Psycho Therapy (6 page)

Every ounce of her was trying to hold back her true feelings for him. She couldn’t stop smiling at him. Her eyes were so soft, it was endearing.

She plucked the cherry from her drink and rolled it up and down in her mouth. She tied the stem, then she stuck out her tongue and showed him her hard work.

You were such an idiot. She’s screaming for you to throw her a hint.

He never said this to Susan the first time this happened. “Of all the women I know, Susan, I’d want to get to know you better.”

Rod Stewart’s song played,
If you want my body, and you think I’m sexy…

He’d read her correctly. Susan’s face lit up at his words.

What he really said that night was, “I don’t like it when women hit on a man without knowing if he has feeling for her first. It’s a sign of being kind of a slut.”

That was it. He was embarrassed by his behavior. It was the fear of commitment talking. Susan shut down after that. It was too late to fix the damage. Susan later dated Kevin in the group. They married a year later. He wasn’t invited to the ceremony; Brice told him after the fact, and by then, the singles club had officially disbanded.

Susan slugged the sea breeze down, giving him a pair of lustful eyes. “I’ve got better booze at my apartment. How about a nightcap?”

Thank you, Dr. Krone. I owe you one.

Maybe you’re not so bad.

Maybe.

“Yeah,” he agreed, standing up and taking her by the arm. “I’d like that very much.”

The ride home was fast. She lived six blocks from Quivers. They were making out in the hallway of her apartment building, her legs wrapped around his hips as he carried her to her room. “I don’t care if the neighbors wake up,” she whispered in his ear. She was giggly, and he was pressing all the right buttons, caressing her shoulder blades and cupping her ass and kissing between her neck and ears when he could, though doing all of this carefully so as not to drop her. Arriving at her door, he placed her back onto her feet so she could unlock her apartment, and shortly after, they spilled inside, practically racing for the bedroom.

“This way.” Susan threw the door closed and stepped out of her sequined outfit. She was draped in shadow, the curves along the small of her back and the top of her buttocks visible, taut and muscular hard lines and soft flesh. A monarch butterfly tattoo had been inked on her right shoulder blade. Her car seats were draped in monarch butterfly covers. She often wore butterfly necklaces and earrings too.

Following after her, he observed her bedroom, the bed itself surrounded with a silk net like some kind of French sex palace.

God, why did I turn down Susan? I’m such an idiot. I even liked her. I liked her a lot.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” She sauntered back to him with a strut, her arms outstretched to snatch him back into her grip. “I didn’t think you shared the same feelings.”

“I should’ve owned up to them.” He hugged her close. Really embraced her. He whispered, smelling the sweetness of her hair and the wanton saltiness to her flesh, “It really means a lot to me somebody like you could take an interest in me. It’s very flattering. I’m lucky.”

“No, I’m lucky.” Susan kissed his lips tenderly. She started to cry because he was crying. They wiped off each other’s tears. “You don’t have to be afraid of relationships anymore. I know you are. I was too.”

He pressed his face against hers. “It’s hard to move on. Damn hard.”

“I know what happened to you.” She stroked his hair, curl by curl. “And you heard about Mark.”

Mark was shot down during a gas station robbery. He was paying for his gas and a robbery got out of hand, and a random bullet came his way, ending his life.

But that was the end of talking.

Susan unbuckled his belt, and Craig slid down his boxer briefs. He was painfully hard, each throb an indication he hadn’t been laid in a long time. They grinded against each other and built up the sexual tension. She kept whispering for him not to penetrate, urging him to tease her. Her mouth roamed his neck, ears, and up and down his chest. Every girl had her special moves, but he had moves of his own. Craig cupped one side of her buttock. He reached his finger between her legs, checking. She was already wet, and he massaged her, spreading that wetness.

Overtaken with the heat of passion, they fell backwards onto the bed. He was already inside her. She cooed upon the first thrust, reaching out her arms and grasping the iron headboard, her muscles taut and stretched to their maximum. He kissed her breasts, biting at the budding nipples, and he might’ve bit too hard, he thought, when she yipped. “Oh, Craig!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She pushed his head back down to her chest. “No, it feels
fucking
good.”

He rocked gently inside her, careful not to test his endurance. She was tighter than Katie. He was ashamed to form that distinction, but it happened unconsciously. Her kisses tasted different too. The flavor of her skin was saltier. He could smell her pussy, and it aroused him. Susan reached around and played with his balls, tickling them, carefully raking her nails down the circumference.

He was surprised by how much she liked to play with him. “You like to touch them, huh? Most girls find them unattractive.”

“They bring you satisfaction,” she purred, bearing a hint of what else she wanted to do to “satisfy” him. “I hear touching them during sex increases the potency of your orgasm.”

Susan wrapped her legs around his back, reclaiming her prey. “Now fuck me.”

So a few thrusts later, he was on the verge of finishing, and he had to take it slow. “It’s hard to hold back,” he grunted, knowing she’d notice his hesitation.

They slowed down, relishing the moment, grinding at a slow rate. She eyed him with zeal as she lay flat against the bed and began touching herself. She kept her orgasm in the running, and she talked about her body. “I don’t get the big orgasm. I get little ones. It’s like a small step up a long climb. Each step brings me closer to the top. It’s all good, don’t worry, Craig.”

“Then good, because I think I’m ready to pump you hard again…
maybe
.”

He cradled Susan. She was asleep. She was at peace, her face tranquil, and maybe dreaming. He played his fingers through the strands of her hair, enjoying her. She shifted, moaning softly, and drifted back to rest. “This is what could’ve been, huh?”

Susan didn’t wake.

