Chapter 15
Today’s picture, as you can see, is of my feet. They are KILLING me. I was in boots with six-inch spike heels–on ice! My feet started to go numb after the first hour and then the pain started. It was pure torture and those pics better have come out good because I am not putting my feet in those fuckers again! I will go total NJ bitch diva on these people if I am asked to put anything but flat shearling boots on my feet the rest of the time we are here shooting. By the time we got back to the hotel tonight, it was nearly eleven p.m. and as much as I want to hear your voice, I can’t do that to you at three a.m. But if you were here, those two feet you see in that picture would be in your lap and I’d probably be doing something disgusting, like talking baby talk to you, to get you to give me a foot massage. This bitch is not too proud to beg. I’d tell you to do it hard in the arches with your thumbs. Mmm, even harder. The foot that was still in your lap would be rubbing its arch over something else that’s hard. And trying to get it even harder. When you put the first foot down and start working on the second one, the first foot takes over rubbing your cock through your jeans until you finally unzip and take that gorgeous baby out for me to rub. With the arch of one of my feet rubbing your cheek, the arch of the other fits perfectly around your dick and rubs in time with the other foot. When you slide my big toe in your mouth and start sucking, I press you hard with my other foot, feeling you harden even more against me. You know how much I love making you hard. Taking my other foot back from you, I put you between my feet so that you fit snuggly between my arches and then I begin to rub up and down. With my legs spread and my knees pointing outward, you can watch my pussy get wetter and wetter as my feet jerk you off. Dropping a few drops of oil in each arch, you put your hands on the outside of my feet, pressing them tighter around you as you take control of the pressure and the rhythm to get yourself off. I’m enjoying the look on your face and I can’t wait to see you come. Reaching down, I spread the lips of my pussy, just so you can get a good look at how wet I am, before slipping a finger deep inside. I love watching your face as I do this and what I love even more is that you do not miss a beat pumping my feet up and down on your slick, hard cock. Pulling my finger out of my pussy, it makes a little popping sound and I bring the wet finger to my lips, coating my bottom lip with my juices. When my finger slides into my mouth, your moan makes me quiver and I watch as you close your eyes and a warm load spurts from you, landing all over my feet.
Good morning, baby! Hope you love the picture and my fantasy and that it helps you start your day off right. I miss you so much, too. I can’t wait to hear about your session with Claire. We are shooting out near Denali tomorrow and I don’t think we’ll have cell signal. If we get back at a decent hour, I will call. I miss you so much, Jesse. xoxo ☺ Btw, there’s no pouting in rock ’n’ roll! (your picture)
••••••
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful,” Kylie was glancing out the window of the van, watching the sun rise over Denali, bathing the mountain’s summit in a warm orange glow and taking pictures with her cell phone. Jesse was going to get more than one picture today. This was just too magnificent not to share and she knew how much the beauty of nature inspired his writing. Jesse Fucking Winslow. He turned out to be an unexpected joy. A pretty boy with a bad reputation was an amazing façade he had built, for the Jesse she knew was deep and spiritual and protective.
“What are you smiling about?” Sarah Eggleston was turned around in the seat in front of her.
“Well, first that gorgeous sunrise and the way it is lighting up the top of the mountain. I shot some pictures to send to Jesse later when we have cell service again. And that got me thinking about Jesse.” Kylie couldn’t help but smile as her heart warmed at the thought of him.
Getting up from her seat, Sarah moved back a row to sit next to Kylie. “That is so cool you are dating Jesse Winslow.”
Kylie laughed. “Cool or a curse?”
“Yeah. Every woman on the planet wants your boyfriend.”
Kylie rolled her eyes. “No shit. It’s hard not being able to go anywhere without being recognized.”
“That’s right, you guys got nailed in Starbucks.” She laughed, “Those were super-hot pictures. What were you feeding each other?”
“An éclair he brought me back from Paris.”
“He brought that all the way back. That is so sweet.”
With a conspiratorial tone, Kylie told the teen, “He’s really very sweet, but don’t let anyone know, ‘cause he loves that bad boy persona.” She could feel her heart glow just talking about him. A moment passed and when the teen didn’t speak, Kylie seized a moment she knew she might never have again. “So, how long have you been battling the eating thing?”
