LOVE QUAKES: BOXED SET (BOOKS 1-4) (9 page)

As I drive, I calm down enough to think about how I should respond to the sender of the photos. Since I’m not sure of their obscure source, I decide to ignore the message for now. Next, I think about Tristan. The pictures of him are graphic and revealing. However, there’s a possibility that they’ve been manipulated. After all, pictures don’t always tell the full story. He deserves the benefit of a doubt.

While I’m stopped at a red light, I decide to send him the pictures. I add a brief message: “Dinner’s off, explanation please.” That should get his attention. I use my navigator to find the location for the next stop I’m going to make. It’s in an upscale section of downtown San Diego. I park behind a modern glass and steel office building. There’s an elevator to the fourth floor and I search for the name of the referral I’ve been given. I find Dr. Jim Wong’s office with ease.

After the shock of seeing Tristan’s candid shots, I called the clinical office of my former therapist at school. Her staff members recommended a local therapist in San Diego and even made an emergency appointment for me. They know me well after my twice per week, two year counseling sessions with Dr. Laura. I think of her fondly. She helped me put my head on straight, after the trauma of Richard’s beltings and stalking attempt. Thank goodness for my health insurance benefits through Rob.

While waiting to see Dr. Wong, I notice several text message indicators and a VM from Tristan that appear on the screen of my phone. I’m not responding to any of his attempts to communicate until after I speak with this new therapist. It’s 6:30pm when he opens the door and invites me to sit on the couch in his luxurious office. I’m not sure how I feel about working with a male therapist but he was the first available specialist for the sort of problem that I’ve encountered.

Dr. Wong looks like a kind, successful, middle aged wise man. I like his welcoming and confident manner from the start. He’s tall, thin and clean shaven with grey accents in his black hair.

“Good to meet you, Miss Prime,” he greets me with a warm smile that extends all the way to his eyes.

“Same here,” I mumble and offer my hand. “Did Dr. Laura’s staff send my profile and file to you already?”

“Indeed they did, Joanna. I’m pleased with how efficient they were. I’ve looked through your materials a bit already. Now, I want to know what your needs are, today,” he assures me while seating himself opposite from me on the couch.

“The short story is that I met someone about two weeks ago that I’m seriously gah-gah over. We already have a strong connection. However, I have reason to believe that he’s into aggressive sexual play and I’m definitely not. He’s never told me about these sexual practices. A third party sent me some shocking pictures of him in action, earlier today,” I explain as clearly and quickly as I can.

Wong arches his eyebrows as he leans both elbows on each knee and pyramids his hands and fingers together. He thinks carefully about what he’ll ask me next.

“Have you discussed the photos with your ‘boyfriend’?” he probes and looks at me with concern.

“I’ve sent him the pictures and asked for an explanation just before coming to see you,” I admit with relief. He nods his head affirmatively.

“That’s the right thing to do, of course. Do you know who the third party happens to be?”

“I have my strong suspicions but no, I don’t know who’s trying to sabotage my relationship,” I tell Wong as tears spring into my eyes.

“That’s the important dynamic to keep in mind,” he notes. “And, you didn’t solicit this information in any way?” 

“No. I didn’t ask this third party for any information. I would never have imagined that, my friend, even liked rough sex. We both bonded over the fact that we’d suffered from abuse in the past,” I sigh and start to sob a bit. “Dr. Wong, he’s the first man to ever spark my interest, and I think I’m already in love with him.”

“I’m sorry, Joanna, I can see your dilemma. The first guy you’ve fallen for turns out to like belts. How did you meet this man and how much time have you spent together at this point?” he asks with growing interest.

I explain the unusual circumstances of our forced encounter and more details about Tristan’s nightmares, injury and lifestyle. Dr. Wong looks at me as though I’ve grown another head. What’s that all about?

“Is there something wrong with the way I look, Dr. Wong? The expression on your face looks strange,” I ask at last. He’s been staring at me with his mouth open for the last two minutes. He’s deep in thought and somewhat distracted over my revelations.

Dr. Wong shakes his head as if to recover himself and apologizes. “I’m so sorry, Joanna. You just remind me of someone I know,” he explains with a disconcerted look on his face.

“OK, I thought maybe I’d morphed into an alien,” I joke for the first time since we started the discussion.

“I think you should discuss the photos with your friend, first and foremost. Are the pictures current? Does he still desire this sort of sexual play? People do change, Joanna. Maybe it’s in the past now,” he reasons carefully.

“Well, I’m not sure I can tolerate a person with such a past. Besides, how do I know whether or not he’ll change and get into this sexual pattern with me?” I argue with passion.

“That’s always possible but all relationships involve change. Tell me about who you think sent you these pictures and, why?” he asks suddenly.

I tell Dr. Wong all I can remember about Kristen’s phone call and inquisition. Then, I share my perceptions about Tristan’s irritated reactions to her meddling and his claim that she was crossing the line in inappropriate ways with her phone call to me.

