by Boone, Azure
“Yes.”
Sarah shook her head a little, trembling, reminding herself that she was a doctor, digging through a festering wound. “You don’t think there should be feelings when you make love?”
“Yes, I do. But you said fuck, not make love. I fucked Lisa, I didn’t make love to her.”
“Why would you do that? Allow her to use you?”
He smiled a little. “How do you know I didn’t use her?”
“Because…”
“Because you know she’s a slut.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought…I wasn’t?”
Sarah cleared her throat and retraced the doodle she’d begun at the top of her page. “Something like that.”
“Sorry to disappoint you sweet heart. I’m no virgin. And I’m no saint.”
“I’m not disappointed, Micah. You are who you are. That doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“And how do you feel about me, doc?”
“I care for you. Want what’s best for you. Want to see you happy.”
“At what cost to you?”
“I am not in this equation. My feelings don’t matter.”
“Bullshit,” he muttered. “You’re sitting there, boohooing inside because I fucked your friend, don’t lie to me and say you’re not in the equation and that it doesn’t matter.”
She slammed the pad down. “It doesn’t matter, Micah. Yes, it hurts, yes I have ideals for you, but I also accept you for who you are. I draw assumptions on your character as I get to know you, good assumptions, but I always know that things may not be as they seem.”
“Oh, you got that one right. Micah is nothing like the fantastic man you wish him to be. I’m more fucked up than you can ever handle.”
“Then why are you here?”
He sat there, quiet. Staring at her. He finally broke the stare-down and shook his head. “For you.”
“For me.”
“Your therapy.” He slid his finger along his nose, like an old habit surfacing.
“Are you lying to me?”
“Would I tell you if I were?”
“No, but I might be able to sense it by asking. That’s my job. Now tell me, why would you fuck Lisa and not make love to her?”
“I don’t make love, I fuck. Love doesn’t exist.”
“Okay, I call bullshit there.” That snapped him to attention. “Love does exist. I’m sitting here—proving it to you—right now. Me, sitting here, caring about you. That’s love.”
“How much do you get paid to love? I think that’s more along the lines of prostitution.”
Sarah jerked her hands up. “I’ll never charge you another penny and you goddamn well know it. You know that.”
Another stare down.
He put his arms on the table and leaned closer. “What do you want from me Sarah? You want my dirty secrets?”
“Yes, I do. I want your dirty secrets,” she said calmly. She could feel that thing was on her. That power that came with the knowledge. Something supernatural. She felt it when she made those crazy diagnosis before tests were run to confirm it.
“Fine. I’ll give you my dirty secrets, every single one of them. Under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Fifteen minutes of the floor. As your therapist. Every session. You, answering to me.”
“Deal.”
“No need to think it over?”
She’d prayed for a way to go beyond standard procedures that merely shuffled issues around for years. Here it was. A therapy called Show me how. Make me know. “Nope. I trust you.”
The magic words. The effect they had on him fractured his angry façade, showing a brief flash of confusion. He regained his composure, more furious than before, but it was too late. He didn’t even realize what she’d seen, what he’d told her. He expected her cooperation, yes, but not her trust. Trust no doubt to him was as ridiculous as love. Fear, pain, anger, obedience. These were the laws that governed his reality, held things securely to the earth.
“Are we done here? I have another woman waiting to be fucked, and honestly, being in your presence makes me need to fuck.”
“Why is that?” She was still under that power, untouched by his words.
“I don’t know, Sarah? Maybe you just know how to bring out the best in me.”
****
Micah left and nearly fell apart. Hurting her was like cutting his own heart out. He’d pulled a superman just to rush through his filthy lies. Superman didn’t play nice, superman got the job done, the end. It was the only way he could manage any of it. Now, his body literally hurt with the need to hold her.
She trusted him. Fuck. He’d planned to gain her trust, but to see it while he was being a total fucking ass shocked the hell out of him. He hoped fervently with all his strength that his disgusting behavior did the trick he anticipated it would. But he’d have to use superman again to make it through the next session of confessions. Telling her his secrets would gain her metaphorical signature on the dotted line. It had to.
****
Sarah watched Micah walk off and that power fell, freeing her heart to break into a million pieces. She cried, no sobbed, the pain in her chest unbearable. He’d fucked Lisa…why did that have to hurt so much?
She cut her tears off after fifteen minutes. She’d made progress with him. But she had no clue what he had in mind at the next session. How far was she prepared to go? Something said, this was going to be one test that she wouldn’t be able to quit in the middle of.
God, give me wisdom and strength.
Chapter Eight
Micah leaned back in the chair on the balcony, putting a flip flopped foot on his knee. “What do you want to know first?”
“Whatever you want to tell me first.”
“Fine. My father was a minister. He raped me from the age of four to fourteen. My mother watched, often held me down. Sometimes participated. But I did grow to like it because after all, I had a demon. They purged me that way for ten years. Stubborn demon. Turns out my little brother had a demon too. I got jealous. So I killed him in his sleep. Sliced his throat. Nice and easy. The end.”
