by Jack Fisher
“Great. I made a mess of myself, my clothes and my carpet,” groaned Mary. “I’m on a hot streak tonight.”
Shaking her head in dismay, she got up from the couch and stripped out of her clothing. She also picked up the wine bottle and set it on the coffee table before grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. However, before she did, she got one last glimpse of the footage of the wildfires.
Now standing naked in her living room, Mary Ann Scott tried to process what had just happened. She hadn’t come home expecting to pleasure herself to the best orgasm she’d had in a year. She’d left Canicci’s Pizza wanting to punch Peter Rogers in the face. Then, in a complete reversal, she’d had a bizarre fantasy of Peter that had led her to unexpected ecstasy. She was no expert, but that couldn’t be healthy for a recovering sex addict.
A cold feeling came over Mary as she finally turned off the TV. She hugged her shoulders and dropped her head low, now angry at herself more than Peter. Regardless of how their reunion had turned out, talking to him had really affected her. Whatever that effect entailed, it had made her feel things she didn’t understand.
It had evoked emotions that she wasn’t ready to process. It frustrated Mary to no end because, like it or not, this man was one of the few friends who’d known her as someone other than a woman whose addiction had come close to destroying her.
Beyond that, there was something else about Peter Robert Rogers that impacted her profoundly. It felt like something that could either help her life or complicate it. Whatever the case, Mary didn’t have the energy to deal with it tonight. Shaking her head in defeat, she began cleaning the mess she’d made. The stains on her rug and underwear should be easy. The less obvious mental and emotional messes would probably be much harder.
“Fuck you, Peter. Fuck you for making my life an even bigger clusterfuck,” Mary said bitterly. “I don’t know what you did to me. I should hunt you down and punch you in the dick. But first, I need a cold shower—a really cold shower.”
Chapter Five
#xa0;
Not long ago, Mary had been the ultimate morning person. She’d once prided herself on getting more work done before sunrise than anyone not working a night shift. She would have woken up early, done yoga, gone jogging, fixed herself a hardy breakfast and been full of energy by the time the sun rose. That kind of dedication had helped make her the successful, passionate, outgoing woman that had captivated everyone around her.
That version of Mary Ann Scott might as well have been from a parallel universe. The effects of her sex addiction, as well as her efforts to treat it, had effectively killed that person. Mary could still wake up early, exercise and do many of the things she’d always done. It just didn’t fill her with the same energy it once had. After what had happened the day before, she felt so restless that she didn’t expect to captivate anyone today.
“Wow. You look like shit, Mary,” said Michelle Amber, the front desk manager of Hart World Gym, “and not in the way that hints you had a good time last night.”
“Not today, Michelle. For the love of everything good and pure…not today,” Mary said, avoiding eye contact from moment she’d walked through the front door.
“Oh, come on, boss. Don’t be like that. Whenever you don’t let your friends cheer you up, we’re all miserable.”
“You’re not my friends. You’re my employees. My name is on the deed to this place, last I checked. So please remind everyone of that before they make a scene.”
“Will do.” Michelle sighed. “Anything else I should warn them about?”
“Not yet, but that’s subject to change. If you need me, I’ll be in the boxing room punching something.”
Michelle wisely kept quiet and let her walk by into the manager’s office where she put away her purse and keys. Mary then immediately closed the door to avoid scrutiny from everyone, giving her time to gather herself.
She casually tossed her gym bag aside, turned on her computer then searched through the clutter on her desk until she found her weightlifting gloves. It took her longer than she’d hoped. The office was a far cry from the gym she’d had on South Beach. Even though Mary owned the facility, she still felt like she had taken a step down in life, and it wasn’t because this gym catered to soccer moms instead of swimsuit models.
On some levels, she enjoyed working with people who didn’t carry themselves like walking centerfolds. There was less ego and they were easier to deal with. However, the confined office reminded her of the difference between an aspiring fitness model and a jaded gym owner in a no-name town.
Mary didn’t wait for her computer to finish loading. She didn’t answer any voicemails, either. As soon as she found her gloves, which somehow had ended up under a stack of magazines, she put them on and stormed out of her office. Being the face of the gym came with plenty of responsibilities. To carry those out, she had to make Mary Ann Scott less miserable to be around, and that involved some badly needed venting.
“I need to hit something…hard,” she said to herself.
This time, Michelle didn’t say anything once she’d left her office. Since it was still early, the gym only had a few really dedicated fitness types working out. Mary avoided making eye contact with them, and she hid her face on the off-chance one of them would notice her and push her buttons. She really couldn’t afford to be annoyed today. She wouldn’t do herself any favors by driving away her customers.
She eventually made it to the boxing room located on the west end of the gym. It had an assortment of punching bags, a regulation boxing ring and sets of specialized weights. The area was closed during this time of day and wouldn’t open for another two hours. Hopefully, that gave her the time she needed to get into a better state of mind.
Mary had long since accepted that she would never be the successful, passionate, outgoing woman she once had been. The best she could hope to do was to remain functional enough to run a successful business.
