Its not idealA Chapter by TheShAdEPaloma Stark Is not the nicest kid on the playground and not only does she not enjoy sharing but her anger issues have led to court appointed therapy with the sinfully handsome Dr. Stevenson.“My
ideal man is just that, ideal. What’s the point of stating a misconception
that’s been drilled into me since i hit puberty? How is this pertinent to any
therapy, if I can even call this court ordered violation of privacy therapy,
which I may be receiving”?
Dr.
Stevenson stared at me intently for a moment, as if the answer to the very
existence of life lay in the depths of my mind.
“Well good luck
finding it. It’s probably with my ideal man.” I thought venomously as the doctor kept his
piercing gray gaze locked onto me.
Dr.
Stevenson was my court appointed anger management therapist who just loved
asking deep personal questions, along with the stereotypical nodding and of
course the occasional “and how do you feel about that”. He had an irritating
habit of removing his glasses and resting the tip of an end piece to his mouth
with a studious look on his face. It bugged me on so many levels that the
simple act would send me into a fury of sarcastic retorts and aggressive
posturing.
One
of the reasons I’d chosen independent
personal therapy over group sessions was because large groups of people had the
tendency to make me uneasy and, if possible, even more stressed out. Little did
I know this doctor would begin clogging on the very raw nerves I’d been having
lately.
“Group therapy’s not looking so bad right
now”. I thought sighing and leaning back into the patient “divan” the good
Dr. had so graciously all but physically forced me onto. In my opinion if it
looked like a couch, smelled like a couch and felt like a couch then it just
may be a couch. Giving it a fancy name won’t change the fact that it’s used to
cushion random stranger’s rear ends!
“Ms.
Stark” The good doctor stated, as if a very slow person was at the other end of
this conversation. “It is imperative to your court appointed therapy that you answer any questions I may ask.”
I
suppressed the urge to look around the room and make absolutely sure that I
was, indeed, the only person in this room that he could possibly be talking to.
It
was a very close call but I managed to squeeze by spitting “The key word in
that statement would be court appointed
therapist Mr. Stevenson” with as much venomous sarcasm as humanly possible.
“Yes
it is Ms. Stark. It seems we have finally reached an agreement on one point.
Now if you will …”
“HOW DARE HE!” my inner voice
shrilled. “I should crawl over there and
wipe that studious look right off of his annoyingly handsome face. After
all his little quirks and infuriating habits Dr. Stevenson’s good looks pissed
me off the most. His
overall attire was business, clean cut suit and tie but instead of being the
normal thin nerdy looking psychiatrist with thin lips and a slightly balding
head; he had broad shoulders and a muscled chest that strained against his
clothing whenever he reached for his notepad.
Not
only was he not balding but his black as night hair was rather shaggy, just
touching his shoulders, giving a nice contrast to his golden brown skin which
gave away his Native American heritage.
His
lips were sinfully plump even when he pursed them at me, which was just about
every session, and the whole package was completed with heavy dark eyebrows
draped over piercing gray eyes.
That
was not the person I expected to see when I showed up for my first therapy
session three months ago.
And
the pleasant surprise I had that very second was as pleasant as this idiotic
therapy would ever get. Now the way his chest rippled was unimpressive and
every time that sinful mouth opened to create a sound; I longed to punch him
square in the nose.
Hey,
good looks could only get you so far.
I
started counting to ten slowly in my head, well at least I tried to, until I
realized it was a method the good doctor had suggested I use and decided to
simmer quietly while images of violent acts flashed through my head.
“Ms.
Stark can you hear me?”
I
folded my arms across my chest and stared at him with a blatant look of boredom
on my face; one eyebrow lifted quizzically.
“Now
if you would Ms. Stark” he requested, adding in an encouraging gesture for
effect.
Man he pisses me off!
I should take his gesture and stick it where the sun don’t shine; actually I
would if I wasn’t sure he’d enjoy it.
