"Calls himself a sex therapist. Ha! You should see what he does for kicks." The receptionist rolled her eyes then, looking through the doorway to see

if her boss was coming, she bent down and pulled open a drawer in the table. Sticking in her hand, she pulled out a garter belt, then a brassiere and other lacy things. Quickly, she dropped them back in and closed the drawer. "And the things he makes me do after work," the woman continued in conspiratorial tones. "And you think you've got troubles."

Dr. Arnold appeared suddenly, but the receptionist didn't get up until he walked right over to her and asked her to get out of his chair. Then she got up slowly and reluctantly. As she left the office, she gave Peg a look that seemed to say good luck.

The door slammed, and the doctor repeated his original question, asking her what her problem was. Peg waited for a few seconds before answering. Not only was she waiting to see if there would be another interruption, but she was wondering whether she still wanted to confide in him after what the receptionist had said and showed her.

She looked up at him, and felt that she'd better say something, but he had a strange look in his eye, as if he were waiting for her to undress or something, and Peg decided that she wasn't going to tell her problem to this guy. But she had to say something.

"I have a foot fetish," she suddenly blurted.

Dr. Arnold stared at her. Then his whole face lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning.

"Oh! Well. Hey, hey, this is interesting," he said and began to squirm around in his seat. "Feet? Well, well."

He had begun to chuckle, and as Peg looked at him he began to laugh louder until his face was red and his little body was hopping up and down in his chair. Suddenly, he stopped laughing and asked her to tell him more.

Peg stood up and said, "On second thought, I think I made a mistake."