Authors: Casey Elliot
*****
I could feel my head pounding before I even thought about opening my eyes. I could feel my eyelids burning as the rays of light -- the ones I couldn’t yet see as my eyes were closed, but the ones I most definitely knew were there – shined in from the window across from my bed.
“Shit…” I groaned, my body was sore as I fluttered my eyes open slowly, using my hands as thick visors. I squinted, hoping to get used to the light around me, and groaned again. My arms were stiff and achy.
I smiled. I knew why. I’d actually gotten some thick voluptuously juicy and oh-so-fucking-wonderful ass last night. And I’d had her lifted for a solid bit while I fucked her in the parking lot outside the town’s bar.
The memories were starting to flood in more clearly by the second. Usually, I had to go to the town to get any sort of action. My town was 80% male, and a majority of us were Navy.
It was a small town with a base smack dab in the middle of it. It was pretty much the only damn thing in the whole area. There wasn’t much else in the way of employment, but a couple of shops, a doctor’s office, and a movie theater… maybe one or two diners.
There also weren’t a whole lot of chicks. The only ones I knew of even remotely my age were comrades – and I definitely didn’t want to jump in the sack with any of them. Not only because their aesthetic beauty wasn’t quite up to my standard, but also, because that would have complicated shit a whole lot more than I would have ever bargained for.
The thing I could never wrap my hand around though was the fact that most of the men I knew – and most of the men in the town for that matter – were already married with at least a kid or two, which was ridiculous. Most of them were younger than me. Why the hell men would want to tie themselves down to some chick for the rest of their life was beyond me.
Love was for suckers.
Fucking with no strings sounded so much more desirable.
I only wish I’d gotten that hottie’s name from the night before. She was not only sexy aesthetically speaking, but the perfect amount of adventure for my liking. She seemed to have the exact same mantra as I did. Relationships blew; freely fucking was much better.
In all honesty, I’d thought about her up until the point I was on my motorcycle headed into town. I gripped the handle bars and sighed. I didn’t want to go to the stupid fucking outpatient clinic that my commanding officer was forcing me to go to.
“Go or else,” was basically what I was told.
So, that’s what I was doing; taking my apparently-crazy-ass to the VA outpatient clinic. “It’s a place designed to help seasoned veterans like yourself deal with PTSD,” they said. I scoffed.
I didn’t fucking have PTSD.
And that’s exactly what I kept telling myself as I paced around the office, waiting for a Dr. Thomas to shrink my fucking head. When the door opened though, and Dr. Thomas came out, I didn’t know what to do.
“What the fuck?” My eyes were wide. I knew they were. How could they not have been? I was staring right smack dab at the fucking hot piece of ass I’d fucked the night before.
It was of some comfort; at least, that she seemed to have the same reaction.
Her mouth had fallen open, clearly holding nowhere near the sort of composure she held the night before.
“Small world…” she laughed.
“Small town, Doc…” I corrected. “Small town. Small, dreary, piece of shit town, so I’m definitely going to need you to write me a nice little slip that says I’m all fixed up, so I can get the hell out of it.”
*****
“I’m not sure we can continue this session…” I trailed, almost panicked that he was standing right in front of me.
“You’re the only fucking therapist in this God forsaken place. I need you to write me off. You’re a one-night stand, and vice versa. We don’t have to make this into something it’s not…”
Of course, my first case had to be complicated. Of course, I had promiscuously banged my first real patient; of-freaking-course, but he was right.
It was only a one-night stand.
I was fine with that, and I could tell by his ridiculous smirk that he was definitely fine with that and didn’t want to blow my first case. I didn’t want Dr. Howard, my boss and mentor, to think I was some giant skank that would end up sleeping my way through the entire platoon and; therefore, unqualified to work on a military base. I didn’t want all of my hard work -- my scraping and clawing – to be for nothing.
I didn’t know what I was even saying until I was actually saying it, “Well, if you don’t think it’s going to affect our therapist/patient relationship, then have a seat.” It was probably the most unethical thing I could have done, but I really didn’t see the problem with it if we were on the same page.
I gestured to the large brown leather couch on the other end of the room. It was plump and soft; the sort of soft you sort of just sank into when you laid down on it.