I
sighed and leaned back in my chair; deciding it was better to just answer his
idiotic question rather than put up with his analysis of my refusal to
cooperate once again.
“My
ideal man would be someone who…”
I
was interrupted by the loud droning ring of the timer on Stevenson’s desk,
effectively cutting me off and ending this session.
Saved
by the bell or, the annoying buzz. Well,
I couldn’t help the mischievous grin that spread across my face, after the
initial grimace at the satanic droning of the buzzer of course.
“Well
I would love to continue this talk but regrettably” I stretched the word out and
let it drop from my lips and splash into the pool of sarcastic air that
surrounded my very being. “Our session
has ended so I will get out of your hair before I have to pay more of my hard
earned cash while you continue to drain my very lives blood.
Dr.
Stevenson smirked and chuckled quietly to himself, taking away some of my
gusto.
Man do I hate his
laugh!
I thought to myself as his low rich timber rolled over my skin making my flesh
crawl uncomfortably. I
convinced myself it was a bad feeling and backed up that assertion with a
helping of irritation.
“What’s
so funny”? I griped as he turned that piercing gaze back to mine. In
that moment there was electricity shooting between our gazes so intense that it
was almost physical.
“You’re
righ,t I’m afraid Ms. Stark.”
I raised my eyebrow quizzically as he slowly
drew in another breath.
Is he finally tired
torturing me and willing to sign my completion forms?
“Our
time is up and I’ll have to charge you extra if I answer any questions”. He said
tilting his head forward, letting his silken hair break our eye contact.
I
almost picked up his dammed divan and smacked him over the head with it but
instead the thought made me smile evilly.
“Unlike
you, I don’t voluntarily pay people to spend “time” with me doctor.”
Chapter
2
Dream a little dream of Dr. Stevenson The
drive home did nothing to quell my bad mood and honestly, I was surprised that
I hadn’t run over any pedestrians or small vehicles that were misguided enough
cross my war path. “He
thinks people don’t like me? Who the hell in their right mind would pay to see
that quack?” Uh you would and are. My very unsupportive
and unhelpful inner monologue stated. “Willingly!”
I added “Who would pay to see him willingly! Whose side are you on anyway?” I
grumbled at myself Well if you didn’t
need a psychiatrist before you sure need one now. All this talking to yourself
cant be healthy. “Shut up!” I griped. I
swerved narrowly avoiding a collision with an SUV full of teenage boys. “LEARN
HOW TO DRIVE LADY”! Lady?! How old did
they think I was! “Why
don’t you stop being sexually frustrated,
admit you have a crush on one of your buddies back there and drive him
cause you obviously can’t drive a car”! I
floored my ugly piss green 1987 Chevrolet G20 leaving the now red faced, sputtering punk in my
dust and exhausts
fumes. It
wasn’t the most lady-like car in the world but I liked the feeling of having
the Mr.T approved battle van so, I could “pity the fools” on the highway who
had to look at the awful color. My dream
was to redo the whole van in back but with the cost of my court appointed
therapy it wouldn’t be coming true any time soon. There’s another one
for the list. My
inner voice chimed in, helpfully for once.
Now calm yourself down before you get us sent back to jail for the night again! “That
was one time”! It only takes once I
huffed and whipped my head around to see a van with 3 kids and a driver in it
all staring straight at me with worried expressions. “What
are you looking at”! Luckily
for the young mother driving the light chose that moment to flash green and she
whipped around and sped off. I
took a deep calming breath and tried to center myself as I pulled into a random
parking lot of some local fast food place.
