What am I doing?

The phrase plays over and over again on an endless loop in my head, but it doesn’t change a thing.

Isn’t that the definition of madness? Doing or saying the same thing again and again and expecting a different result each time.

Is that what Jaxon Covington has driven me to? Madness?

I pause briefly to shake myself, trying to physically jar the thought of my own insanity from my mind. The guard manning the metal detector gives me a funny look.

“All right, ma’am?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I respond, removing my office keys from my wrist and putting them in the basket. “Just the heebie jeebies.” I shrug and give him my best approximation of a warm smile.

He smiles back and nods sagely. “This place’ll do that to ya.”

He waves me through the metal detector, and I pass through it like it were a gate into the unknown. Except I know exactly where I’m going.

Though I’ve yet to determine if Jaxon Covington is my own personal Heaven or Hell.

I retrieve my keys and continue on my way to the guard station to submit my request.

Again, I don’t know what I’m doing. I tell myself this is an absolutely necessary session after the traumatic events of yesterday.

Sometimes it takes our minds hours, if not days, to fully comprehend a trauma. Or even years, or a lifetime. In fact, some people never do, which is a key factor in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

With another surreptitious shake of the head, I bring myself back to task.

The point of this surprise visit is to determine if Jaxon has processed the events and his actions, but to not allow him the time to formulate the answers he thinks I want to hear. By throwing him off his game, I’m hoping to elevate my own.

This is a necessary step in his treatment, I remind myself for the 137^th time. It has absolutely nothing to do with me wanting to see him. Nothing at all.

I pick at invisible lint on my white coat and then rap on the door to the guard station. A young, fresh faced officer smiles at me.

“What can I help you with, Doctor Hughes?” he asks.

He does his best to be discreet, but I see his eyes slide up and down my body. Unbidden, I think, He better watch himself. Jaxon wouldn’t like that at all.

I ignore his appraisal and clear my throat.

“I’m here to collect Jaxon Covington for his session.” I keep my face neutral, even though my palms feel slightly clammy. The guard frowns, but then smiles at me again.

“Sure thing,” he says, as he knocks on the door frame before heading in to get the paperwork.

I turn away for a second and let out a silent, shuddering exhale. The butterflies in my stomach are doing loop-de-loops at the thought of the look on Jaxon’s face when he sees me.

“Hold on a sec,” the young guard says, jerking me from my reverie. “It says here inmate Covington had his session yesterday.”

I give him a bland smile and nod to this. I came prepared. “That is correct. However, I’m attempting a new technique in the hopes of compelling a more genuine response.”

I see his eyes glaze slightly, but his slight frown remains firm, and he hasn’t handed over the necessary paperwork yet. I’m not sure if I should throw around my authority or not.

In an instant, I decide against it, because either they will deny me or they will have to seek permission. In either case, there is a very good likelihood it will be run by Dr. Gardner, and I don’t really want him sticking his nose in.

Instead, I brighten my smile just a touch and give him a conspiratorial look. Then, I lower my voice so he has to lean down to listen. “I shouldn’t be discussing this with you, but I’m trying to insert uncertainty into the dynamic to elicit a truthful response to my patient’s trauma.”

I pull away slightly, my eyes wide and imploring. I put a touch of anxiety in my voice. “I’m on a deadline. I need all the help I can get.”

As soon as the word ‘help’ is uttered, he leans back with a smile.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so? Just sign here.”

I do as I’m told, and he initials next to my name. Then, with a word and a wave at the other guards in the station, he steps down next to me. “Here, I’ll escort you to him. He’s in gen pop, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you on the way there.”

I smile blandly and mumble a thank you, and we proceed on our way.

When we round the final corner to the main common area, his back is to me. I slow down and pause just at the edge to observe him.

I’ve never really seen him in his natural habitat, though I don’t think prison is his natural habitat, either. What I mean to say is that I’ve only ever seen him in controlled environments when he knew to expect me.

He knew I was watching and acted accordingly. This time, he doesn’t.

No one has noticed me yet, so I gently grab the guard’s arm and put a finger to my lips. He winks conspiratorially, but pauses with me. We both remain silent so as to not draw attention.

Jaxon slouches easily in a chair, back still to me, and looks, for all intents and purposes, like a king holding court.

Though it’s surprisingly difficult, I shift my attention around the rest of the room to find all the inmates ebbing and flowing in the natural current of his charm. You can almost feel the gravitational force of his presence. They are rocks—dull lifeless hunks of planets while he…he is the sun.

And then, just like the inmates I have just maligned, I find myself inescapably sucked into his space. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop myself. The pull is a deep ache low in my belly and groin, pulsing fire in my blood.

Once again, time seems to slow as I walk towards him, and I realize I got it wrong.

I am the sun—a swiftly rising star—and he…he is my black hole. I currently stand on the precipice, staring down the point of no return.

My high heels click on the linoleum floor as I begin my slow stride. Here and there, I am catcalled.

“Hey, hot mama!”

“Nice tits!”

“Oh, fuck me, baby, I’m yours.”

“I’ll take you for a ride, princess.”

The guard yells for everyone to shut up.

Then Jaxon turns. His lips are puckered, as if he was about to wolf-whistle, but I’ll never know. His mouth flattens in an instant when he realizes it’s me.

His face, for once, appears unguarded, and I note each successive expression with some of my usual detachment. Surprise, longing, anger, and frustration fly over his features before his face and body settle into positions of dominance.

In a flash, he is up, his hand in the air calling for silence with the sheer authority of one who expects to be obeyed. The voices die out as if muted.

His eyes flare with heat and hunger as he takes me in.

For reasons known only to my subconscious, I left my kitten heels at home today. Instead, I wear my glossy black patent pumps with the four-inch heels—the surface so shiny I wouldn’t be surprised if you could see up my skirt. They’re the closest thing I’ve got to ‘fuck me’ pumps.

I watch his face again as he quickly looks me up and down and then does a double take on my shoes. He gives me a once-over again, but this time the look is languid.

His eyes rake over me with such force, it feels as if my nerves are tingling everywhere his eyes touch. As he makes his way up, I feel my nipples harden and my breasts grow heavy. Though I have nothing to reference, I do believe I’ve just been eye-fucked.

It thrills me.

However, we aren’t alone. We’re surrounded by other inmates and guards, and I am his doctor. No matter what’s churning beneath my skin, my outer surface must be calm, cool, and collected.

I can feel my mask slip into place as I give him my blandest smile. “Mr. Covington.”

“Dr. Hughes.” He inclines his head slightly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

I frown at him slightly, just to see what he’ll do.

“Come with me,” I say, my tone clipped. There is the tiniest look of hurt and confusion on his place before it’s replaced with his usual sardonic smile.

“Of course,” he says, eyebrow arched, before he bows slightly at the waist. “Lead the way.”

I turn on my heel and head out, not bothering to check if he’s following me. I know he is—not because he’s submissive, but because he’s intrigued. Good.

The sound of my heel clicks seem to echo too loudly in the still silent room. The chatter doesn’t resume until we leave and I notice, out of the corner of my eye, Jaxon giving a signal.

We are halfway to my office before it dawns on me that everyone was waiting for his permission to speak.