by Bella Grant
I wasn’t sure what my actual intentions were. I’d never been so swept off my feet in my life, not since Sophia. I cared for Fiona, and she was a lot more than a warm body to me. She could be kind, sexy, good. I thought she could be everything at one point, but lately, she’d been distant… like she was hiding something. And Katie? Well, Katie was a different story. Off-limits.
How come I couldn’t get her out of my head, then? The image of Katie in her purple skirt kept flickering into my mind. I imagined her at the beach, the sun fading in her beautiful brown eyes, making them a crisp golden color. I remembered the safety I felt, the lack of shame. No one had ever made me feel the way she did, and it wasn’t because she was my therapist.
I wondered where she was and what she was doing. My thoughts often drifted to her when I saw something I thought she’d like. I always heard that people in love felt like their other half was in everything and everywhere, but it was really true. She was.
The night she’d been in the suite, I could have sworn I heard a vibrator. I’d tried to push my ear up against the door without being too obvious, but the wood was too thick and I could barely hear the hum of cars outside. I’d jerked myself off feverishly in the shower, nearly crying from the frustration and tension.
Snow drifted by my window as I looked out at the city, a place that had become my home. For the first time in a long time, I felt a wave of safety wash over me. Some of the symptoms of my panic had faded, and I didn’t even need to take a pill. I’d been trying to meditate and do my ‘homework’ assignments. There was a knock at my door, and I didn’t jump. Not one bit, which was wonderful. I turned around, totally calm and poised. The Billy the Billionaire kind of poise that I had missed.
“Come in,” I said. I cleared my throat.
It was the kid, the one I’d almost slugged in the bathroom. I rarely felt embarrassed, but that’s what I felt now. “Mr. Carson,” he said nervously. “I have our annual report for you f-from accounting.”
I smiled warmly at him. He loosened up a bit, surprised by my friendliness. “Please, sit down. I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you.”
“D-did I do something wrong, sir?” he asked. His voice cracked.
“No. Not at all.”
He looked around my office, wide-eyed and inexperienced.
“I have a son around your age,” I began. “And I’ve always taught him to apologize when he did something wrong.”
“Oh yeah? That’s good,” the kid replied. He clearly had no idea what to say to me.
“I’m sorry about a few weeks ago in the bathroom. I wasn’t myself. Are we cool?” I asked.
He looked surprised, but a small smile rushed across his face. “Of course. It’s okay. No need to apologize.”
“Oh, but there is a need. Just because I’m the head honcho doesn’t mean I’m allowed to be an asshole. Although, I do think you have to be somewhat of an asshole in order to be the head of anything. But never forget your heart. Don’t forget that,” I said.
His face was glowing. He put the report on my desk. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“No. Just take an extra hour for lunch.” I threw twenty bucks at him. “On me. Consider it damages.”
He nodded quietly, grinned at me, and said, “Thank you! I will.”
He left me to my thoughts. I felt a surge of happiness. I was glad I made that right. I showed a side of myself to him that was vulnerable, but I was starting to learn that it was okay to be vulnerable sometimes. My heart was starting to heal.
Fiona: What time are you gonna be home tonight?
I thought it odd. She never asked this question.
B. Carson: The usual. See you then babe.
Fiona: K. Don’t rush home or anything. I’m cooking dinner. It’ll be ready late.
So many alarm bells went off in my mind. Why was she telling me this? What was her fucking problem lately? I tried to calm these thoughts. It wasn’t actually that weird of a question for her to ask. Lately, I’d had a lot of weird instincts about things. She had nagged me too much on my trip. She had nagged me in a way that made me think she was up to something. The easiest way to see someone’s intentions is to figure out what they think yours are.
She’d maxed out another credit card. Hard to believe, because how could one broad spend that much money? The other two were maxed out, and there were hefty debt limits on them. It was hard to keep up with her wants and needs, but she always made me feel loved. Made sure that home was comfortable. When I’d first met her, I was so flattered to have the affections of a younger woman that I didn’t ask too many questions. My mind was bleeding and weak from losing Sophia, but I was waking up from my fugue state.
Waking up never felt so good—like a cold splash of water to my face after a long drunken night. With this realization came a lot of pain, though. Life wasn’t as good or simple as I once thought. Getting what I wanted in the business world was so damn easy, but figuring other things out never seemed to work. Until now, anyway.