“Just do what Sister Angela told you,” Mary told herself. “Don’t vent because you want to. Do it because you need to.”
Without warming up, she began laying into the heavy punching bag in the corner of the arena, hitting with alternating jabs and hooks. Mary had learned early on that venting could help, but only if done properly. Sister Angela had tried to teach her how to do it in a healthy way. She attempted to put those teachings to good use, but on a day like this, she could only be so disciplined.
“I…need…this!” grunted Mary between each punch.
Her heart rate jumped, her breathing grew ragged and her thoughts slowed down. It was not unlike the state she had been in yesterday, minus the bizarre fantasies and overwhelming pleasure. This time, Mary was determined to remain in control. She refused to let her experience with Peter derail her efforts to treat her problems.
Mary soon settled into focus. With every punch, she attacked the many frustrations the past eleven months had wrought. They took many forms, ranging from the people who’d helped enable her addiction to those who’d helped fuel it. Peter Rogers was just the latest, but he was far from the most infuriating.
“Why…do I…keep…punishing…myself…like this?” Mary said, hitting the bag with more fervor.
She barely realized she had said it out loud. It didn’t matter. That was why she liked to use this room in private. That way, nobody could hear her angry musings. She didn’t need anyone questioning her sanity any more than she questioned her own.
“That’s not an unreasonable question to ask, but I don’t think the punching bag is going to answer,” said an unexpected voice.
In an instant, Mary was jolted from her focus. Still breathing heavily and flushed with adrenaline, she turned to her right to see the last person she wanted to be there.
“Peter Rogers—and just like that, I feel the urge to punch something else,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to let you continue, but when you started talking to yourself, I got worried.”
“How sweet of
you,” Mary said dryly, “and how the hell did you even find out where I work?”
“It wasn’t that hard. There’s this thing called the Internet and you are listed as the owner and general manager of this gym.”
Mary felt like hitting her head against the wall. She couldn’t possibly have been that stupid. She hadn’t exactly gone into hiding after she’d left Miami. Attaching her name publicly to this gym had made sense from a business standpoint, but it came with personal risks. They had finally come back to bite her.
“I should tell Michelle to do something about that. The last thing I need is people stalking me,” Mary said, shaking her head in frustration.
“This isn’t me stalking you. This is me feeling really bad about what happened last night,” Peter said, sounding sincere, yet still keeping his distance.
“You should feel bad…for more reasons than you think.”
“I admit it, okay? I’m not sure what you mean about ‘more reasons’, but I said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways at the worst possible time. You reached out to me when I needed it. I didn’t know just how much I needed it, but I did, and I was a complete dick about it. I pushed you away, accused you of something I shouldn’t have and made way more assumptions than anyone should make. I just…”
With every word he said, Peter shifted and squirmed like a kid who’d just gotten caught cheating on a math test. Mary had seen that demeanor before. He did not do well when trying to humble himself. His words finally trailed off, but not before he got his point across.
Then he finally spoke up again. “You know, you could stop me at any time,” Peter said.
“You’re right. I could,” Mary said.
“I’m running low on dignity here, so I’ll stop before I go too far. Just believe me when I say that I know I screwed up…bad.”
“I believe you. I’m not as vindictive as you remember,” Mary said.
“Then let’s not throw away our friendship because of one fuck-up. I didn’t move back to my hometown to create another reason to hate myself. I came back because I needed to get away from the environment that made me a sex addict.”
“I guess we have that in common. We’re both back in Hartman County for the same reason.”
“Then let’s build on it,” he reasoned. “Just look at the circumstances here. We both left this place for new lives in flashy new towns, we both got sucked into unhealthy worlds and we both ended up getting our spirits crushed. Seriously, how many other sex addicts find someone they can relate to so well?”
In Mary’s experience, arguing over these sorts of things only made existing problems worse. As angry as she was at Peter, she couldn’t overlook the situation.
Before her stood a man who’d walked a similar path and suffered a similar hardship. One of the toughest challenges she’d faced when she’d returned to Hartman County was finding others who could relate to her problems. There just weren’t that many former fitness models turned sex addicts to talk to, especially in Hartman County. Like it or not, Peter Rogers could relate. He could understand her struggle.
As Mary contemplated this situation, Peter approached her. She had calmed down to the point where the desire to punch him in the jaw had subsided. He still kept some distance. This time, she couldn’t blame him. Considering what she’d done when she’d gotten home last night, it might be best that they not get too close.
“What exactly are you suggesting, Peter?” Mary asked.
“I’m not entirely sure. In fact, I’ve been trying to figure that out since last night,” Peter said. “All I know is this. I don’t want the day to end without us coming to some sort of understanding. I’d like it even more if we could help each other.”
“I admit I’d like to have someone else to talk to—someone besides a nun or a therapist.”
“Then let’s try again. My shift at the fire station doesn’t begin until eight tonight. What time do you get off work here?”
