by Jaden Wilkes
I look down at her and zip up my pants. I raise a brow and say, “I don’t cuddle and I do believe our time is up.”
“Has it already been an hour? I get so lost when I’m with you,” she replies and stands in front of me. She smoothes her short skirt and reaches down for the panties she dropped on the floor earlier. She slides them over her heels, catching them on one and reaching for me to steady her. I hold onto her hand, the consummate gentleman.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” I say to fill the space between us. I want her gone from my office, my life. I have a headache.
“And it was fun,” she says and giggles. She stands on her tip toes and kisses my cheek. She feels fresh and breezy, as though she’s sucking the energy from the room, using all the oxygen.
I grab her throat and drag her higher, she makes a strangled noise but her eyes are on fire. I kiss her hard, giving her no room to move. She hangs from my hand and returns the kiss, her eyes look huge and wild from this angle and I have a fleeting thought of crushing her windpipe under my hand.
I don’t do it though. I could, but I don’t. I’m not that far gone.
I let her go and she drops down to standing. She rubs her neck and clears her throat. Angry finger marks mar her beautiful white skin and I feel a rush of pride. Ownership. She’s marked by me because she belongs to me.
“You can go now,” I tell her and turn to my desk. I feel her standing behind me, a question mark hovering in the air between us.
“See you next week?” she asks and stands for a moment longer. I don’t answer and don’t breathe until I hear her quietly exit and shut the door with a gentle click.
I turn to make sure she’s gone, but feel as though I’m not alone. Somebody must be surveilling my office, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
At least there’s enough air for me to breathe now that Marie has fucked off to wherever it is Marie fucks off to.
I am struck by a sense of loneliness after she leaves, though. I walk to the window to catch a glimpse of her exiting the building, but she must have already gone.
Defeated, I sag into my chair and think about the session. I feel like she’s made excellent improvements but could use a few more months of this.
As long as she learns to keep her mouth shut and never speak of her feelings for me again. If she can agree to that, Marie might end up becoming my new favourite.
Saturday, April 5th 9:00 AM
I sleep in. It feels fantastic. I usually have trouble sleeping but three Xanax and a half a mickey of vodka helped me make it through the night.
I sit up and check my phone. I have a few new texts and the red message indicator appears. I never did find out who left the last message, the breathy girl wondering where I was.
It still nags at the back of my consciousness. I know that voice.
I stand and stretch, jerk my morning hard-on a couple of times and decide to take a piss and shower. I missed the gym this morning, so I’ll have to go as soon as I get dressed.
After my shower and morning skincare routine, I dress casually and head downstairs. In the elevator I check my texts, four of the five are from Derrick...or Silvia, I don’t know which. They want me out there tonight, but I don’t want to go. They seem so eager after everything I did to them. I consider the fact that they might be even more fucked up than myself.
The message is from Jane, wondering what happened to me last night. I don’t remember making plans with her, but that’s not unusual these days. I will call her right after my work out.
After an hour or so on the treadmill, I head to the steam room. I’m in no shape to lift today, last night’s sleep aid is still in my system making me foggy and disoriented. I need to sweat it out of my pores.
I’m alone in the small space, I pour some water on the hot stones, sit on the cedar bench, lean my head back and close my eyes.
I am startled by the image of me tossing a match into the centre of my parent’s room.
This never happened. I was in LA, why can I see it happening when I close my eyes?
I rub my eyes and the image disappears behind a solid wall of my meeting with Doctor Haden in LA. I know I was there, but it’s like the two images are now superimposed. I can see them both when I reference the day of the fire.
I sigh and close my eyes again, try to force any image in there instead of that day. Yesterday, Marie’s sweet, hot ass. The sensation of being enveloped by her body and milked of all my seed. I grow harder thinking about the intensity of my orgasm and consider stroking my cock right here.
I hear the door though, I open my eyes and it’s the building perv who’s been giving me the eye for months now. I thought I gave him the slip by going into work early the last few days, but it appears that we are once again in sympatico.
“Hey,” he nods at me and sits down a little too close in my opinion.
I nod back and say nothing. I hate small talk. He leans back on the wall nearby and closes his eyes. I relax and take in his body. He’s very well muscled, thicker than me by a lot. I sneak a peek at the bulge in his shorts; he looks thick there as well. He’s semi hard and I know I could get a quick blow job if I pressed the issue.
After Marie I feel satisfied though, content at the moment. I close my own eyes again and listen to the steam hissing. I sense him move, he dashes more water on the heated rocks. I feel him sit closer to me but I don’t open my eyes. I don’t want to know where he is.
I feel a timid hand touch the hem of my shorts. He rubs my thigh and slides up inside. I’m not wearing underwear, so he has easy access to my already hard cock. His hand grips the head and he palms it, paying attention to the bundle of nerves just under the ridge. I’m throbbing as he starts to stroke me slowly, deliberately with intent.
I shift to the left to allow more room for his hand. He grips my shaft in his fingers and starts to jerk me off in earnest. I make a small noise, a grunt or a groan, it doesn’t matter. This feels good, I want to finish and leave here, never to speak of it again.