Picking at her chipped pink gel manicure, Sarah admitted, “Two years.”
“Binge and toss or are you doing laxatives, too?”
“A little of everything.” The teen was clamming up.
Kylie knew that she had the key, so she quickly inserted it in the door and unlocked as fast as she could. “It’s fucked up. And you know it’s fucked up, but it just kinda takes control, you know. It was a way of life for almost everybody on the pageant circuit. And we all knew it. And we all had convinced ourselves that we had everything under control. Because it’s about control when you really have none. None of us have controlled our own lives since we were like three years old when we started getting paraded out on stages.”
“The pageant thing starts that young?”
She nodded. “You never have a childhood, not even a pre-school one. And the parents are generally lunatics. Like totally certifiable. Fucked-up insane mothers who are either ex-Miss something or another or total wannabes.”
Kylie could see from the teen’s face that she found her way in. Sarah was listening, whether it be because she was formerly on the Miss America tour or because Jesse Winslow was her boyfriend, it really didn’t matter. Just as long as Kylie could get her to stay open and listen.
“Before pageants were the worst, we would just abuse the shit out of ourselves so that our stomachs were flat for the freaking bathing suit competition. There’s just so much pressure, you know.” Turning to the teen, “I can’t even imagine the pressure you feel.”
“My high school is like Fashion Week in New York, every single week. My father owns a major clothes company and I can’t keep up with the fashionistas. It is the most judgmental place on the planet.”
“The bottom line, Sarah, is you can’t let these bitches define how you feel about yourself. Some nasty little twits don’t deserve that power. If something they don’t like makes you happy, too bad. Think about this, have you ever met a hater who was doing better than you?”
The teen thought for a moment. “No.”
“Exactly,” Kylie concurred. “These bitches are miserable and they just want to drag you down with them. Most likely they are jealous of you.”
“I never thought about it that way.”
“My whole life centered around me being thin and looking perfect and my whole self-worth was wrapped up in it. And one day I woke up and thought ‘I want to go down to the corner grocery, buy a container of Ben & Jerry’s, eat it in one sitting and not feel guilty about it, and not stick my finger down my throat’. I want to be like, okay, I binged, so what. Next. And that turned into a rebellion of sorts for me. It was my way of taking my life back. And when I got dethroned as Miss New Jersey, everyone thought I’d ruined my life. But I felt like a nine-hundred-pound boat anchor had been lifted off me and for the first time I could start discovering what made me happy. Not my parents, not my coaches, not the pageant people. Me. What made me happy? Because I had no friggin idea.”
“Wow and you’re beautiful just the way you look.”
“Thank you. And one of the most amazing men on the planet thinks so too. So, you don’t have to starve yourself to fit in or because you think it’s what you have to do. I’ve lost friends to eating disorders, Sarah. Please don’t go down that rabbit hole. You are smart and beautiful and the people you want around you are people who appreciate you for you. I know it’s not easy and sometimes it’s about finding the right person to help you, a person you click with.”
“I’m seeing this woman, but she feels judgey to me. I just can’t warm up to her and confide.”
“I know how that is. There’s actually something about my shrink that totally rubs me the wrong way,” admitted Kylie, “but she is helping me. My friend Krista worked with someone when her eating situation spun out of control on her. She loved this woman and they worked well together. If you’re interested, I can text her and get the doctor’s info.”
“Okay,” Sarah nodded.
“You need to feel good about you. And when you do it’s amazing what can happen. I’m the poster girl for that.” Kylie looked out the window, again struck by the splendor of Denali and thinking about the opportunities that presented themselves in her life once she made the decision to seek out her own dreams.
