Unorthodox Therapy Read online

  For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. It was as if the soft white cylinder was laughing at me when I slid the butt in my mouth.

  Did you really think you could live without us? Don't even bother!

  Screaming at people? Being a bitch? These were just the normal effects of abstinence. The moment I started fantasizing about my cigarettes talking to me, I knew I was screwed. “Just fucking do it!”I hissed at myself and flicked my thumb across the lighter's wheel... and the damned thing simply cracked, as if imitating the hissing sound escaping my lips.

  “No, no, no, no!” My frustration hit its peak as I nearly ripped my skin in an attempt to make the lighter work. The white noise in my skull got even louder. Every movement got more difficult due to the copious amount of sweat making my hands slick and wet. “Just fucking work, you miserable fucking worthless piece of...”

  The next level of madness would be to hurl the useless device down to the street without a care for the consequences. Instead, it slipped through my fingers and onto the iron grid floor. Don't you dare start crying now!

  It was that moment when a beautiful strong flame emerged before my bloodshot gaze. The gates of heaven opened for me, and I would have wept with relief if I hadn't been so busy taking advantage of the working lighter. My mind didn't even register the person who handed it to me. It could have been Satan himself, or an angel of mercy. Either way, my journey to insanity was postponed.

  Someone would say I exaggerated, but I nearly had an orgasm the moment the cigarette found its way back into my mouth and I wrapped my lips around it. The thick, delicious smoke ran across my taste buds and hurried to fill my tormented lungs. Suddenly, the world shifted back into place. After a few more tugs of the blissful nicotine, I regained the ability to hear without constant white noise.

  Why had I been so worked up anyway? It was just a meeting with a client I'd been buttering up for a while. They were disappointed with the services of their previous IT company and desperate for a change in their image. The software engineers I was recruiting were nothing short of the cream of the crop. I was confident in the high level of product we developed after many gruesome months of quality assurance. There were some spare clothes in my office. I'd change my shirt and reapply my makeup in less than half an hour, leaving me enough time to put the final touches on the presentation.

  Life was beautiful once again.

  The pleasure of smoking, after being deprived of my first lust and love for so long, was so intense I completely ignored the mysterious benefactor. His laughter interrupted my post-orgasmic moment. When I raised my head, I was faced with a pair of amused green eyes.

  “Who would have thought a lady like you had such a potty mouth, boss?” He was spinning the shiny, smooth Zippo between his fingers with a sly grin. His playful comment made me smile nervously.

  “Was I so easy to hear?” I leaned against the railing and let out a puff of smoke. Now I could appreciate the warmth of the sun on my back. Thomas Jett was still flicking the lighter with his gaze fixed on my face. Any other time, I'd have demanded he quit staring but the nicotine happiness still had its effect on me.

  “Your voice was never easy to ignore, Lina.” He cocked his head to one side and smoothed his black hair back. The sunbeams reflected in his rimless glasses and I had to narrow my eyes to get a good look at him. “But it's really cute when someone as prim and proper as you bursts out in expletives.”

  Somehow, he always succeeded in making me laugh genuinely. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and probably messed my make up even further.

  “I think this must be the first time anyone has called me 'proper' in my entire life.”

  Thomas raised his eyebrow and continued playing with the lighter.

  “I haven't seen any evidence of impropriety in your behavior so far, boss. You've been nothing but straight-laced, save for your nasty habit. I've been trying to get you to get drunk and act silly at every Christmas party, but you’ve never been more than a little tipsy.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and inhaled some of the smoke deep into my lungs.

  “Dream on, brat.” Thomas hated the nickname I’d picked for him shortly after hiring him seven years before. It was probably just my imagination but I was sure his gaze darkened with a dangerous gleam whenever I teased him with it. “I'm the only one in this company who can hold their liquor.”

  “Damned shame.” He kept on watching me with curiosity as if trying to pick my brain apart. “I'd really like to observe your behavior without any masks or pretenses. It'd make a compelling case.”

  From the moment I’d left my hometown for college, plenty of my friends and professional contacts had consisted of programmers and IT specialists, but Thomas was, without a doubt, the most unusual developer I'd ever known. My employees were magicians at their jobs. They wouldn’t have been working for me otherwise. They lived and breathed for the perfect code and usually got along better with computers than people. It was probably some terrible movie cliché but true nevertheless.

  Don't get me wrong. Thomas had the same zest for his profession, but his interests went beyond the ones and zeroes. He was just as fascinated with the software of the human brain and psychology. It was one of the reasons I’d valued him so much when he was my personal assistant. Thomas synced with me to the point where he could predict all my reactions. It was a great relief to have somebody in my entourage with whom I didn't have to waste too many words. He simply understood me. Still, at times his ability to peek into my thoughts was scary.

  Once I told him he should have become a psychiatrist. He replied, with a goofy smile, that he was too much of a deviant and wouldn't be able to resist seducing his attractive female patients.

  “Maybe you should channel your energy into more meaningful projects than trying to make me embarrass myself.” I looked down to his lighter and something clicked in my brain. “Hey, wait a minute. How long have you been smoking?”

