Chapter 4 : Mind over Matter

*Seymore's POV*

I roll around in the bed, my thoughts racing. When Ray told me someone was in my home while I was away, I didn’t know how to reply. Part of me was angry he would let strangers into my place without reaching out to me first, but I also understand how a service call can be forgotten about. He did what he felt was right and stayed in the house while the workers did their thing.

But what had they done? The furnace is practically brand new, so they had to have figured out there wasn’t anything to work on when they checked it. Had they possibly gone to the wrong address? Maybe, but they would have left a card either way.

I searched the house and the pile of mail on the counter, there wasn’t a single sign that any service was done. I played all the messages on my answering machine, and they hadn’t called to say they were on their way to the service call. How had they known to approach the neighbor because I wasn’t home?

I roll over again, trying to wrap my brain around it. The feeling of being watched hasn’t subsided. In fact, it's gotten much worse since speaking with Ray. Zeus doesn’t appear to be upset by anything other than my anxiety level being heightened. I roll back over and reach out for the sheets. In doing so, my fingers graze something solid.

I slide my hand over the object and realize it’s a person.

“Ready for round two already?” a woman’s voice asks.

I freeze. When I climbed into my bed an hour ago, I had been alone. Where did she come from and what is she doing here? Had I called someone to come over and comfort me without remembering?

She sighs and moves closer to my touch. I may not know who she is, but who am I to deny her what she came for? I run my fingers down her bare back, taking in the dips and curves that taunt me in the dark.

“Do you like that?” I ask, wanting her to speak again in hopes of putting a face with the voice.

“You know I do,” she replies in a sultry tone.

I slide over to her, very aware of the blood pounding into my cock. My mysterious guest moans as I slip my hand around to cup her breast. Her nipple responds by turning into a tight little bud that I tease gingerly by twisting it between my thumb and forefinger. Each subtle movement causes her to gasp sharply and my dick to twitch with anticipation.

“Tell me what you want,” I whisper, grinding my erection into the small of her back.

A strong scent of vanilla and jasmine fills my nose and I drink it in. Maybe it’s her body wash or perfume. Whatever it is, I’m hooked.

“I want you, Seymore. Please don’t make me beg. I want to feel you deep inside of me, filling me up till I can’t take any more,” she replies with a moan.

I really want to make her beg for it, maybe make her get on her knees and show me how badly she really wants it, but my own balls are so tight I feel like they might burst. After propping myself up, I roll her over onto her back before freezing. The face looking back at me is that of Ava Brown.

I wake up, panting and drenched in sweat. I roll onto my back to alleviate the aching in my balls. The dream was so real, right down to smelling her perfume. I haven’t thought about Ava since leaving Doc’s house, but apparently, I gave her a standing invitation to torture me in my sleep. Now I can’t stop myself from thinking about her. I can honestly say I’ve never had this problem before.

I pass by Zeus, sleeping soundly on his bed, as I head for the bathroom. I need to do something to get these dreams to stop. This one was far more pleasant than the one I had the night I got back, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep having them. After relieving my bladder, I climb back into my bed and drift off.

My alarm shrieks at me, startling me awake. I turn it off and glare at the bright red numbers that read six in the morning. I feel exhausted from not getting good sleep, but I’m also anxious to go see Ava. I slump to the bathroom to get ready, making sure I take special care to look my best. Our first encounter had caught me off guard, but this time I will be prepared.

I’m going to ask Ava for her number. Maybe if I get that, I will realize she’s no more special than any of the other women I hit on. It will help humanize her more and get me to stop thinking about her. That, and it will give me a chance to see if the real Ava stands up to the dream one.

Today will be a suit day, fashion over comfort, and I splash on some aftershave that I get complimented on every time I wear it. Feeling confident, I head out to the Range Rover and head for the train station.

It’s a chilly spring morning with fog hugging the road as I drive. It only takes about five minutes to get to the station, and another five to board. I amuse myself with backstories to go with the different morning commuters aboard the train. They are mostly blue-collar workers heading for another long day on the job.

A man and his pregnant wife are sitting a few seats up from me, and I can’t help but find amusement in the woman chastising him for not taking the day off. Something about a doctor’s appointment that she told him about repeatedly for the last month. The man just looks out the window, clearly trying to avoid the conversation.

The journey is over in the blink of an eye and we climb out of the cabin of the train in single file before branching off into our own directions. I take the stairs off the right of the landing, heading for the main street. After I glance at my watch, I realize I have plenty of time to swing by the cafe and pick up a morning cup of coffee. The shop is just down the street from the office, and I have twenty minutes to kill before I have to be there.

The cafe is busy, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee is intoxicating. My mouth waters at the thought of sipping on a hot cup of Italian roast. I get in line and am relieved to find it’s moving at a good pace. The little shop is good about having all hands on deck in the morning for the rush hour of commuters.

