I sat in the waiting area of Dr. Stella Repps office flipping through some mental health monthly magazine, my right knee bouncing uncontrollably. Im not really nervous – just PRACTICING being nervous so as to fool the doc if she tries anything too emotionally deep and draining.

I dont believe that my addiction to the FAN FIC stories is as serious as everyone around me seems to think. I admit I have a problem be it a small one at that, but I will play the game if that is what I have to do to keep my job.

The company I work for believes in pampering its employees – happy employees are productive employees. I believe they do what they do because our union is strong and has to constantly remind them to treat us with respect and dignity – either way – they provide counseling services for employees in crisis.

There are three psychologists, psychiatrists, shrinks, counselors, whatever you want to call them. Our office is full of psychos – but I always tell my customers they dont have to be afraid because we only kill our own. My co-workers and I have nicknamed them all according to the problems with which they deal.

There is Dr. Violence – he deals with the wife-beaters, road-ragers, those in need of anger management – like the woman who literally bit her soda can in half when the boss mandated her to work overtime. She had no one to pick up her kids at day care and was not happy – neither was the nurse who had to give her fifteen stitches inside her mouth and a tetanus shot from the can. Dr. V is a huge, I mean huge man – played football at West Point and served his country through three major military conflicts. I hear he slaps the patients around if they give him any smack but thats only a rumor.

Then there is Dr. Depression. Some of us fake our symptoms just to go to him – he is just so much fun that you definitely are cured after a session or two with him. He is a ***** man, a ***** Chinese man who wears bright pink shirts with red ties that have the animals of the Chinese new year all over them. He bows a lot, smiles a lot and carries a fabulous man bag. He rarely prescribes drugs and is big on group therapy. He is the coach of our companys co-ed softball team — – we are 0-14.

And finally we have Dr. Addiction. She is quite the popular one with her Kate Smith Charleys Angel s look – dark hair always pulled tightly back in a full pony tail, tall athletic build, square black framed glasses , carrying that briefcase like she is some kind of big shot executive with her Ivy league college degree. Everyone thinks she is great – I think she is a cold, unqualified moron.

Cocaine, heroine, alcohol, gambling, *****, shopping – ***** – those are petty problems which could be overcome with a little self-discipline and a how-to book or two. I just dont think Dr. Repp has any idea how intense the attraction to all things BnT really is. I mean I read romance novels religiously and it doesnt matter if the two protagonists are named Horatio and Isabella to me they are Bette and Tina. I see a ***** couple in the store and I think BnT, I hear the word art and I think BnT, I rush home on my lunch break to check the site for any new postings from the time I left for work until lunch. I look for HER every day even though I know shes not there – I seek out the OTHER ONE who has developed HER bad habit of posting whenever she ***** feels like it — sometimes I think THEY know each other and know about me and tease me on purpose by waiting to post a story — knuckleheads.

I dont think Dr. Addiction is ***** and probably doesnt watch L thus making it impossible for me to relate to her and her treatment. In fact, I think she looks a little rough like maybe she was a crack head which is why she is so good with all the other addicts. Maybe she caught an episode or two after our first session and she learned why I was there. It would be nice to know my doctor does her homework as well as dishing out assignments.

The waiting room is small and there is an exit through the other side of the docs office so patients dont run into each other. Like that really maters in our work place. Everyone knows everyones business or thinks they know which makes the rumor mill run 24/7. My boss thinks my problem is with drugs because he has caught me numerous times with white powder on my upper lip – little does he realize that addiction is one of Mt Dew and donuts. His suspicions filtered through the system and many of my co-workers are very sympathetic to my situation — some have even asked for my dealers name and pager number. Im certainly not going to squelch any of those rumors because Im not sure I could live with them knowing the real reason Im seeking treatment.

Hey Beach, any BnT sightings today they would tease like I was abducted by aliens. My co-workers are ruthless. Read and good fiction lately, Beach? They dont understand; they never will.

The door to her office opens and there stands Dr. Repp smiling and welcoming me. She has no secretary or phone – all appointments are made through the personnel office – – no wonder Ive been exposed. I put down the magazine and gather the 10 inch thick folder with my assignment – K and I got a lot done yesterday despite it being ***** Sunday.

So, how are you today? she asks holding the door for me and motioning for me to sit on the leather coach across from her desk.

Fine, I reply like there would be any other answer.

Hows your boss treating you these days?

(~~~like the piece of ***** he thinks I am~~)

Fine, I reply like there would be any other answer.