••••••
Hey, babes. Check out this picture of the sun coming up and lighting the top of Denali. One of the photographers today told me it’s called Alpenglow. There’s an actual name for it. How cool is that. The shoot is going great and I had the opportunity this morning to really talk to Sarah. I think she listened, Jesse. I’m not a parent telling her, but more of a contemporary with my own (opposite) eating disorder and I lived under the pressure of having to be thin (before I said fuck this shit!) and I’m dating Jesse Winslow (instant street cred). Anyway, I hope it helped. I’m going to get her the number of a doctor who really helped a friend of mine. I’ll try calling you when I get up, before we leave. Hopefully you’ll be able to answer. We’re going to be shooting on a whale boat or something. So, no cell service again and I need to hear your voice. I know you’re leaving for London in two days, so we need to hook up before you go. xoxo Talk to you in the morning.
••••••
“Pick up, Jess. C’mon,” Kylie groaned as his phone went into voicemail. She began talking after the beep. “Grr, you were supposed to pick up. You are probably in the studio laying down a track. I’m off to shoot on a boat today. I’ll try calling as soon as I have cell service later. I need to hear your voice. I miss you. Okay, talk to you later.”
••••••
“Hey, Toots,” his voice was all sleep and gravel.
“Finally,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry to wake you, sweetie. It’s just been too long.”
“It’s okay. It’s been way too long. So, did you see any whales today?”
Kylie could hear the rustling of his sheets and knew he was stretching. Just the sound made her ache as she pictured the motion in her mind of his right arm going up, biceps bulging and his stomach muscles rippling as they tightened all the way down to the V.
“Yes. That’s tomorrow’s pictures. I’ve got one of a whale breaching. It is so cool. I’m really happy I got to experience it. Did you have a good day in the studio?”
“Yeah, crazy busy. We’re just preparing everything for the move. I didn’t realize there was so much work.”
“Have you packed yet?”
“No. I’m going to do that today when I wake up,” he laughed.
“I should let you get back to sleep.”
“No. Not yet. I need more Kylie time. When do you get to New York?”
“Wednesday and I’ll be home for a week. We leave for Australia the following Wednesday.”
“Crap. We miss each other on this end and then that time difference is going to totally fuck us.” He stretched again, a low moan escaping.
“I know, and with my shooting hours and I know you’re going to be making the most out of that studio time and living in that studio, we’re so fucked,” she laughed.
Laughing, “I’m going to need more foot pictures if we keep this up.”
“You liked that, huh?”
“Toots, you totally got me off this morning. And, I thank you. That was a great surprise.”
When his breathing got heavy, she knew he was starting to doze. “Okay, sweets, I’m going to let you get back to sleep. Tell me you love me.” She hadn’t realized she needed to hear those words so badly until the request came out of her.
Jesse chuckled. “Are you going to tell me you love me?”
“Not over the phone for the first time.”
“No? Where then?”
“In your arms.”
“Mmm, that works. I love you, Toots.”
Every fiber in her being ached to say the words back to him. And the very next time his arms were around her, she would tell him the words he wanted to hear. The words she yearned to share because the sentiment possessed her, heart and soul.
“Goodnight, you.” His breathing told her he had already fallen back to sleep.
••••••
Bed. Lonely, empty bed. Yes. I came home to this. And now I’m the one pouting. Being in New York without you sucks, Jess. It totally sucks. I can’t even look at my bed, knowing I won’t feel you spooned behind me, playing with my hair. How long is it until we’re together again? Oh, that’s right, too long. Too fucking long. I walked into L9 today and Zac’s dad said, “Where’s Jesse?” and it hit me how much we do together, how people know us as a couple. I told him you were in London recording and he was so sweet and asked me if I wanted the private gym. I didn’t take it, I just ended up working out on the main floor with Zac, but that was so nice of him to offer. I feel so at home there. Can’t wait to wake up to your picture. Make it a good one.
••••••
You knew you were going to get this from me, right? I felt kind of like a dumbass doing it, but how could I not, it’s iconic. The first one obviously is just me and the second one is me, Chris, Bob (whom you’ve met), and Ian (one of the Master Engineers). Okay, I feel complete now (well, or as complete as I can feel without you). ☺ So, another great day of recording. This place has got some really good juju, Toots. I feel like Amy Winehouse is looking over my shoulder, pushing me to dig in my soul and go places where it really hurts. I’m excited about what I’m doing and I can’t wait to play it for you. That was really cool of Schooner to offer you the private gym. Nice that he’s taking care of my baby when I’m not around. I’ll need to thank him. Maybe let him and Zac know about the showcase and we can guest list them and their plus ones. If you can do that, I’ll get them on the list. Okay, Toots, they want me back in the booth. Love you.