With a hot cup in hand, I walk out into the fresh air and take a deep breath. My favorite season is Fall, but spring is so similar it comes in at a close second. A few minutes later, I head up the steps to the office and pull at the door. It doesn’t budge. My watch shows eight o’clock exactly, but I appear to be the first one here. No problem, I’ll just sit on the steps and wait.

About ten minutes later, and about halfway through my coffee, a very frantic-looking Ava comes hurrying up the street. She has on a similar outfit as the day before. The only thing that’s changed is the colors. She pauses as I stand up from the step, tipping my coffee cup toward her.

“Running a little behind today?” I ask as she hurries past me and up the steps.

She doesn’t reply, instead, she struggles with the keys to get the door open.

“Sorry. Dr. Davies messaged me about five minutes ago saying he’s running late. Please come in. He should be here by the time I get you checked in,” she replies, waving me into the building.

“That makes me feel a little better. I was starting to think I was fired from the client list,” I blurt out as she hurries into the office behind me and starts clicking on lights.

“Fired, for what? You think because you missed one meeting, he would consider ex-ing you off his client list?” Ava asks, booting up her computer and unloading her bag on the floor beside her chair.

I shrug and look around, feeling like I showed my hand a little too honestly. After taking a seat in the waiting room, I focus on the burgundy diamonds on the carpet. Ava has stopped flying around the office and I can feel her staring at me.

“Look, Seymore, Dr. Davies doesn’t drop clients over things like missed appointments. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have the extensive list he has. Don’t stress it, okay?” she says softly from her desk.

It’s the first time she’s shown me kindness. Not pity for feeling the way I do, but genuine kindness. I can’t help but smile as I stand up and walk over to her desk. She clicks away at the keyboard and checks me in before looking up at me with her emerald eyes.

“I would offer you a coffee while you wait, but it looks like you beat me to it,” she says with a smile.

“I stopped at the cafe down the street. They make the best cup of Italian roast in the city,” I reply, warming myself up to ask for her number.

Ava's smile widens at the mention of the cafe. “I know, right? They also know how to keep the line moving. No small chatter, just order and go,” she adds.

“I was wondering if…” I start, but Dr. Desmond Davies bursts through the door behind me.

“Sorry, I’m late. Ava, call my nine o’clock and push him out to nine-thirty. Then do the same with everyone up to lunch. I’ll just take a half-hour break today. Seymore,” he says, gesturing me up the stairs.

I nod toward Ava before walking away. I’ll make sure and get her number before I leave, while the doctor is busy preparing for his next client. I walk up the steps with Dr. Davies right behind me, walking through the door to his office at the top. Desmond turns on the lights while I take a seat in my regular chair by the fireplace. Dr. Davies puts his trench coat on the coat hanger and walks up to his desk to grab a clipboard and pen.

“I’m glad to see you got my message and chose to make an appointment so soon after getting back,” he says, sitting down in the chair opposite me.

“I actually came in to set up the appointment before I heard your message,” I reply. “How was it you knew I went out of town?” I ask, realizing he wouldn’t have known I left, let alone just got back from somewhere.

Dr. Davies looks at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out something to say. “I believe Ava said something about jet lag,” he says, reminding me of the conversation we had yesterday.

“Sorry, it’s been a long couple of weeks. I didn’t mean to imply anything,” I answer with a sigh.

Having someone I don’t know in my house has me being suspicious of everyone.

“Okay. So, please let me know what happened while you were out of town. Ava had mentioned you said a meeting with me was important.

I fill him in on everything. By the time I finish, Dr. Davies is looking at me over the top of his glasses. He doesn’t respond right away, causing me to want to explain further. It wasn’t like I chose to fall off the wagon. I was tempted to do so, and it had been too much to deny. Before I can open my mouth, Desmond puts his hand up to stop me.

“I want to make sure I’m understanding you correctly. You say you relapsed because a woman forced herself on you, but then you continued to have sexual encounters with strange women after that because you wanted to. Is that what you’re telling me?” he asks, a harsh look of judgment pressed on his face.

The way he words it makes the whole situation sound bad. I had been seeing it with me as the victim in the situation. I hadn’t considered the fact that I could have exercised restraint after the first encounter. When I look at it that way, I guess I am partially at fault.

“I see what you’re saying. I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” I reply, sitting back in my chair.

“Understandably, most people wouldn’t. It’s easier to paint oneself as a victim of some kind rather than admit to guilt or wrongdoing,” Desmond explains.

His arrogance is in full force as he chastises my desire to blame someone else. To think I may have gotten a little more pity from the man had I not indulged is almost laughable. I’m sure the good doctor still would have found a way to put all the blame on me. Dr. Davies clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts.

“So, how have you been doing since returning to London?” he asks.

I feel like the question is loaded as Desmond clicks his pen against the notepad in his hands. The room feels tense as if everything relies on how I answer him.

“I haven't been sleeping well, and when I do, I’m plagued by nightmares,” I reply, leaving out last night's dream starring his secretary.

“I need you to be completely honest with me, Seymore. Have you taken part in any sex acts since returning home?”

I sit forward, knowing the way I answer is going to make or break me.