Agoraphobia and Ecstasy Ch. 01-10

My eyes heavy, I drifted off to a light slumber fraught with lucid dreaming which turned to less controllable dreams, then nightmares--the ones that make you wake up screaming, covered in sweat, tears in your eyes, your heart pounding a million beats per second. It was always someone chasing me, trying to attack me from behind, trying to catch me unaware and shove a bag over my head, or tie something around my mouth so I couldn't scream.

Being the wise therapist I was, I decided that was simply because I had longer hair, and it would wrap around my face while I slept, so I tried tying it up with rubber bands, but my tossing would loose my hair while I wrestled my imaginary foes, and I'd wake to a gag around my mouth anyway. Then I decided to get my hair cut into its current fashion, a bob, but still the dreams continued--and my beautiful hair was gone for no reason.

The next few minutes were fraught with rapid eye movement and bodily sensations my mother would be horrified to know I felt while behind my eyelids images of Siphon's face looking up at me from between my thighs played out. Those crystal blue orbs drank in every inch of my skin as my hands tangled in his blond hair. The way he worked his tongue was glorious, and if it hadn't just been a dream I was certain the orgasm would have been top-notch.

This afternoon's lucid dream of the silky skin of a certain bar tender turned into the wild erotic type of dream your mother would be ashamed of if you told her. She'd have you down to the convent, signing you up to be brainwashed and molded into the perfect image of a female Christ. I loved that dream--until it morphed into my worst nightmare, the kind where you're powerless. You can't speak or run, and your enemy, or whoever it is that is scaring you, gains the advantage.

When Margret shook me awake, my arms sprouted minds for themselves and came out swinging. Luckily, Margret had awakened me before, and this time she knew to back away quickly, having already heard the story of my horrific nightmares. Of course, being the profession I am in, and the fact that Margret was my secretary, she insisted I see a therapist about my nighttime woes, but I had assured her it was a random thing that occurred very infrequently, and she needn't worry. This time she held a fresh cup of my favorite Starbuck's brew and a firm scowl.

"Kevin is waiting. He's been here for fifteen minutes in the waiting room. When he knocked on my door to ask why your previous appointment was going so long, I had him dash down to the Starbucks for this. I knew you'd done it again.... You're lucky it wasn't Lenny." Margret's rebuke was worse than my own mother, the tone, the pursed lips, her haughty "I'm better than you" body language.

"Thank you, Margret. Send him in." I sat up and took the coffee from her, searching the floor with my bare feet for the heels I'd kicked off earlier. This kid would just have to be patient with me. After all, I was the one saving his ass from going back to jail.

Margret huffed, but excused herself, leaving the door open behind herself when she left. I was on my feet cramming my heel into the back of my shoe, sipping my coffee, when Kevin walked in, a ridiculous grin stretched across his meth-scarred face. I was surprised he even had teeth left. His cloud of musky cologne preceded his entry, forcing its way past my defenses and making me gag. I had to turn away from him to hide the disgusted facial expression I knew I would never be able to hide behind my poker face. I'd asked him to not wear so much cologne on session day, but like a typical twenty-something male, he had to drown himself in the stench.

I heard the leather of the couch squeak and turned to face him, sitting my cup of coffee on the corner of my desk. His arm was extended my direction, a small baggie on his flattened palm. Inside was a blue-green powder, not the white pills I was used to. I cocked my eyebrow at him, questioning why he was offering me something that he knew I wouldn't take.

"That's not my normal stuff," I said, not even reaching toward him.

"It gives the same high, Daph."

"Dr. Fox..." I hated when he called me Daphne. Daphne was a name I reserved only for the people I wanted in my personal space, and a drug-addict delivery boy was not one of them.

"Listen... I ran out of the E. I will have more next week, but for now this stuff is good. It gives you the same high as the Molly, but without some of those bad side effects."

"What new side effects will it have that I'm not prepared for?"

Kevin had never offered me anything but my normal score, and looking down at his face, I wasn't entirely sure whether I should trust him. After a scare with a cocaine-Molly mix-up in a deal gone wrong across town, the buyer thereof being found dead of overdose, I was too careful to simply try something new without knowing the effects it would have. I had no interest in a bath-salts-like episode where I chewed my arm off or attacked a random stranger calling in the zombie apocalypse or the rapture--yes, those things really did happen.

"I know you don't trust me, but I'm telling you, you will have the same exactly high, except maybe you'll remember stuff." Kevin tossed the baggie on my desk and sat back, crossing one leg over the other and shrugging his shoulders. "You get the shit for free. Why are you complaining?"

