Chapter Five
1520 North Broadway Avenue, Suite 500.
I’ve had her office address memorized since she gave me her card a year ago. It burned into my mind, etched into my memory. My eyes were drawn to the impressive building through the windows of Roberto’s while I waited for our breakfast order.
“Here you go, se?or. Order for la doctora,” the cook said with a thick accent and a friendly smile. He slid a plastic bag with two styrofoam carry out containers across the counter while I pulled my wallet out.
“Thank you,” I replied with a smile, handing him thirty dollars. “Keep the change.”
“Muchas gracias,” he replied as he pressed keys on his old, outdated cash register. “I am always happy to have new customers here. I hope you love mi abuelita’s recipes and return soon.”
“I look forward to trying it. Thank you again.” I smiled back, trying to avoid eye contact by looking past his ear, hoping he couldn’t tell.
Returning my wallet to my back pocket, I stopped to take a quick look around. I could see why Doctor Lawson liked this restaurant—It's homey. It smells like going to a family member's house for dinner and having grandma cooking in the kitchen. Photos of at least three generations of the family that owned the restaurant were in mismatched wooden frames on the wall behind the register.
My eyes found a black-and-white photograph of an older woman standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot. She was smiling down on what she was cooking, and then it began. The blurred vision and muffled sounds in my ears. I closed my eyes, letting the weightless feeling overtake me.
Opening my eyes, I found myself in the same restaurant, but my vision was filtered, and I saw everything in a sepia-tone. Looking at my hands, I wasn’t holding a takeout bag anymore, but I was wearing a brown-colored zoot suit of sorts with a gold pocket watch chain trailing from my pocket to a button on my jacket.
I walked to the kitchen and saw her—the woman from the photograph—cooking and stirring a pot. She turned to look at me as I snapped a photo of her, and she waved me off with a chuckle.
“Ven mijo, come. ?Tienes hambre?” She asked as she ladled her famous pozole into a bowl and ushered me to sit at one of the restaurant’s tables. She served me and placed a maternal kiss on top of my head before combing my hair with her fingers.
With a blink of an eye, I was back in my present body, holding the takeout order in my hands, my knuckles white from gripping the bag with all my strength. Trying to shake it off, I glanced above the photos and saw palm-sized skulls strung and hanging on the wall like a garland, painted in a variety of colors and designs. But they were chaotic and messy—as if children painted them.
“For Dia De Los Muertos this weekend. My daughter and her friends painted them for the restaurant to celebrate,” the cook said, his eyes beaming with pride. “Please let Miss Helena know that she is welcome for our celebrations. I’ll make her favorite pan dulce.”
“I would be happy to pass along the invitation,” I said with a smile.
This feels normal. How life should be—friends, family, celebrations.
Trying to ride the high of the cook’s positivity, and his lovely grandmother’s hospitality, I exited Roberto’s with our lunch order. With a sigh, I supported the weight of the carry out containers with my forearm while holding the handles of the bag in the other. I quickly crossed the street while traffic was thin and unlocked my car. I got lucky finding the last metered parking spot on the street.
Placing our bag down by the parking meter, I pulled out my keys and unlocked the twice locked glove compartment. Pulling out my leather folio containing my note taking supplies and the new case file, I relocked it and placed three dollars in quarters into the meter. Picking up our food, I turned to head inside Doctor Lawson’s building.
It was surreal standing in the lobby of this fancy building. She was so close to me this entire time, so close, yet so far out of reach.
Shaking it off, I quickly found the elevators, navigating to the fifth floor.
The doors opened to Doctor Lawson’s floor. I stepped out of the elevator onto richly colored Brazilian cherry wood floors, polished to perfection. Keeping the natural concrete colored stone walls added an interesting touch. Something so simple paired with something so expensive and exquisite as this wood floor clashed in the most chaotic but beautiful way.
Following the hall down, I was met with a matching wooden reception desk with an angelic-looking woman sitting behind it. She intrigued me. Why would someone with her genuine innocence, this saint of a woman, want to work for a psychiatrist that sees the most evil side of people?
She was professionally dressed: a white button up collared shirt, gray suit jacket, and matching below the knee length pencil skirt. The outfit screamed modesty. A gold chain adorned her slender neck with an intricate gold cross charm resting over her heart. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was pinned back, out of her face, and kind chocolate eyes met mine as she smiled.
“You must be Special Agent Sullivan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said as she stood, lowering her eyes in respect.
“That’s not necessary…” My eyes found her name plaque on her desk. “Elaine. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. May I see Doctor Lawson? I come with Roberto’s.”
“Oh, you really are out to earn bonus points from her, aren’t you?” Elaine chuckled as she sat down and pressed a button on her phone. “Doctor, Special Agent Sullivan is here for your meeting.”
“Thank you, Elaine. Please show him in.”
“Right this way, Agent.” Elaine smiled again, and I followed her down a short hallway ending at a pair of wooden double doors.