Kylie smiled, looking at the pictures, flipping back and forth on her phone. She wondered where Jesse had gotten the white suit and shoes. They weren’t from his home wardrobe, that she knew. In the picture with the three other men, Jesse led the line, just as one of his personal idols, John Lennon, had done for the iconic album cover in the very same crosswalk. In the picture where it was just him, he faced the camera, huge smile and his left hand held up, fingers forming a peace sign. Not only was he living out his recording studio fantasy, he was getting to play fanboy and pay homage to one of his all-time favorite bands.
A day later, the photos started showing up on the Internet and although she was glad she had seen them first--that for a moment they had just been hers--she couldn’t help but feel violated. There was nothing from stopping a random fan on the street from pulling out their cell phone and taking pictures, but these were basically identical to the ones Jesse had sent her. The specialness of their daily picture gift to one another felt sullied. It wasn’t there’s anymore and it wasn’t special. She was used to sharing Jesse with the world, everywhere they went. But this was their personal thing for when they weren’t together to alleviate missing one another, not something to distribute to the masses.
Packing for Australia, Kylie felt out of sorts. Was it the travel? Missing Jesse? Being rundown from crazy hours on photoshoots? She wasn’t quite sure, but thought it best not to miss her last session with Claire before leaving the country again. She had already missed a few sessions with the Alaska travel and wondered if maybe that contributed to her general malaise.
“I got to do something I’m really glad I had the opportunity to do,” she told the psychiatrist, detailing her conversation with Sarah. “And she’s already called my friend’s doctor and set up an appointment.”
“I know your intentions are good, Kylie, but you are really not qualified to give out advice.” Claire’s eyebrows were raised.
“Seriously? You are seriously saying that to me, someone with an eating disorder. Yeah, I know you’ve only seen the fat side of my disorder, but I’ve had my fingers down my throat,” and she stopped herself from saying, more than you’ve had dicks down yours, and instead said, “more times than I care to admit. I lived among a group of women who made a lifestyle out of anorexia and bulimia. I’m highly qualified to talk about it and my conversation has led her to seek help. I think that’s pretty damn good.”
“Well, I hope it works out for your friend.” She smiled at Kylie, then pivoted, “So, have you been able to tell Jesse you love him yet?”
“No. I haven’t said it. He’s away. I’ve been away. And he knows I will not say it over the phone to him. I am going to say it to him when we are together.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She made a note on her iPad. “Do you think you are using the separation as an excuse?”
“No. Not at all. I want to be able to look into his eyes when I say it. I want to see his smile. Feel the reaction throughout his body. I want to take his face in my hands and kiss him. And I want to feel his cock get hard against me.” She threw in the final piece for shock value.
“Kylie, have you really taken the time to think about why you might love Jesse the rock star versus Jesse the man? Are you able to parse those two things out?”
Is she insinuating that I have a groupie crush on Jesse? Kylie wondered.
“When you say things like that it truly makes me wonder if you even listen to what I say in here. I don’t know Jesse Winslow, the rock star, the heart throb. I know Jesse Winslow, my boyfriend. I know a man I laugh so hard with that my face hurts. I know someone I can talk to about anything from feelings to business and he just gets what I’m saying. He’s really special and I am honored to be helping him in his sobriety and in discovering the world from a clear place. So, yeah, Claire, I have been able to parse things out and I fell in love with an awesome man.”
“You’re very passionate in defending your feelings.”
“Nothing to defend. I love him. And he loves me. This is without a doubt the single healthiest relationship I have had in my life. So, thank you for having both of us as patients, because without you, our paths might not have crossed. You are responsible for bringing us together. It’s no coincidence we are both patients of yours or that Jesse walked in on the one day you kept me waiting out in the reception area. It was meant to be. Meant to happen. So, thank you, Claire,” she emphasized the doctor’s name.