I can feel the telltale signs that I’m about to come. I thrust up a couple of times barely bringing my ass off the bench, but it’s enough. I shoot my hot load into his hand, reach down and grab his wrist. I feel my own thick come leak onto my palm as he pulls away. I fondle my balls as my cock softens, the furious rush of energy recedes and I open my eyes.
He’s sitting a foot or so away with a look that is a perfect mix of fascination and repulsion. I don’t blame him, I haven’t even spoken a word to him and he’s just gotten me off.
I grab my towel, clean myself up, stand and walk to the door. When I turn to look back at him, he is still staring with that look. It seems he’s gone a little more to the side of repulsion when I shoot him a smile and leave.
In the elevator on the way up I read another text from Derrick or Sylvia. It seems I am in hot demand these days and I couldn’t be more satisfied.
Ignoring the two of them, I hop in the shower and clean up. While I’m soaping my limp dick, I begin to feel as though my hand no longer belongs to me. The strangest thing pops into my head and I begin to wonder if the dude in the gym jerked me off at all. What if I was having such a break with reality that I just jerked off in front of a stranger and didn’t fucking care?
I feel the need to talk to Jane about this so I text her the moment I’m dressed and ready to face the day.
I can’t quite shake the creeping sensation that I’m half of me, diminished, and some other part of my psyche has taken up house in the other half. Would that make me half a man or doubled in capacity though?
Jane texts back immediately. Her quick response pleases me and we make plans to walk along the seawall in Stanley Park. It will be nice, to spend a day outside with a friend and just do nothing. No expectations, no needs, just a chat.
Although I wouldn’t mind picking up where we left off the last time she was here. Her rejection of me intrigues me, challenges me.
Jane. Plain Jane. How did
she manage to turn me down so effectively even as she was stretched out on my bed?
*****
“So you are feeling anxious?” Jane asks me. We’re sitting on a log on English Bay watching the seagulls fight over a partially desiccated oyster shell.
“It’s not exactly that,” I reply and chew on a flap of dried skin on my finger. I enjoy the sensation, the sharp burn when I tear the piece away with my teeth. I wonder if you could live off your own flesh if ever stranded on a deserted island. “I feel sometimes like everything is just slightly off kilter when I think about it for any length of time.”
Jane laughs and says, “So, you are dissociative? I don’t know if that’s any better.”
“Well, no,” I tell her and find another dried piece on my cuticle to chew on. “That’s the kind of thing we see in our patients. I think mine is more of a fugue state, maybe it’s the pressure I’m feeling at work.”
“I think that’s even worse. Are you ok? Like really ok? Or are you just fucking with me here?” she asks. I turn my head and her look startles me. She’s concerned. Not just a detached social politeness, but actual fearful looking concern.
I don’t want her to look at me like a fucking nutter, so I pull back. I laugh and say, “Oh shit, I was kidding. I don’t mean an actual fugue state.” Her face relaxes and she buys it. But I’m not so convinced. Perhaps some part of me threw out the term knowing it was exactly the thing I’m experiencing.
“Are you taking any medications?” she asks.
“Tell me one psychologist who isn’t,” I reply and laugh.
She smiles and says, “Well, yeah, you’ve got me there. But what are you taking?”
“Sometimes I’ll take a couple Xanax and wash it down with something strong. To help me sleep.”
“Holy shit Alexandre, that’s too much,” she exclaims. “How often?”
“I don’t know, not that much. A couple nights a week maybe.”
“Are you still working out? Taking that nasty protein power?”
“Yeah, every day, seven days a week,” I reply and hold my arm up, flexing my bicep. “Check out the gun show,” I continue and she giggles. I like it when she giggles. She puts her hand over her mouth like a Japanese schoolgirl. I’d like to fuck her like a schoolgirl.
“You should be careful with that stuff,” she says, “I saw this Dateline thing where they said taking a higher dose than suggested can do some crazy shit to your head.”
I look at her for a couple of seconds, she’s being serious. I start to laugh and say, “Are you kidding me? It’s protein powder, I think I’ll be ok.”
I glance up the beach and see a couple of hot young guys head into the public bathroom. The toilets are a notorious hook up spot and I kinda want to see what goes on inside. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere,” I tell her and get up. She smiles and I lean down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. I think we’re both surprised by the gesture.
Inside the washroom there are several men hanging out here and there. A couple of stalls are occupied, one with the door open where a ripped older guy is sucking a younger man’s cock. I watch for a few moments and almost tug my dick out to jerk off at the scene. I find my hand already down the front of my pants when I give my head a shake. Jane is outside waiting for me, I can't do this to her. Not right now.
I take a piss, avoid eye contact with the tall dude next to me at the urinals and wash my hands briskly.
As I walk out I notice that a new guy is on the end of the ripped older dude’s cock. We make eye contact, he gives me the, “You next?” eyebrow raise and I quickly leave. Maybe next time.
As I walk along the sand to Jane I see her hunched over on her phone. She is typing furiously, texting somebody it appears.
“Hey,” I say as I sit down next to her. She jumps and her face goes bright red. “Who you texting?” I ask.
