Page 37 of Deprivation

“Well, when we met, he said he couldn’t have certain fruits because he was allergic and he really missed strawberries, peaches, and plums. So, I started gradually giving him some with breakfast every day, to get his body used to it,” she states proudly.

“Do you have an Epi pen at home?” I direct toward the patient.

“No, why?” he stammers.

“Well, immersion therapy isn’t something I’d suggest for someone with a food allergy. On the chance you have a reaction, say like this,” pointing at his mouth, “I’d use the Epi pen right away and proceed to the ER.”

As I approach the nurses’ station, I explain the situation to Holly. “It was like watching an episode of ID TV’s How Not to Kill Your Husband,” I snicker. “The girl’s been giving him foods she knows he’s allergic to in order to ‘get his body used to it.’ The guy’s lucky he’s not dead,” I say, shaking my head again.Yet, this chick has a boyfriend. So the joke’s on you, Kat.

* * *

Walking through the front door, I release a sigh. It’s been a long day at work. I can admittedly feel the excitement building. It’s ridiculous, but I’ve become eager to retire to bed each evening. My dreams have ranged from crazy to erotic, leaving my nightmares a thing of the past. I’d picked up sushi from the take-out restaurant near the hospital on my way home. I was going to open a bottle of Pinot Grigio, enjoy some Japanese delight, and then have a soak in the tub before taking my sleeping pill and heading for dreamland. I’ve discovered the pill kicks in quickly, so I don’t want to risk falling asleep, immersed in the bath.As good as these dreams have been, they aren’t worth drowning for.

As I towel off, I excitedly put on my sleep shorts and camisole and climb into bed. Taking my sleeping pill, I insert my EarPods as I choose tonight’s soundtrack.Ah, “Enter Sandman” by Metallica. How apropos. I snuggle deeper into my sheets as I listen to James Hetfield advise he’s taking my hand and leading me off to never neverland.

* * *

The room is dark. I watch through shadows as a hand reaches down for me, pulling me from my somnolent state. As I follow the stranger, I feel a surge of energy rippling through our connected limbs.

Suddenly, he turns to me. Watching carefully, he brings his hands to the hem of my cami and slowly lifts it off of my chest. Dropping to his knees, he lowers my sleep shorts, stopping briefly to place warm, gentle kisses on my lower belly. I watch as his kisses trail lower, to the apex of my thighs. My head drops back, overwhelmed at the sight. He stands slowly and opens the door to my shower, turning on the water. As steam fills the small, marbled bath, I observe in enthusiastic appreciation as he removes his shirt and pants.

Following his lead, I can’t help but notice the firm, beautiful backside of this unexpected guest. Stepping into the hot spray with him, he turns me toward the tiles and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing himself into my ass. Holy cow, this man is hot. I start to feel his hands dip lower, teasing my clit with the soft strokes of his right hand while massaging my breasts with his left. I’m so turned on right now. Hoping my heavy breathing isn’t a turn off, I shift my gaze to the magical caresses he’s bestowing on me and I notice his skilled, masculine arms. Veiny. Muscled. Arms. Recalling who wore the last arm porn that had me panting, I look up and over my left shoulder and into the face of Dr. Nick Barnes.

My eyes spring open in shock.What the heck?As I sit up trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle, I’m shrouded in disappointment that the dream has ended so soon. I have to admit, I wanted to see how that shower scene would play out.God, I wonder if that’s what’s lying underneath his expensive suits in real life.If so, maybe I could convince him to keep his mouth shut and just pound me into the wall.

Looking down at where the sheets have dropped from my chest, I notice I’m not wearing my camisole.Uh, what? My shorts are missing, too…sitting at the edge of my bed, I begin to scan the room. I don’t sleep naked. Had I been so excited for my zolpidem-colored night that I went straight from the bath to the bed? Standing and crossing to the bathroom, I notice my shorts and cami are lying on the floor at the door to the shower. The shower door is ajar, and there are droplets still hanging onto the tiles within.But I swore I took a bath last night. I even joked about it…

Chapter Fifteen

Present Day

Kat

“Miss Kelly?” the pretty receptionist asks, knowing I’m currently the only person seated in this waiting room.

“Yes.”

“You can follow me.”

I walk behind the beautiful blonde bombshell whom I suspect works as a runway model when she isn’t here. She’s a statuesque five-foot ten-inches, thin but with sufficient curves to make any man turn his head. She has long golden locks, styled in soft waves, high cheekbones, and stunning blue eyes. As we approach a doorway, she swings her arm wide and instructs, “Please take a seat, Dr. Miller will be with you shortly.”

I sit with my hands folded in my lap in an uncomfortable, but showroom worthy, hunter green velvet low back chair awaiting the arrival of my new therapist. I guess he’s my only therapist, but probably long overdue considering the wreck my personal life has become. To preoccupy my time, I gaze about the many diplomas and certifications hanging behind his large mahogany desk. It appears he’s a doctor of psychology, not a psychiatrist. His treatment will be behavioral versus medication, which is fine with me. I don’t want to take anything else as long as I’m using the prescription sleep aid. They’re already throwing me for a bit of a loop. I notice there’s an absence of photographs, making the office devoid of any personal details.

“Miss Kelly?” I hear an appealing voice lilt. As I start to stand, he interrupts, “Oh, you don’t need to get up.” He reaches his hand out to me. “I’m Gilbert Miller. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He lets go of my hand and strides around his large desk and sits down, crossing his legs while I try to contain myself. This guy is a dead ringer for Matthew McConaughey.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, too,” I stammer. Did Melanie know what this guy looked like when she gave me his name? Has she ever come for therapy?Lord, this isn’t the type of therapy I wish he was-

“Miss Kelly?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous. What was that?”

“I asked what you prefer I call you?” he asks coyly, a solitary dimple almost camouflaged by his dark honey-colored five o’clock shadow. “Do you prefer Katarina or Kat?” he prompts. That voice, it’s as smooth as butter. I almost detect more of a southern drawl than the typical Virginian.You can call me anything you want,I think. Then, I scold myself,Get it together, Kat.

“Either is fine, but most people call me Kat.”

“Kat it is, then. You can call me Gil. So what brings you to see me?” Boy, that’s an open-ended question.

“Well, where to start? I’ve had a difficult time with sleep for many years now. Most nights, I wake up after about three to four hours of sleep from a nightmare of some sort. They’re all very similar, but uniquely horrific.” I look about, wishing I’d brought a bottle of water, my mouth suddenly feeling like the Sahara.

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