“So, you feel this was fated?”
“I’d like to think destiny versus fate. With fate it’s all predetermined, destiny can be shaped and changed. I think what Jesse and I are both doing with you is making changes in our lives to become healthier. We’re both taking responsibility and control, so I’d like to think we are taking an active role in shaping our own destinies.” Kylie challenged.
“Interesting concepts, destiny and fate, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, it really gives you a lot to think about.”
“It does,” Claire agreed, “and I think it’ a perfect segue for us to begin a regression.”
“I agree. Let’s do it.” Kylie reached for the glasses on the table next to her.
Settling into the couch, she focused on Claire’s voice as the doctor led her through the guided meditation, her transition occurring almost immediately and with ease.
“Stop them. Stop them. We have to stop them,” she called out, her tone reaching hysteria.
“Kylie, where are you?” Claire interrupted.
“We have to stop them. Please, help me. Help me.” Tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
Claire made note of the physical manifestation.
“Kylie, look at your feet. Tell me what you are wearing.” Claire needed to migrate away from the hysterics and get her to communicate.
“Sandals.”
“What are they made of?” Claire kept her voice even.
“Leather straps.”
“Where are you?” She continued, now that she had gotten her to focus.
“Palestine.”
“Can you tell me when it is? What year?”
“Long ago.”
“BC?”
“I don’t think so,” she answered. “But maybe around then.”
“Do you know who Jesus Christ is?” Claire sat forward in her seat.
“I know of him. But he lived a while ago.”
“Can you describe to me what you are wearing?” Claire hoped from the description that maybe she could narrow down a timeframe.
“Stop them. Stop them. Don’t you touch me, you filthy animal,” her screams were terrifying.
Running along the dusty road toward the walls of the city, the Roman guards keep pushing me back, trying to stop me. But I need to stop them. I have to stop this whole thing. Can I cause some kind of distraction that will put a stop to this travesty? I wonder if that will work.
I’m out of breath and my feet are in pain, cut open from rocks and pottery shards that have worked their way between my sandal’s straps. I don’t have to look down to know my feet are bleeding. But right now, nothing hurts more than my heart. I have to stop this and so I keep running because I have to catch up and do something. There’s got to be something I can do. I can’t let this happen.
Up ahead, I see the crowds, as if this were sport. Some sick Roman sport. And I know they are coming. Bunching my kethōneth and simlāh in my hands, so that I can run without tripping, I start weaving through the people. Half are crying and the others are the maggots of Rome, there for the spectacle.
“Rachel. Rachel.” I hear my name. It’s Daniel’s voice. Stopping, I scan the crowd. I must find him.
Standing with Simon, Leah and Ephraim, I notice Daniel is dressed in a heavy silk me’īl, the color of sand with piping the burgundy of a hearty wine. The formal outfit, generally reserved for government meetings, high holy days or funeral processions, I know, is to pay his respects. This can’t be happening.
“You shouldn’t be here. You should not see this. Leah, take her from here,” he insists, trying to protect me.
“No,” I protest. “I won’t go. I have to stop this. I can’t let them do this. They can’t do this to him, Daniel. Can we cause some kind of distraction and stop it?”
Tears are streaming down my friends’ faces as they know we are powerless. The followers of a man who preached love and tolerance, acceptance and pacifism. And here we are, prisoners of our own beliefs.
The crowd seizes into a frenzy and I break away from Daniel, pushing myself through the throngs of people to get out onto the thoroughfare, determined to stop this. Emerging through the crowd, I see David and the three other rabbis approaching. They have all been stripped bare, their hands bound with leather straps to the heavy, wooden crossbeam they carry across their shoulders, as they are marched to their death.
I hear a scream. A wounded animal. And somehow, I know it’s me. No. No. No. No. This can’t be happening.
“David,” I scream, certain that nothing has actually escaped my throat. “David,” I choke on my sobs, barely able to breathe.
He knows I’m there and turns his face to see me on the road’s edge. “I’ll find you,” his lips clearly form the words. And he repeats them, “I’ll find you.”