The
smell of fries cooking tantalized my nostrils as I slammed my forehead into the
black leathered steering wheel. Why are you so
agitated? I’d
never been an aggressive person in the past. I was the type of person who sat
in the back of the class her head down, who even the nerds ignored. Violence
was never the answer and the best course of action was to avoid confrontation
all together. “Quite a dramatic
change in character if I do say so myself or, to myself in this situation. Well
mom always said she wanted me to be more assertive!” Assertive not crazy! “You’re no help at
all!” I
sighed again and rubbed my temples before restarting the car. “At least this day couldn’t get any better”. I
always thought if you said a bad luck phrase backwards that the universe would
reverse and things would actually get better but, the universe must have just
enjoyed pissing me off. I
always questioned what architects and builders must have been thinking when
they designed and built roads. Do they consider what it would be like for the
people driving on said road or do they just care if its symmetrical? Well
actually it couldn’t be either of those things because if they had, there
wouldn’t have been a blind spot on the next to the parking lot exit where any
schmuck, who never should have been given a silence in the first place, could
speed through and crash into the side of my vehicle. God
help that poor schmuck when my car stopped spinning. Darkness
hovered around me like a thick, heavy, coat, suffocating me and making me gasp for the air my lungs so
desperately craved. I felt numb all over, suspended, weightless a distinct buzzing
noise invading my ears. Then
it all came back in a rush of sensation as my lungs filled and sounds of
scraping metal and a raspy voice screeching in horror and agony. It took a few
revolutions for me to realize that the voice was me. My body tossed wildly as
my seat-belt strap snapped and I was left to the mercy of the revolving hunk of
metal. One
more violent lurch and I was weightless once more but, it was different than
the numb darkness I’d felt before. The sound of rushing wheels filled my ears
and the smell of pavement and gasoline assaulted my nostrils just a moment
before my body smashed lifelessly into the ground ten feet from my demolished
van. Damn hummers! Who the
hell would wanna drive a tank daily? “People who never
want to get
more than nine miles per gallon.” That
was my last though before blessed blackness stole me away again. ---------------------------------
-------------------------------------- “What
have you gotten yourself into no Ms. Stark“? I
heard Dr. Stevenson’s usual sardonic tone inquire as I opened my eyes to stare
into a familiar grey gaze. “None
of your business you quack!” I
screamed pulling myself away from the now noticeably shirtless doctor. The
muscles on his flat, hard stomach flexed as he leaned backwards onto his knees.
Wow! Remind me why you don’t like going to therapy
again? I
caught myself staring and tried to look away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the
blush creeping up into my cheeks. “Are
you ok Ms. Stark?” I
felt his smooth baritone wash over my skin, making goose bumps appear on my
arms and legs. “Uh…
yeah, I mean yes!” I
stammered unintelligibly while looking up to see a wide grin on his face
telling me he knew exactly what effect he was having on me. Damn! I
tried to sit up but a wave of dizziness knocked me down, flat on back once
again. “Careful Mrs. Stark. Human bodies can only take so
much” I
should have asked him what he meant by “human” but, the earth spinning
clockwise below me coupled by the sky spinning counter-clockwise above me, had
my full attention. “So
the wheels have already begun turning” Dr. Stevenson said with a smile, leaning
over me slowly. “Deny those who deny destiny yet, deny those
who believe it immutable. The ripples in the river of time were made by choice
stones.” Who’s stoned? Why is
he spouting poetry when I feel like I’m going to start doing a swan dive off
the edge of the earth? I
would have voiced my complaints but all that came out of my mouth was a mumbled
sound of displeasure due to the spinning top that had somehow taken residents
in my skull. Dr.
Stevenson smirked again lowering his face to mine, our lips less than a
centimeter apart. “Time
to begin the game my queen” With
that our lips connected with a burst of blinding light and an annoying beeping
sound ringing in my ears. © 2012 TheShAdE
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Added on February 27, 2012 Last Updated on February 27, 2012 AuthorTheShAdEnunya, CAAboutHello readers! (about time I updated this) My name Is Kayla and ... *sigh* I'm a book nerd! *sob-sob* Anyway, all joking aside, I love to read , cook, sing and write. My main obsession is wit.. more..Writing
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