“Nobody,” she says and puts her phone back in her purse. She’s too fast though, too ashamed...and too angry for it to be nobody.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
She looks into my eyes for a couple of seconds too long, purses her lips and obviously thinks about it. “Not particularly,” she finally says and looks away. “It’s just work stuff.”
But I know she’s lying.
*****
Today has been perfect. If I were a teenage girl with a Hello Kitty diary I would probably write about it. Jane and I spent the entire day together, walking along the ocean, having an impromptu picnic on the beach and afterwards we drove my car up Burnaby Mountain to watch the sunset.
It’s warm tonight so we are on the grass in spite of the sun being gone for an hour. Jane is sitting next to me; her eyes sparkle as she recounts some antic from her childhood. She grew up in a family so unbelievably different than mine. No pinching red claws demanding sexual gratification...no distant father fucking anything that moves and abandoning you in some park so he can bang some chick in the backseat of the family Town Car.
Hers is comfortably middle class. She grew up in Coquitlam, three siblings, parents still together and still in their cheerful yellow house.
“You seem distracted,” Jane says and reaches up to massage my shoulder. I like her touch; I like this intimate contact with her. I like her.
“No, just tired,” I reply and turn to smile at her.
“You say that a lot,” she says and rubs my back. “Here, put your head down and I’ll give you a killer head rub. One that will leave you putty in my hands.”
“What if I’m already putty in your hands?” I tease and lay my head on her lap.
She’s quiet for a moment and finally says, “Oh Alexandre, it’s not nice to tease me so.”
I decide not to reply; I don’t know what to say that doesn’t sound condescending. She’s not attractive and she knows it, but she’s becoming more attractive to me each time we see one another.
She starts tracing a circular pattern on my temple. I close my eyes and allow myself to drift along the lazy river of her touch. It’s nice. I need to touch more. I realize that most of the sex I have is done with clothes on. My clothes on. I wonder what it would feel like to lay naked next to Jane’s nude body and explore each other with our fingertips. Have I been blind this entire time? Fumbling through the darkness unable to really connect to another human being when it might have been simple human touch I was seeking all this time?
“Is that good?” she asks and rubs my forehead with the heel of her hand.
“It is. It’s very nice,” I reply, my voice sounding far away. I feel sleepy and contented, like an overfed baby being doted upon.
“You seem very stressed and exhausted these days. I miss the upbeat, lighthearted Alexandre.”
“Me too,” I reply, “I guess since the fire I’ve been a little out of it. Plus I’m having some conflict at work. I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up.” Or losing my fucking mind.
“Oh god, the fire. What the hell is wrong with me? I should never have brought it up,” she says and massages my jawline and neck. Her fingers are strong and warm, she leave a trail of heat along my flesh where she touches me. I sink lower and lower into sleep under her careful hands.
“It’s ok,” I murmur as her fingers begin to explore my thick hair. She rubs my scalp as I talk. I’m half asleep and only half aware of what I’m saying. “My parents kind of deserved it, but it was shocking all the same.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“Work is weird lately,” I continue, “I’m doing some great work with my patients yet I always feel like I’m doing something wrong.”
“I hear ya on that one,” she says and presses her fingers harder into my scalp, rubbing carefully.
“This is good,” I say and feel myself falling a little farther underwater. “We should run away together. Buy a cabin on one of the Gulf Islands and take our sailboat out into the water every day. What do ya say?”
She’s contemplative; I can feel the air around her thick
with her thoughts. “No,” she says at last, “I want to believe you’re being sincere but I know you’re not. So I say no, because even if I allow myself to fantasize a little about our lives in a cabin on the beach, I still find myself being left by you. There’s almost no scenario I can think of where we live happily ever after.”
“There could be,” I tell her and mean it at the moment. Maybe mean it for longer. Her fingers stop moving and she sighs. I open my eyes and she’s staring down at me. The lights have come on around the parking lot and one of them shines directly into her face. She angelic, a neon seraphim under the brilliant skies of the spring. I can see us on our boat, eating our hand picked clams on the fire behind our place. I can see it so vividly I’m almost sure it’s happened.
She puts one of her long, elegant fingers on my lips and sadness takes over her face. “Just don’t,” she says, “I know how you are and I know how we would be together. I would always be chasing you. Living in your shadow and wondering who you’re with when you’re not with me.”
I close my eyes again and whisper, “You are probably right.” She starts massaging my scalp again and I begin to drift.
A sudden compulsion overtakes me. I open my eyes, sit up and turn around. My sudden movement surprises her. “You are probably right, but we’ll never know unless we try,” I say and wrap my hand around the back of her head. I weave my fingers through her thick hair and kiss her.
A single thought encompasses me as we let loose our lust. If I had a girlfriend like Jane, nobody would believe I’m a sexual predator. If I could love a girl as plain as she, then surely my colleagues would never suspect the real course of treatment I am using on my patients. Once again I have tricked myself into believing that I’m feeling something in order to save my own hide. I am equal parts smug and horrified. But whatever it takes to keep me safe and out from the scrutiny of Doctor Stevenson, I’m willing to do it.
D E V O L U T I O N
Maxim 363.—The evils we do to others give us less pain than those we do to ourselves.