"Because I'm the one keeping you out of jail, and I expect better service. You know I could ruin you with one phone call?"

Nervous, I picked up the baggie and held it to the light. The blue-green crystals glistened and shimmered, the way sand in an hourglass does, reflecting every hint of light. The individual grains of what looked like salt were much larger than salt; if I tried I could easily count them all. And I found it strange that some of them were blue, while some were green, and others still were clear.

"You don't want it? Fine. But it will be another week before I can get you E. You want me to take it and go?"

"What is it?"

"It's just like E--works the same, just without the memory fog...something new."

"Do you have any ecstasy left? Any at all?" I knew I did. I had probably three doses left, enough to last me at least three weeks if I only had weekend adventures, but with the added stress of the disappearances, I didn't think I wanted to wait until the weekend for my particular brand of stress relief. Besides, I was really hoping to score a little action tonight at the club.

"I have no more Molly. I'm telling you it's as good as the other stuff." Keven ran his tongue across his perfectly straight teeth, stopping to really work at one of his canines before puckering up and making lip-smacking sounds. "You really are too picky for someone who gets their shit for free."

"Fine, I'll try it. But next time I want my normal, got it?" I scowled at him, uncertain how to even use the powdered substance instead of pills. "How does this shit work?"

"You just take a pinch or two, sprinkle it like fairy dust into your drink, and sip away. Kicks in faster and hits harder than E, but I promise the high is the same."

Kevin shifted on the couch and eyed me. The blue-green crystals looked like powdered laundry detergent, and I felt a little wary, but I knew he would deliver. He hadn't done me wrong so far, and after I'd found that initial baggie of pills during one of his earliest sessions and called him on it the next, he and I had a trusting relationship.

I didn't tell anyone about his drug running, and he gave me the free E to stay quiet. Now, how the sudden resurgence of my college addiction reached up from the grave and pulled me back was another story. I prided myself on my professionalism in my office, but I'll be damned if I didn't fall into the same trap I had in college by trying the Molly when I knew exactly what it would do to me--help me forget the pain of my sister's death.

Kevin kept my secret, and I kept his, and that was the way it was. If he said a word, I would end the sessions, and he'd have to get a therapist that would make him walk the line, and if I ratted him out, he'd tell everyone he hooked the big doctor on his score and my career would be over.

I slipped the baggie into my computer bag and started packing up, switching my therapist brain off and readying myself to head out for the day. I didn't even plan to stop at home and change, and with it being my last appointment of the day, I knew Margret had already gone home, locking the front on her way out, which meant I could send Kevin packing and be on my way, slipping out the patient exit and ending my day on a high note. I was certain Kevin had no intention of actually allowing therapy to help him, and there was no point wasting my time or his.

"How many more sessions I got now anyway, doc?"

I picked up my computer bag, slid my phone inside and shouldered my purse before turning to face him as he stood. Mentally I counted the number of sessions we'd had based on the number of times he'd given me molly and the men I'd slept with, and then I did a bit of quick math in my head.

"Thirteen sessions. I think we should space them out now, only once every other week."

"So you can extend the amount of time you get free score, huh?"

So I had an ulterior motive, but it was the way therapy usually went anyway, and I also needed to convince the courts that I was doing my job the right way. Trying to build a practice was extremely difficult and taking court-ordered cases like Kenji and Kevin had been a last resort, getting paid by the state instead of having true paying clients, though Kenji had only a few sessions left. Most of the other counselors in the area refused the cases because they found them degrading to their practices, but I took them on, bound and determined to prove my worth to a bunch of men who, in this day and age, had patriarchal egos to nurse. Here I was though, firmly established and making my own way.

"Because if I do it wrong, you're going back to jail and my practice gets a slight. I have enough 'score' to last me two weeks; just make sure you get the molly for next time."

I strode to the door and pulled it open, standing aside as Kevin passed by me and stepped into the outer chamber and then into the hall, opening the second door on his own. He had a smirky grin on his face as if he were about to say something, but he only huffed a laugh and then waved his hand at me before disappearing down the hall and around the corner. With one last glance around my office I shut the door behind me, making sure to check that it was locked.

Glancing at the clock on the lobby wall above the information center as I passed through, I realized it was far too early to head to Déjà Vu. Siphon would be done with the lunch mess and be prepping for the dinner and evening crowd, and based on previous experience, I knew him to be a bit irritable after a busy lunch, and being that it was Thursday, I figured it probably had been a busy day. Besides, the heels I was wearing were a bit uncomfortable, so I decided to head home first, get changed into something more comfortable and then head to the club. Maybe tonight would be my lucky night and I'd find a Romeo.