BYRONIC HERO

“I think we’re good.” Zoey said.

She said this as we hide behind a garbage dumpster. Zoey does not want to have any kind of ordeal with the cops whatsoever. Making TMZ is something that she has always dreaded. We high tailed it out of there quicker than the road runner when he notices a bad idea from Wile E Coyote.

Getting out from behind the dumpster, Zoey dusts herself off as though she has done this many times before. It is difficult to say whether or not she has a point or if she is going overboard. It is the lifestyle of the well off and semi famous. Cannot say that it looks too nice.

“Was there a purpose to this?” I asked.

“Yeah, not to be associated with your arrest.”

“He had had it coming.”

“Which does not fly in a court of law.”

“I could plea that I felt that you were in danger!”

“Look, I can’t have my name tied with nonsensical events.”

“…You consider that to be nonsensical?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Then I wonder just what does she mean? After that, a big part of that was for her. Undoubtedly my “id” needed to be pleased. But still, I am a man who was in more than essence, fighting for her honor. A man doing something for a woman who does not seem to care. Unfortunately, this is the more than common case among men around my age. Hell, for men well beyond my age.

“It sure sounded as though you’re trying to say what I did served no purpose.”

“I’m just not into fighting okay?”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

“There isn’t anything that you can say. I think that I just need to go home and decompress.”

“Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, whatever. Have a good night.”

Turning my back on Zoey I leave her in the alley. A very gentlemanly thing to do, I know. There is only so much that I can take. I have gone out with her twice and both times in one shape or form involved me getting hurt and the authorities. Ms. Excitement might as well be her nickname.

Back at my apartment, I slam myself into my bed, The sense of the disappointment feels all too familiar to me. Deep down, I have always felt that I am here for the happiness of my patients and my patients only. When I was younger, I use to wonder “what if I were a bird?” I would fly away from this life.

My eye lids grow heavy as the doorbell rings. Sort of knowing who would be at the door, I arise, put on my snoopy slippers and made my way to the door. Opening it, sure enough, the person on the other side reveals herself to be one Doctor Zoey Lagasse. She looks as though the alcohol has cleared out of her system.

“Hey.”

“What it do?”

“Can I come in?”

“To further scold me?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Been a while since my mommy has scolded me like that.”

“You still call your mother that?”

“Only when it’s not her.”

Smirking, Zoey stands there, waiting for my formal invitation of her to be allowed into my home. What disturbs me about Zoey is how she knows exactly what she is doing. The block has tire marks

from her Mustang that have been burned into the asphalt for years. Yet, she still decides to participate in these games. Perhaps it cannot be helped.

Waving her in, she steps lively into my living room. Looking around, obviously trying to size me up. I am sure that my living quarters are nowhere near the multi-millionaire playboys that she is used to hanging out with. Hell, my apartment is smaller than the living room of that mansion from Saturday night.

“Want anything to drink?”

“What do you got?”

“Jack Daniels, Sake, Merlot, Orange Juice and beer.”

“I’ll take the orange juice with a splash of sake.”

“Sounds good.”

I begin to prepare her drink as Zoey starts to relax. It is nicer than I thought it would be to see her let her guard down. I was starting to doubt that she has the capacity to let herself go. Everything, so welled oiled within the machine that is her mind. Controlled chaos at its finest.

“You have any music?” Zoey asked.

“I’ll see what I got.”

I go up to search though Pandora on my P.C. I have the loosen yourself up channel that I created on. Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb comes on. As the guitar licks went off, Zoey transforms in front of me. She must have “experimented” with the same chemicals that Roger Waters and David Gilmour took part in.

“Ahh!” Zoey let out. “I love this song!”

“It’s a classic.”

“Why are you sitting so far away from me?”

“I’m just chilling is all.”

“Chilling?” She asked back as she came closer to me, ending up on my lap.

“How about we chill together?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“You know, you’re a sensitive one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m sitting on your lap staring into your eyes and you’re having an attitude with me.”

“Excuse me for not being overly swayed by my carnal desires.”

“Are you ever?”

“When the vibe is right.”

A lush sweetness is felt as Zoey’s lips land on mine. It feels as though all of her passion is being vacuumed out of her and shoved down into me. As she begins to further assert herself onto me, it is hard to resist not getting lost in her beauty. Zoey is an animal that when seen the wild, you are unable but desire to share in the view.

Ever so slightly pulling back, Zoey stares deeper into my eyes, each trace of her pupils furthering deepening her trance. By all accounts, I am a prideful man. I rather not sleep with a woman than feel a sense a shame because of her. Yet, here is Zoey, forcing me to not adhere to those boundaries.

