The McLanahan Clinic Ch. 03

"Why is the thought of being homosexual affecting you so?"

"Because I'm not!"

"I didn't say you were or were not. I merely ask why are you so defensive about it?"

"I'm not!"

"Really?"

"I'm nooooh crap."

"Stephanie is rather attractive, you aren't the first person to enjoy looking at her."

"You mean I'm not the first woman to enjoy looking at her."

"There's nothing wrong with simple admiration of beauty. Have you had any experiences along those lines before?"

"Once, when I was younger." Erika shook head, muttering, "I'm surprised we didn't put each other's eyes out in the attempt."

Doctor Ross smiled, "Sounds like just about everyone's first time. There's no perfect, no matter what you're told, you're both just two people stumbling around in the dark." The clock on Janet's desk chimed quietly. "Time's up. You're too disciplined, now I want you to go out there and let things happen in their own time, for the moment. Think on three things you can let go of and let happen, and we'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Okay, thanks Dr. Ross."

"Not a problem, that's what I'm here for."

Erika left, her mind whirling as she walked to the dormitory on the far side of the manor. She closed her door behind her, stripped, and showered automatically. She best she could come up with as she was toweling off is that she was only admiring her beauty in a totally hetero non-sexual way, since she obviously wasn't a dyke. She paused for a moment and looked at herself critically in the mirror.

She knew it was hubris of the worst sort to check herself out in the mirror, but she couldn't stop comparing herself to Stephanie. Where Erika was a body of hard planes and wiry muscles from years of hard martial training. Samantha was soft curves and supple limbs from years of yoga. Thanks to Janet, as hard as she tried to deny that she wasn't looking at Stephanie that way, there was a little part of her that resisted.

Erika threw herself on her bed, covered her face with her hands and groaned. What was wrong with her? She was not having feelings for Stephanie. She was not imagining her nude. She was not imagining her nude on this bed with her, and she most definitely was not getting aroused by that thought.

Erika groaned into her hands again before sitting up and looking down scornfully at her traitorous panther, already glistening slightly in the dim light cast from the bedside lamp. Erika snarled at her groin, "I know what your game is, lady. I am completely one hundred percent heterosexual--despite your impulses to the contrary. Now you will sit down, shut up, and soldier on, get it?" Erika thought her panther looked a little chastised.

The softly glowing clock on the wall read seven forty-five, fifteen minutes to the beginning of the dinner hour. If she hurried, she could avoid it. With a sigh, she slipped on her workout clothes, and slipped out the door. She snagged a few sandwiches and a squeeze bottle of water, and slipped out the back door before the crowd started lining up.

Erika walked silently across the darkened grounds to a grassy spot near the pool complex. A lone cloud scuttled across the moon, shadowing the ground around her. Erika stretched easily, warming up quickly, her worries disappearing as she settled into the practiced routines to limber up for what came next. When her foot came down suddenly, stamping the ground, the real work began.

Breath hissed between parted lips. Movement became short, sharp, and powerful. Slowly at first, to correct any errors in the form and to harness mental focus, then moderately, to develop fluidity of motion, then quickly, to develop the martial potential. Muscles produced tremendous heat. Sweat beaded and ran. Movement continued. Time became meaningless, only position, precision, and power remained. Then, seemingly as soon as it had begun, it was over.

Erika threw her head back, lungs pumping quickly but evenly. She wiped the sweat from her and jumped at the quiet clapping from the pool.

"What was that?" Stephanie's voice called out from under the dim shadows of the pool.

"It's, uh, Shan Xi Hsing-I Chuan." Erika stammered, mentally off-balance.

The splash of water sounded unnaturally loud to Erika's heating ears as Stephanie smoothly levered herself out of the pool. Erika felt like she was punched in the gut when Stephanie stepped into the moonlight, her pale skin glowing ethereally in the pale white light. I'm not a dyke, dykes have hairy legs and wear leather, Erika said to herself, I'm a flaming heterosexual. I am not becoming aroused, it's just muscle fatigue.

Stephanie glided over and stopped a few feet away, water beading on her forehead, running down her cute nose, over her lips, gathering on her chin before flowing down her neck, over her collarbone, running between her small breasts, and following the curve of her stomach, between her thighs, down her legs and soaking into the grass. Erika felt her ears heat, and her muscle fatigue increased ten-fold. "Sounds pretty, what does it mean?" Stephanie asked, wringing the water out of her hair.