“I own this place, remember? I get off whenever I’m done working,” replied Mary.
Peter laughed. The tension between them eased somewhat. Mary kept smiling, as well—a part of her already willing to take a chance at something that might blow up in her face. It had burned her last night, but being a recovering addict made her adept at taking punishment.
“Still determined to do things your way, eh? Glad to see that part of you hasn’t changed,” Peter said with a humorous grin.
“My problems haven’t completely destroyed me. I’m still capable of kicking your ass if you give me a reason to,” Mary said.
“Then I’ll make sure I don’t give you one,” he said. “Let’s try this… I’ll give you my number, and whenever you decide you’re done working, give me a call and we’ll meet up.”
“That sounds way too much like what guys would tell me to get into my panties. Maybe a few extra details would help.”
“Good point. Then let’s agree to meet some place that’s not romantic, intimate or private in the slightest. That way, the temptation is limited and we can focus on the important issues at hand.”
“Makes sense.” Mary shrugged. “What exactly are these issues, anyway?”
“We can work that out in time. I think the main focus should be how we help each other,” Peter said. “I don’t know how to go about it, but I know I want to give it a try. I just moved back here. I’m still cutting ties with the life I had in LA. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to just…talk a little, if that makes sense.”
When he put it like that, it made more sense than he’d probably intended. Mary still studied him, searching for any signs of a devious subtext. She saw nothing, nor did she expect to. Peter had never been good at hiding his intentions. This was the same guy who’d once blurted out his plans to cut class in junior high to see a movie. Mary believed his sincerity, more so than she would have if he were anyone else. Even so, she still had reservations.
He had already had a strange effect on her. After one encounter, Mary had gone home and pleasured herself to a news report about a fire after all. Already, his influence on her wasn’t healthy. However, a part of her still wanted to connect with him.
In addition, she saw in Peter a desperate man who’d just recently acknowledged his problems. Mary still remembered how that had felt when she’d come to grips with her addiction. She’d had nobody to talk to and nobody to help her. It had been one of the darkest periods of her life.
Nobody should have to go through that alone.
Despite the risks—and the possibility of having to avoid news reports about fires—Mary made her choice. Sister Angela wouldn’t approve, but she needed to take a chance. The only alternative was isolation and misery. For any recovering addict, that kind of inaction carried more risk than any other moves.
“Okay. Let’s give this a try,” Mary said in a more serious tone. “I’ll give you my cell number, but I swear to God, if you send me a dick pic—”
“I won’t. I promise,” Peter said, holding his hands up and giving her an innocent look.
“I mean it, Peter. If at any point you start thinking with the wrong head, I’m wrapping you in cardboard and mailing you back to Los Angeles.”
“If that happens, I’ll pay the postage,” he affirmed.
“Good. Because as much as you pissed me off last night, I want what you want. I want someone I can talk to—someone who won’t look at me like I’m an extra in a bad porno.”
“That’ll be easy for me. I look at you and still see the hard-nosed tomboy who loved showing boys how to kick ass…although you can’t expect me to deny that that fiery tomboy has a great rack now,” Peter said.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Mary said.
He’d tried to maintain some level of confidence but had only succeeded in part. Mary actually found it refreshing. Even though Peter Rogers had grown into a strong, handsome man, he still had that dorky charm she remembered from their youth. A lot had changed since those innocent years, but having that connection
might work to both their advantage.
“But seriously, Peter… I think this is exactly what we need,” Mary said. “All the friends and family I have…or used to have… I can’t talk to them about this because they don’t understand. There are just certain things I can’t tell them—painful things that I haven’t been able to tell anyone.”
“Well, you don’t have to hold back with me. I’m in the worst possible position to judge,” Peter said. “All I know is that I’m a mess right now. I need to talk to someone about this stuff. You may or may not think less of me. I may still piss you off.”
“I’ll keep my temper in check. I promise.”
“You don’t even have to do that. I just need someone to listen. I might be able to get something like that with the program we’re in, but like you said…only you can give me that perspective right now.”
Mary remained tense, but neither of them said or did anything to ruin the moment. That alone counted as progress. A part of her still wanted to slap him for what had happened the previous night. Another part of her wanted to hug him for coming to her like this. She managed to resist both. Given their emotional states—and being in a boxing area, for that matter—now wasn’t the time to get physical.
Once the tension had settled, Peter gave Mary his number and he left without incident. The frustration that prompted her to take it out on a punching bag had completely faded. Instead, a strange mix of emotions came over her. Two encounters with this man and he had already had some pretty serious effects on her. If the events of last night were any indication, these would likely escalate.
“I may regret this. I may ruin my entire treatment plan,” she said to herself. “I’m still gonna risk it. I need to. I just can’t wait keep waiting for Sister Angela’s methods to work anymore.”
Chapter Six
#xa0;
“Okay, class, that’s it for today. Hit the showers and rinse the sweat off. You’ve earned it,” Mary said at the conclusion of her final aerobics class.
