by Bella Grant
I sat in my home office, looking at the rows and rows of antique books. My bulletin board was still covered with notes for my dissertation. I read the third boundary point out loud to myself as I typed, working on my thesis. “Boundary Point, Stage 3: By this stage, the counselor will have either remedied the transgression by taking actions or transferring the patient, or the counselor will continue to violate ethical boundaries. If the latter occurs, the counselor is likely to lose professional integrity and more, and the patient is vulnerable to harm in many emotional areas.”
Had I crossed this point already, or was I just standing in the doorway? I took a sip of my coffee and wiped my mouth. I had to get dressed, had to do something to distract myself from this turmoil and longing. I hadn’t known what longing was until I met Billy, but it was there at all hours of the day, pricking me like a splinter I couldn’t reach, irritating me like a rock in my shoe that I had to shake out.
Even my own thesis, the culmination of my life’s work, couldn’t stop me from thinking about him. I shook my head and wracked my brain for ways to get him out of my head. I looked over at an antique vibrator on my bookcase and had a great idea.
I would buy a new vibrator. You see, vibrators have memories attached to them. The new vibrator wouldn’t. I could release my pleasure and focus on starting anew. I would get myself off, and it would keep me away from him.
***
Everything in life moved so slowly lately, perhaps because I was quietly counting the moments until I would see Billy again. The train trudged on, and the conductors looked more miserable than ever. I drew my coat closer to me and put my hood up, not wanting to be bothered by anyone and have to listen to their troubles. Today, my only session had been cancelled. The only thing to do was indulge in a little selfishness. I learned that sometimes, a girl had to be selfish if she were to make it through the helping profession, a profession that could be inherently selfless in so many ways.
I looked at my phone, an empty feeling in my heart. Kent usually texted me. I hadn’t heard a thing from him. Why should he text me? I broke his heart, and he had a big heart. It must have hurt worse as a result.
The cool air of the Grand Central terminal almost knocked me over. The train was so warm in comparison. California had been even warmer. Sweet thoughts of the ocean and the beach seemed double the distance away.
The routine of taking two trains was nothing new to me. A lot of people asked me how I did it and said that one train ride would be enough for them. When you wanted the benefits of the city without the commitment of living there, however, you had to make some sacrifices. Losing my mind on the train was one of them. In truth, it was time to think about my life, something I didn’t get to do very often during the day.
I could spend all day in Times Square, just looking. I was still a tourist here in many ways. I found it hard to believe that there were people who had always lived here and were used to the fast changes, the bright lights, the flashes, and the mystique. I knew my destination well because I had almost lost the nerve to go in a few times. The place still offered a peep show, as well as toys and porn.
The men at the counter eyed me as I walked in. Perhaps they were scouting for talent. A long staircase illuminated by dull light stood in the center, where the working girls went and from which horny customers left. I saw a man zipping up his pants and looking around. When he met my eyes, he almost ran in the other direction.
What land is this? I thought.
“Hello. What are you looking for today?”
“Just browsing,” I said, not sure if I wanted him to help me find a toy. Still, my curiosity was growing. I wondered what the women looked like, what they wore. I looked up the stairs.
“Want to go up? Go ahead,” the man said as though he’d read my mind. He gave me a smirk, half perverted and half amused.
Anything to get away from him. I climbed up the stairs and was greeted by a bunch of scantily clad women in glass cases, dancing. It was like a human aquarium, and the girls were the attractions. The black and white tiled floor looked like a chess game. My eyes almost fell out of my head. There was a coat rack and a coffee maker in case you wanted a caffeine buzz before jerking off. One of the dancers, wearing a purple bob wig and matching lipstick, beckoned to me seductively. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I sat in front of her booth, not sure what I was about to do.
“Got any advice on dildos?” I asked. It just spilled out. Some of the girls began laughing.
The purple haired dancer gestured to the slot. I put forty or so dollars through the slot to be polite. Now that I knew Billy, money seemed less important. I used to do hours of work for forty bucks, but I was spending it like I couldn’t care less. I’d lost some solid ground, and I wanted to get it back under my feet.
Once the money was in, she became animated. Almost like a wind-up doll.
“You just break up with your man or something?” she asked in a thick Brooklyn accent.
I nodded. “How did you know?”
“Any time a woman comes in here by herself looking as down as you do, we know there’s a reason. I mean, this is a pleasure palace.”
“You like girls?” One of the girls in the other booth asked. She also wore a wig, but this one was more believable, a long black one.
“Not that I know of.”
She eyed me up and down seductively. “Too bad. Do you like fleshy dildos or hard ones? Do you have a preference?”
I was genuinely impressed with her knowledge of sex toys. “Um. Hard. Not fleshy,” I said, blushing.
“I knew this girl was bi,” the black haired girl said. “Straight girls love fleshy dildos. Ones that stray can go either way, but they usually end up with the chrome ones.” She winked at me.
