Agoraphobia and Ecstasy Ch. 11-20

"What the fuck!" I pushed at him, but he was like a dead weight, crushing my entire body into the concrete. "Kenji!"

"Is it gone?" he panted, lifting his head and jerking around.

"Is what gone!"

"The squirrel. The goddamn rodent! I've been trying to catch it for days now."

"Get off of me!" I was so angry I could have punched him. Not only had he accused my only friend in the world of some really heinous things, but he was lying on top of me, and if I wasn't mistaken there was either something in his pants or he was really happy to see me. Suddenly a flashback of his retelling of what happened in the park with the woman came hurtling back into my head, and I swallowed the cuss word that wanted to leap out of my throat. As his counselor I could do no harm to him, and thus I was in a very messy situation.

Kenji slowly pushed himself off me and stood, offering me a hand, which I took. I stood and recoiled as I pulled my fingers from his grasp, not even looking at his face, and dusted my jeans off before scowling at him as he handed me my purse. I could see sorrow in his eyes but also fear, and then watched as he backed into the doorway of the house and gazed up at the sky. How could I be mad at him? I had been the one who had completely freaked out at the shoddy evidence he'd collected, doubting my own instincts when it came to Siphon.

Huffing, I brushed past him and heard him locking the back door as I breezed down the hallway back into his office area. "I have to go, Kenji. I know you think I'm in danger, but if I really am in danger, I need to handle it my way. I am going to the bar now. I will speak to Siphon about this and get to the bottom of it."

"Daphne, please... Wait. I'm sorry...the squirrel... I thought--"

"Goodbye, Kenji."

Wrestling with the deadbolts, I grew frustrated and pounded my fist into the wood, but Kenji came and unlocked the door, and without another word I jogged across his tiny front lawn to my car, happy to be out of his house of horrors.

A squirrel? Ugh.

I was never more happy to see the neon lights of the Déjà Vu club as I pulled into the parking lot and put my car in park. It appeared as if mostly the regular crowd was in, only a few cars there, most of them recognizable. I wasn't really there for a score though. I needed answers and I needed someone to talk to and since Siphon was the man of the hour, Déjà Vu was the place to be.

The lights inside were up a bit higher than normal, Siphon and his partner both standing behind the bar serving drinks and laughing. I stumbled in without my purse or phone, having left them in the car because I had no interest in the repeated phone calls I had been getting from Kenji since the moment I'd left his house. All eyes turned toward me as I strolled to the bar and slumped onto a stool.

"I'll have what she's having!" one of the regulars bellowed out, his drunken words slurred together into nonsense, and it brought a round of chuckles from his peon friends.

"Hey, mind your business." Siphon was always quick to my defense, and always had a kind word for me. It was one of the reasons I knew he was not involved in this strange business Kenji was investigating, and besides, Kenji was not a real detective.

"Thanks." I folded my arms across the bar and dropped my head on them, burying my face and hiding from the idiots who populated the club. Thoughts came so fast and there were so many of them, I didn't know where to start, and I didn't think here in front of the customers, with Siphon's partner standing watch, was the best place to discuss the findings. I felt a hand on my back and didn't flinch, or even move for that matter, knowing it was Siphon, knowing he was trying to comfort me.

"Need to talk?"

Of course I needed to talk, but I needed a drink too--or a bottle. I sat up nodding and turned when he wasn't in front of me, finding him standing behind me, so close I could smell his aftershave. He looked concerned like Kenji had, only his eyes didn't say "There's a maniac after you." They said, "I really care and how can I help?" Those eyes would never lie to me, never hurt me.

"Yes. Please, but not here."

Siphon glanced up at Will and raised his eyebrows, then looked back at my face, a warm smile stretching out to greet me. He hooked his hand under my elbow as I slid off the stool and escorted me out the back entrance and into the night air. We didn't say a word until we were safely tucked away inside his bachelor pad, which I again expected to be a smelly, messy wreck, but was again pleasantly surprised. Nothing was out of place.

"Sit, I'll get us a drink." He motioned toward the sofa bed, which was pulled out, but made up, and I shuffled that direction.

"Okay, but I don't want beer. Make mine a double, and you know what I like."

The mattress on the pull-out bed was not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be when I sat on the corner. It was almost as if he'd purchased a normal mattress and laid it across the frame of the pull out. I found it begging me to crawl up on it and curl up into a ball, and I couldn't refuse its request. My shoes dropped to the floor as I kicked them off, and I balled up on the left side of the bed.

Siphon returned with the drinks, sitting mine on the coffee table at the foot of the bed and stretching out in a sexy pose, propped up on one elbow, looking down at me. His face was calm, and he sipped his beer without any words. That alone was worth its weight in gold, a friend who didn't pressure you to speak when you were feeling down. I watched him finish one beer, then get another and return to my side again. He was on his third beer before I finally found words.