“I haven’t called her back since that first contact,” I pronounce somewhat proudly. “I think she’s very possessive of my friend but I don’t know why, since she’s his friend and not his lover.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs. I feel as though I’ve known Wong all my life. “I think it’s best to avoid contact with this woman. She doesn’t have your interests at heart, Joanna,” he observes. “Do you agree?”

“Yeah, I think my friend should step in and tell her to leave me alone. She more than disturbs me with her questions, pictures and tone of voice. She makes my skin crawl with disgust.”

“Good choice, Joanna,” he concurs and then asks several more questions about my recent encounters with Tristan. I bring him up to speed about our growing connection and then tell Wong more about my past with Carmen and Richard. He gets the gist of my problem right away.

“You have trust issues with people who use or allow the use of aggression to solve problems, sexual or not,” he sums up.

I nod my head and observe, “But, my friend doesn’t seem to be sexually aggressive. He’s very gentle with me. There’s a palpable charge of electricity between us. It feels like we’re meant to be together.”

“You bring out another dimension of his personality, Joanna. He’s probably ready to put his ghosts to rest at this point,” he observes and then stands to indicate that our time is done. He pats me on the back as I make my way toward the exit.

“Dr. Wong, you sound as if you know my boyfriend, already,” I joke. “Thanks for pointing me in the right direction. I feel so much better after our discussion,” I gush with relief.

Wong merely smiles and sends me on my way. “By the way, don’t worry about my fee, Joanna. If you want to talk again, my door is always open.”

“You’re so kind, doctor. It’s time for me to call my boyfriend,” I proclaim as I walk out of Wong’s office.

When I reach my car in the parking lot, I notice a familiar SUV parked nearby. I look up to see Bailey motioning to me. How did he know where I was? I make my way to the dark vehicle. The back door of the SUV opens up then and Tristan emerges from it, slowly. He looks worried and distraught.

“Joanna, can we please talk about those pictures?” he begs me with the most forlorn look on his face. He swallows with discomfort and what looks like fear in his eyes.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me, Tristan?” I ask with growing alarm. My privacy is not my own it seems, since Kristen and Tristan entered it.

“I’m sorry, Joanna. We tracked your location with the GPS from your phone. I was desperate to see you, baby. Please don’t be upset,” he’s visibly hurting now. Is it from his injuries as well as the idea that I might never want to see him again? I hope so.

“I was going to call you in a few minutes anyway, Tristan,” I admit with honesty. “Would you like to come back to my place and talk?” I’m still feeling wary of him.

Tristan’s megawatt smile appears at once. He touches my arm with reverence and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Joanna but, I have all my meds and props at home. Why don’t you follow us to my place in your car? I’ll have Mrs. Gomez prepare dinner while we drive back. Is that okay?”

I agree at once. Bailey drives the SUV slowly tonight, in order to insure that I stay on their tail in my clunker I guess. As we drive, I imagine Tristan’s possible explanations for the pictures. The best answer would be that the photos are faked. My gut instinct tells me that they’re real. How will I handle the idea that Tristan enjoyed rough sex with different women?

I won’t handle it well I’m sure. I’m more than envious about the women in the two photographs I’ve seen. Everything about our continued relationship depends on his reasons for wanting an aggressive sexual outlet. If he wants me to participate in those acts, I’m gone. In addition, I’m not going to tolerate any rough sex on the side. The only acceptable reason for his actions, from my perspective, is that his sexual habits have changed. I don’t care if he’s a gorgeous, young and smitten millionaire. OK, maybe I do care a little, but not enough to put up with any abuse.

During dinner, Tristan looks at me as though I’m a prize. He’s hanging on my every word as I tell him about my interviews and the people at both psych clinics. Then, we finish our meal and head over to the sectional couch. Tristan sits down with discomfort due to his ribs.

I decide to start right in on the topic before us, “Are these pictures really something you’ve done?” I show him each of the pictures on my phone.

“Yeah, Joanna, both of them are me in action,” he admits with the most earnest expression I’ve ever seen on his face. He waits for my next question without elaborating on his admission.

“Can you tell me why you’re beating each of your lovers?” I ask with the tone of a prosecuting attorney.

“The only kind of intimacy I wanted, at the time, was impersonal through rough sex. I wanted to punish my sex partners, Joanna.”

“Are you saying that you never had a close relationship with your lovers? That all you wanted to do was screw them and hit them with belts or whips?” I’m incredulous as I ask the questions.

“I’ve already told you about my years in therapy. What I didn’t have time to tell you was that I had issues with sexual intimacy in the past,” he explains in an almost clinical way.

“What happened to you while you were abducted as a child?”

“It’s a long story but we can discuss that later, let’s focus on those pictures you saw,” he urges me.

“OK. What does that tell me? You can only be sexually satisfied with women when you beat them?” I ask with bile rising in my throat. “That you hate women?”