Dr. Helena Lawson, MD, PhD Forensic Psychiatry and Forensic Pathology
The letters adorned her office door in raised, rose gold colored metal pieces. Everything about this office was a work of art, and exquisite, just like her. Pure, raw, feminine power radiated from behind those doors, and I was ready to let it consume me.
“She’s ready for you. Feel free to have her page me if you need anything. A fresh pitcher of ice water and some sodas are on ice in the refrigerator on the west side of the room. Good luck!” Elaine turned on her heels and whispered a hymn sounding tune as she walked back to her station.
Well, here goes nothing.
As soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, Doctor Lawson pulled it open. She was all of a sudden significantly shorter than me, catching me off guard.
“Come now, Agent, don’t look so confused. It’s a habit of mine to take my heels off when I’m in here. Call it a personal comfort preference,” Doctor Lawson said with a wink. “Don’t feel obligated to do the same. I don’t have a ‘no shoes rule.’ It’s my way of helping myself remain grounded.”
She nodded for me to enter, and I did. My eyes found a small, black mat on the floor in the corner by the door with her two go-to pairs of pumps standing neatly in a row. Call it the gentleman in me, I wanted her to feel like I was respecting her office, so I removed my shoes leaving them on the mat next to hers.
“I have to admit, it is nice to work with no shoes on. It feels—”
“Freeing?” she asked, finishing my sentence.
“Yes, my thoughts exactly.” I smiled, holding up the takeout bag. “Let’s see if this tastes as good as it smells? Oh, and before it slips my mind, Mr. Roberto invited you to their Dia De Los Muertos celebration.”
“Ah, yes. I try to make it every year. He lost his wife and one of his twin daughters in a drunk driving accident, so it means a lot to him to have support,” she said with an empathetic smile. “Here, let me take this. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Agent. I have a coat closet here,” she said, patting a little sliding door along the wall. “The door next to it is a restroom if you need to use it. I’ll get us set up to eat.” She smiled, walking away around the corner, and I decided to make use of her coat closet.
I placed my folio down on the end table by the door and removed my trench coat. Holding my coat in my hands, I slid open the closet door, and draped my coat over a mahogany colored wooden hanger. I couldn’t help but smile seeing her various coats hanging there as well.
Why do I like seeing my things with hers? Her shoes with my shoes, her coats with my coat. Fuck, I am obsessed, aren’t I?
“Yes, I am,” I sighed out loud as I also removed my suit jacket, hanging it as well. I unbuttoned the collar button on my shirt and loosened the knot on my tie slightly to try to breathe a little easier. I was beyond nervous, and burning up in here, even after seeing the thermostat on the wall by the closet set to sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit.
“I hope it’s not too chilly in here for you, Agent. I’m a little too used to the cold. Feel free to adjust the thermostat if you are uncomfortable,” Doctor Lawson called from around the corner.
Maybe she can read minds. I chuckled in my mind.
“I don’t mind, actually. I prefer the cool air,” I called back out.
Rolling my sleeves up neatly to the tops of my forearms, I took a moment to take in the entryway of her office space. It was surprisingly comfortable here. The walls were a pale olive green color, with an off white crown and floor molding. Various picture frames and artwork in simple black frames adorned the walls, along with her various degrees and diplomas.
This entryway had a cozy linen couch and coffee table with magazines along the opposite wall of the little closet, and I assumed this was her waiting area. There were a few jasmine scented candles lit on the coffee table and a little end table with a blossoming orchid plant. It wasn’t meant to feel intimate, but comforting. The scents weren’t overpowering, but calming. Picking up my folio, I tapped on the edge nervously.
I have never been to a therapist I’ve liked; their offices are always so—
“Clinical?” Doctor Lawson appeared in front of me, finishing my thought, catching me off guard. “Oh, I’m sorry, Agent. Did I spook you? I Just know with your history, I’m sure you’ve seen the insides of plenty of offices and they’ve been quite a bit different. I value comfort over clinical, and floral over sterile.” she said with a wink. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good,” she said almost breathlessly; her pupils dilated, sending a rush of blood to my cock.
Great. Just great timing for a hard on, I thought while adjusting my belt.
Following Doctor Lawson around the corner, my eyes found her desk in front of a floor to ceiling window, overlooking a nearby nature center with a creek. It was definitely a nicer view than the FBI office. I can see why she chose this location for a therapy office. The scenery alone is calming, inviting.
Her desk was a black stained wood with a row of cabinets on each side, leaving the middle exposed. I imagined sitting at one of the plush chairs in front of her desk, admiring her long, crossed legs underneath the desktop. Her dainty, deep red painted toenails brushing up the leg of my pants and—
“Agent?” Helena asked, pulling my attention away from her desk and my inappropriate thoughts.
“Yes, sorry, Doctor.” Turning around, I smiled, seeing a little conference table with four desk chairs. There was a small refrigerator on the wall Elaine had mentioned to me, and a short length of countertop next to it. It was enough room to hold a microwave, coffeemaker, and a fruit bowl with a rack of coffee pods.
“Would you like a coffee, water, or soda?”
“Soda would be great, thank you.”