"Literally 'orthodox form intent boxing', or 'orthodox form and mind/will boxing'... or so I've been told."

"Could you teach me some of it?"

"I...I dunno, it's pretty hard. You have to be in shape to do some of it."

Stephanie cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow, "Do I look out of shape?"

Erika found her eyes roaming quite freely, part in a frank appraisal of her ability to do the forms, and part something else. Which couldn't be desire--since she wasn't a dyke--It was merely the appreciation of the beauty inherent in the human form.

"Well?"

"Hmm?"

"You've been staring. So do I look out of shape?"

"No." Erika almost groaned.

"Then teach me."

"I, uh, okay...?"

"What do I do?"

"You, uh, you should know that I've never taught this before. To anyone. So I have no idea where to start."

"Start at something basic."

"Basic. Right. Okay, one thing you need to understand is that what I'm about to teach you is not self-defensive in nature, but is designed for aggressive offense; disabling or killing the person you're fighting in the minimum amount of time with the maximum amount of force brought to bear. I could teach you something more gymnastic in nature, it'll keep you fit just as well as--"

"I wanted to be taught this, and you're going to teach it. Why are you so hesitant?"

Erika paused and looked at her hands guiltily. "Just making sure." She said, scrubbing her palms on her pants uncertainly.

"I'm sure."

Erika smiled and started slowly, teaching the basic positions. Stephanie learned slowly, hampered by bad balance. Oftentimes Erika would have to steady her, holding her by the shoulders or her hips in a strictly professional manner while Stephanie got used to moving in the form. In half an hour, Erika was able to teach Stephanie most of the basics before Stephanie tumbled to the ground, gasping for breath. Erika smiled in sympathy, sitting on her haunches nearby.

Stephanie rolled over, her lungs heaving she gasped out, "I thought I was in shape, how in the world do you do that?"

Erika, distracted from the mesmerizing view of Stephanie's muscles working on her chest to draw air in and push it out, smiled absentmindedly, "Years of practice. You get in shape, or you have a heart attack, I guess."

"I think I'm having one now!"

"You're okay. You just went a little overboard. We'll just go slower next time."

"Next time?! You are a slave driver!" Samantha chuckled at Erika's smile. "So what do I call you now? Teacher? Sifu? Sensei?"

"Erika will do. I'm not really your teacher like a master, I don't know enough; I'm just someone teaching someone who wants to learn."

As Stephanie's breathing became less labored, she tried to sit up reached halfway, stalled for a moment before she flopped back bonelessly back to the ground with a groan. "I'm not going to crawl, I'm going to ooze myself over to the hot tub, want to join me?"

Erika wanted nothing else in the world. "Sure."

"Help me up?" Stephanie pleaded, her arms rising weakly into the air.

"Um, sure." Erika said nervously, grabbing Stephanie's wrists and tugging delicately.

"I'm not going to break."

"I know, I just, uh, just didn't want to pull something." Erika said and pulled her to her feet. Stephanie's hand went around Erika's broader shoulders and held tight as they staggered/hobbled to the hot tub, and with a gasp of pleasure, Stephanie slipped in, quickly sinking to her neck in the already roiling water.

"Mmm," Stephanie sighed, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. "This is heavenly. You coming?"

"I don't have a suit."

An eye cranked open, "It's the middle of the night, were alone, it's dark under the cover, and you're wearing clothes. I fail to see the problem."

"I don't want to get my clothes wet."

"Then take them off."

"I'm not gay." Erika reflexively blurted, regretting it as soon as she said it.

Stephanie's eyebrow quirked, "I didn't say you were."

Erika felt her cheeks and ears heat. For a moment, all she wanted to do was strip her clothes off and join Stephanie, but she was scared of what might happen afterwards. The silence stretched between them for a minute before Erika regretfully stood, "I'll just get a shower, I have to get up early tomorrow for group therapy."

"Therapy before morning coffee, a favorite of Dr. Ross. Goodnight, Erika."

"G'night Stephanie."

After Erika was out of earshot, "Dammit!" Stephanie cursed quietly.

