Its not ideal

Paloma 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.”

He chuckled again saying “I’m sure it’s not your fault no one else would accept your money. Have a nice day Ms. Stark.”

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.