Sarah swallowed. “Is that it?”
“It’s the skeleton of the nightmare, yes. There are plenty of dirty secrets in between, juicy sinews that make up a perfect monster. Do you want those too?”
“Micah, this isn’t about me wanting dirty secrets, it’s about me helping you come to understand.”
“Understand?” He snorted and looked away. “Understand, understand.” He looked back at her, all smirk. “That would be where you come in I guess, doc, where you explain away the evil, the sickness, mend all the wounds.”
“I think that’s enough for this session.”
“Is it my turn, then?”
“Fifteen minutes.” She looked at her watch. “Go.”
“Stand up.”
“Why.”
“Fifteen minutes of you doing as I say. Break your word, and we are done, love.”
The love word was the confirmation she sought. This was his way of saying, prove to me you trust me. Or as you say, love me.
Did she want to prove that to him? That she loved him?
Yes. She did.
She stood.
“Come stand next to me.”
She walked around the table and stopped six inches from him. “How close to me are you, Sarah?”
“Very close.”
“Yes. Very close. What color panties are you wearing.”
Oh God. She stared down into his upturned green gaze, her stomach fluttering. She was very near to shutting him down. “White.”
“Silk?”
“Yes.”
“What color bra are you wearing?”
“White. Same material.”
“Matching?”
“Yes.”
“You’re biting your lip.”
“I’m nervous.”
He paused, seeming to bask in it all. “Is
there lace on the panties and bra?”
“A little. At the edges.”
“You look beautiful when you’re nervous.”
She swallowed, unsure of what to say to that. She wanted to check her watch.
“Do you know that your nipples show through your blouse and bra?”
Her stomach clenched and she fought her body’s reaction to his tone and hot gaze. “I didn’t know.”
“Do you know that I jack off while fantasizing about you?”
She should slap his face. But she didn’t think that would be the most productive at this point. As long as he didn’t touch her. Touching was definitely the end of the line. “No.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“I’m…I’m not sure,” she lied.
“Do you like it?”
“No,” she lied again.
“Why don’t you like it?”
“Because…it seems wrong.” Yet another lie. They were all should be truths.
“Why? I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re sexy. Sensual. I like the way you talk to me. The things you say. How you go out of your way to be kind to me. All of it makes me want you. Want to touch you. Taste you. Suck you.” He said that last word with ache and it sent her hammering pulse to pound between her legs. She clenched her eyes.
“You like that.”
It was not a question and she couldn’t open her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For…having inappropriate feelings for you.” She just wished she felt sorry.
He stood and looked down into her gaze, close enough for a kiss. Sarah braced, praying she’d do the right thing, whatever that might be. He leaned and put his lips to her ear. “I want you to wear a red bra and panties next week. Satin.” He slid his lips along her cheek and turned. “I’m done.”
Sarah stood immobile for five whole minutes, body wracked with confusion and turmoil. What the hell just happened? The look in his eyes just then. Same as that first night at the hospital, when he’d gone berserk. His desperate beg for help. A silent plea. He had that look right at the last. Without words, he’d said yes. Yes, I want you to help me. But on my terms.
****
Micah stared at his bathroom mirror, not seeing. Seeing Sarah. Seeing her standing next to him, falling apart at her professional and personal seams. That was good.
He turned on the water and brushed his teeth, then slapped on cologne and headed to her apartment for their next session. He had in mind what nightmare bits to divulge. He’d pick from the fluffy stuff, he had plenty for many years of sessions. He’d have her where he wanted long before that.
Excitement energized his muscles as he followed the now familiar path to her door. Seventy-nine steps.
He rang her bell, eager to see her. She opened the door, dressed in the same gray skirt and white blouse. His heart skipped a beat at seeing she had a white bra under her white top. She’d disobeyed.
“Hi,” she smiled.
Too concerned over what her actions might mean, he went without a word to the back porch, sat, and waited.
She came out and shut the door. He stared at her and saw she'd put make-up on.
“I’m going to allow you to begin each session with whatever you would like to tell me,” she said. “No questions from me. I’ll stop you when I feel it’s enough. Is that okay with you?”
He nodded.
“Alright. I’m ready.”
He decided to keep the plan on track despite her deviations. He put on his superman and dove right in, eager to discover her stopping point. “When I was three, I remember things. Flashes of things. A church. A group of people. In the woods. I remember being tied up. I was scared and cold. There were big rocks all around.” Micah closed his eyes, focusing on something besides her sweet and beautiful sympathetic face. He hated sympathy when calling up the details. Sympathy was weakness, weakness led to shit he didn’t tolerate. “They cut on my body. On my stomach. I remember crying for my mother. She came to me and held my hand and smiled while they cut me. I remember thinking it must be good. She was smiling. She never smiled, not at me. I held her hand tight, trying not to hurt her with my nails. My mother was smiling at me, I was doing something good.