"So there's this patient of mine who is a reporter. His name is Kenji Yakamura. He works for the Tribune..." Words tumbled from my mouth like water over Niagara Falls, gushing faster than a whitewater rapids, with more pressure than a fire hose, and I couldn't stop a single one.

I told Siphon everything. I told him about my drug problem. I told him about drinking and blacking out. I told him how I used sex to cope with everything. The disappearances, Henry Watts, my fears--everything from the past few months just exploded out of me in a mix of tears and snot.

I finished the drink he had poured for me, and then he poured another. I even took a bathroom break and blew my nose on his hand towel--toilet paper in bachelor pads is ridiculous. Then when I felt like I had nothing left inside of me to spill, I spilled more guts all over his blue patterned bedspread and used his shirt as a snot rag. Mira, Nanette, Victor, my assault, everything, it all came out. And when I was finished, I found myself lying in his arms sobbing into his strong chest, which was now bare because of how much snot I had gotten on the shoulder of his flannel shirt.

He held me so tenderly, with the utmost respect. He listened quietly, never interjecting his opinion or emotion into my chaos--the way a trained counselor would. He didn't flinch when I told him I'd murdered Victor and been acquitted for the crime, found innocent by reason of self-defense. He had even wiped the tears from my face with his thumb more than once. His heart was calm, but he was anything but. I could feel his muscles tense beneath his skin, as if he would run to the battle and destroy my enemy if given the chance to do so.

"So this is why you don't do relationships?" he asked, when the silence became almost unbearable and I thought I might have to apologize for being a blubbering mess. It made me laugh, and I pulled away just far enough to look up into his sparkling blue eyes and smile at him through the tears that were still streaming out of my eyes.

I was taken aback when he leaned forward, pressing his lips against my forehead. Most men would have sensed my vulnerability and tried for the score, the lips, an ear nibble, groping, pressuring.

Not Siphon.

I relaxed into his arms and decided I felt safe there. It was I who broke the awkward tension between us. I looked up at him, stoic and collected. There was no glimmer of desire in his eyes, only compassion and love. The same lips that had said the words "I don't do relationships" for the past seven years to this sweet man brushed across his. A thank you for being so perfect to me this evening. Our faces hovered millimeters apart, close enough I could sense the heat from his body on my skin, but far enough it felt like the Grand Canyon stretched between us.

"Daph?" he whispered, breath caressing my cheek. I hadn't had sober sex with someone in I didn't even remember how long, but I wanted nothing more than to remember every second of this the rest of my life.

"I don't do relationships..." The words slipped out of my mouth as my hand betrayed me, trembling and reaching for his chiseled cheekbone. Our eyes locked and he shifted, pulling my body into alignment with his. I expected to feel a hard bulge but Siphon's heart was purer than I gave him credit for. He really had been thinking only of comforting me.

"Then we won't have a relationship. We'll have each other." He breathed slowly, calculated breaths. His eyes darted back and forth.

My heart pounded in my chest. The alcohol lowered my inhibitions but didn't threaten to make me forget. I wanted this like I wanted freedom from every horrible memory that tormented me day and night. I wanted to feel his hands on me and know I was loved. I used ecstasy to make sure I could get my release without Victor's fingers prying into my soul and tearing my heart out through my vagina.

"I don't want to be a fix, Daph. I play for keeps. This isn't a one-night stand." His fingers curled my hair around my ear. I had no way of telling him how different this was than any other sexual experience I'd had. For a moment I panicked, thinking he would reject me. That maybe I'd said too much. That maybe he'd finally learned who I really was and no longer wanted me the way he had before. The way he begged me to be with him.

I was ready to climb off that bed and leave when he kissed me. His lips parted and his tongue danced with mine, twirling and tangling up until both of us were breathless. His hands found every inch of my body and touched it, peeling my clothing off and freeing me from the fabric prison. He was hot and strong; I'd never allowed myself to feel this before--skin on mine in such an intimate way with no drug as a buffer.

I tore at his flesh, clawing at his hair when he dipped below the belt and drew screams from my mouth that would make a sailor blush. And when our bodies joined it was like he was made for me. I found myself weeping from the intensity of the orgasm the second time, and he paused to make sure I was okay as I begged him to never stop fucking me.

Yes, Paolo was incredible and give me Sandals Jamaica any day of the week, but this... This was perfection. Siphon's sex drained from my body as I let the weight of post-orgasmic relaxation melt me into a puddle on his bed. He poured another drink and I downed it, then lay in his arms. I never wanted to leave that place, his apartment, his bed, his arms. I was safe, for the first time since the night Victor attacked me, I was safe.