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Fifteen Minutes

By The Common Loon

I paused, the doorknob cold beneath my hand,
My palms still moist, my throat still dry. It turned,
It opened to a sterile waiting room
While time slowed to what seemed like half as fast,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

As fifteen minutes all too slowly passed,
The Readers' Digest magazines grew old,
The distant muzak tonelessly played on,
Its strains of soulless worlds as antiseptic
As everything off which it was reflected.
A frumpy housewife sidled through the door,
Her drawn-out face and smudged mascara saying
More than she intended it to say.
She made plans to return before she left.
A heavy silence fell, with only clicks
Of a computer keyboard far away.
My palms still sweating, even moreso now,
My sweater twitching in time with my pulse,
The door swung wide again. This time, a girl,
No older than nineteen, emerged at once.
A rosy blush sat on her cheek, her chest
Would rise and fall at more than normal tempo.
She leaned against the wall to catch her breath,
A thin hand resting high atop her her bosom,
Then she arranged for her return, and went.
I nibbled on a clammy fingernail.
The door squeaked, and this time it was for me.
A hallway's worth of unsure steps, and I
Was in another room to wait some more,
This one less uninviting than the last.
This time a metal-studded leather chair
Was there to wrap its arms around my chest.
Its twin, five feet away, sat empty yet.
I counted purple threads inside the rug,
And wondered how much longer this could last,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

As fifteen minutes all too slowly passed,
A hearty knock behind me made me jump.
Around the leather wingback I could see
The heavy door first crack, then open wide,
And in she walked, with briefcase in her hand.
She slung it brusquely on the walnut desk.
It landed with a bang. Another jump.
She realized belatedly, and sighed.
An apologetic introduction later,
She took her place: the chair across from mine.
Another heavy silence. She spoke first.
"So Robert, tell me why you're here today."
I swallowed hard. I didn't want to say.
"I thought I told your colleague on the phone."
She dropped her gaze above her thin-rimmed glasses.
"So I know why you're here. But do you know?"
I did, precisely. But I couldn't say.
An awkward pause. She crossed her nylonned legs.
"I can't well be effective till you tell me."
My palms still sweating, now my brow joined in.
I searched for euphemisms. None came forth.
I searched for a way out. That didn't work.
She leaned her elbows forward on her knees.
I briefly glimpsed the collar of her blouse
Which hung a little lower than she knew
And flaunted the soft contours of her chest.
I swept my gaze away reflexively,
But nothing could escape her. She sat up.
A smirk began to wryly curl her lip.
I took a breath, just to apologize,
But she again spoke first. "Okay," she said.
"We'll do it your way, following my lead."
Still in no mood to talk, I simply nodded.
She stood up slowly from the leather chair,
Her business skirt cascading waist to knee,
And opened up the briefcase on her desk.
I hid my face ashamèd in my hands,
And felt their sticky sweat cling to my cheeks.
A hollow plastic rustle and a click,
And she returned with notepad and a pen
To draw out all the secrets of my past,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

As fifteen minutes all too slowly passed,
She sat back in her chair, finger on chin,
And scratched her pen across the yellow pad.
It was, so far, all useless pleasantries. 
My heart rate slowed, I sunk into the chair,
And somehow all my history unfolded,
At least, the parts most comfortable to me,
The kind of history on my resume.
She met it all with but a knowing nod,
And let it all come out before she said,
"You're pretty chatty after all, I see."
I realized how much I'd carried on,
And suddenly self-consciousness returned,
And with it, quiet. Back to where we started.
"You ready now to tell me why you're here?"
Somehow I knew evasion wouldn't help,
But one last indirection couldn't hurt.
"I haven't talked about it for so long."
She frowned. "With all you're paying me today,
I'd say you'd better break that streak right now."
Her piercing gaze and scolding lips moved closer
As she set down her pad beside the chair,
Uncrossed her long tan legs beneath her skirt,
And once again leaned forward on her knees.
I couldn't help but catch a glimpse again
Of that which I had clumsily before.
This time, a flash of flesh and flick of pink.
Instead of looking suddenly away,
My eyebrows nearly flew off of my brow.
I bolted up and backed away a pace.
My gaze turned to her wicked, knowing smile,
The method of a sly iconoclast,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

I paused, the doorknob cold beneath my hand,
My palms so moist, my throat so dry. It's locked.
I whirled around. She stood up from her chair.
I was outdone, maneuvered, and outclassed,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

As fifteen minutes all too slowly passed,
My head began to throb its warning call.
Out from between her breasts she pulled it out
And dangled it an arm's length from my face.
"Since words won't do today, this should suffice."
She caught my frightened look, but didn't show it.
"You know you want to stay," she offered. "Don't you?"
She had me right where only dreams had had me,
But it took every ounce of strength I had
To walk back to my leather chair and sit.
"Now, you're not leaving here until we're done."
I didn't want to think what that could mean.
I checked the shuttered window; four floors up.
I checked the door again; the only one.
I looked for any other place to hide,
But there was no retreat for me this time.
I wiped my brow with one hand, then the other.
She sat back down, and then, to my surprise,
Unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.
"Do you want to continue, or should I?"
The question being already decided,
She handed it to me, and closed my grip.
With trembling hands, I put it to my lips.
One shaky breath, and it was grapefruit-sized.
Across the rug from me, she sat stock-still, 
Her legs uncrossed conspicuously now,
Undid another button on her blouse,
And nodded slightly for me to go on.
Another ragged breath, and twice as big.
Another breath, with sweat stinging my eyes,
My ears aflame, my sweater stuck to me,
My palms still moist, my throat still dry, and I
Took far too long to recollect myself.
For this I was rewarded with a smile,
The third and last unbuttoned button, and
A satin white brassiere across her chest.
She was so breathtaking that I was breathless,
And soon I had to shift my seating pose.
I managed two more breaths, and it got harder.
On cue she stood up quickly and stepped forward.
She braced her hands atop the leather wings
And leaned over my leather chair above me.
It had acquired a pale pinkish cast,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

As fifteen minutes all too slowly passed,
It was as big as it was going to be,
And she knew all too well what happened next.
Draped prostrate over me, she met my gaze.
"Now finish what you started," she implored.
My brain still beating and my skin still flushed,
I barely managed half another breath.
It was too tight to give another inch,
But it was still incredibly alive.
My body burned with brilliant anxious flame
As every inch was at its very fullest.
A hand between my legs - yes, it was hers.
Each respiration seared my throat to shreds,
Each beat of my poor heart felt like its last,
And as she put her hand to work, I melted.
The point of no return was far behind.
Without a second thought, I took a breath
And held it for what seemed like half an hour.
I put it to my lips another time,
And heedlessly exhaled again. Just when
I thought it wouldn't give another inch,
It came more sudden than a rifle shot,
And with a force so strong, it might have been.
The walls could scarcely cover up the blast,
And fifteen minutes all too slowly passed.

As fifteen minutes all too slowly passed,
The burning in my chest slowly subsided,
I dried my palms and brow, and they stayed dry.
I finally swallowed, and my throat felt warm.
She dressed again and closed her briefcase tight.
A hallway's worth of weakened steps, and I
Walked out that door from which I had come in.
It shut with a resounding clack. I sighed,
Made plans for my return, and quickly left,
And looking back across my shoulder, thought
About how time could be so cruel, so crass,
That fifteen minutes could so quickly pass.