Pull Me Close: The Panic Series

by Sidney Halston

  Passing tourists who are packing it in for the evening, we walk toward the ocean until the warm water tickles our bare feet. “I’ve been seeing this same view from my apartment for a long time,” she murmurs. “There were times, just weeks ago, that I thought I’d never see the sunset from anywhere else. And here I am, outside, not just seeing the sunset but experiencing it.”

  With a tear-streaked face, she sits down. I follow, not caring that my pants are getting wet, and just watch her. I imagine that this is what a blind man seeing for the first time would look like. She grabs a handful of sand and watches as the grains slip through her fingers. We sit close together, watching the sun set and the stars emerge, for the next hour. I don’t know if she’s still scared or not, but I, for one, have never felt more at peace in my life.

  Katherine

  We’ve been staying in my apartment for the past four days. After climbing up fifteen flights of stairs after that wonderful evening at the beach, Nico decided that pushing me to move past the elevator issue was just too much. Mostly he agreed because the way I put my foot down left no room for debate. Even though the experience was incredible, I was still nervous. And going to the beach had taken a toll on me, as I’d had to hold back all the fears and looming anxiety in order to watch the sunset. So the next day, after I decided that I was feeling brave enough to join him for a jog on the beach, we went back to my place, neither of us wanting to bother with the fifteen flights of stairs up to his. It was hilarious to see his shocked face when I outran him. I’d told him I work out in my apartment every day, but he hadn’t expected this.

  During the last four days, we’ve also been out to eat a few times, and we even went shopping for groceries together. It’s now Friday morning and I know he has to work this evening. I’m not sure if I’ll see him tonight, which makes me feel clingy—something I’d never admit to.

  “I have a great idea. Why don’t you call Dr. Glance and see if he can squeeze you in this morning? I’ll drive you.”

  Although I’m nervous, I think I can handle the drive over there at this point. Still, I don’t want to spoil the best week of my life by rehashing old wounds.

  When I don’t answer, he adds, “Or we can spend the day on my boat.”

  “Are those my only options? Because those aren’t fair. I’m not getting on a boat.”

  “I’m not a fair kind of guy,” he jokes.

  “And you have a boat?”

  “Is that really what we’re going to discuss, Katherine? And yes, I do have a boat. I don’t go out on it nearly enough, though,” he says, kissing my two fingers and then flipping me to my back as he straddles me, his weight held up by his forearm. “Look, the hard part’s over. You left your apartment and did a bunch of new things and it wasn’t so bad. You survived it all. Going to the doctor will be easier. It’ll be fast. Do this for you, for me. If you do this, I’ll take the evening off and spend it here with you.”

  “Nico…”

  “Call him first. See if it’s even a possibility.”

  Nico

  When Katherine called, the doctor said he had an opening right away. I think he was trying the same approach that I’ve been trying—just get her there and deal with it later. Don’t give her mind any time to spin shit around.

  Now we’re sitting in my car outside his office. She has her eyes closed and is breathing in and out.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “No.” She opens her eyes and looks out the window. “Glad it’s one story,” she notes.

  “Yeah, and look, there’s only one other car, which means you probably won’t have to deal with other people. Come on.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and open my door. “Give the doctor ten minutes, that’s all.”

  She exhales loudly and exits the car. Her sweaty hand is tightly gripping mine, and even though I don’t show it, I’m a wreck worrying about how she’s going to do. If this doesn’t go well, she’s not coming back. I know this to be a fact. And if she doesn’t come back, this may be the end for us, because she’ll likely retreat into her apartment, and even though I want to stay in her life, I need her to want to get better. I can give a lot up for her, but I can’t become a recluse with her. I just can’t. And even if I leave her behind in the evenings while she stays holed up in her apartment, we can’t have that kind of life. We’ll end up resenting each other.

  As soon as we walk in the entrance, the door to the doctor’s reception area opens, and an older man walks out. He’s maybe in his early sixties, with thick brown glasses, a big gut, a tropical shirt, and jeans held up by lime green suspenders.

  “You must be Katherine,” he says with a big jolly smile, and extends his hand. When Katherine doesn’t take it, I reach for it instead. “Hi. I’m Nico Moreno, Katherine’s boyfriend.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Glance, but please, call me John. I cleared the room for you. It’s just us.”

  Katherine nods and starts to follow him in. I try to unwrap her hand from mine, but she won’t let go. The good doctor sees my attempt. “Katherine, would you like Nico to join us? Up to you.”

  She nods, and I walk in with her.

  I’ve never been to a shrink, not even my sister’s practice. I envisioned one of those long couches for the patient and another chair next to it for the doctor. That’s not what I find. It’s a big open room; the entire back wall is windows overlooking a small garden with a big fountain and some flowers. Nothing too fancy, but it’s serene and nice. There’s a plush couch against one wall. On the opposite side there’s a wooden desk, void of papers, and two chairs in front of it. The doctor sits behind his desk and motions us to sit in front of him.

  “I’m familiar with your history. Dr. Cole filled me in, and of course your email helped.”

  Katherine nods.

