Beautiful Force (5 page)

Allison stuck to just enough of the old school textbook philosophies to keep up professional appearance for her father’s sake. However, the aftermath of her ordeal with Mr. Patterson gave her a new lease on life.  The route she took was drastic. She needed to feel empowered, especially when it came to men. Her control was taken away that night and it was time to take it back. She accomplished this by farming an unconventional twist into her therapy—very unconventional. Her prices
went up and her overhead went down, literally, if you get the point. 

Not a single tear had fallen from Allison’s eyes since the night she had gone out on a limb for her suicidal patient. No one would ever take control or take advantage of her ever again. She would never again feel a sense of guilt for her behaviors, or choices on how she treated men. Her modest, charming and kind attitudes turned cold and shifted to
fuck’em first
, or get fucked. And, that was what she did.

Chapter four

As she finished buttoning up her white cotton blouse, she turned to confront her seemingly drunk patient Jace. There was a distressed expression on her beautiful, flushed-crimsoned face.
 

“This can never happen
again. I feel...” Allison paused as she wiggled into her skirt, zipping it up in a hurry. 

She studied her patient. His handsome face contorted, a despaired expression replaced his demands to stay. He looked painstakingly chocked full of guilt.
 

“Please, Jace…you need to go, now. I can see we’ve made a terrible mistake. We can never do this again,” she half-heartily whimpered.

Jace Silver, her guilt-stricken sexually dysfunctional patient of two years, spoke softly. “Allison, don’t say a word. I didn’t mean for this to upset you. I thought you wanted this—please,” he said with a slight slur, tracing a path toward her. 

“You must leave, Jace. Put your pants on,” she said firmly, turning her back on him, smiling to herself. Jace placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently.
 

“It’s okay…I give you my word, I will never tell anyone. You can trust me as I have you for the last few years. And, in return,
you will learn
to trust me. You know,
tit for tat
,” Jace spoke condescendingly, narrowing his eyes. His breath eased into a chuckle. The alcohol was definitely kicking in. 

Allison picked up on his intoxicated mannerisms. She wasn’t sure if he was being cheeky or out of line. Jace had a lopsided grin plastered on his face that she still found very sexy. In the moment, she brushed off his ballsy comment. What got into him? He was always so poise
d and elegant. Surely, it was the alcohol speaking. 

Jace has never been so audacious,
she thought.

“I appreciate your reassurance, but—”

Jace interrupted. “Allison, I’m really torn. I
must
share something with you before I leave,” he groaned, exhaling as he swiftly slipped his jeans on over his boxers.

“I think we shared enough today, Jace. I’m sorry our celebration is over and it has to end here,” Allison said wistfully as she took a seat on the edge of the sofa.
 

Jace
’s expression filled with a look of astonishment. Her words left him feeling equally verklempt.

Allison wondered,
what did Jace mean by his comment
that she will learn to trust him?
After all, she was the one that swore to an oath of patient confidentiality. If anyone found out they had a sexual entanglement, her career, not to mention his troubled marriage would be over too. They both had something great to lose. Although Allison certainly knew that she’d never breathe a word about what happened between them, she wasn’t confident that Jace would keep his word. She feared his bi-polar condition would rear its ugly head, rendering him incapable of keeping his word. 

Allison stretched forward, resting her elbows upon her knees. She then covered her face with her palms.
 

“We both have too much to risk. You must never return here—forget today. If our—if the little fun we had together ever got out it could destroy our lives—oh, Jace,” she sighed, swallowing her words. Hard. Covering her face with her palms, she sobbed quietly. She hid her eyes in case any insincerity showed on her face.

The room grew quiet, save for her soft cries. It troubled her that Jace was speechless. He could have said something. What the hell? She was crying so why wasn’t he comforting her? Allison’s curiosity got the best of her. She had to be certain her tears were affecting him in someway. Why would she go through all this for nothing?
Damn him
, she thought. How could he be such a heartless bastard? After all she had done for him through the years, why wasn’t he showing her some sympathy? Fuck, she listened to his long boring stories too many times for him to turn on her now. 

Between the spaces in Allison’s fingers, her big green eyes discreetly roamed toward Jace. She evaluated him carefully and saw a degree of shame, but nothing to alarm her pretty head about. She felt confident that her tears were working on him like a charm.
 

All was going according to her plan and, judging by his expression, her tears prevailed. Allison learned years ago that her tears were not cheap
, just like the old adage claimed. 

However, after closer observation and several minutes later, Jace was clearly losing it. He kicked the leg of the leather chair and began combing the room back and forth. Her eyes followed in his footsteps.

Where was his compassion for her?
She thought.

A back-up plan was in order. Allison began to bawl louder. Her sobs echoed in her own ears. Still, she received no reaction from Jace. This triggered a knot of authentic anxiety in the pit of Allison’s stomach.
 

Jace appeared extremely burdened—way beyond the guilt of a man who had just cheated on his wife. He ran his hands through his coal jet-black hair, seemly out of control. His eyes vacillated to Allison then back to the floor.
Could he be acting too? Had she met her equal? Impossible.
 

“I feel so awful...for you,” Allison whined. If he could not show her any empathy, she would have to show compassion for him. What a classic strategy. However, Jace’s feelings were the last thing on her mind.

 Jace approached Allison and smoothed down the strands of her
just been fucked hair-do
. She buried her face deeper into her palms and continued to cry. Finally, he showed a touch of consideration for her feelings. Allison exhaled and peered up toward Jace. Her eyelashes fluttered, adding at bit of drama to her performance. A typical female maneuver. 

