by Ronica Black
“Should I be worried?”
“No need to worry. It will only cause stress, which is something I want you to avoid.”
Dr. Klein turned to look at her. “You had one hell of an infection, Elaine. I’m pretty sure it’s gone, but we need to check some other things.”
“Like what?”
“We need to make sure it didn’t cause any damage.”
Elaine breathed deeply. “Okay.”
“Like I said though, no worrying. Let’s just run the tests. In the meantime, take it easy. No marathons.”
Elaine touched the necklace Barb, her late wife, had given her and tried to control the fear that had sparked within her. “Got it.”
Dr. Klein walked to her and took her hand. “Make an appointment with me soon after the tests. And if you begin to feel worse in any way, I want you in the emergency room.”
Elaine released her hand and nodded.
“It was good to see you. I’ll see you soon.” She smiled and left the room, leaving Elaine alone with her thoughts. The infection in her heart had been bad enough, and she thought she had it beat. But now…damage? What did that mean? Fuck.
Another medical assistant entered and tied off her upper arm to draw blood. Then she gave her the paperwork for the testing. Elaine heard the drone of instructions, but they didn’t compute. At some point, she nodded her understanding and stood. She left the office and stepped into the drizzle of rain. She didn’t bother to open her umbrella.
Chapter Fourteen
Johnnie pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. Her heart raced worse than it had the first time. Then she’d been anxious over what to expect; now she knew, and it made it worse. She played with her hair in the mirror and studied her face, which still looked etched with worry, so she practiced looking calm, poised, ready for anything. She’d spent an hour getting ready, which was a long time for her. But she had to choose the right clothes, the right shoes, the right fragrance. And her hair, well, it still wasn’t right.
Giving up, she popped up the mirror and popped in a mint. Rain began to fall and tap on her truck.
“Great.”
She opened the door and hurried inside the office door, but not before she got plenty wet. The door chimed, and the pretty girl behind the glass waved. Johnnie waved back and ran her fingers through her damp hair and smoothed out her tight teal v-neck shirt and dark jeans. Her shoes squeaked as she approached the glass, just like before. She straightened her shoulders and offered a smile, but her breathing was quick and she was afraid it would give away her nerves.
“Riot, right?”
“Mm hm.” She tapped her fingers along the counter but then caught herself and stopped.
The receptionist picked up the phone to announce her arrival. “You can go on back.” She pushed the button and the door clicked.
Johnnie said thank you and squeaked across the lobby to the door. She took a deep breath and entered. The hall was lit as before, but this time a man emerged from the last door. He was well dressed in an expensive suit. He buttoned the front of it as he breezed past Johnnie.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.” Johnnie turned to watch him exit. Then she turned to look at the first door on the right. It was open, but only so far. Johnnie could see the candlelight. She walked up and stood in the doorframe. The scent was different, more like eucalyptus.
“You can come in, Riot,” the woman said.
Johnnie squared her shoulders and entered. She gently closed the door behind her. The woman was on the couch, this time in black slacks with matching suspenders. They contrasted nicely with a white silk tank. Johnnie swallowed a lump in her throat and heated from head to toe.
The woman crossed her legs and bobbed her black heel confidently.
“You’re wet,” she said.
Johnnie again palmed her damp clothes. The woman examined her closely from head to toe.
“Your skin is glistening.”
Johnnie didn’t say anything; she wasn’t sure if she should.
“Come sit next to me.” The woman patted the cushion.
“But I’m—”
“I don’t care. I want you to sit next to me.”
Johnnie crossed to the couch and sat. The woman turned toward her and studied her face. Then she touched her. Ran her fingertips along her damp arm. “You smell like rain and a very tantalizing cologne.”
She reached up and brushed her mussed hair from her forehead. “You know when you flush with heat, it marks your face along your bone structure. Here and here.” She stroked her cheekbones and Johnnie inhaled sharply.
“Would you like to get out of those clothes?”
Johnnie wasn’t sure she’d heard right.
“You feel cold. I think you’d be warmer if you changed out of those clothes.”
“I have nothing to wear.” Her heart rate sped up, and she searched the woman’s eyes for meaning.
“I have a robe. I have towels.” She rose and crossed to her desk. She opened a drawer and removed a thick towel. She returned to the couch and handed it to Johnnie.
“Thank you.” Johnnie took it and patted her face dry.
“Here, let me.” The woman took the towel and gently pressed her arms and ran it through her hair. Then she wrapped it around Johnnie’s neck and smiled. She sat back and crossed her legs again.
“What’s that cologne you’re wearing? I like it.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t tell people what I wear.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to be the only one who smells like me.”
“What if I want to smell you and you’re not here?” She raised an eyebrow at her.
“I seriously doubt that would ever happen. You aren’t supposed to like your clients.”
The woman looked amused. “I can like my clients.”