“What’s your favorite word?”

“Does it have to be in the English dictionary?”

“No. Why?”

“Because mine is Kokoro.”

“Is that Japanese?”

“Yup?”

“What does that mean?”

“Heart. But, unlike our lazy Western asses, they have two words for heart. Kokoro means the heart when it comes to love.”

“Hmmm. Smooth Criminal.”

“Just thought that it would be something that you’d like to know.”

“It’s interesting. Random. But interesting.”

“It’s something that you can talk about at parties.”

“What party would that exactly be?”

“Any one that’s worth it’s shit.”

“Yeah, because the Japanese language is such a hot conversation topic it.”

“We’re still talking about now, aren’t we?”

Her lips move and then retreat. Got her there. Learning more about her, I can see that there has yet to be a dull moment with Zoey. For better or for worse, she has provided different shades of entertainment in my life. She has taken my mind of the impending pressure of my new position. She is on the path of becoming a friendly distraction.

Looking into her eyes, her beauty truly strikes me. Mesmerized, I thank while subtly cursing the gods for putting me in this situation. I have always been the better safe than sorry type. So far, so good. I have not had a huge fuck up in life. While Zoey’s career is impressive, signs of the danger lurked just around the river bend.

Had to be why she was so damn alluring.

Freeing myself, I go in and begin to kiss her. Her lips, pressing back on mine. The chemistry, electric. I stop giving a fuck about whatever mental roadblock that have been consuming me in regard to her and I fully give into the present moment.

Not wanting to get too crazy in my living room, I lift Zoey up into my arms, throwing her onto my bed. The giggles that come out of her mouth resemble those of a cheerleader. I can envision the outfit and all. Her body, spread open like a butterfly and I, defenseless to any reason.

“Are you not getting lonely up there?” She ever so seductively asked.

Right then and there I jump on her. Like a tiger pouncing on his prey. I go for her neck. Fearing that I would let myself go just a bit too much, I make sure not to nibble into her. Instead, I suck on her neck, my tongue, swaying back and forth. When I glance at her, there is a smile on her face as her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Making my way down to her pants, I am not one who is into eating out a woman. Very much a traditionalist. However, there is nothing more that I want to do to her right now. I take off her pants, admire the green thong, slide it off and begin to kiss her pussy. Her satisfaction is quite obvious.

“Please…please…please just fuck me!”

No need to say that twice. Zoey’s face is filled with a mixture of freedom and ecstasy wrapped up all into one. Her edge, being tore away as I penetrate her. Her pussy is pretty. By that I meant that the hair was a good amount, it smells reasonable and there is still a level of tightness.

Unlike my other sexual experiences, I begin to lose myself in a deeper way. It is though I am morphing with Zoey’s body, becoming one. It is a great deal similar to what Kundalini sex has been described to be. What it feels like is a loss of ego. Thoughts are gone, feelings have melded, and any prior held beliefs about sex have gone to the wayside.

Zoey is very submissive. Maybe this should not be too surprising. I guess I have this fantasy of her public and professional persona merging into one in the bedroom. That her type A personality would manifest during sex. Part of that is my fetish to be sexually dominated at different points during sex alerting me that it is about that time. But with Zoey, she simply lays there, receptive to my every

whim. Wanting to be taken for whatever ride that is in store.

“Get on top of me.” I commanded her.

“Wha..?”

“Trust me, get on top of me.”

Flipping myself off her, Zoey climbs on top of my body. She looks at me for instructions as I motion my eyes to my penis. The message is received as she takes my cock and shoves it back into her clit. The sensation of the rush, filling me. She then positions herself on top of me, looking right now at me. She smiles before taking my nipples, squeezing them. The pressure, igniting my heart.

She progresses her rocking on my cock at a good rate and begins to slap me across the face here and there. I am impressed, though I suppose this should not come as a surprise. Zoey is well informed about the psychology of sex. Me telling her to get on top of me and making her take control was a clear enough signal for her to know what to do. While it is fun the be the dominant one in

bed, I always get jealous when I am on top of a woman. They always seem to be enjoying themselves while I am putting the work in, wanting to please them. That feeling of being pleased was just, so nice. In a lot of ways, this meeting of our libidos has become a therapy session.

Beginning to buck a bit, I further begin to relax. The paradox about this is that while she is the one who is dominating me, in all actuality I am the one who is calling the shots. You might call this selfish as I am clearly gaining more pleasure than her than her. Though, from my vantage point she appears like she has well gotten into the swing of things. Regardless, I am not thinking about her orgasm, though of course that is a guarantee. I am only concerned with my bodily functions. Her joy is simply a byproduct of mine.

