The NOVA Trilogy Boxed Set

by Jayce, Aven

  “Thank you, Greg. And you’re getting help for yourself, not just for your marriage, and soon you’ll realize that it wasn’t an unfortunate thing to have your wife find out about being arrested. It’s a blessing in disguise.” The group says hello to Greg, then the leader turns in my direction.

  “I’m Sophia,” I say, everyone greeting me with a smile and a hello. “I’m here because I like to fuck and my therapist is jealous that I get laid all the time, and she doesn’t.”

  A few members laugh, while others frown and shake their heads. I immediately know who’s new, and who’s been around this place for a while.

  “Whoa, Sophia. I don’t think your therapist suggested our group because she’s jealous of you. The job of a good therapist is to recognize their patients’ needs, finding ways to help them. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes. I was only joking, I have nothing else to say right now.”

  “Okay then. I’m Stephen, and either myself, or my partner Joel will be here each week to work with you. Does anyone have any important issues they would like to discuss, or has anyone dipped into their middle circle… or worse?”

  “I had a set back,” Suzie-Q quickly chimes in, overly excited like she’s deserving of a prize. She uncrosses her legs and moves forward on her chair, sitting on the edge of her seat. Her daughter closes her eyes, and I can see the tension on her face as her mother prepares to speak.

  “I found this great new porn site called smoothies for your ass.”

  My mouth drops open in disbelief as Suzie-Q proudly smiles. I put my hand up, motioning for her to hold on a second as I swallow and clear my throat to speak.

  “Wait a second,” I say. “I’m not sure this group is for me, and I don’t mean to be rude, but my sexual life is far removed from surfing the web for ass smoothies.”

  “Sophia,” Stephen halts my words. “We all have different issues and compulsions in here, but they all do relate to sex. You are here to listen and support others with their addictions, just as the rest of the group will do for you.”

  I sit back and remain silent, realizing I’m being difficult. So what if this woman enjoys watching people eat things that come out of…

  Suzie-Q speaks again, interrupting my thought. “Well, I wasn’t surfing the web for that specifically, I was actually looking for health smoothies, but healthy smoothies for your ass showed up instead. Of course I clicked on it, I mean, who wouldn’t? Then, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. I thought about calling my sponsor, but at that point it was too late. I was on the site watching the videos for almost seven hours. I don’t have any restraint when it comes to sites like that, and I’m not just referring to ass smoothie sites, I’m talking about porn in general. When I’m online and come across anything sexual, I click on it. I haven’t been searching for it outright, I have been getting better about that, but if it appears by accident I feel that it’s a sign. So I click, and I’m gone. I have to admit, I’m still powerless when it comes to porn.”

  Stephen shifts in his chair, ready to speak, as I think about those child safe settings you can place on a computer.

  “Suzie, we’ve discussed using safe search when you’re online, and you also installed software to filter out sites like that, what happened to that safety net that you set up for yourself?”

  See. That was my immediate thought.

  “Someone in our house,” she hesitates, looking at her daughter Lil’ Sue, “changed my settings, pushing back my progress toward rehabilitation.”

  “Yeah, so what?” Lil’ Sue says. “I can’t have that safe search on all the time and that software program. It stops me from enjoying everything that college students enjoy, like YouTube videos of my favorite bands.”

  “Some of those YouTube videos that you watch are worse than nudie sites, with women’s breasts jiggling and bouncing all around,” Suzie-Q replies, still smiling. The woman doesn’t seem to have any other facial expression except for joy. It must be from watching all those powerful ass smoothie videos. They managed to paint a permanent smile on her face.

  “Alright,” Stephen says, stopping the two of them from finishing the argument that’s underway. “So yes, we have a setback. And that’s why we’re all here. I’ll assume your seven-hour viewing period cost you some sleep?”

  “Of course, as well as cutting into my workday by several hours. And, it cost me money because I paid to watch some of the videos.”

  “Well Suzie, lets try to come up with some new solutions for you, and for you too Lil’ Sue, so that the two of you can start to live a healthier lifestyle. Any comments or suggestions from the group will be helpful at this time.”