This was like some kind of a messed up slumber party, one filled with giggling women and talk about boys. The lights in here were bright, and everything smelled like cleaning fluid and cum. I was beginning to feel light-headed.
“Get the Ribbit. The newest one. Once you have that, there’s no need for a boyfriend. Seriously,” the purple-haired girl said with a wink.
I nodded, leaving as quickly as I could before I threw up. The smell was too much. The air downstairs was much cooler. Dildos mostly looked the same to me, but the Ribbit was an exalted one, the packaging covered in light and pictures of women moaning and smiling. I hoped it would bring me pleasure. God knows I needed it.
I rushed to the counter with my purchase and nearly dropped all the money Billy had given me. The man looked at the money and looked me up and down like he thought I was a stripper or something, which left a distaste in my mouth. I had respect for the women upstairs but none for him.
The great thing about NYC is that there are so many bars to choose from. I wanted a drink before using this vibrator on myself ASAP. I stumbled into a bar with my purchase concealed in a black bag. The bartender barely looked up as I sat down. Once he did, he did a double take. I was used to people doing this when they saw me. Being attractive wasn’t that big of a deal to me, but I could be totally honest about it.
“What can I get you today?’ he asked. “Oh, and can I see ID?”
I gave him my ID, used to this kind of treatment. “Vodka on the rocks,” I said. “And a shot of whiskey.”
“Any preference?” he asked as he began putting ice in the glass.
“The strongest one you have,” I replied. I took a swig of my vodka, almost choking on it.
Billy would be proud of me, getting a bitter drink like this. I realized I was thinking of him again. The agony that coursed through my body was all consuming. I left my card on the table, and the bartender put the shot in front of me. I tilted it, feeling the warm, spicy liquid fill my throat. It was good, a distraction. I knew what I needed to do now. Like a sex addict, I wanted release.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Here’s my card. I need to use the bathroom.”
“No problem. Do you need me to close this out for you?”
“Ye
s. I’m not feeling well, so I might be a while.”
I closed the door to the bathroom stall. There was writing all over the wall, and another woman in the bathroom. I didn’t care. I needed to come, to forget him. I jammed the box into the trash and pulled out the vibrator, wiping it clean with some napkins before shoving it furiously inside of me.
I imagined him pressing me up against the wall, his mouth all over mine. The vibration synced with my heart, and I sat on the toilet. The woman in the bathroom scuttled out quickly. I didn’t care if she knew what I was doing. I didn’t care if the police broke in and arrested me for being inappropriate in public. I would laugh hysterically and allow them to take me away, maybe to the mad house, because I was clearly losing my mind.
I began to come, and I had to lean back on the toilet as my body shook with all the desire I’d felt over the past few days. It would feel good, one day, to be done with this infatuation so I could have my soul back. I started to sober up, sitting there, tears streaming down my face from the strength of my orgasm and the shame that came from mentally fucking myself with Billy.
My phone vibrated.
I dreaded answering it. It might be Kent, and I’d have to console him. I didn’t want to console anyone but myself, as terrible as that was. I sighed and looked at my phone.
My heart nearly stopped. It was Billy.
Bill
I didn’t know what I would find when I went home. I’d had a good dinner with Zach, and for the first time in a while, I was in a good mood. Zach ascended the stairs to his room, and I followed him up to mine almost like I was in slow motion. This house had to go. It brought back too many memories. I was drowning in all the memories as if they were an ocean. I don’t know why I kept it—maybe because I just hadn’t known how to let it go. But it was okay to be vulnerable—I was learning that—so being open to a new home would be the next step in my healing.
But would Fiona like it? Tonight I wanted to embrace her and make everything right. I wanted to pull her back to me, close some of the distance we had between us. I wanted to eventually feel safe in my vulnerability with her. I didn’t hear Fiona’s seductive chatter until I was nearly at the door. I stopped, my brain warning me before my heart could get there first.
“I’m glad you like my new panties, baby. I bought them on his card,” I heard her say. Who was she talking to? A deep voice murmured in the background. It sounded like she was using her webcam to talk to someone.
My heart sank as she spoke again. “It’s just a matter of time before he loses his mind and I get all the money. We can really be together then.”
Lose my mind? What the fuck is she talking about? I wondered. I could hear the man now, very clearly. He sounded younger than me and had a scumbag voice.
“The old kook has lost his mind, huh?” he asked and laughed. “Does he know I’ve been fucking you in his bed? If he did, I think he’d really need a shrink.”
“He’s already seeing one remember? I had to go with him,” she said in a voice I didn’t recognize—a cold, nasty one. A robotic voice, one that was flat and knew what it wanted. And apparently what it wanted wasn’t me.
I slammed the door open. She stood nearly naked in front of her camera, talking to some dark-haired man on the computer. His eyes moved and focused on me. He murmured, “Fuck.”
I wished I could have punched him in the fucking face. He ended their call, and she quickly shut the computer off as if that would quell the damage of what I could never unhear. I shook my head and began to laugh. If she thought I was crazy, fuck it; I could show her my crazy now.
