by Tempi Lark
Dr. Young rocked back and forth in his seat. I could see it in his eyes, his mind reeling from my confession as he tried to decide whether or not to up my medication, or blame it on a hormonal imbalance. “Would you hurt this girl to get her—FRUIT?”
“Maybe.” Hey, at least I was honest!
More silence, then a “What does that mean?!!!”erupted from the good doctor.
“It means I need that pussy, dumbass!”
Dr. Young squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before whispering, “Please promise me you will behave appropriately on this week’s outing to Baylor.”
Every two weeks the ward allowed us to go shopping in one of the neighboring counties. This week the mall in Baylor had offered to host us for four hours. It was supposed to be a constructive exercise, one to help ease us back into polite society. But truth be told there were more tears than dollars actually spent.
“I can only speak for myself—not my cock.” I snickered. “He’s cooking up some big plans down there.”
Dr. Young shook his head. “Then maybe you should sit this one out.” He tried to be nice about it, patting my hand and all that bullshit.
“I can’t do that.”
Dr. Young ran his hands down his face, clawing at his pores, and groaned. “Oh why not?!” He demanded.
“Because this is the first time in a year that I’ve been eligible for a weekend pass and I’d… like to get out for a while.” I kept my voice even as his eyes widened to the size of lemons. He didn’t know what to think about this, or the pussy drought—hell, any of it, really. I’d thrown so much at him in the last hour that I was surprised he didn’t pull his wig off.
“You’re joking with me, right?” Dr. Young chuckled after a minute of uninterrupted silence. “No one in their right mind would give you a free pass home. You’re a FLIGHT RISK.”
I cracked a smile and proudly stated, “I’ve behaved.”
He snorted. “No, you haven’t been caught. Keyword: caught.” Frustrated, he shuffled through the papers on his desk until he found a bright pink one. He handed it to me. “Since you were admitted by the state of North Carolina there is a specific protocol we have to follow to maintain government funding at this facility. This will need to be filled out by your acting power of attorney.”
Shit…
“My brother?”
“He is the power of attorney on your file. If Nurse Kline gives you the weekend pass I’ll expect a detailed report from him next Monday.”
I had planned on staying at my condo downtown, but Dr. Young blew that idea out of the water when I asked about it. “You are mentally unstable and therefore mentally unfit to be home alone.” he said, checking something off. “You also have a lot of money, Laces. The last thing I need is a phone call from your father informing me that you blew your inheritance on strippers.” When I didn’t say anything his voice grew serious. “You’re very blessed creatively and financially. In ten years I want to see your work in a museum, not in a psych ward.”
The radio silence between Gambrielle and I lasted for four days. I could’ve held off for five or six, but my cock wasn’t having it. Her pussy called to him like a siren’s song, and he was more than willing to walk into the depths of her sea, even if it meant his death.
I’d planned on sitting with Cynthia Miles during the trip to Baylor; she had promised me a blowjob in Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and I’d promised to hold her hand at the mall to seal the deal.
Cynthia would get her moment to shine, and my cock would empty out the load that was meant for Gambrielle. It seemed like a happy ending for everyone involved.
“You are not getting on this bus without a buddy!” The day orderly shouted as he escorted us past the nurse’s station and through the main exit. “You will be responsible for your buddy and vice versa! You ain’t gotta hold hands, but you will look out for one another!”
Where was Cynthia? Everyone was dressed in regular garb so it should’ve made the process of elimination easier. It didn’t. I squeezed through the crowd, searching for a platinum blonde head with big lips and a killer ass.
“Hey.”
It was her. Gambrielle.
Fuck.
I cracked a smile, but didn’t look in her direction. She could drool over me all she wanted—but after two hand jobs and a raging blister, I’d learned my lesson. “Not now, stray. I’m busy.”
“Are you really going to continue ignoring me?” Gambrielle asked in that angelic, innocent voice I adored. She tugged at the black t-shirt I’d worn. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“We did,” I said, and then hummed under my breath, “Cock-blocker.” I continued to scan the sea of patients for my prey. Cynthia was at the front of the bus talking to a patient from Floor A.