“So, my commanding officers think I’m a mental case and I’m just here to prove ‘em wrong.”
“That’s why you’re here?” I asked, my brows cocking.
He nodded. “Sure is.”
“Why would they think that?”
“Well, I guess ‘cause I keep seeing soldiers die, but that’s just part of it. We can’t go kick ass and take names without a few casualties.”
I sighed and flipped through the file on my lap. It was chocked full of information about the man I’d just slept with the night before. Truthfully, I didn’t even need to look at it anymore. I’d already glanced at it for hours before he even showed up. I knew what it said. I knew the concerns.
Seargeant Benjamin Monroe, his best friend – apparently from as far back as childhood -- and an integral part of his team was killed in the line of duty during his last tour.
“So, it has nothing to do with Benjamin, specifically?”
“Eh, they think it has to do with Ben.” He was smiling, but I could tell it wasn’t from actual amusement. It was a deflection; a defense mechanism if I’d ever seen one, and I knew that perhaps his commanding officers might have really been onto something. “But, I’m perfectly content with life at the moment,” he laughed, his hands gripping the back of his head as he leaned back on the couch.
“I mean you saw just how happy I was last night,” he winked, causing me to blush. I hated the way it made me feel to be that type of woman; a blushing idiot.
I wasn’t used to being such a school girl about this sort of thing, but with this guy – it seemed to be different all of a sudden. He was so damn attractive it was hard not to be distracted. With every movement he made, I watched as another muscle flexed. It was the busiest my eyes have ever been – and my brain for that matter as I continued to fight with myself to focus on a continuous basis.
The more he spoke, the more he deflected, and the more he flirted, which also meant the more I realized that I felt some strange pull toward him - almost as if we were opposing magnetic forces. The attraction was clearly off the charts as I bit my lip and scanned over his entire body.
Usually, I would have scoffed, rolled my eyes, and put him back onto the subject at hand, but there was something about him flirting with me that sort of turned my brain into fucking jello. I really felt like a school girl again.
It was enough to piss me off – but also, become incredibly aware of the fact that he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. He had that brooding and mysterious thing going for him that I had to admit I really liked too.
My body stiffened and I felt my loins grow even more heated than before; so much so that I found myself almost giving in to the entire charade; giving in to him.
I wanted to flirt back. No, not just flirt. I wanted to fuck him right there in my office all over again.
I cleared my throat, a slight moan low in my throat escaping as I did. “We need to back off of this or I’ll refer you to my mentor for treatment. Let’s meet back later this week, for therapy.” I wanted to make it clear that was all I needed and/or wanted from him, even if it wasn’t.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he shouted, standing up from the couch. “You have to help me out.”
“I can’t help you unless you want it.”
“I do want it,” he said, winking, “and you can help me anytime you like…” He was flirting again; I knew that he was, and to say that I hated it would have been a lie.
I needed to lie though. I needed to act appalled; disgusted, even. But, I didn’t have time. He turned on his heel, a cocky smirk plastered all over his face, and headed toward the door.
I almost growled in annoyance when a shiver rolled down my spine as I watched him leave.
“Shit…” I mumbled as I slumped deeply into my chair. I was definitely in trouble.
*****
I pulled the gas pump out of my motorcycle and hung it back up on its base. I’d never regretted pumping gas more in my entire life when I glanced up and saw a familiar silver SUV sitting near the air-pump just across from me.
It was a woman... blonde, thirties, gorgeous, rocking body. And, a ridiculously sad face. She looked drained. Her skin was pale, eyes heavy-looking, and bags folded just underneath.
Three kids screamed loudly from inside the back seat of the vehicle, and I watched as she cringed when one of them started bellowing out a terrible dying-cat sort of screech.
She was bending over to put air in her tires, completely unaware of my presence. My throat clenched and heartbeat thudded powerfully in my chest. I could feel it in my ears, and it was like the world around me was in slow motion.
Lisa.
Ben’s wife.
The brims of my eyes started to burn with a fiery intensity as tears pulled and tugged with everything they had.
Ben’s widow.