  “You missed our first appointment and never rescheduled. Then I got your call this morning. Can you tell me what changed?”

  Katherine looks at me. I give her a soft nod. She clears her throat and begins to talk.

  “I’ve been taking steps every day to do something that scares me. When I first called Dr. Cole and then made the initial appointment with you, I wasn’t leaving my apartment at all, but now I’m going out to restaurants, for jogs on the beach, for groceries. I’m much better.”

  The doctor asks a few questions, and Katherine tells him about her anxiety around her sister’s upcoming wedding while he jots down some notes, smiles, and adjusts his glasses.

  “I don’t want to press our luck today,” he says thirty minutes later. “I need for you to come back. I want to talk some more.” I’m thinking he needs to talk about the actual event that caused all of this, but clearly he doesn’t want to push her. “I’m going to slightly alter your medication. Just a little.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  “Can we meet again on Friday?”

  Katherine nods.

  “Great,” he says with a smile as he stands up.

  “That’s it?” she asks.

  “That’s it.”

  She takes a relieved breath.

  “Most of your fears are psychosomatic,” he tells her. “You’re creating them in your head. It doesn’t make them any less painful, and we have to work on them, obviously. Eventually coming here will not feel like such a monumental undertaking. But you need to desensitize yourself and continue to come here. We haven’t even begun to work on things yet. I just wanted an idea of where you’re at.”

  “Okay.”

  —

  “I’m so proud of you,” I say as I park my car by her building, turn to her, and kiss her passionately.

  “You keep saying that,” she says breathlessly.

  “It keeps being true.”

  “I don’t know what I did to deserve you or what I can do to show you how thankful I am. This is a huge accomplishment for me. This entire week has been unbelievable.” She leans over and kisses me more deeply. Her hand’s in my hair, and like most of the times I’m with her, I’m hard and needy.
>
  “Why don’t you tell me all the ways you’re thankful while sitting on my face? It’s the best way to show your gratitude, don’t you think?”

  “You’re disgusting,” she says with a laugh as we walk into her building.

  “Disgusting enough to distract you into getting on the elevator?”

  She looks at the elevator and then at me. “Nope. But distracted enough that I’ll probably sit on your face.” With a squeal, she turns into the stairwell and runs up.

  I follow behind her. “I never realized that dating you would involve so much working out,” I tease.

  We spend the rest of the day watching television and relaxing in her apartment, and before going to bed, she thanks me the exact way I wanted: on my face.

  —

  For someone who suffers a debilitating condition, Katherine is always in a good mood. Her apartment is nothing less than spotless, and there’s usually something delicious cooking. And she’s usually so put together. So, three days later, when I knock on her door and she flings it open, I’m slightly alarmed at how she looks. Her long hair is in a massive knot on her head with a pencil sticking out, her reading glasses sit low on her nose, she has a pen behind her ear, her oversize shirt is falling off her shoulder, she’s barefoot, and she’s still in boxer shorts at this late hour of the day. I start to say something, but she turns around and hurries to the table.

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was,” she huffs agitatedly as she begins to collect all the books—there must be twenty of them—from the table. I also notice a bunch of boxes on the floor.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just give me a second.” She’s stacking all the books and won’t meet my eyes.

  “Is this for work? You can leave it,” I say, but she isn’t listening. I move closer and notice that she shifts around the table like she’s trying to block me from getting too close. I reach over her and pluck out the book on top of the pile: A Woman’s Guide to Being Sexy.

  My eyebrows knit together, and I reach for the next one, which has a Post-it note sticking out of it: Sex and Confidence.

  I go to reach for the next one, but she moves away. Her face is redder than I’ve ever seen it. “It’s not what you think,” she mumbles, and begins to throw the books in what I now realize are shipping boxes. She must have ordered these. Practically pushing me out of the way, she makes a run to grab the rest of the books, but I’m faster than she is and wrap my arm around her waist, essentially halting her movement. “Whoa,” I say, and reach around her for another book. “What do we have here?” The Anxiety Cure. Let the Fear Go. Be His Porn Star.

  She drops down on the chair and covers her face with her palms. “I want to say it’s for work. I’m editing all these books. All of them. Today.”

  I kneel down in front of her and move her hands away from her face. “How about you try the truth?”

  “This is so embarrassing.”

  “The truth about the books, not about how you feel. Although you shouldn’t be embarrassed about a thing. It’s your home.”

  She takes a deep breath and starts twirling a few loose strands of hair around her finger. She doesn’t meet my eyes, even though I’m only inches from her face, but I don’t make her look at me. I want the truth even if she can’t look me in the eyes while she tells me.

  “I think I was in denial for a long time. I just sort of came up with reasons to justify not leaving this apartment. Then one day turned into a week and then two months. I’m not used to a lot of human interaction. Now we’re dating.”

  “Is that a problem?” I ask. For the first time I wonder whether she actually likes to be alone. Maybe she prefers it. Maybe I’m actually interfering.

  “No. No!” she says quickly.

  I pick up 101 Ways to Get Him to Notice You. “You don’t think I notice you?”

  She pulls it out of my hand and tosses it into the box.