“Please don’t do this.” Gambrielle said. She knew exactly what I was about to do. Coming up from behind, she shot me a pained look and swallowed hard, her brown eyes pleading for some type of reason. A stabbing sensation started in my chest and worked its way down to my abs, wreaking hell on my entire body. I hadn’t anticipated this reaction, so I wasn’t sure how to handle it. “Whatever this is between us, if you do this, there’s no going back. It’s unforgivable, Lincoln.”
I shook my head. “This is who I am.” I muttered.
“The guy that goes and sleeps with whoever he wants when he doesn’t get his way?”
I cringed. The analogy seemed a lot worse coming from her lips than it had from Dr. Young’s.
“All you’re going to do is prove me right.” Gambrielle stated.
My eyes drew into slits. “It’s. My. Life.”
“It is.” she agreed.
“Let me live it.”
She nodded, her eyes falling to the pink ballet flats covering her feet. “I’m going to. But I want to tell you something before you do whatever it is you’re planning to do…”
I tilted my head back and groaned at the sky. “And what’s that?”
“You’re an idiot, Lincoln Caster.” Her voice was soft, but firm. “You can’t see the good even when it’s staring you right in the face.”
Okay, that little snide comment hurt, bad. Perhaps if it had come from someone else I wouldn’t have taken it so personally. My eyes dropped to her face as my defenses rose. “Watch your mouth.” I warned. “Favorite or not, you’re still in my domain.”
Damn straight.
“Favorite? So there’s more than one?” The pain that shot through her eyes in that moment was something that would haunt me for the rest of my days. I wanted to reach out—to hold her, assure her that everything would work out as it was supposed to—but I couldn’t. I didn’t have those emotions in me, and if I did I’m not sure I would’ve known how to use them, anyway.
Her face had paled to that of a wrath; her eyes were as glossy as a reflection in the sea.
I’d gone too far and needed to reel myself back in before I caused irreparable damage. Reaching forward I roughly grabbed her chin and whispered, reassuringly “Hey, there is no one else.”
The tears continued to swim around in her brown irises, desperately searching for a lifeboat, an oar, something to grab on to… “Please don’t do this.”
She was referring again to Cynthia, who was currently making her way through the crowd.
Fuck.
I released Gambrielle’s face.
“I can’t—” I started.
“Why?”
“—because I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait that long!” I all but shouted. “And what if I can’t, hmm?” Confusion entered her eyes but I didn’t stop there. I’d already made my grave, or so I thought, so it was best to dig a deeper hole and lay in it. Leaning forward, I whispered into her ear, “There will come a point when I’ll get tired of waiting and I’ll take it with or without your consent. Is that what you want?!?!”
Goodbye Gambrielle—
“From you? Maybe!” She harshly whispered into my ear.
And….what the fuck is
happening right now?
“Don’t tempt me.” I warned, pulling back. The heat raging in my groin seemed to grow as she lifted a shoulder, taunting me. There was tension all around us, a hate and lust that had finally reached a fever pitch. Flashing a coy smile, she swirled her finger around a long brunette strand hanging over her shoulder.
“I’m used to being forced to do things.” Her cheeks flushed crimson as the words slipped out of her mouth. My cock instantly responded, the fabric tightening to the point of pain as my cock tested the structural integrity of my pants.
And in the midst of our heated exchange, the unthinkable happened—Cynthia bounced up to me, her lips puckering like a blowfish; without a second thought I planted my palm on her face and pushed her way. “I’m not playing around, Stray.” I said. Cynthia’s hands were wildly attacking the air, desperately trying to slap the hell outta my face. Ease-up bitch!
Gambrielle’s lips spread into an adorable smile as she threw her thumb over her shoulder, “We could be buddies if you want and sit together on the bus? Maybe discuss it in more detail over lunch?” she asked, as a hopeful gleam entered her eyes.