“B…Billy!” she stuttered. “I didn’t realize you’d be home so early.”
“You told me not to be. I guess I know why now,” I replied, laughing. I put my hand over my eyes, trying to forget this, trying to steady myself. “I was right. Zach was right,” I said flatly. I turned and sat down on the bed, staring at the wall. My heart was numb and my eyes would have welled up if my pride would have allowed it. “What I don’t understand is why you wasted my time. You know I wouldn’t have sent you off without money, protection. You know that,” I said, my voice monotonous. I had to protect myself now, because she would never have the satisfaction of seeing me vulnerable. Some people just didn’t deserve to see you like that.
“It’s not what it looks like. He’s just a friend. Well, we’ve had sex a lot lately, but…but…”
Her dumb words were falling flat on my ears. I didn’t care who the hell he was, just that he was. Just that there was someone else, someone—a human, a guy—outside of our relationship who shared these moments with her.
“I always knew, I think. Because you were so obvious. And I tried to ignore it because I cared about you,” I said. I couldn’t hide some of the hurt in my voice. “The difference between us, though? I have always at least been fucking honest with you. I flirt, yeah. I’m not perfect, but I could never have done this to you.” I raised my voice a bit.
She was crying now. She didn’t look pretty when she cried. I was too disconnected from her to notice. She looked like a young, scared, spoiled child who was about to have her allowance taken away.
“Just take your bank account and go,” I said. “Why the fuck are you here, anyway? It’s clear you’re miserable. That you want my money. Well, fine. But please don’t bother taking up space, sweetie, because we know that’s all you’ve been doing,” I said dryly.
She cried harder and began throwing things. I tried dodging some of the items, but one of them, her heaviest purse, socked me in the head.
“If you’d loved me more this wouldn’t have happened. Do you know how fucking boring it is being your woman?” she sputtered through tears. “I have to hear about all of your stupid shit—your ex all the time. You want to bang your therapist by the way, so don’t be a damn hypocrite.”
I got defensive. “Don’t you bring her into this. Nothing has ever happened between us. But you and this guy? Well, a lot has certainly happened. Oh, and in our bed? Really?” I roared.
“Oh, and Zach? she mocked. Zach wants to be right. He never liked me.”
I scaled everything down, trying to distance myself so I could walk away, feeling nothing but cold, wanting nothing but for her to go. “He’s a good judge of character. He used to get it from me, but now that I’ve met you, I’m not so sure I can hold a candle to him.”
“Billy, please,” she cried. She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed.
I was rigid, feelings of hurt and betrayal flooding through me, the kind of feelings that make your heart sink and make you fucking numb. “Stop,” I said gently. I pushed her away from me. “It’s okay now. You can go. I don’t see the point in pretending anymore.” I got up, leaving her on the bed to cry. “Let’s face it—it’s more exhausting to you than it is to me. Just go.”
She sputtered, tears falling unchecked. I couldn’t look at her anyone. I left without another word, closing the door gently behind me.
Zach stood in the hallway, an eyebrow cocked. “Dad?” he asked.
Fiona began screaming again, throwing everything in the bedroom.
“See if you can stay with Gretta tonight. I won’t be home,” I said.
He nodded knowingly. He was so mature sometimes. I ruffled his hair again and said, “You were right.”
I knew what I needed to do. I needed to get out of this house and take my power back, as Katie would say. Yeah, that’s right, take my power back. I needed space, and I needed to think about what my next step would be. I would treat this like a business deal gone horribly wrong.
I got into my car and it rumbled to life. I was going to my hotel, where I had been heading when I’d been mugged. I was going to take the car, but then I was going to walk the rest of the way. I was going to have a session with Katie.
B. Carson: Katie, it’s me. Something bad happened. Need a session. Meet me at the Ritsy Hotel off 32nd.
Kathleen Warren: Okay. Just stay calm. See you soon. I’m in the area.
I made my way onto the highway to Manhattan. I rolled the windows down and blasted rock music, feeling like a king again. I knew what I was going to do. Tonight, Katie would be mine. By the end of the night, the cat would be out of the bag, and I could begin my new life, one of feeling okay again.
I parked my car, leaving it in the dim parking garage. I had the best parking spot, of course. All I had to do was flash my ID, and they let me through. I owned everything, and now I could own my own heart again—my truth. There was value in that.
I realized, walking down the street in Manhattan, that my fear had been lifted—at least for the most part. Some of it was still there, but that’s because the freedom of accepting my reality for what it really was overshadowed everything else.
“Suite 11. I’ll have a guest,” I said at the counter. They gave me the keys and let me go up. People knew I was not to be spoken to when I was on a mission, and I was on a mission now. Nothing would stop me. Not my fake morals, not her code of ethics—because what we had was real, and I knew that for sure now.
For once, I knew everything would be okay and correct because it was meant to be. Fate existed, and I think I was fated to meet Katie at this time in my life, to heal and to grow. I hoped I could help make her dreams a reality. But first, I would make her mine.