Craig looked about the room. There were acrylic paintings of monarch butterflies and one of those 3-D optical illusion pictures.
Ah, let me guess, it’s of a butterfly.

He could never see those things. He couldn’t cross his eyes hard enough.

The vanity mirror was sixty percent covered in 3x5 pictures. Friends, her two sisters, and the singles club mostly. Her closet door was open, showing the dresses, work clothes, and an ironing board folded up inside. It was strange how realistic all this was, making it easy to forget none of this had actually happened. Dr. Krone’s machine was ingenious. Whatever allowed this to exist, it was amazing. He felt alive. Relieved too. Deep down, he regretted the way he had treated Susan.

The idea of what could’ve been was bittersweet.

He relaxed in bed, letting the scene play out as it was going to play out, and he closed his eyes to sleep.

If he made a sound, Craig would hear him, so Dr. Krone kept his movements to a minimum. The treatment was coming along nicely. The patient was accepting his medicine, so to speak. He stood in the hallway by the door outside the bedroom. He’d tucked his pad of paper in his back pocket a long time ago. It was useless now. His clinical observations ended when the sex began.

He liked to watch.

Those moments were his favorite.

Almost his favorite.

Katie

Craig opened his eyes. He wasn’t at Susan’s apartment anymore. He was in another room altogether. A gray coverlet was wrapped around him, keeping him warm. How he got here, he wasn’t sure. It just happened. He closed his eyes for a moment, and here he was. But he wasn’t about to deny the privilege of what was provided. It was wonderful to be with Susan, and now, he was with his wife. The actuality of it was overwhelming. Katie was on her side of the bed, and he was spooning her. He smelled her dark brown hair, what was a mix of day-old hair and the remains of her pomegranate lavender shampoo. They were pressed up against each other, naked. They’d just made love. He was having a lot of sex; too bad he didn’t enter the scene sooner to fully experience it. She was exhausted from working another evening shift at Bryer’s Pharmacy as a pharmacy tech, but as Katie put it that night, and other nights like this, “I’m too wired to sleep, let’s have sex. That always puts me to sleep.” It was a compliment despite the way it sounded.

He was spent, the post-sex moment at a comedown. Craig battled to stay calm. He wanted to break down and cry and tell her he loved her and everything else a person said when a person they loved died.

What she said removed him from the reverie. “How was Susan?”

There was no accusation in her voice.

“Excuse me?”

“You just had sex with her, so was it good?”

Confused by the question, he couldn’t do anything but tell the truth. “Yes, but how did you know?”

“Let’s not talk about that—talk about Susan. Was it hot? Did she give it to you good?”

“Wait, whoa, how do you know about Susan?”

Katie stared at him, waiting for the answer to her question first.

“Yes, she was good. I-I enjoyed it. But I love you. You know that, right?”

She waved him to be quiet. “I know that, honey. I want you to be happy and horny.” She giggled. “It’s fine. I’m sure you’d want the same for me.”

Craig was stunned. “Did you see us or something? How do you know about what happened?”

Katie brushed off the question. What she said next he recognized from a previous conversation. “Do you ever think about other women during sex?” She always asked introspective questions, like little post-coital quizzes. But now Katie wasn’t speaking of Susan anymore, and according to Katie, she now didn’t have any knowledge of her. He had difficulty grasping on to the moment, but he tried to anyway. Every moment with Katie was precious.

She gave her opinion about her own question. “I think about other men. There, I said it.”

He scoffed, thrown off by the admission. “Yeah, like who? Fabio?”

“Fabio’s gross,” she gagged, sticking her finger in her mouth. “He’s not real. He’s too primped and manicured. I like real men. Paul Reiser.”

“Paul Reiser?—who’s that?”

“You know the show
Mad About You
? He’s Helen Hunt’s husband on the show. Curly black hair, smartass charm, he’s cute.”

“Wow, Paul Reiser. You think about
him
.”

“Come on, you think about other women. It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“I’m not
Mad About You
.”

“Oh, shut up.” She nudged him with her elbow. “You’re just going to make fun of me.”

“Well, yeah,” Craig teased. “I’m no Paul Reiser.”

“You’re better than him. Would you stop bringing him up?”

He wrapped his hand around her belly. She was twenty weeks along in the pregnancy. He enjoyed touching her belly. It was an extension of her, something extraordinary, something he created. He leaned down and kissed her stomach above the navel.

“You’re kissing our baby.”

“I know.”

Katie petted his head. “You’re just a big softie.”

He kissed behind her ear. “You tamed the beast.”

“You got into so much trouble as a kid. What made you that way?”

He shrank back to his side of the bed. “I never figured that out.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Psychiatrists are full of shit.”

A muffled laugh resounded from the left wall. Craig asked her, “Hey, did you hear that?”

She wrapped herself up tighter in the blankets. “No. I think you’re ready for bed, though. You’ve got work in the morning. Sometimes sex makes you forget that.”

She rolled over in bed and fell asleep. He tried to wake her, but he couldn’t rouse her, no matter how hard he nudged her or said her name. “Come on, honey. I want to talk longer. I haven’t seen you in years. You’re not alive anymore so wake up, Katie.
Katie!
”

She was still and at peace. Like she was dead again.

She’s not waking up.

This is Dr. Krone’s fault.

Craig bolted up from bed. He rushed into the hallway to pursue the location of the muffled laugh. The laugh had to be the doctor’s. He ignored it earlier simply to be with Katie that much longer.

I still don’t trust him.

“I know you’re out there, Doctor. Why don’t you face me?”

He burst through the hall and into the kitchen. The screen door to the backyard clapped shut. “Oh, I’ve got you this time, you fat fucker!”