“Are you asking me out?” After everything I had just said? Now it was my turn to look like an idiot.
Her brown eyes slowly fell. There was a little hesitation when she spoke again. “Yes?”
Sixteen
Gambrielle
“I shouldn’t have to say this, but after what happened at our last outing in Charlotte I feel it is my responsibility as your teacher and friend,” Miss Maroon’s cheeks heated up as she stumbled over her statement, “to um, to tell you that it is a health hazard and safety risk to have sex with another patient in a department store. I know some of you have urges an-and needs—but nothing good can come from a poor grandmother seeing your bare gluteus maximus plastered against the glass entry of a JCPenny’s. Right Mr. Park?” Her eyes shot to Reyes, who was beaming with such pride. “Right, Mr. Park?”
The bus went over a speed bump, but that didn’t stop Reyes Sun Park from rising to his feet and placing his hand on his heart. “Thank you, Miss Maroon for that fine commentary.” He cooed. “I’d also like to thank my co-star, Varla English, for taking care of me during that dark time. The window was cold, but her pussy kept me warm!”
The entire bus broke out in applause.
Turning to my right, I opened my mouth to say something to Varla who was way ahead of me. “Back to December had just been released and I was emotional.” She explained. Oh Varla…Why?
Mouth still wide open, I shook my head as she continued on, the elaborate tale turning stranger as the seconds passed. “We went to Chinese before and…you know the chopsticks they give you for your meal?”
I blinked, dumbfounded. Chopsticks?
“Well, he um,” She bit her lip to suppress a giggle, “he wanted to do some kinky shit with them, and one thing led to another—and don’t you dare judge me, Gambrielle Evans!” Her eyes flew over my shoulder, to the gorgeous man sketching behind me. “I haven’t said a thing about your Laces infatuation.”
Jesus…did he hear that?
I stole a quick glance over my shoulder as the bus merged onto the highway. Laces had his head propped against the window, immersed in the sketch he was drawing of a hand. He looked like a runway model—ripped jeans, white tee, red and black long sleeved flannel shirt tightly secured around his waist. Most men couldn’t pull off the high-fashion grunge look, but he did it effortlessly. And the black hair, God…I licked my dry lips and quickly turned back to Varla, who was now grinning like she knew a secret. Patting the seat beside her, she stated, “It’s time for girl talk.”
I flushed. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“Oh, I can think of plenty.” Varla chirped, pulling me into her seat. She wasted no time getting down to the nitty gritty. “Who made the first move?”
Hmm…
“Me?”
Varla’s eyes popped out like a cartoon character. “No!” She all but shouted, and then calmly added, “Don’t give him that power so early in the game!”
“What power?”
“Exactly! He doesn’t have any because he made the first move!” Varla said with a finality in her voice that made me shiver. She had worn a short fluffy skirt with ruffles and a loose black tank. I thought it did a great job of complimenting her bright blue pixie cut. She reached for my hand, “If he wants sex you make sure he goes down for dinner first. He needs to stir the pot before adding any more ingredients. Capeesh?”
I rubbed my temples. “Oh my God…”
“Don’t oh my God me, I’m giving you a basic rundown of what you deserve.” She held her head up high, the butterfly clips in her blue hair twinkling against the morning sun. It was only then that I realized how out of place I felt sitting next to her in my school-girl esque uniform. “They are men first and psych patient’s second—remember that. It’ll keep you from feeling bad when he starts begging.”
And that was pretty much what the ride to Baylor consisted of: Sex Etiquette 101, taught by Hawthorne’s very own Varla English. Ten minutes before we arrived at the mall, I slipped back beside Laces and flashed an awkward smile when he looked up at me with a daunting gaze. “Sorry, Varla wanted to chat. You know how she gets.” I whispered.
His eyes—dear Jesus—they stripped my soul with one look. He tucked his pencil behind his ear and reached forward—caressing the side of my cheek as though I were the most fragile object in the world—and whispered “I don’t beg Stray, but you will.”