  “Yeah,” I say, since no one else here seems to be saying anything. “Why don’t you just get rid of the computer?”

  “I’m a medical transcriptionist and I work from home, so I need it for my job.”

  Oh dear God, I wonder if she got a certificate to do that back when it used to be advertised on late night TV.

  “Well, can you do that without the internet?” a woman across from me asks.

  “I still need to process reports and submit work online, plus my daughter needs it for school.”

  “Well then, you need to show a little more restraint,” I say, realizing that my foot needs to be placed permanently in my mouth. There are a few moans and a headshake as Stephen interjects his view.

  “Habits are hard to break, and I know we’ve already spent some time creating a list as to reasons why you should avoid porn, and you’ve made a promise to yourself not to do the things that have brought you here. You’ve tried hobbies, including taking up yoga, and we all know that you can’t stay away from the computer because of your job, but there are other ways we can help you with this, Suzie. First, I want you to remember to think positively, even when you have a setback, tell yourself that you can do better. Give it another try, and don’t give up. Second, look to your higher power. Seek out the care of God for help. Perhaps this is a good time for all of us to say the Serenity Prayer together.”

  Oh shit.

  I stand and grab my bag from the back of my chair, throw it over my shoulder, and race out the door without saying any goodbyes, or a thank you. Stepping onto the sidewalk, I feel a light drizzle against my face from a cold November rain. MINI is swallowed by the darkness so I use my keys to flash the lights. I find my way inside, pull the seat belt over my shoulder, and lock the door. I’m fine. Breathe in. Breathe out. Deep breaths.

  What was that all about? I mean it’s not like I don’t respect people’s beliefs, but God’s not going to keep me from fucking whomever I want. And I’m sure God won’t help Suzie Q beat her obsession with ass smoothie videos. I guess some people need to feel that they’re receiving strength and forgiveness from God above in order to heal.

  I’ll see Dr. Rosen for the sake of my father and his guilt, but I’m not attending this group therapy shit. I don’t feel damaged, but if I do need to restore my self-worth, I’ll seek the help of the good ol’ doc, Mera, and my dad. No strangers, and no higher powers to be. And for sure, no ass smoothies.

  I feel exhausted as I pull into the underground parking lot of my building. It’s still early, but the stress from worrying all day about the group therapy session, and then the session itself, took a lot out of me. Plus, my mind is still strained from last weekend’s parking garage mistake. It’s funny that I only view it as being a problem because my father found out. I wouldn’t feel this bad if it had stayed a secret.

  The elevator opens and I’m at my front door. I enter to Lewis’s loud meow, as he demands his dinner. We eat together and then I hit the couch, covering myself with a warm, Indian print, wool blanket. Lewis rests on my stomach as I watch the rain drizzle and drip down the living room windows, hypnotizing me into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a giant thing that looks like a hot dog being pushed inside a woman’s private area. My brother giggles, making me feel
dumb as he turns the page. He flips the magazine on its side and the middle unfolds, revealing a naked woman. She has her legs spread and her fingers are in her naughty space. “Why does she have so much hair down there?” I ask, seeking information about her body. As a three-year-old, I am grossly entertained by the images in front of me.

  “Dad said that these are penises, and those are vaginas, and that people do this when they are grown up.”

  “Daddy gave you the magazine?” I ask.

  “No. He didn’t. I saw him looking at it one night. It was hidden inside of his newspaper. I asked him what that was down there, and he said a vagina. He said it’s like my penis, only better. Mom came in and saw what he was showing me, and she got very upset. She took the magazine away from us.”

  “And then Mommy gave you the magazine?”

  “No, Sophie. I found it in the trash, and you better not tell Mom or Dad that I have it. They’ll get mad at me, and I’ll tell them you were looking at it too, then they’ll be mad at you.”

  “I won’t tell Mommy or Daddy.”

  “Good.” He folds the big image back up and turns the page. There’s a photo of a woman’s private area spread open.

  “Is that where our stuff comes out when we go potty?”