“Then where do you draw the line? Sex?”
“You’re worried about sex again.”
“Not worried. Just realistic.”
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
Johnnie laughed. “That’s the point isn’t it? For me to want you?”
“Yes.”
Johnnie held a throw pillow in her lap as if it would somehow shield her from the woman’s great powers.
“So tell me, what did you think of the last appointment?” She wrote something with her pen and pad and then rested them in her lap.
She seemed to sense Johnnie’s hesitation. “Remember, I want the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Johnnie shifted. “You know how I felt. I wanted you.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“I’m not. It makes me feel out of control.”
“Did the questions bother you? Or maybe…the answers?”
Chapter Fifteen
Johnnie tried to hold her gaze, but it was so penetrating, so stirring. She was already reaching inside and touching her, maneuvering things.
“Both. I don’t like talking about me.”
“I picked up on that. What else?”
“I don’t like…that you’re so attractive.”
The woman put the tip of the pen to her mouth. “So if you didn’t find me attractive this would somehow be easier?”
Johnnie again had to look away. “Probably.”
“Why is that?”
Johnnie didn’t want to answer, but she knew the woman would insist and wait her out. “Because I wouldn’t be thinking about it all the time. I wouldn’t be worried about it.”
“Worried about what?”
Johnnie gripped the pillow. “About what you think. About whether or not you think I’m attractive.” She nearly sighed at the confession. Her heartbeat was in her ears.
“I see.” She wrote some more and then stopped to look at her.
“Why does it matter if I’m attracted to you?”
“It—just does.”
“It ma
kes the fantasy more real for you.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
“Yes.”
Johnnie sighed.
The woman reached over and touched her hand. “If you know what this is and you don’t like it, why did you come back?”
Johnnie stood. The feel of her hot hand was too much. “I don’t know. I’m fucking insane I guess.”
“Would you like to see someone else? I can suggest others.”
Johnnie turned quickly to look at her. “No.”
The woman was silent. “Do you want to end this?”
Johnnie massaged her forehead. “No. I want you to keep making me feel…alive.”
The woman stood. She placed her pen and pad on the couch and touched Johnnie’s arm. She leaned into her.
“Excited?” she whispered in her ear.
Johnnie shuddered. “Yes.”
“Take off your shirt,” she said.
Johnnie closed her eyes.
She hesitated, but the woman took her hands and placed them at the bottom of her T-shirt.
Johnnie peeled her shirt off over her head. She felt the woman take it from her hand. Her body heaved with excited breath.
“Now your bra.”
Johnnie opened her eyes. The woman was watching her. She was looking at her like she wanted desperately to touch her.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“It’s been a long time,” Johnnie said as her voice caved with emotion and desire.
“I understand,” she said. She moved behind her. “I won’t look.”
Johnnie breathed deeply. Her skin came to life under the woman’s continued stare.
“You don’t have to do it. Everything is up to you.”
Johnnie turned her head to speak to her. “Help me,” she said, reaching back to unlatch her bra.
She felt the woman still her hands and release the hook on the bra. It fell loose off Johnnie’s shoulders.
“May I help you take it off?” the woman asked.
Johnnie nodded, noting her bated breath. She allowed the woman to guide it over her arms and hands. She took it behind her, probably placing it with the shirt. Johnnie stood very still, ample breasts puckering in the air. She felt lightheaded yet heavy. Hot yet chilled.
The woman found her hands and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
Johnnie’s knees weakened. She could feel the woman’s quickened breath on her neck and in her ear.
“Can you—do that?”
Silence.
“You can. You can touch yourself and pretend it’s me. Would you like that?”
Johnnie couldn’t control her breathing. The room was spinning. “Yes.”
The woman pressed closer. “Raise your hands,” she said.
“Now, touch yourself and pretend your hands are mine. Show me how you want me to touch you.”
“Oh God,” Johnnie felt the hot twitch between her legs. She was wet and nearly panting.
Slowly, she moved her hands up her sides, lightly along her abdomen, up and around her breasts. Her nipples tightened, beckoning to be touched.
“You feel so good,” the woman breathed.
Johnnie moaned softly.
“Just close your eyes and feel,” she said. “Feel our hands together, worshipping you. Let all the bad go. Just think of now and how good it feels.”
Johnnie’s clit began to throb. She moved against the woman, wanting to face her. She wanted to take her mouth in hers.
She tried to turn, but the woman wouldn’t let her. Instead she stilled her and held her hips.
“You must learn patience.”
“I want to see you, feel you.”
“No.”
“I want more.”
The woman struggled for breath. Johnnie felt her tremble. She seemed to struggle for words. “First you need to feel. Exist in the moment.”
“I am feeling. I am existing. Christ, I’m so wet.”
The woman grew silent. “You want to come.”
Johnnie tensed. “Yes.”
The woman released her and backed away.