I need to run to him, but my legs won’t move, as if I’m nailed to the ground. As he passes, I see his back. He has been scourged and left are raw ribbons of flesh, his skin disintegrated.
“No,” I scream and my legs finally break from their spot as I fling my body into the thoroughfare. I need to get to David. Get him out of there. Get him to safety. He’s moving away from me, his sweet, beautiful face now gone and all I see is the crowd that has filled in behind him and the other rabbis.
The soldier’s hands grab me from behind, landing roughly on my breasts, digging into the flesh as he rips away my simlāh. Throwing me to the ground, he stands over me, blocking all sunlight. In the shadow, I see his face. It is Cassius Petronius and as I look up into his cold blue eyes, I am certain of what is to come next. I’m only glad David will not see this.
Closing my eyes, I envision David’s face and his final vow to me, “I’ll find you.”
“No. No. No.”
“Rachel, tell me what happened with Cassius Petronius.” Claire’s voice is commanding.
“He enslaved me. And raped me and beat me. I was his last way to humiliate David, even though David was gone.”
“Were you his slave for the rest of your life?” Claire probed.
“No. For seven years, until he was killed and then I regained my freedom.”
“What happened to you then?”
“I went to live in Sebastia with Daniel.”
Claire sat there in silence. Every hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and had been since Kylie started this regression. David and Rachel. And Daniel.
“Is Daniel your brother?” This can’t be, she thought as she asked the question. These were common names in Judaism.
“No. Daniel was David’s rabbinical mentor and closest friend.”
Closing her eyes, Claire realized she was straining to breathe. This couldn’t be happening.
“Did your skin problem ever return?” Claire threw this out for corroboration, since Kylie had not mentioned it.
“Yes. The years I was a slave, it was very bad. After that it calmed. Daniel brought me back to the Essenoi and they were able to cure me again.”
With her hand over her mouth, Claire sat there. None of this was a coincidence. Not the two of them ending up as her clients, not their meeting in her waiting room. None of it. Jesse and Kylie had been lovers before. And he certainly did find her, as promised.
“Okay, Kylie, I’m going to count to three and at three, you will be back here in my office. One…two…three,” she rushed through it, needing Kylie to leave Rachel far in the past, immediately.
Kylie sat there, very still, not removing the RGB glasses.
“I don’t know,” she began, “if I ever want to do another one of these things again.” Reaching over to the side table, she grabbed a tissue and blew her nose loudly. “Oh, my God, they crucified him,” she screamed. “They fucking crucified him. That is freaking insane. Oh, my God, that poor sweet man. He only wanted to bring good to the world. Why am I seeing those I loved killed so barbarically? And why are my lives so tragically painful?” Putting her face in her hands for a moment, her shoulders heaved, before she finally sat back, her face wet with tears. “That hurt so much.”
Finally, she removed the glasses. With a small gasp, her brows knit together and her back tensed and straightened. Silently, she stared at her doctor. The tension in the room thick. “Claire, you have the same eyes as that Roman guard. You and Cassius Petronius have the same exact eyes.” The fear in her voice was audible as she voiced her revelation.
Patient: Kylie Martin
Session # 83
Date: 7/7/15
Regression # 19
Regression Length: 10:15 A.M. – 10:36 A.M.
Entity: Rachel
Location: Israel
Year: 1st Century AD
***NOTE: PULL JESSE WINSLOW’S REGRESSION NOTES FROM DAVID BEN ABRAHAM REGRESSION
••••••
Exiting the doctor’s office as quickly as she could, she needed to get away from her and the pain in that space. Kylie stood out in the hallway and leaned up against the wall thinking, Thank God, I’m going to Australia. I need a break from this shit. This is just too much to handle. Way too much. I can’t go through this again.
••••••
Her hands were shaking when she hit the call button on her cell phone. “Hello, Marshall, it’s Claire Stoddard. I need to come in and see you. I know it’s not my regularly scheduled appointment. But this is somewhat of an emergency. Can I come in this afternoon?”
••••••
“So, what are you going to do?” Marshall asked. “Are you going to share it with them?”
“You know I can’t with HIPAA laws.” Claire shook her head.