“I guess seeing a shrink can actually help,” I said to myself. I looked at my picture frame, a picture of Zach and me. Suddenly, I wanted to speak to him. Where had the time gone? Before I knew it, he’d be going off to college. He was my family, my son, and my best friend, despite everything else. Feeling so strongly about Katie had made me realize that, and though we could never be together, I was happy to feel like me again.
It hit me then, sitting quietly in my office. I loved Katie. I loved someone I could never have. The sorrow of this, mixed with my own guilt, nearly brought me to my knees. I fumbled on my laptop, trying to immerse myself in my latest business deal gone right, one I couldn’t have gotten right without her.
“Okay, Billy. Talk out loud to yourself. You’re being ridiculous and irrational. All is well. She’s your shrink. Fiona is your fiancée. It’ll be okay.”
Talking to myself didn’t work this time. I just felt crazy. I wondered if it would ever work. Likely not—this was some quacky shit. So I tried to mediate. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. I breathed slowly and imagined myself on a beach, but thoughts of Katie flooded my mind.
“Damn it,” I said.
I pulled up her therapist profile online. A pretty picture of Katie popped up, the first one I’d ever seen. Her hair was pulled back and her glasses were on. Was I being obsessive? Maybe a little bit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I should never have taken her on that fucking trip. I mean… damn, how hot was she? I could never get a sushi model with Fiona. She’d claw the girl’s eyes out. But Katie? There was something sexy about her confidence and open-mindedness. Was I comparing them now? Fuck.
I reached for the phone and dialed Zach, who would be out of his program. He didn’t exactly attend a regular school. He was in an online program that met twice a week. The program was for gifted students. I didn’t believe in having him sit through the drudgery of high school. I’d hated that experience and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The phone rang a few times before he finally picked up.
“Dad?” he asked. He was starting to sound like me.
“What’s up, champ?” I asked.
“Uh. Heading to the antique shop with some friends. Gonna see if I can get some deals.”
“Don’t worry about it. Get whatever you want.”
“But Dad! Haggling is the best part!” he joked.
“You take after me in that regard. What are you doing after?”
“Fiona and I got into a fight again, so I’m probably going to eat out.”
“Mind if I join you after I drop some stuff at home?” I asked.
“Are you okay, Dad?” he asked. Having a smart child was great, but it could be annoying when you were trying to hide your feelings and shit.
“A man’s life is complicated, son. What can I say?”
“Well, I say yes to dinner. Fiona is trying to cook, and we all know how that will turn out.”
“Oh, boy. Yeah. I do,”
I replied. “Okay. Meet me in front of my penthouse building around eight… and text me when you’re there.”
“Gotcha.”
We hung up. I imagined how proud Katie would be with me for hanging out with my son.
Shit. Would you stop thinking about her? I thought to myself.
No one has ever affected me like this. I straightened my tie and smiled at myself in the mirror. I could see the sadness in my eyes. There must be more to life than my musings. Where would I go for dinner? This whole area reminded me of Katie.
Get yourself together, Billy.
I met Zach in front of the building after dropping off some stuff and changing into jeans and a hoodie. He was starting to look like a man, tall and muscular. I was so proud of him. I ruffled his hair. “What’s up, kid?” He carried a knapsack. “Do I even want to know what’s in there?” I asked.
“It’s just a skull. You guys are so uptight.”
I sighed. “You really don’t like her, do you?”
We began to walk. A small Chinese place would do. I put up my hood, not wanting to be recognized and gawked at. I enjoyed the looks and stares because they validated me in some way, but not when I thought people might be able to see through me.
“No. I don’t. I’m sorry it hurts you, Dad, but I don’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t trust her. She’s judgmental, and all she does is use your money.”
“It’s more than that. She’s kind and caring. She’s good to me.”
“Maybe she’s good to you because she has to be,” Zach countered. Smart kid.
Katie
I wouldn’t tell Billy about Fiona. I was sure he would figure it out himself, and as much as I was in love with him, I knew it was wrong. And it was time to let go. That trip was too good, too beautiful. It felt too natural. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and I felt like a fool who had been exposed. Every single crack and crevice in me was open, and I had nowhere else to go. I had dreams of him standing in front of the door at the hotel. I wanted him to come in, not to have sex, but to just hold me. I wanted to let him feel my warmth. I wanted him to feel how much I loved him.
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 fille
d 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.”