Allison’s amateur years performing in the theatre seemed to be paying off. While she was growing up, it was her dream to be an actress, but her dear old dad told her that dreams were for sleeping. His favorite phrases were wake up to reality, take-off your blinders and there are no roses to smell. He was such a bitter old man. No wonder her mother walked out on them and later passed away from a broken heart. Nonetheless, she buckled under the pressure of her father’s demands. She’d g
iven up so much by trying to please her father. 

No one would have believed that her decision to practice psychiatry was a compromise on her part—not even her closest friends. Of course, her
so-called
friends never gave a shit about her anyway. Most of them were spoiled, Ivy League kids who lived off of their trust funds. They never had to make real career choices. So, who really knew if, in fact, Allison was settling by chasing her father’s dreams instead of her own? 

“Jace, I don’t think I can continue seeing you, at least not on a professional basis. I have breached my code of ethics with you today,” she cried as tears streamed down her face. Allison figured that if she took the blame for their liaison, he would leave without a fight.
 

“Stop crying,” he said demandingly, stumbling over his feet.

His harsh words caused Allison to shudder from head to toe.

Jace’s jaw clenched tightly. His eyes glazed over. “I can’t stand to see a woman cry.” He grew more agitated by the second.
 

Jace’s odd behavior was the last thing Allison expected after their romp. The inappropriate sex that she instigated was to help jolt Jace into reality. It certainly worked on her other patients.

All she wanted was for him to lighten up and to have fun, even if that meant behaving a little naughty with her. The sexapade was not meant to make him freak out. 

Her sexual tactics were supposed to work like shock treatment does, but without the electricity. Personally, she felt major shockwaves. Sparks were flying off their flesh just moments ago.
What was Jace's problem?
She contemplated. 

“What is
wrong
with you, Jace?”

“I feel guilty for what we have done,” he confessed.
 

“Why?
  You are cured,” she replied proudly with a huge grin plastered on her face. So much for her tears. Talk about falling out of character.

“Not, exactly. And, your tears aren’t helping either one of us. My wife—Jace’s wife will know what happened. I might as well confess before she finds out. Hell, how do I know you won’t be the one to tell her?” he fumed.

“What, no, I would never—wait, what do you mean, Jace’s wife?” Allison asked, biting on her fingernail. She looked puzzled. However, her confusion paled in comparison to how mixed-up Jace appeared to be. It was apparently the aftermath of their naughty deed that had clouded his thoughts. This was not a good sign. 

What Allison had hoped for was that her tears would have mushroomed a small degree of guilt in Jace, just enough to keep him quiet. Instead, he was putting her career in jeopardy. Her unconventional treatment to cure Jace of his sexual dysfunction was suddenly backfiring.

There was one goal in Allison’s mind and it was to stop Jace from confessing to his wife. It was time to go to plan B, and her role would be a damsel in distress. This role would not come easy to her. However, no one could be as charming or more convincing than sweet Allison when she wanted to be. For plan B, she would use her skills, a perfect combination of psychological manipulation. She would pull in all of her assets and, if absolutely necessary, bribery. She had to balance her odds. No more tears but, instead, a woman in need of a man’s help—Jace’s help!

Chapter five

The truth was Allison hadn’t felt like she needed a man in years, at least she had not needed one to save her. Men simply were not reliable, and no matter what they promised they all go away in the end. They will all let you down and make you hurt; this was Allison’s experience anyway.
 

Her own father abandoned her for a year of her life when she was a teenager. Before she left for Los Angeles, to p
ursue her dream to be an actress, her father gave her a hundred bucks and kicked her to the curb. He told her not to come back until she learned that he was her provider and creator. He also told her one-day she will learn that blood is truly thicker than water. Her father turned out to be right, she ended up crawling back to him after learning some tough lessons. 

Allison had more barb
ed wire around her heart than a prison camp, and she kept it guarded very well. She only allowed herself to get close enough to a potential suitor as a healthy substitute to her vibrator. Her motto was love ‘em and leave ‘em. She had no interest in building a lasting relationship with anyone. Holding hands and behaving like a giddy teenager was never her style. 

Yet, she was all that of a woman through and th
rough. Her male gynecologist could contest to this; after all, they had been known to exchange private house calls on a regular basis. They dubbed their fuck buddy relationship,
Bartering for Booties.
They were sexual confidants.

Allison was very resourceful, and she chose both her male friends and her patients wisely after the incident with Mr. Patterson. She bartered with a handful of men. One of her close patients was a top executive for AT&T wireless phones. He provided her cell service and, in return, she engaged in sexting with him. This turned her on and also kept him at a distance. He wanted to hear her voice over the line, but she flat out refused. In her opinion, he didn’t really have a sexy voice so talking to him didn’t ignite any passion.
 

Besides, Allison talked and listened to patient’s problems all day long and didn’t want to do the same with a man when she got home. There was no reason for building an intimate relationship with a man. Most romances last for the life of a dream, one morning you wake up and it’s gone. What was the point? Statistically, the honeymoon cycle lasts a year
, but afterwards it shrivels up and dies just like the flowers he promised he’d always send. The life expectancy of romance is short-lived. At least that is how Allison saw it. 

In Allison’s warped opinion men were tools. They came in different shapes and sizes, hopefully, strong, hard and steely. Then, there are the disappointing tools that look good on the outside but when you open the package, surprise! However, a tool is a tool
, and unfortunately they get rusty and they can no longer screw worth a damn! Furthermore, there is never one tool that fits all your needs. So, it didn’t hurt to have a spare tool lying around—Allison had a fine collection to fill the empty spaces of her toolbox when she needed an adjustment, per se.