That night Erika lay in bed, covers thrown off, sleeping restlessly. Reality melted and ran together with dreams; Stephanie featured a large part in most. Nearly midnight, Erika woke up and sat up with a growl. "Dammit, what do you want?" She asked her burning, needy panther.

And then the noise started. Her neighbor, a woman in for drug therapy, was a screamer during sex, and politely only masturbated during the dead of the night, when everyone was supposed to be asleep. It didn't help things.

Erika covered her face with her hands. "Okay, lady, you want it, you get it." Erika groaned in surrender. Quickly, she skimmed her clothes off flinging them into a corner of her room and ran her fingers over her mouth lightly, circling twice before they headed south, over her chin, shuddering as she lightly caressed her rapidly crinkling aureoles with a fingertip, playfully flicking her swollen stiff nipple, before roughly grabbing it and tugging.

Her legs spread, hips thrusting upwards automatically as she caressed her thighs lightly, before her fingers curled, lightly scraping her fingernails over the inside of her thigh with a jolt. Her hand caressed the outer lips, running lightly through the stiff wet hair slowly, savoring the swollen wet heat of herself.

The fingers circled, slowly, teasingly, in a slowly decaying orbit around her sex. The heat built and built, until she could take it no longer and first one, than two fingers dived in, slowly stroking in a gentle rhythm. Seconds became minutes. Erika varied the rhythm, faster, slower, short, sharp thrusts, long slow caresses, but something was missing.

Then with a guilty sigh, she allowed herself to fantasize about Stephanie. Her quiet moans became sharper, mingling with the muffled yelps of her neighbor melding into Stephanie's voice in her ears. Erika's fingers became Stephanie's fingers, probing and stroking aggressively, while the other hand alternatively rubbed or pulled an aching nipple or stroking her lips gently, her teeth playfully nipping or her tongue licking it as it slid along her skin lightly.

Her breath quickened, her fingers moving faster, sprinting towards the finish line with breathless intensity, Erika started whispering quietly between gasps, murmuring quiet phrases of love and devotion to herself, imagining Stephanie was saying them to her, promising her, holding her... loving her.

The orgasm, when it came, rumbled up her spine like a summer storm, filled with the fury of stabbing skeins of lightning and deafening peals of thunder, quick to come, slow to withdraw. Erika never knew how long she lay on her bed, trembling and gasping; her eyes squeezed shut against the pleasure, but when she finally felt herself tenuously slip back into her merely human body, she cursed herself reflexively for only a minute before she broke down and wept, hugging the pillow to her chest, quietly sobbing into the top of it, feeling so desperately alone.

Erika awoke the next morning sandy-eyed, and tired. She hoped last night was a dream, right until she felt the stickiness between her thighs and fingers, and her achingly sore nipples. With a cold realization she knew it wasn't a dream, her stomach rolled.

Erika staggered blearily into the bathroom and stood over the toilet, looking down onto its calm waters, feeling empty and heartsick. The alarm trilled insistently on her bed stand; ten minutes until early morning therapy. Erika stared down at the toilet for one long moment, her mind in turmoil. The alarm kept beeping insistently. Snarling, she spun and twisted the shower spigots.

Group therapy did not go well. Erika viciously stabbed the trowel into the ground and twisted, forming a new hole for the tiny plants Stephanie wanted to move from the nursery into the garden. The work was cathartic; she imagined she was sticking the trowel into doctor Ross's face, that hyperactive bitch. When I don't want to talk, that's secret code for I don't want to talk! Erika stabbed into the dirt again. And not you, or any person on this planet is going to get me to talk.

"You look like you're murdering something." Alexander called.

Erika paused, looking up as he whined closer, "Not some thing, some one."

"Heard you had a bad time at therapy."

"I haven't had a good therapy session ever."

"You want to talk about it?"

"NO! I don't want to talk about it! Why does everyone want to talk about it?! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE LEFT ALONE!" Erika bellowed.

Alexander shrugged impartially, "Well, as much as I'd like to, and you may want to," Alexander drew himself up haughtily, "I... have been sent."

"By who?"

"By our glorious and esteemed director, the good doctor Alysha Mantegna. She wants to see you in her office."

"Probably for this morning," Erika sighed.

Alexander shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. But, as a mere mortal, I am not privy to the raison d'être of God or His left hand, the good doctor Alysha Mantegna."