“Please sit and relax. We can start our session after we eat. Need to make sure my superhero agent is fed and ready for action.” She smiled softly at me as I stood near the counter, nervously adjusting my gun holster on my belt. “If you’d like, you can leave your folder on my desk until we are done eating,” she offered.
“Oh, I forgot I was holding it, thank you,” I stammered.
Fucking idiot.
Doctor Lawson chuckled and moved toward a chair at the head of the table, and I rushed over, pulling out her chair for her to sit.
“Thank you, Agent. Please, sit.”
Taking a seat to her right, I opened the bag and pulled out a bundle of napkins and plastic silverware. Carefully removing one carry out box at a time, Doctor Lawson opened one of the lids, immediately filling the space with the smell of fresh breakfast burritos, rice, and refried beans.
“That smells fucking amazing,” I groaned, then immediately caught myself. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry Doctor, I don’t mean to curse.”
“You just did it again,” she laughed a fucking amazing laugh, sending that same hot arousal to my dick. “I ordered you the same, so you’ll have to tell me just how fucking amazing it is.”
That did it—this woman will be my fucking undoing. My cock was rock hard for her under the table, and with my free hand, I palmed myself, praying for this erection to calm down, and to be able to hide my arousal from the best psychiatrist in the country.
“So, tell me, Agent.” She paused to take a sip of her soda before continuing. “How does it feel to be here with the BAU so suddenly?” Delicate fingers intertwined with the corners of a napkin as she dabbed at her blood red lipstick, leaving behind a slight smudge on the paper. My eyes were laser focused on her lips as they tilted up in a grin.
“I, um, I definitely wasn’t expecting it to happen this suddenly,” I admitted, scooping another bite of the best homemade refried beans I’ve ever tasted into my mouth.
“Oh, really? Why is that?”
“Well, you know I’ve wanted to make it to the BAU for a long time,” I said, relaxing back in my chair, crossing an ankle over my knee. “Every one of my cases in the VCU was solved by implementing your methods and just common sense. I just assumed they would keep me there, since their solve rate for cases was increasing.”
“So, you thought you were stuck since the whole department was running off of your success?”
“Well, I never thought of it that way. I just truly wanted to help be a good agent and do the right thing, hoping it would help propel me forward to where I want to be,” I said, shifting my eyes from Doctor Lawson’s to my hand fiddling with the tab on my soda can.
“And where do you want to be, Camden?” My eyes were pulled back to Doctor Lawson’s striking, intense gaze again.
“Where do you want to be, Camden?” Helena asked as she stood in the doorway to a luxurious bedroom. Her silk robe hung open, gifting me with the view of her perfect, naked body.
“I’m right where I want to be, Helena,” I said as I walked across the bedroom toward her. My hungry eyes took in her perfect body: her perfect breasts, slim waist, and wide hips.
“Oh, really now? Right where you want to be?” She grinned that fucking side grin, letting her silk robe fall off her shoulders and pooling at her feet.
I fell to my knees in front of her, looking up to meet her gaze.
“Are you hungry, Camden?” she asked, stepping out of the doorway and leaning on the nearest wall. I pivoted my body to face her.
“Starving, Helena.” Scooping her long left leg over my shoulder, I pulled her by her hips, burying my tongue in her sweet pussy.
“Show me how starved you are. Show me,” she moaned as I flattened my tongue on her slit, dragging my tongue toward her clit.
She rocked her hips, grinding her clit on my tongue. Her breathy moans drove my hunger, my desire for her—my desire to please her. Bringing my right hand up around the top of her thigh, my thumb took over circling her clit as my left hand spread her pussy wide so I could thrust my tongue deep inside her warmth.
“Camden,” she moaned as I lapped up her arousal like a starved man. “Don’t you dare stop…”
I hummed my reply and the vibrations she felt made her cry out in pleasure. Licking and sucking my way toward her clit, I stopped the movements of my thumb and shifted my hand to her thigh. I knew how to make my Helena come, how to make her shatter and scream my name.
With my left hand, I thrusted two fingers inside her tight cunt as I sucked her clit in between my teeth, biting ever so slightly. Her hands immediately found my hair, gripping tight as her hips began to buck and grind on my face. Reaching deep inside her pussy, I curled my fingers, finding that perfect spot as I bit down harder on her clit, forcing her orgasm to ravage her body.
“Fuck! Yes, Camden. Harder!” She cried out, and I punched my fingers in and out of her, forcing them to thrust deeper inside her with each pump. Every time I thrusted inside her, I bit down harder, and she shattered.
With one last shaky moan, her trembling body came down from her climax, and I slowly released her clit from my teeth and my fingers from her pussy. I gently guided her leg off my shoulder and stood in front of her, pressing my body against hers. With her hands still in my hair, she pulled my mouth to hers, tasting herself on my tongue.
“Camden?” Doctor Lawson asked, a knowing eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Where did you go off to this time?”
All I could do was stare at her, my breathing ragged and a sweat forming on my brow. She was fucking intoxicating. I wanted to flip this table out of the way to get to her, pull her perfect pouty lips to mine, and devour her soul—make these daydreams a reality. But were they my daydreams? Or hers?