Chapter 1: Sex, Lies, and Coffee

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 594
Comments: 6

Sitting in this lonely office is kind of a shock for me. Usually I’m surrounded by people, flirting, being the center of attention. That’s what I like. It’s not that I need to do it, I could care less about people and the opinions they have of me and who I am. I do it because I can; it’s a power trip for me more or less. I can control any social setting I’m involved in and that is so much fun. This place is different, it’s almost like I’m going in front of a firing squad and loading the bullets for them. It’s unfair and personally I find it to be a big pile of shit to have to come here. Where am I, you ask? Therapy. This is my first session. Why am I here? I can’t tell you right now. Wouldn’t that defeat the whole point of you reading this. I’m not big on holding on to secrets but this one is pretty good.
“Dr. Williams will see you now.” I hear from the desk of that cute blonde receptionist. I should get her number, but then again, just because I’m in a therapist’s office, she will think I’m a fucking basket case. That’s far from the reason I’m here, but like I said, we will get to that part in a few minutes.
You always see a therapist’s office in TV shows and movies, well let me tell you something, they nail it. There is a big couch, a nice desk, and the stupid fake plants and trees. It almost makes you feel cliché just walking into this place. The good doctor isn’t in her big office but I can see a secondary smaller office with the door shut so I’m assuming someone is in there. I’m bored easily so I decide to entertain myself by starting up the Newton’s Cradle, see it’s like walking into a cliché. I notice that the name on her cute little placard says, Dr. Samantha Williams. Of all the people I could be in a therapy session with it had to be a woman.
Who knows, maybe she’s older like my mother, or she might be young like my sister, of all things I’m hoping she’s not attractive. There are rules that state that a female doctor can’t be attractive right? Well, I guess there might not be an official rule but there needs to be.
The smaller office door opens up and I jump back to my seat to look innocent, not thinking about the Newton’s Cradle still clunking back and forth. Enter Dr. Samantha Williams, the only thought that enters my mind is, Doctors can’t be this attractive. She’s almost perfect. Long brunette hair, the most blue eyes I have ever seen in my life, not Smurf blue but a deep dark blue. I am certain this is a joke, it has to be. My friends have gone to lengths farther than this for a joke so I’m a bit skeptical.
Staring at her no smoking sign, I light my cigarette and wait for her to sit in her expensive comfortable chair. “I can see already, I’m going to have my hands full with you” The first thing Samantha says to me. She knows the kind of person I am already. This should be fun. She glances at her folder, “There is no smoking in my office.”. I can’t help but look at her and feel my smartass side come out, “Isn’t the patient supposed to be comfortable Doc?” I say to her. “Not if it breaks state law, now put it out please.”
“I’m going to comply with this one time. ONLY one time.” I put my cigarette out in her ugly fake plant. “I’ll buy you another ashtray, I mean, plant.” The stare happens. The stare is what I love to do to a woman to basically eye fuck her for about three seconds, it works quiet often so I figured why not try it? “What brings you to my office today?” She says.
I look up from checking my cell phone and tell her in as serious of a tone as I can, “Peer pressure, plain and simple. My friends all seem to think I need help for my “addiction” as they call it.” With that blank therapist expression she simply asks, “Addiction?” “They think I’m a sex addict, that’s far from what I am or maybe it’s exactly what I am, but, that’s your job to figure out. If I’m addicted to anything, it’s the lifestyle I live and the lifestyle I have earned and deserved.”
“What makes you think you deserve the lifestyle that you lead?” Something about that blank expression makes me just want to lay my hands on this woman, which I have never done. Unless she asks. Twice. Followed by daddy or sir. “Have some kind of emotion and concern dammit!” I’m screaming in my head. “What makes me think I deserve it? HA what a question. As a stranger, I can understand your ignorance. I’ve worked for this life since I was twelve years old. I deserve everything I have and no one can take it away from me. If they tried, they wouldn’t like the outcome. My father built a foundation in me from an early age and I just developed it into what I am.”