  “Oh, this old thing?” He flipped the lighter in the air and it landed on his open palm. “I keep it around just in case. You know, for the ladies.” His smooth operator wink was more ridiculous than sexy. “You're not the only smoker on the floor. I like to be prepared.”

  “Ugh. When did you become such a sleazeball?” I wrinkled my nose in exaggerated disgust.

  “Since when is helping women in distress a sign of being a sleazeball?”

  “Oh, give me a break. You do it out of the goodness of your heart without expecting anything in return?” We often argued about women’s rights and gender roles. Usually we agreed to disagree.

  “That's exactly it, actually.” I took another cigarette out of the box and he brought the lighter to its tip. “I happen to enjoy the sight of a woman's smile when I make an unexpected gesture like this.” Thomas smirked and withdrew the metal once the stuffed tobacco turned red with the flame. “See? It won't kill you or make you seem incompetent if you let me be a gentleman with you every once in a while.”

  The first time Thomas opened the door for me I gave him a look of bewilderment and irritation as if he had thrown a cup of coffee in my face. He was just as shocked by my words when I told him I was his boss, not some girl he could go to bed with, so his “gentleman” charades weren't necessary. However, he turned out to be more stubborn than I thought and insisted on his routines. I gave up in the end and allowed him to open doors, pull out my chairs, carry my luggage on business trips etc. The truth was I loved it. Not that I’d ever admit it to his face.

  “And you're not one of those guys who lament that they're not getting laid because they're too 'nice'?”

  “I don't complain.” He grinned and adjusted his glasses. They were new and really looked great on him. “I do certain things because traditions tend to die if we forget about them.”

  “Oh, traditions?” Damn, I missed bickering with him. Ever since Thomas had officially been transferred to the Android/iOS department, we’d had fewer excuses to spend time together and argue abo
ut everything under the sun. “Perhaps we should continue with human sacrifices as well? They're also an ancient tradition.”

  He chuckled and reached out to place the lighter in my pocket.

  “Are you saying you sacrifice your proud feminist soul by accepting my help? Anyway, like I said, I enjoy making women smile, making them a little bit happier about their day. And if they wish to extend their happiness and allow me to truly take care of them at night, it’s just a bonus.” His smile was carefree but I swore I could see the gleam in his gaze again. Was it just me or was that… lust?

  Oh, get over yourself. He's too young.

  I kept on smoking quietly and regarded him for a long time. Nobody would ever say Thomas was a ladies’ man, let alone a wet dream. He was nothing special in the looks department, with a slim, pale face and thin features. The most attractive part of his visage was his vibrant green eyes. They had not been so easy to notice when we met. He used to wear some horrible parody of glasses like a magnifier, with thick, tortoiseshell frames. Less than a year later, he’d switched to a more elegant model. It complimented his face and made him look more attractive. He was taller than me, but had been so thin that I’d worried he had an eating disorder or was malnourished.

  My gaze slid down to his body and lingered there longer than employer ethics allowed. Since those first awkward days, he’d matured into a man with a well-toned runner’s physique, lean musculature and lithe arms and legs. According to him, it happened with the help of a proper diet and gruesome physical exercise but it was worth every minute spent in the gym. The white, open collar shirt and blue designer jeans he’d chose to wear showed the best of his figure. In a short, embarrassing moment, I realized I was taking mental pictures of him naked and quickly looked away. Hopefully, he hadn't noticed.

  Given all those advantages, Thomas was not your typical office hunk. There were more handsome and charismatic men working for me, and yet, for some reason, most of the women in my company adored him. I had no idea whether he was sleeping with any of them. Maybe it was his pleasant personality and charm or the fact he treated everyone with respect. He was helpful without being condescending or imposing. Still, it was difficult to figure out what made him so popular.

  “...even if I don't approve of some of the things that make them happy.”

  “I'm sorry, what?” The embarrassment hit me like a heatwave when he realized I hadn’t been listening to him at all. Oh, damn it, he was just a kid, eleven years younger than me. The very fact I’d thought of him naked was borderline pedophilia.

  I was not quite old enough to be his mother, but still...

  “I was just stating the obvious.” Thomas shrugged and looked at me with concern. “You're still deeply hooked, aren't you?”

  “And you love rubbing it in my face.” I snorted. “Thomas, listen. I started smoking in high school and never slowed down. I've been an active smoker for twenty years. Trust me, I’ve tried everything.” My voice turned desperate. I finished the cigarette and stubbed it against the rail. “I'll kill you if you tell anyone about this but I even paid some crook 1K to hypnotize me. I should just give it up and accept I'm an addict.” I looked down and crossed my arms over my chest. “I don't want to be a messy wench who falls apart because she doesn’t have her nicotine fix. At least when I smoke I go back to my normal self.”

  Thomas nodded with understanding. I read some sympathy in his gaze and felt grateful he didn't say anything more. That was another reason I missed him so much as my assistant. He always knew what to say and when to stay silent.

  Just as well as he knew when to read my thoughts.

  “When are you going to accept my invitation, Lina?” Who knew why, but each time he uttered my name with his soft, calm voice, it made me feel warm and I melted on the inside. “It's been four years since I bought the house and you never came to see it.”