The urge to cum comes over me and it has just dawned of me that I went right into Zoey without any kind of protection. She is clean so I don’t have to worry about that. Yet, I would like to get to know her better before she becomes the mother of my child.

“I’m going to cum.” I managed to blurt out, fearing that my pre cum had already seeped in.

“Want to cum in my mouth?”

“You do that?”

“Not the first time around.”

Zoey gets up and crouches right across my manhood. The look that she gives me can only be described as devilish mixed in with girls gone wild. She then proceeds to give me the best hand job that I have ever had. Nearly approaching a pornographic level. Her gentle massage and the while acting with vigor until the very end leaves me with a feeling of completion that is on top of the usual loss of self. But the normal sense of regret is not there. There is nothing to regret. She nestles in right on top of me as I lay there, right in between that space of life and death. Just as I like it.

“You feel happy.” Zoey stated. I simply threw a smirk at her.

Putting my arm around her, I snuggle with her tight as we fall asleep. I hate sleeping with other people after sex. I always just wanted the other person to leave. There was never enough room for two people who were not that well acquainted with each other’s bodies. What is funny is with Zoey, I want to have her body lay to rest on my chest. The warmth that is emitting from her body resembling remnants of love.

It is morning time and when my eyes open, Zoey is no longer there. I turn to my nightstand and sure enough there is a note. It reads “Fun time last time. Just like I thought, you’re a freak. Love it. Xoxoxoxoxo.” I think that is rather sweet of her.

“I don’t even know how to feel about her anymore.” Bill Davis, a 44-year-old man who is a patient that I knew was going to cause growth with me. His wife is a 39-year-old woman who is still a bombshell. 5’6, blonde, wears Prada, minimal make up and was the one than runs all the big events at the private school that their two daughters attended. The problem is that he could not trust his wife. And for good reason. He recently found out that his wife was cheating on him. Worst of all, it was when his eldest daughter and his wife, Beverly, were arguing. Tiffany was the one that put her on blast.

“This is all just too much.” Bill continued.

“I understand.” I said, knowingly giving the stock answer. The way that we do things around here is interesting. At most places I would not be paired with Bill. I am 26 and have only lived with one woman. I have had five serious relationships and too many comings and partings that have taken place in my life. But I have never had a family. I still do not have one. I feel as though I a,m going to have to give him my theories on why most relationships are destined to fail. The problem is that he’s paying far too much for that.

“Do you still love her?”

“Of course I do.”

“The problem is that she makes you feel like you are not one enough. Each time she omits the truth or blatantly lies it affirms for you that you are not enough for her. And that has clearly seeped into your being. And therein lies your problem. A lack of being consciousness.”

“Being consciousness?”

“There is being consciousness and lack consciousness. Your psychological, physical, but most importantly, emotional attachment to your wife stems a lack consciousness. You are judging the situation, creating meaning from this.”

“And how would I not?”

“Sounds hard, I know. But, when you can sit back and not attach to something in your life, be it this or anything really, then you are projected into being consciousness. When you are operating from a state of pure being, nothing can hurt you.”

“Pardon me if I sound like a skeptic, but how is that going to help me with not knowing whether I should leave my wife or not?”

There is the problem. I am only able to give the deeper perspective of the situation. In essence, the truth of the matter. It is just that 99.99% of people are not psychologically or emotionally ready to grasp that. It will just go over their heads like it did just now with Bill.

A little later our session ended. I sit outside on the side of the building, eating a sandwich. I am enjoying a roast beef sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, mustard and ranch. I always enjoy these moments where I can sit and be truly alone. Not that I do not feel alone with others as that is more often than not. The best way to put it is that others tended to drain all of my empathic energy and I

need to be alone just to feel at peace.

“Doctor Anders?” A voice that sounded way to familiar called out.

“Who is that?”

“It’s me.” That me was Robin. Peace officially destroyed.

“Hey, just passing through?”

“Yeah, when I started to swing by this dispensary on my visits and they got fairly good weed. Good deals too.”

“That sounds great.”

“Do you smoke weed?”

“Socially.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I only smoke with other people.”

“I know what that means. I just think it’s stupid. You don’t enjoy a toke before?”

“No, not really.”

“Then you’re missing out.”

“Then I will have to take your word for it.”

Robin pauses and looks at me in a weird way. Like I am a piece of meat. That apex predator vibe within Robin is ever present. If she is willing to slip into that with me, I can only imagine what she was like with her peers. It has to be a form of defense. She is plenty attractive enough to date men her age who were not comprised. Her reasoning to choose me is starting to feel like a bad romance

novel.