Then my father was there. He wasn’t smiling. I got confused. Maybe it wasn’t good. He untied my hands and made me touch him. While they cut me, he put—“
“That’s enough.”
She gasped the words out and he opened his eyes. Her chest heaved and her face appeared haunted and pale.
“Is it my turn?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He went rigid as he contemplated her angle. “Why?”
She looked down. “I can’t do this with you Micah. I’d like to refer you to a very good therapist that will be more than happy to take care of you.” She slid a card across the table.
“I’d rather not.” His heart raced. She’d fallen. Fallen for him. It fucking worked.
“If you’re going to remain my patient, you’ll need to be compliant to my therapy.”
“Fine, I’ll be compliant.”
She fidgeted, clearly not expecting that. She lowered her head. “I can’t do it, please.”
“Why can’t you?”
She licked her lips, avoiding his gaze. “I…I like you too much.”
The words were barely audible but he heard them very loud and clearly. “Look at me.” It was a tall order for her because she took a good fifteen seconds to pull it off. “I didn’t hear you.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out at first. Then finally the beautiful words came on a breathless gasp. “I like you too much.”
His chest constricted with a million emotions at hearing the confession with her eyes locked on his. “Fine. I’ll go to another therapist. Under one condition.”
“What?”
“Same deal as before. Me being your therapist for fifteen minutes. Once a week.”
Her brows furrowed. “But…you’re not even a therapist.”
“Then there should be no ethical issues conflicting your pretty little mind.”
She gasped. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s been a life-long dream of mine to play doctor to a beautiful woman.” He gave her a small smile.
“I…I need to think about it.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t rocket science, either you will or you won’t.”
****
Sarah stood and went to the balcony ledge and looked out into the night, clenching her eyes shut. Fifteen minutes doing as he says once a week. As a free woman. She knew what that would lead to. Releasing him as her patient was the hardest thing she’d had to do and here he offered her a way to still help him without violating her ethics. She was sure it would get sexual. God, was she ready for that?
She turned and faced him. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
He took the card from the table, slid it in his back pocket, and stood. He approached like a lethal shadow until she had to peer up at him. He leaned and placed a kiss on the edge of her mouth, his breath trembling out. He turned and left. “See you next Saturday at seven. Don’t forget the red satin bra and panties.”
She watched him walk away, ready to collapse in relief but too excited to move. She wanted to cry and laugh and scream. But instead she prayed. Prayed for the strength and courage to do what it took to really help him. She was venturing into his hell on her own, alone. No ethics to guide her, only her heart.
Shit.
Chapter Nine
Micah followed Sarah to the balcony and they both sat. She waited for him to begin and he could see how nervous she was over what all he might do. He stared at her for several minutes, his heart hammering at recalling how upset she’d gotten for him when he’d told her his horror bits. And to think she was his to do with as he pleased. He had fifteen minutes. Well, probably thirteen now. But he knew he had power over the time. Once he touched her, she’d forget her own name. She wa
s so…virginic in every way.
She finally licked her lips. “What?”
“Nothing. I like looking at you. You’re very beautiful. I want to see your bedroom, where you sleep.”
Micah saw a resolve in her eyes as she stood. “Follow me.”
He did, his cock straining in his jeans. She flipped on the light and he gazed around her room, a replica of something he’d once seen in one of those magazines. Country Cottage maybe, soft colors and material everywhere. “Sit on the bed.”
She hesitated briefly and did as he said. Then looked at him.
“Do you have on the panty and bra I requested?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
He locked gazes with her, aware that his voice nearly broke with desire. He didn’t care. He just wanted to see her. And other things.
She stood and attempted to steal an unnoticed glance at her watch, almost a slight of hand motion to hide her extreme anxiety. Like he could ever miss it. His heart thundered in his chest with anticipation. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. She unzipped her skirt next and let it fall to the floor, putting her arms over her midsection. Nervous. About what she was doing? Or about what he thought of her. Both? “Turn. Slowly for me.”
The second she turned, he made his way to her. He stood on her right as she made it full circle. She gasped in surprise and he gazed at her red satin breasts. “You’re nipples are hard.”
She didn’t respond with words, but her perfect small, firm tits heaved in fear and excitement.
He slid his finger along her cheek and put her hair behind her ear then leaned in. He brushed his lips along her jaw and barely whispered, “Are you wet for me?” He listened to her erratic breaths and gazed at the rise and fall of her chest, studied her closed eyes, forehead full of torment. “Tell me, Sarah.”
“Yes.”
The weak confession made him shudder with the need to slam himself inside her. “Look at me.”
She hesitated and then slowly looked up at him. His chest ached at how beautiful she was in her innocence. He couldn’t wait to make her his. He stroked his thumb over the hard tip of her nipple and she gasped, fighting to hold his gaze, wanting to lose herself in the feeling. But he wouldn’t let her close her eyes and hide from him. Ever. “Do you like this?”