  “I'm not sure it's a good idea.”

  “Just for an hour or so. We will have some wine and talk about life outside of ChaosTech.” He moved closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You know what? Just come tonight. 8.30 PM. I won't take no for an answer this time.”

  The warmth of his steady fingers through the silk of my blouse was like the kiss of the sunbeams – subtle yet palpable. I stared into his gentle eyes and reasoned that nothing bad would happen if I saw him outside of work. It dawned on me how much I missed our talks after business hours. They used to happen due to extra work or when he stayed to practice his coding skills. The pleasant company was more of a bonus. How would I handle spending time with Thomas in a casual environment?

  “Seriously, you could find better ways to have fun on a Friday night.” I used the voice of a well-intentioned schoolteacher. “Why not invite some pretty girl instead of having wine with an old woman?”

  “Shh!” He squeezed my shoulder tighter and shook his head in disapproval. “I don't want to hear any of this “old woman” crap anymore. You're in your prime. Now, if you're done poisoning yourself, I suggest we go back inside. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon. I’ll expect you to join me tonight for some of your favorite wine.” Thomas let go of me and gave me a playful wink. “Who knows, we may make a tradition out of this. See you around, boss. I'll text you the address.”

  He walked away from the fire escape and left me alone with my confused emotions. A little innocent drink wouldn't hurt, would it? Maybe it would be good if I weren't alone tonight.

  I cleaned up after myself and went back inside, refreshed and ready for battle. As I walked past the Android/iOS department, I caught sight of Thomas talking to one of our new employees, a beautiful girl and a promising designer. He was leaning next to her desk, pointing at the computer screen. She was glowing and laughing at something he said.

  I shook my head and once again, I wondered how he did it. Quite a change from the awkward, skinny kid with weird hair who showed up at my office for an interview all those years ago.

  The moment I first laid eyes on Lina Riley, she became etched in my memory like a stamp. I could evoke the exact sensations that passed through my body during that August afternoon seven years ago. The incandescence spread through me and completely wiped away my intelligence and logic. The civilized behavior cultivated in my psyche from an early age faded away in favor of a primal heat wave of lust. Even today, I had no idea how I succeeded in restraining my desires, so powerful they could break the inhibitions of a monk. True, I had been a horny teenager during our first meeting, a virgin at the age of eighteen. Still, my usual fantasies and lust were nothing compared to my painful attraction to her. I’d wanted her since the moment we said hello.

  The idea that our lives were determined by forces higher than ourselves made me roll my eyes. I believed we forged our own luck and destiny, and held the key to our happiness or misfortune. Anything else was just an excuse used by weak individuals to justify their mistakes. In spite of my convictions, I had the instant feeling our paths were supposed to cross. Lina was meant to change my life.

  She’d made me sweat a lot during that fateful morning at her office. Back then, ChaosTech Solutions was a rising star in the cutthroat world of software development. It would have taken Lina one more year before the company could afford to establish its current headquarters at Palo Alto. The old office was situated in a small, cookie cutter business building in the downtown area of San Francisco. I walked out of the elevator on the eleventh floor and faced a long, nondescript hallway lined with uniform doors of light wood. It took me five minutes to find the name and number given to me by the girl I talked on the phone with. The bad premonition hit me as soon as I pressed the intercom button. Some young woman in her early twenties with a poorly tailored, ill-fitting parody of a suit opened the door and stared at me with an empty expression. She was pretty and I certainly wouldn't have kicked her out of bed, but the lack of any spark of life whatsoever in her blue eyes was a huge turn-off. The chewing gum bouncing in her wide-open mouth reminded me of a ruminating cow.
Her massive tits also added to the image in my head. It took her nearly a minute to process my words when I told her I was there for a job interview for personal assistant. Finally, Miss Bright Mind gave me something resembling a smile and turned around, wiggling her ass in a pathetic attempt to impersonate a porn film secretary.

  “Ah, yeah, the boss said you'd come. She'll be late, ya know? Come 'ere.”

  She was wiggling her hips, as if trying to make me look at her ass but the sight was ridiculous. I tried to amuse myself with some lame fantasy in which I disciplined her for her lackluster attitude, but it was impossible to find even the slightest thrill. Besides, her seductive hip movements reminded me of someone who had been kicked out of porn star school. Bimbos weren't my thing.

  It was more important to look around and get a feel for the place. The area through which the girl led me was small but it was optimally used. There were ten to fifteen desks in the open-plan office. I noticed a door with a sign saying Server Room and an improvised kitchen/break room section at the opposite end of the main hall with a sliding glass door. Two guys who looked a few years older than me were talking enthusiastically over a cup of coffee. To my relief, the men and women at their desks looked very casual, their clothes mostly jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, and sneakers. They were pretty similar to my own style. My decision not to dress up too much for the interview turned out to be wise.

  All I could hope was that I’d land the job. I was running out of time and the despair was enough to make me accept anything. A paycheck was a paycheck even if the idea of answering phone calls, writing reports and making coffee was less than appealing to me. There was always the possibility of taking out a student loan. Or shooting myself in the head.