“Come on now, Claire. There are ways to get them the information. Perhaps suggest a joint session together. Ask probing questions to lead them to discover it on their own.”
Marshall waited for Claire to answer, but she remained silent, clearly not happy with what her supervisor was recommending.
“She could have already shared it with him and they both know.”
“That might be true. I’ll know tomorrow when I do my Skype session with him. If he knows, it will be the first thing he says to me. She leaves for Australia tomorrow. I’m sure she is packing today. With their travel and time differences, I think they are mostly communicating via text.”
“Putting HIPAA aside, why do I feel you are reticent about sharing this information with them?”
“Well, we haven’t really corroborated the facts,” she began.
“You don’t think her identification of Daniel, a skin disease she didn’t mention during her regression but had full knowledge of when questioned, and talk of a trip back to the Essenes to clear her lesions was enough? Oh, and Cassius Petronius, whom they both mentioned by name.”
Claire shuddered. “She said I had his eyes.”
“Whose eyes?” Marshall appeared confused.
“She said I had Cassius Petronius’s eyes.”
Removing his glasses and tapping the arm against his lips, he held her eye contact, “And?”
“And I don’t know,” her voice became shrill. “Are you asking me if I was there? I don’t know.”
“Have any of either of their regressions resonated with you?”
Closing her eyes, she averted his stare.
“Claire?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. There have been a few times where I felt like I could see what they were describing and it was like I was seeing it from my own vantage point. But I’ve dismissed it as just trying to envision what they are seeing and describing to me in such detail.
“You really need to acknowledge that you might be a part of all this and that they aren’t your patients merely by chance. Kylie calling you out the way she did after today’s regression, and you have mentioned that the two of you have somewhat of a contentious relationship. Add to that your feelings, although you continue to deny them, for Jesse, and I don’t think we’re looking at any coincidences here.”
“Are you saying we’re some sort of cosmic love triangle?”
“I don’t know about that, but I would not be surprised if there is some karma the three of you need to work out. I think that is at the root of why your feelings for him have always been so acute.”
“I can’t believe she is Rachel.” Claire looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head.
“Does that bother you?”
“No, it just surprises me,” her tone was more than slightly defensive.
“Why? Because he loved her?”
Silently, Claire sat there.
“You need to figure out a way to make this right, Claire. Suggest working together as a team, possibly. But if you decide to continue keeping it from them and let them discover it on their own, the outcome for all three of you will be a lot worse. You also really need to ask yourself what your motivations are, because I can assure you they are not all professional.”
Without uttering a word to her supervisor, Claire stood and walked out of Marshall’s office.
••••••
Rising early was not a problem for Claire as she preferred the early part of the day when the city was quiet. Often, she would run just after dawn, finding the cool air invigorating and the empty streets welcoming. This morning she didn’t go out for a run, instead she sat in her home office, coffee in an aluminum Yeti tumbler at her fingertips. Already up for three hours by the time she needed to initiate the Skype call to Jesse, she had reviewed every one of his and Kylie’s regressions, looking at them with a different eye than when they occurred. Now she questioned, could Gaius’s red-haired Julia have been Kylie; was Geneviève’s beloved brother, Bruno, in fact, Jesse? It was clear they had shared at least one past lifetime. David vowed to find Rachel again, and it appeared he had done just that. But the question was, how many times, Claire wondered.
Opening her Skype app, she clicked on the avatar of Jesse to initiate the call.
“Hey Doc,” he appeared, smiling.
“Good morning.”
“Afternoon here, already. Well, you look nice today.” Jesse commented on Claire’s deep V-neck, pale sea green silk blouse. “That is a great color for you.”
“Thank you,” she smiled, knowing he was commenting on what he could see on his screen. “How is it going there?”
“Amazing. Just the fact that it’s Abbey Road Studios is such an energy blast.”
“I can imagine.” It was impossible not to smile at his enthusiasm. “Have you gotten a lot recorded?”
“Yeah and written, too. Creative muse has been paying me a visit. It feels really good, Dr. S. Being able to enjoy the experience sober, I kinda feel like a kid experiencing things for the first time.”