“Want to get a beer?” Robin asked, as if there was any context to it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“How long are you free?”

“That isn’t the issue. I don’t want to drink with you.”

“If you’re afraid of being seen in public we don’t have to go to a bar.”

“Look, I just can’t okay?”

“Just one beer. We can go over to that closed down Mexican restaurant. It’s in the cut. No one will bother us there.”

Robin’s eyes begin to shine, slightly disturbing me. It is almost is feeling like she is attempting to get me drunk. Afterwards, who knows what she will do with me. She can tie me up in my apartment hard candy style. And the way that I have been entertaining her advancements, I would for sure deserve that treatment.

“You’ve mentioned in our sessions that you have a boyfriend. Why not have a drink with him?”

“He’s at work.”

“So am I.”

“Come on doc! Don’t be a party pooper!”

Here Robin is, applying pressure, peer style on me. Having one beer with her offsite and where no one can see us wouldn’t be too bad. If anyone does see us, they would just see two twenty something year olds hanging out. The risks really is not that bad.

Fuck it.

We go to that spot. The restaurant used to be called my uncle Alberto’s. Never went there. There are some signs of construction that is taking place, but no workers in sight. Two benches sit there as we occupied one. We have stopped by the liquor store where we bought two dogfish I.P.As and a blunt wrap. The weed comes as a surprise to me. Robin, clearly a pothead as she is

still hitting her vape pen as she rolls the blunt.

“Kinda want a cigarette.” Robin said.”

“You do realize that I’m going to have to address all of this during on next session right?”

“Why not now?”

“Because I don’t work for free.”

“Guess you caught on.”

“I wasn’t really expecting to smoke weed…”

“Oh relax, so what if you’re slightly buzzed when you’re seeing your next patient.

They won’t even care.”

“Their bank statement would say otherwise.”

“Everyone has problems right?”

Passing the blunt to me, I take it from Robin’s hand after she sparks it up. Before I get a puff in, she brings her beer bottle to me, ready for cheers. I raise mine to hers as we knock our bottles into one another’s. I then take the hit and feel the wonderful rush that getting cross with a blunt entails. It is well rolled, tight enough to get a nice cherry, loose enough to receive a good bit of smoke.

I then cough right after the first hit. Robin seems like she cannot hold back and laugh as she goes into a fit of it. Gathering myself up I notice two guys walk up. At first, I suspect that it is security. But these guys have ripped jeans, bike style jackets and tattoos. They appear to be wannabe burnouts.

“Can I help you?” I asked, though I’m not so sure how intimidating I sounded as I am already high.”

“Where did you get the weed from?” One of the burnouts, this one had long rock stock like hair, inquired.

“It’s called a dispensary.” Robin bitingly answered.

“Hey, be nice.” The other burnout out, a somewhat skinhead looking fellow said.

“What is it that you two are looking for?” I asked, just wanting this to be over.

“The blunt.” The long-haired burnout said. “Give it to me.”

“Can’t do that, I’m smoking it.”

“Don’t be a hero doc!” Robin said.

“Doc?” The skinhead lookalike asked. “You smoke and drink with your patients?

Must be fun.”

“Nice meeting you guys.”

“I don’t get why you’re getting all feisty.” The long-haired burnout said, sliding a knife out of his pocket.

“Not feisty at all.” I said. “Can’t you see that I’m getting baked?”

“Okay, enough of this.” The skinhead lookalike said, coming towards me.

Before Robin can even freak out, I block the skinhead look a like’s lousy lunge, grabbing the knife from him, knocking him to the ground. The long-haired burnout at first gives me a look of shock. It is as though he is reconsidering his life and all of the decisions that have brought him up to this point.

Putting that behind him, he lunges at me like an idiot. And like an idiot, he runs into my fist. Knocking himself out cold, laying right next to his best friend. In the span of five minutes we go from smoking a blunt, not even enjoying a sip of our beers, to me knocking out two losers. Grabbing my beer, I catch Robin’s face. Her expression is that of shock and someone who is thoroughly impressed. Sexually excitement is a given.

“Sorry about that.” I told Robin. I didn’t mean for all of this to happen.

“I knew that you were something.” Robin commented. But I didn’t know to what extent.”

“What do you mean?”

“How were you able to do that? I’ve never heard of any shrink that could do that. Unless you moonlight as a UFC fighter.”

“Please, don’t put any ideas into my head. And we’ve got to get out of here.

Now”

Robin crouches down and picks up the blunt that has hardly been smoked. It is still burning, like a candle at night. She takes it and brings it towards me. Her smile, big, yet genuine.

“You still have another hit left.”

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