  “Sophie, just let me look. Keep quiet for a while.”

  My brother studies the photograph. He continues turning the pages, flipping quickly past all of the ones that only have words. He stops on another image of the man putting his thing inside of her thing.

  “That would hurt,” I say, confused by what’s in front of me. “Is he using her as a potty?”

  “Sophie, leave me alone, I’m busy.” He stands, and walks out of the room. I hear his feet stomp up the stairs, and the door to his bedroom slam shut.

  Standing at the bottom of the steps, I call up to him, asking where Mommy is.

  “She’s out,” he yells down from his room.

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Work,” he yells again with an aggravated tone in his voice.

  “I’m thirsty,” I whisper, knowing that I’ll have to fend for myself.

  The kitchen is dirty, with dishes overflowing from the sink onto the countertop. I try to reach a cup but the counter’s too high. I turn and look at the kitchen table. The dishes from last night’s dinner are still out, including my cup. Walking back over to the sink with it in my hand, I find that the faucet is too high to reach, even on my tiptoes. I take the cup into the bathroom, stand on the toilet, reach over to the sink, and fill my cup. The water is warm and tastes like algae. Yucky.

  I put the cup down on the toilet seat and look at myself in the floor length mirror that Daddy uses for dressing each morning before he goes to work. I smile, and my reflection smiles back. Moving closer I see a booger in my nose so I use my finger to dig it out. I wipe it on my shirt because Mommy told me not to eat them. There’s a knot in my long brown hair that I try to untangle, but it hurts when I pull on it. Mommy needs to get that out.

  Pulling my pant waist out, I look down at my private area searching for hair, but there is none. I bend over, holding a chunk of my long hair over my spot. It doesn’t look like what the lady had in the magazine. Her hair was curly.

  I search for a small mirror under the sink, wanting to see my area down below. Mommy keeps one down there to see the back of her head. I find it and place the mirror in front of me while sitting on the floor with my pants off. It looks different from the people in the magazine. It’s not as big as what they have. It’s the wrong color too, not as red as theirs. I wonder if mine is broken.

  I take Mommy’s toothbrush from the drawer under the sink and try to push it inside of me. That doesn’t feel good. I try the side with the bristles and it tickles, making me giggle. It hurts to try to push it in, so I decide to try to brush the area like I’m brushing my teeth. I place a dab of toothpaste on the brush and rub the area gently back and forth. It tickles and I giggle again.

  “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?” Mommy screams at the top of her lungs. “WHAT THE FUCK’S WRONG WITH YOU?” She pulls me up by my hair and smacks me across the face. I let out a high-pitched cry as tears gush out of my eyes.

  “Don’t you ever touch yourself down there again, and with my toothbrush, Sophia? You’re a disgusting child. As soon as I can find someone to take you off my hands, you’re out of my house and my life. I’m getting rid of you!”

  I scream in horror, not being able to breathe. What did I do? Sobbing hysterically, I run and hide behind the couch. I can’t catch my breath. I’m suffocating. Tears pour down my cheeks. My mouth is open, but nothing comes out, then I let out a loud cry and pant and scream again. My eyes lose focus and my head spins. I can’t breathe. Panic.

  ***

  “Wake up, you’re dreaming. Wake up, Sophia.”

  A hand shakes me awake as a deep voice enters my head. My eyes flutter open and I see the rain pelting the windows that lulled me to sleep earlier. It’s dark, except for a few lights from the city reflecting into my loft. I lift my head and look for Lewis. He must have walked upstairs to bed, his usual sleeping spot each night. The blanket on top of me feels different. It’s smoother, like silk, and not as warm. Where am I?

  I sit all the way up and place my feet on the floor, letting the blanket slide down exposing my bare chest. It’s chilly in here. I never have my heat turned down this low. There must be something wrong with the furnace.

  Standing, I see my place has been re-arranged. Wait, this isn’t my stuff. Why does it smell like vanilla in here? This is not my house.

  “Hello, Sophia.”

  I turn around in a flash as a deep voice speaks my name. “What the fuck?” I yell, placing a hand out in front of me for protection.