My breath hitched in my lungs.
His smooth finger slowly trailed over my lips, tracing each groove and indention and committing it to memory. It was a strange feeling, the fleeting comfort of his touch and the peace that it offered; at first it was electric and warm, and then when he pulled away my selfish body erupted into chaos, demanding more of what I still didn’t understand.
Dear God…
The bus came to an abrupt stop a minute later and Nurse Kline jumped to her feet so fast… “Who did it?” She demanded. Her eyes scanned the rows. “You might as well admit to it now and take your punishment like a man—or woman. These trips are supposed to be learning experiences, not red carpet opportunities to feed your fucked-up egos! Who did it? Now! I want a name!” I’d never seen Nurse Kline so worked-up. She stormed down the aisle and stopped in front of Thorne—who looked a little turned on and nervous at the same time. Grabbing a fistful of his black shirt, she pulled his muscular body to his feet and hissed, “You’re looking awfully nice today, Walsh!”
“It wasn’t me!” He snapped back, giving just as much as he was receiving.
She tightened her grip on his shirt and he shoved her away. Pointing a sharp white-tip nail at him she shouted, “Oh you better pray like hell it wasn’t! When we reach Baylor I’m getting off of this cheesewagon and marching to the first photographer I see, and if he says Thorne Walsh tipped him off, you will be mine asshole.”
“Jesus Kline!” Reyes shouted, gaping at her. Her narrow eyes shot to the row in front of Varla where Reyes sat—back straight, poised as ever. Brave soul… “No one called. You’re being paranoid, are you sure you aren’t having a psychotic break?”
Her lips drew into a thin line and she shook her head—her eyes wild like an untamed beast. “Do not address me so informally, Park.”
Reyes held up his hands, surrendering.
“Someone called and I’m going to find out who, and when I do…” Her voice drifted off, a dark promise of what was to come still hovering in the air when she sat back down.
When we arrived at Baylor five minutes later a pack of photographers was ready and waiting for us at the entrance. The parking lot was bare and from what I could see the inside of the mall was a ghost town.
We parked in a row reserved for handicap customers and when the driver killed the engine fifteen or so photographers raced toward the bus, cameras and microphones poised and at the ready.
“Reyes!
Reyes! Can I call you that, or do you prefer Reyes?”
Reyes cracked a smile but didn’t respond as the cameras started flashing.
“Last week your victim confirmed that she will be attending USC in the fall. She stated part of the reason for moving west for college was because of you—do you have anything to say about that?”
“Varla—Tina Jeffries from Enquirer Magazine—is it true the upcoming legal drama on Netflix was inspired by you?”
I remained seated as the flashbulbs lit up the inside of the bus, kaleidoscope colors bouncing off the windows. It was like the first day of my trial all over again; everywhere I turned a camera was pointed in my direction, ready to capture every moment.
Some patients were excited to get their extra fifteen minutes of fame and blew kisses at the window—others professed their love for someone back home. “I know your mom hates me, Beth, but I promise I only have eyes for you! I’ll never shove a dildo up her ass again!”
The doors to the bus splayed open with a creak.
Nurse Kline rose to attention. The cameras continued to go crazy, but inside the bus there was nothing but a tense silence as her sharp finger pointed at everyone. “If any of you embarrass me you’ll find your asses in solitary for a WEEK.” She threatened. Dark eyes filled with pure rage, she shot her finger at the window and muttered, “They might love you and that’s fine—but remember you are the property of the state of North Carolina,” Her lip curled up “and there is nothing cool about being told when to take a shit.”
The word “bitch” was muttered several times as everyone scrambled to form a straight line in the center of the aisle. No one was allowed to step foot off of the bus without an ankle monitor.
“If you are in the safety zone the light on the monitor will stay green.” Nurse Kline informed us. “If you try to run it will turn red and every cop within a forty mile radius will be out here hunting for you. Tasers, tear gas—everything will be at their disposal to find you. Do you understand? This is serious. Do not run away.”
