying like a super hero should not give you the idea that you can leap from a tall building ... duh!]But at fifteen and under control by hormones totally unfamiliar to me, and similarly to others, there's sometimes a blurred line that we accidentally cross.So at the age of fifteen and proud of myself for getting. He was just being a good father. He wanted me to be confident about myself. Good fathers didn’t think of their daughters like I thought of him.Incestuous lust and burning shame roiled through me. I trembled there. If he did want me, he would be leaning down to kiss me, but he was just standing there. Staring at me. He must think I’m so weird. Why won’t he kiss me?I should kiss him.It would change everything.I licked my lips.“Daddy...” I said, the tightness squeezing about my chest. My toes.