“Are you taking care of yourself? Sleeping and eating properly so that you can maintain this and not come crashing down.” She was concerned that maybe this was the manic phase.
“You’d be so proud of me. I’m doing everything in moderation. Mostly, I’m just working hard. I need to make the most of my studio time. If I wasted this, it would be a crime. And I would really kick myself in the butt for doing that.”
“Are you proud of you?”
“Yes. I am,” he admitted with a smile.
“I like seeing you this focused and celebrating your successes. I want you to be realistic that there will be periods where maybe things aren’t flowing as well, it happens to everybody, and to make sure you have strategies in place to help pull you through.”
“I know. I do need to be realistic. But right now, it’s just all so good. I feel like I’m on the right track from doing solo work to my relationship with Kylie.”
“And how is that going with this separation?” Claire held her breath, knowing she would have her answer now, even though, based on his demeanor, she didn’t think Kylie had told him anything.
“I’m getting more used to it than I was at the beginning. Plus, now that I’m in London and focused on everything in the studio, I’m so consumed, so I have less time to miss her. There are a million times a day that I wish I could share something with her or show her something, but I’m not sad about it, it feels healthy. With the time differences and working, me in the studio and her out on shoots, it’s nearly impossible to connect. So, we send each other long texts and it’s something to look forward to everyday. You know, it’s kind of like old-fashioned letter writing and it’s really cool. You learn so much about the other person and divulge so much about yourself through writing. Plus, we can send pictures from our day and stuff. I send audio of riffs I’m working on. So, even though we don’t get to talk live a lot, we’re communicating daily. It really helps fill the void.”
“That sounds great,” Claire had to admit, knowing communication like that could help build a relationship. Breathing a sigh of relief, she knew neither of them would write something as important or lengthy as a regression, so that bullet had been dodged. At least for now. “Has she been able to say, ‘I love you’ back yet?” She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to surface that for him.
“I don’t think that will happen until we’re at least in the same time zone,” he laughed.
“Well, you seem to be doing well. How about we check in the same time next week and I’ll let you get back into the studio now.” She smiled at her client.
“Sounds great. Talk to you next week.”
“Have a good week,” she bid him before disconnecting.
Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her long legs, pressing them together tightly, a small smile on her face. They hadn’t compared notes and the more time that went by, the chances that they would diminished. It would give her time to figure out exactly how she wanted to handle it.
With a little laugh, she amused herself, as handling things was the most pressing issue she needed to deal with at the moment. Uncrossing her legs, she let her hand wander to the wet heat at their apex. She loved that Jesse liked her blouse and wondered what his reaction would have been to knowing the blouse was the only thing she was wearing on her entire body. Under it, there was no bra and her bottom half was totally bare. He was totally unaware that several times during their talk, she had reached down just to see how wet his face and voice were making her, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to give her clit a little swipe, sending shock waves through her body and getting an extra thrill by maintaining her composure on the screen.
Was Marshall right about it all, she wondered? Was it possible that she, Jesse, and Kylie had been playing out some karmic love triangle for thousands of years. Could she have been Bruno’s lover, Mme. Michaud? Angered that he was giving himself to another man. Or Julia’s stepmother, who Marshall thought was Livia, grabbing for power and her stepdaughter’s handsome lover, Gaius? Certainly, she wouldn’t have been so hell bent on keeping David and Rachel apart that she had the man crucified. Or would she?
Finding Kylie Martin to be an obnoxious, entitled, and yes, beautiful bitch, she had to admit there had been a rub between them right from the start. Claire was actually surprised that she had stayed on as a patient and not found someone else to treat her, but the truth was there were not that many Ivy League-trained MDs who were practicing hypnosis and regression analysis, so Kylie’s alternatives were limited. Claire recognized that they both had an amazing talent to get under one another’s skin, very quickly, as if they knew the key to the other’s pain points.
Quickly pushing Kylie from her thoughts, she sat back in her chair and let her hand wander back between her legs. Smiling, she pictured the beautiful, clear grey-blue color of Jesse’s eyes on her Skype screen just minutes before, thinking how amazing it would be to stare into them while he was buried deep inside her.