“If you want to come, go ahead.”
Johnnie blinked. “What?”
“Go ahead. I will be right here.” She sat, her eyes burning and alive.
“I don’t understand. You just told me to let that go.”
“I think you will do much better if you learn to channel your desires, yes. That’s what I’m trying to get you to do.”
Johnnie stared into the woman’s eyes. “I think I finally understand.”
Chapter Sixteen
Johnnie reached past her for her damp clothes. They chilled her as she dressed, but it didn’t stop the pulse between her legs.
The woman surprised her by speaking strongly again. “Did you bring yourself to climax after our last visit?”
Johnnie wasn’t sure she heard her correctly. “Does that matter?”
“I assumed you did.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Did you take a lover?”
Johnnie stared at her in disbelief. “No, did you?”
The woman appeared shocked at the question, but then the look was gone.
“Tell me, what did you do after our last session?”
Johnnie tried to forget the breath in her ear, the press of her body, the feel of her own hands.
“I went home and I painted.”
The woman crossed her legs. A hint of a smile came.
“That’s good news.”
Johnnie hugged the throw pillow.
“Are you not pleased with that?”
“I’m fine with it.”
The woman wrote in her notes. “You’re upset now. Why?”
“I feel exposed.”
The woman lowered her notes. She moved closer. When she took Johnnie’s hand, she squeezed. “We don’t have to do anything like that again.”
Johnnie laughed, feeling crazy. “I would agree, only I liked it. A lot.”
“Do you feel safe with me?”
Johnnie looked down at her beautiful hand. “I do.”
“Then how can I make you feel better? Unbutton my shirt? Show you mine?” She smiled.
Johnnie rolled her eyes. “If I said yes you still wouldn’t do it.”
“No.”
They were silent for a moment.
“You’re worried that I can’t handle this,” Johnnie said.
“I know the things I’ve said and done reached you deeply.”
Johnnie didn’t speak.
The woman continued. “I know it’s how you’re built, but I need to be sure you can handle it. That you want to handle it.”
Johnnie grew serious. “I handle it every day. There’s no extent to what I can handle.”
The woman smiled. “I would imagine not, considering you feel and experience what others can’t or avoid. Life isn’t easy for you.”
“It isn’t easy for anyone. People just have filters that I don’t.”
“Which is why this will really get to you.”
“It already is.”
“Yes.”
“I’m stronger than I seem.”
“I know. I don’t think you always know though.”
Johnnie couldn’t believe how right she was. “I know how you can make me feel better,” she said.
The woman leaned back and smiled. “Okay.”
“Tell me what to call you.”
Her hand went to her gold necklace where it toyed with a charm.
“You can call me whatever you like.”
“Anything?”
“Within reason.” She smiled.
“I want you to call me Johnnie.”
“Johnnie?”
“Yes, I can’t stand Riot. It’s ridiculous.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know what to call you, so please just pick something. Something you like.”
“I really have no idea.”
“What do
your other clients call you?”
“Different things.”
“But what do you like? I don’t want to call you something meaningless. You’re real. A person. You have thoughts and feelings. I know you do because I can feel you.” Johnnie closed her mouth and looked away. She’d said too much. Given herself away.
The woman cleared her throat. She chose not to respond to that, and Johnnie was grateful.
She stood and crossed to her desk. She sat behind it and wrote more in her notes.
“I’ve made you nervous,” Johnnie said, sensing it, noting her proximity.
“Oh?” She looked up, curious.
“I think so.”
“I’m fine, Johnnie. And remember we’re here to talk about you.”
“I thought we were supposed to tell the truth. Or does that only pertain to me?”
The woman stood and leaned on the desk. She crossed her arms. “Why don’t you tell me what you painted?”
Johnnie was caught off guard by the question. “It isn’t important.”
“If it’s not important, then it should be no trouble to tell me.”
“It’s private,” Johnnie said a little louder than she’d meant.
“Okay.” She walked closer with her eyes trained on Johnnie’s. “What was it that helped you paint this private painting of yours?”
Johnnie squeezed the pillow.
“Can you answer?”
“I can’t think,” Johnnie confessed. She was losing control again, leaving it behind in a trail of dust.
“Why are you so afraid to look at me? Is it because I move you?”
Johnnie trembled.
“Yes.”
“Why are you alone, Johnnie? Surely women want to be with you, touch you. Why don’t you let them?”
“I haven’t wanted anyone.”
The woman met her serious gaze and then dropped her hands. “Why?”
“I haven’t been drawn to anyone. Attracted to anyone. Why? I don’t know.”
“You want me, though?”
“Yes. But I would never let myself go there. Not really. I don’t want to let anyone in. Even you.”
The answer seemed to surprise her. She looked away suddenly.
“I see.” She crossed her arms again. “So should I or should I not continue with things like we did today?”