My emotion seemed to get her attention as she sat up in her chair. “Well then. I want you to explain to me how it all began, The foundation your father built, the sex addiction that your friends seem to think you need help with everything. That’s why I’m here. I do want you to know that you have my genuine interest now, I’m seeing something worth talking about with you.” She smiled a cute little smirk, maybe she was serious about what she just said. Maybe she was full of shit and just trying to get me to open up. It honestly didn’t matter I had a story to tell and finally someone who would listen. She may have been getting paid to listen, but, still she was listening.
In that moment, I thought to myself, maybe that’s all I need. I need someone to listen and understand who I am, why I’m this way, and the most important thing, WHAT I am. Some inner-self philosophical crap would be appropriate to insert here but I’m not like that. Most days. Not today kids, I have things that drive me to be the guy I am and it was Samantha’s time to listen to me.
My mouth opened to tell her how it all began and who I was at one point and my journey. At any given point I can control my thoughts and words, not this time. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.” Are you fucking serious? That’s what spouted out? I felt fifteen again, awkward as could be and heart racing. Jet doesn’t feel this way inside. What is wrong with me??? How could I possibly let that out? “Thank you. Professionally speaking I can’t reply to anything of that nature. It makes me feel good to know that some guys are genuinely nice. Now that you’ve got that out of the way, tell me what built you. Before that, let me ask you something, is Jett your real name or a pseudonym?”
I let out a chuckle. “Jett is my real name. I get asked that a lot. I personally think it’s one of the most creative names out there. It’s better than Sunshine, Whisper, or even Samantha.” Another smile out of her, I’m winning this therapy battle. “You really want to start at the origins of Jett? Sweetheart, my journey didn’t actually start until I was thirteen. I know I told you twelve and that’s where my father’s foundation was implanted into my system. The real journey didn’t start until I was thirteen and I honestly didn’t know it was starting. It’s one of those “you don’t know the beginning until you’ve made it to the end” deals.”
Whenever I speak, people listen. That’s what made me so good at what I do. My job that is, and the lifestyle too I suppose. I speak with a confidence and a suaveness that can’t be matched. I knew at this moment, by the intent gaze in her eyes, I was no ordinary patient. “Since you get to ask questions, so do I. How many people come in, voluntarily, claiming they are sex addicts and they really aren’t? I know the number has to be high.” She grinned, “A lot actually. You’re the first case that has come here because others wanted him or her to get help. So, congratulations. You’re the first denial I’ve had. Although, I can tell just from the passion in your voice, this might be one of the first legitimate cases I’ve had the pleasure of having in front of me.”
With my signature sly grin, I simply replied, “Pleasure eh? That’s my specialty.” It hadn’t been long, but I already felt such a rapport with this woman. If it was her job to make people feel like they were her friend, she was doing a damn good job. I felt like I could tell this woman anything and she wouldn’t judge me. I was wrong from what I thought earlier. I was pretty safe here and that was a good thing, especially, if she wanted to get to the deep down Jet. That’s where the goldmine is. “So, Mr. Rude” I abruptly interrupted her, “Jett, please” Mouth still opened she readjusted her words “Ok then, Jett. Let’s get on track, as stereotypical as it may sound, tell me about your father and the role he had in who you are.”


Submitted: March 28, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Jett Rude. All rights reserved.


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Jett Rude

Just a piece of a story I'm working on. Hit me with the feedback. I want it. No matter how bad or good it is

Wed, March 28th, 2012 5:07am


very interesting so drew me in.....looking forward to seeing how his father played a role and the dynamics developing between the doctor and have a great style when it comes to dialogue

Wed, March 28th, 2012 5:31am


OOOO I like this, I genuinely do. It sounds like the main character is living the lifestyle of someone who is into what is known as the BDSM lifestyle.. he must be a dom or a master.. hmmmm... I wonder.. Is this based on a real life experience or is this something you just made up? I hope you don't mind my asking but the way you write it makes it seem like you are part of the lifestyle.

Wed, March 28th, 2012 12:15pm


oh kmu please ^^

Wed, March 28th, 2012 12:16pm

Jett Rude

Kits what's your email? I can send you more as I update it. Thank you for the input

Wed, March 28th, 2012 12:33pm


my email is

Wed, March 28th, 2012 1:52pm

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