I hadn’t seen her since last year when Ben and I had a cookout in their back yard. And, I honestly hated myself for it. I should have fucking gone over to her house, offered my help, done fucking something – after his death -- but I didn’t. I had my reasons, but none of them seemed to matter now as I watched her looking like death, dealing with three kids on her own.
I knew somewhere deep down that I was avoiding it; avoiding her.
Ben loved his family… more than anything in the entire world.
Even more than me – and everyone that knew him knew that was actually saying something. I never understood how someone could love another person, let alone four people, just that much. They were his everything, and he’d always wanted a family ever since the first time I’d met him.
I almost felt nauseous all of a sudden. I wanted to either pull her into a hug, tell her I was sorry for being such a piece of shit and not coming by sooner or run away… far away.
And, I hate to admit it, but I chose the latter.
I started my motorcycle and drove all the way home.
I didn’t want to deal with memories of Ben, and that sure as shit meant not dealing with his family.
*****
I couldn’t stop thinking about Sargent David Shepherd; the sexy ass Navy SEAL I’d banged, and the pain in the ass new patient that had been thrust upon me.
I had tried everything to get him out of my head, but nothing seemed to work. I’d busied myself with other clients’ folders, even vacuuming the floor for the hundredth time. None of it worked, though. I just kept going back to his file. I just kept reading about him; trying to do anything and everything to learn more. So much that I wasn’t sure if it was professional curiosity or personal…
He was well-decorated; a lot of medals, and a lot of praise from his commanding officers.
The case reports over his last tour were terrifying though. What happened was shocking; disturbing even.
The report spoke about the snipers in David’s unit being ambushed out of nowhere and his men plowed down all around him... men that included his best friend, Ben Monroe.
It was only David who came out alive, and there was a note attached stating that the case was under investigation due to conflicting testimonies that David had given them. There was also one of the victims; the only one of the men that hadn’t died on sight. Something he had said to the medic just before he died; something alarming. He said, “Shepherd took me down.”
And, no one knew what the hell that meant.
He hadn’t had time to explain. He was too busy dying, I guess.
Needless to say, he wasn’t going to be approved for another tour until I gave the green light, which explained why someone as hard ass as David Shepherd had agreed to therapy in the first place. The only question was, was it really possible that he really had become unhinged?
*****
“I’ve arrived for the healing!” I yelled as soon as I walked through the door into the open living-room style office of Dr. Thomas; or as I like to call her, that-sexy-piece-of-ass-that-drank-me-under-the-table-and-fucked-me-into-oblivion. She had fucked me on a particularly shitty night too, which in turn made my night a lot less shitty.
She smiled, and I couldn’t help but linger on her face for a moment longer than I’d intended to. She was just too beautiful to look away from. In fact, I hadn’t stopped looking at her since I’d walked in.
“Jesus, you’re gorgeous…” I would say every few minutes or so… or; at least, something along those lines.
I could tell that she was getting more and more frustrated with me as the time went on, but I didn’t care. It was too much fun fucking with her. Almost as much fun as fucking her was.
She just wanted to ask so many goddamn questions; tons of questions about what all happened that day that I lost most of my fucking unit – but I didn’t want to talk about it. So sure, maybe I was “deflecting” as she continued to say, but hell, I didn’t even want to think about what happened that day, let alone talk to her about it. I didn’t even want to talk about the days leading up to that day.
So, instead of giving in, I wanted to flirt – and make jokes. So sure, that probably was frustrating, but something told me she wasn’t as frustrated as she let on.
“Can we please be serious and talk about the issues? Let’s talk about why you think you’re here. You’re deflecting…” she said again, for probably the hundredth time. “And, you’re not dealing with all of this as well as you think you are!”
“They all think I’m crazy, Doc…” I smirked, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s why I’m here. But, the only thing that I’m crazy about is the fact that I can’t be cock-deep inside of you.”
I bit my lip and looked at her exposed legs. I wondered if she might have been showing them off to me on purpose. She threw her hands up, “That’s it!” she huffed, clearly annoyed. “Out!”
“What?” I laughed, almost feeling bad that I’d riled her up so much.
“Out!” she repeated, hopping up to her feet. She stood firmly planted, one hand on her hip, the other pointed at the door. “Go. Now!”