  “It’s okay, don’t be alarmed,” the voice says in a softer tone.

  “Where am I? Did you kidnap me?”

  “No. You’re okay,” there’s a pause and a sigh before he continues. “I found you outside my penthouse. You were sleeping in the hallway, half naked, so I carried you into my home and placed you on the couch.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I’ve lived in this building for many years. I know when new people move in, especially the people on my floor.”

  I drop my hand, no longer feeling threatened by this man.

  “Put a light on so that I can see you,” I say.

  “Are you sure you want me to do that? You are topless, after all.”

  I place my hands over my breasts to shield them from his eyes. It’s probably too dark to see me, and why do I care in the first place?

  “Why is it so cold and dark in here? I feel like we’re in a basement.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve been out of town on business, and I like to keep the heat low and the curtains closed when I’m gone. I had one curtain open for you, so that you wouldn’t be in total darkness when you awoke.”

  “Thank you,” I say, lowering my arms, my nipples hard from the chill in the air.

  “Here, let me get you a shirt so that you’re more comfortable.”

  “I really should be going.”

  “Are you sure? I can make you a cup of warm milk and honey if you’d like.”

  The invitation sounds tempting. Not the drink, but the conversation. His calm, deep voice is soothing, and I’d like to get to know the people on my floor.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s two. I guess that’s late, or early, depending on your sleep patterns,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know the person who lives next door to me a little better, especially if you plan on living here for a few years,” he says.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Wonderful,” he responds in a gentle tone. “ I could use some company. I’ll get you that shirt.”

  The figure moves stealthily through the first floor and over to the stairwell. A dim kitchen light turns on as he reaches the wall and ascends the stairs. He’s tall, but I still can’t see his face
.

  This may be the perfect opportunity to work on my assignment for Dr. Rosen. I have to visit with her later this evening, and I haven’t made much progress during the past couple of days. More nude modeling, screwing that college guy, skipping out on group therapy, none of these things will go over well with her. This may be one way to redeem myself.

  The room is identical to mine except it’s reversed, and he has a more sophisticated taste in furniture.

  My style is definitely Southwestern Rustic, at least according to my father, with rich hues of turquoise, terra cotta, and brick red on the fixtures. The rugged looking pine furniture is distressed with brightly patterned tile inlays. It’s a space were you would expect to see a pair of worn out cowboy boots in the corner and chili peppers on the kitchen counter. It has a feeling of warmth and energy.

  The space before me is opulent. I see now that I was asleep on a dark brown leather couch. There’s a matching one across from it, and two, deep red corduroy chairs in-between. The fireplace that the furniture sits next to is ornate, with red, brown, and grey glass tiles framing the interior space. The colors are rich and charming.

  Above the fireplace is a life-size black and white photograph of a woman sitting in tall weeds in front of a tree. She’s blindfolded, nude, and has her arms wrapped around the front of her body. She looks cold. The woman in the shot is the main focus, with the background soft and blurred. She’s shown from the waist up, with tree branches used to frame her head. Her hair is black and cut in a short bob style, while her skin is ghost white. She’s young, innocent looking, and gorgeous.

  The wall in the dining area is covered from floor to ceiling with black and white photographs of female nudes; their bodies entwined in bed sheets, leaving very little flesh exposed, a nipple here, and a shoulder there. The photos are staggered closely to one another on the wall, each one captured in an ornate, gold-leaf frame.

  The walls throughout the space are a dark grey, and the hardwood floors a deep brown. Each window has a dark velvet curtain flowing across it. Leopard print pillows and rugs are scattered on the furniture and floor, and two large chandeliers hang low from the ceiling. The chandeliers have a Victorian feel, with faux candles mixed between the crystals that hang down like icicles. The end tables and bookcases are industrial with metal legs and wooden shelves. There’s an overabundance of white candles placed on every shelf, table, and counter. The candles have to be the source of the vanilla scent in the room. In the space between the living room and dining area is a deep red couch set up in a half circle. It’s placed so that it faces the large windows displaying a view of the Gateway Arch.