  “And this?” I pick up Anxiety, Go Away.

  “Well, I also want to get better. Dr. Glance recommended a few, and…” She points behind her at the stack. “I was just going to buy one book, and this all sort of happened.”

  “Baby, you’re making yourself anxious,” I say. “I don’t think self-help books are going to do a thing. I think you’re moving in the right direction and you’ve already come so far, but a book isn’t as helpful as getting your butt out of this apartment as often as possible.”

  I reach over her and pick up a red book called The Kama Sutra: A Handy Reference Guide. She snatches it away and puts it behind her. “Oh my God, just put me out of my misery. Throw me off the balcony.” She looks mortified. “Those weren’t for you.”

  “Are you planning on using this with someone else?” I laugh, but I’m not at all liking the thought of her with someone else. Not even a little. Actually, I’m pretty damn pissed off about it all of a sudden.

  “No, crazy person. I meant it’s not for you to see. It was for me. Unlike me, you’ve had a healthy sex life. I’m just trying to catch up.”

  I feel a sense of relief, and I’m also kind of flattered that she’d go through all this for me. Normally the women I date are takers. Yeah, we’ll fuck, but they really just want access to my club and my wallet. They don’t give a shit about me; as long as I’m coming, they think they’ve done their job. But this woman here is nervous that I won’t like her. She wants to please me.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” I say, reaching up and pulling her hair out of its knot. I love her long hair. It’s full and soft and ridiculously long. “You don’t need a hundred and one ways to get me to notice you. I notice you. I notice the shit out of you. You’re in my goddamn head all day. I’ll tell you something else: I don’t want a porn star. I don’t want fake. What we did, what we’ve done, it’s been perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. I want you. The real you. So throw this shit away and relax.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” I kiss her lips softly.

  “I like you.”

  “I like you too, corazón,” I say, and she parts her legs so that I can move in between them. She’s still sitting and I’m still on my knees, but now my chest is pressed against hers.

  “I like when you kiss me.”

  “I like when you kiss me back,” I say, and kiss her again. Her lips part for me and our tongues tangle and touch. Her legs lock behind my back, her arms go around my neck, and we can’t get any closer. “Hold on,” I say, and I stand up, with her clinging to me. I walk to her bed and lay her on it, then I lie on top of her, most of my weight on my forearms. Our lips meet again and we kiss. It’s like I’m seventeen and in a dark corner of Panic making out with Sasha Miller all over again.

  The way she lets out a little moan when I squeeze her waist or how she pulls my hair and wraps her leg around my hip is such a turn-on. I begin to move down, spending time on her neck, which she seems to really enjoy.

  “Nico…”

  I ignore her and pull the waistband of her shorts down. I’m lying on her bed, my face between her long legs. The first time I undressed my woman, I didn’t know what to expect; she didn’t leave the house, she wasn’t very familiar with pop culture, and she’s very conservative, so it was a surprise to see lace panties that first time, and today, a polka-dot thong over her completely shaved-bare little cunt. I know she hates that word. And I also know that she hates it because it’s vulgar and naughty, and that turns her on. I love it.

  I kiss over her mound and then slowly pull the panties off. She lifts her hips to help, putting her pussy practically on my face. “Seriously, Nico. You don’t have to. Let me touch you this time.” She tries to move away, but I slide my arms under her thighs and pull her pussy right to my face. I figure if she wants me to stop she’ll tell me. I look up at her; she’s on her elbows looking down at me, and her knees fall open wider.

  Obviously I’m where we both want me to be, so I keep my eyes on her while I kiss her clit. Just a small introduction. A peck. She gasps a
t that single movement. So I use one hand to part her lips, and this time I kiss her clit in earnest, sucking it into my mouth and bringing my tongue flat against it. When I look up and see that her head is now thrown back, I use my mouth to fuck all of her fears and insecurities away.

  “You keep doing that,” she says afterward while lying naked from the waist down surrounded by books and pillows. Her hair is fanned around her and her smile is lazy.

  “Can’t seem to help myself,” I say sincerely. “I love your taste.”

  “Do you do that a lot?”

  “Do what? Go down on women?”

  “That’s a weird question. I don’t know why I asked it. Never mind.”

  I tip her chin up so I can look in her eyes. “What you and I do is special. It’s different from anything else I’ve ever done with anyone else. Mostly because you’re you and you’re special to me.” I’ll be the first to admit that she’s far from easy. Her mind is so jumbled with the shit that is constantly worrying her that it takes a significant amount of work to focus her attention on what I’m doing and not what she’s thinking. But I don’t mind putting in the work. Not at all.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she tells me. “I’ve been so eager to have sex, you probably think I’m crazy.”

  “Not crazy.” I kiss her nose.

  “Quirky.” She smiles. “That’s a better word, don’t you think?”

  “I’d say extraordinary is more appropriate.”

  “Damn, you’re good.” She gives me a cheeky look. “It’s my turn now. I’d like a taste.”

  I move toward her to kiss her, but she pushes me back. Hard. “Not a taste of myself, Nico!” She continues to move until I’m on my back and she’s kneeling between my legs. “I want to taste you.”