He isnt working you too hard is he?
(~~lets see 60 hours this week, no day off, na, he works me fine~~~)

He does what he has to do, I reply. Im just a body filling space. Gotta do what THE MAN says, I answer with no emotion even though my right knee is bouncing uncontrollably.

Do you think that you are being overworked and that is contributing to your less than standard work performance? she asks as she takes notes on a big yellow legal pad. – no taping the sessions for this shrink.

Our company has performance standards which must be met on a weekly basis.

Maybe, I say again with no emotion. I am sure that I am tired and distracted from all the long hours (~~~plus spending every other waking moment on the computer~~).

Why dont we talk about what happened this week, OK? First your being late, then the snake, then the diamonds.

I think I was beginning to dig a small hole in the carpet from the repetitive right leg motion.

I told you guys about the snake in the nursing home which would not have been such a big deal since I actually caught the thing after it had wound itself around the small front tire of some patients wheelchair. The problem was after I put it back in the box I shut it so tightly and covered up all the holes from which it could possibly escape that it died on the way to the to the pet shop. The pet shop owner didnt know about the nursing home incident so he thought the snake was packaged incorrectly from the sender as opposed to my killing it. I really wasnt held responsible for that one.

But the diamonds, on the other hand, were a bit more serious. The package was supposed to be delivered to a local jeweler, he gets a shipment several times a month, and he must sign a release for them. Well, I accidentally took them to the pawn shop next door and some dope dealing scum behind the counter signed for them and thought he had just hit the lottery. Thankfully they were all recovered before he could fence them on the open market.

I watched the doc take notes and not reply to the two stories and was getting a little frustrated. She had made me make ***** lists and nary a word about them or the show or anything BnT. As I watched I began to think that maybe she wasnt such a moron – she actually was quite attractive. In fact I think she wanted me – I could tell by the intense stares she used when we talked.

Well, well, well, the Doctor likes the patient – perhaps I can accommodate her.

Anything else you need to know? I ask as she continues to write.

Actually, youve said some very interesting things that I want you to elaborate on but I want to make a quick note. Why dont you grab something to drink and try to relax that knee of yours. You must be getting tired.

(~~***** !~~)

OK. I give her a slight glance over my shoulder as I go to get a Dew from her small fridge. I watch her write as I head back to the couch.

(~~Yea, she wants me. And you know what doc, I think I want you too, want you right here right now on your desk.. Yea, what do you think about that Dr. Addiction?
How about I just grab you from behind pin your head on the desk as I put my forearm across the back of your neck. How about I spread you legs apart with my knee and reach up from behind and unzip those pants of yours. How do ya like me now Doc? How about after I unzip those pants and let them fall to the floor I find that secret little spot that makes you go wwooo wwooo? How about I make you scream my name as I ask you over and over Whos your daddy baby, whos your daddy? What do you think about that as I rub you up and down and say Oh Yea, Oh yea, Oh yea . . . .~~~)

Beach, are you OK? asks the doc breaking my concentration.

Oh .. . . Yea . . . I say hesitantly, my mouth agape at being caught.

You know this would be a good time to share with me exactly what you are thinking, she says. Where were you mentally just now, whats going through your mind?

(~~you gotta be frickin kidding me??~~~~)

You dont want to know doc, you wouldnt want to know.

Beach, we arent going to get anywhere until you admit you have a problem and are willing to share.

Are you sure? I ask knowing full well the next words out of my mouth will be lies.

Yes, tell me.

Well, Doc, I dont like you (LIAR) I dont think you are ***** and I dont tink you could possibly relate to anything I am going through (LIAR).

Thats it? Thats what you were thinking?

Yep

Well, I certainly understand where that is coming from, but I definitely got the feeling you were thinking about something else. You know, its ok to have a crush on your therapist. Its quite common.

(~~I think I might have to kill her~~).

I could feel my face burning red with embarrassment as I steadfastly denied any attraction to Dr. A. I told her I was married -happily and resented her implication.

The little bell rang indicating an end to the session and she smiled at me and apologized and said she was looking forward to our next meeting. She thought I was making progress – what a moron.

As I got up to leave I turned to her and said, you know what doc, Im certainly not attracted to you but I wouldnt mind bending you over that desk there and Bette ***** your brains out. Sometimes its just about ***** – a girl just wants to get laid.

I walked out the door with my heart beating so fast that I thought I was going to die. I stopped by the little newspaper stand in front of her office building and bought the daily paper – hoping to search the want ads. If these therapy sessions were a condition of my employment, I was probably going to need a new job . . .



TBC . . .