"All right." Erika sighed and stood, brushing dirt from her knees. "Do I have time to clean up?"

"I was able to gather that there was some urgency to the proceedings."

"So, no."

"I'd say no."

"Then why just say 'no'?"

"But I did." Alexander said calmly, with a smile.

Erika brushed her hands off and shot Alexander a dirty look. Alexander, to his credit, remained unfazed. "If you run into Stephanie, tell her I'm done digging the holes in the garden."

"Okay." Alexander chirped and motoring away with a friendly wave.

Erika made her way through the manor, up to the third floor, knocking on the doorframe as she stepped through the open door.

"Erika! Good, have a seat."

"Yes ma'am." Erika said, eyeing Becky suspiciously, "I'm not sure why you wanted to see me."

"Well, it's something I... we deemed important enough to interrupt your therapy."

"Look, I'm sorry about this morning, I didn't mean to--"

"Oh no, it's not about this morning, though Janet would like to talk to you about that later; its about your sister."

"My sister? What about her?" Erika gripped the arms of her chair suddenly, fighting incipient dread.

"What's the last thing you heard from her?"

"She was entering college, studying to become a psychologist. Why?"

"I have terrible news dear, she killed herself last week."

Erika felt her heart stop. She paused, frozen in one agonizing moment. "No." A sigh, a whisper, a prayer.

"I'm so sorry Erika."

"Why?"

"She--"

"It doesn't matter why, only that she is dead." Becky said brusquely.

As Erika went cold, Alysha snapped, "Becky, I have never agreed with you about anything, but you're an ass and I want you to leave."

"I don't see what the problem is."

Erika flexed her fingers and surfed the first surge of adrenaline with practiced ease, letting the hunger flow. "That's the point. Go. Now. And let this girl grieve."

"Sure." Becky shrugged and left, closing the door behind her.

"Look, Erika, calm down. Becky's an uncouth twat. I've known this for ages. It won't help anyone to snap anyone in half right now."

"She... I..."

"I know. I'm sorry, the second I knew about this I tried to get you."

"Can... can I see her?"

"I'm sorry honey, the funeral is in a few days."

"Can I go?"

"Becky won't let you. Neither will your parents. I'm sorry."

Erika paused, surfing the sudden eruption of white-hot rage. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a barely suppressed snarl. "Don't. Stop. Stop telling me you're sorry! IT'S MY SISTER THAT DIED!" Erika screamed, standing abruptly. Alysha tentatively reached out, but pulled her hand backs quickly when Erika started bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, her hands unnaturally still at her sides. "I killed for her. I KILLED FOR HER! Now I can't see her!" Erika started to hyperventilate.

"Erika, you've had a shock--"

"No shit, lady!" Erika shouted

"--and you need to calm down."

"Calm down? My baby sister is dead, and I should just calm down. My parents won't let me see her, I should be calm. That... stupid... fuck outside doesn't want for me to see my dead baby sister one last time, and I should be calm." Erika's breath hissed between teeth for a moment before she closed her eyes and turned inward. Discipline. Control. Actions must be disciplined. Power comes from control. Erika thought to herself as she struggled not to explode.

"Erika, are you okay?"

When she opened her eyes, Erika's warm brown eyes burned in their sockets. "Lady, I am anything but fine." Erika said, her voice a few degrees warmer than liquid helium.

"Erika, I swear to you I will try everything to help you; but it's going to take time, and patience."

"Time?" Erika said, turning to leave. "I have nothing but time anymore." Erika ground out, opening the door.

"There you are. I have to talk to you." Becky said, standing and moving to block Erika's path.

"Not now." Alysha spat.

"Yes now."

"Becky, leave the girl alone." Alysha growled.

"I have to talk to her now." Becky said, dropping a restraining hand on Erika's shoulder.

"Becky, remove your hand from her this instant." Alysha ordered.

"Take it off, or I'll break it off." Erika said quietly, motionless. There was something in Erika's voice, something in her eye that made Becky's hand snap away, much to Erika's grim amusement.

Erika walked away, heedless of her direction. She ran into people, uncaring, and before long found herself in the arboretum, milling aimlessly in the narrow isles between the metal tables filled with young plants. Erika went into the back, with the tools, pulled out the small box cutter, and disassembled it, keeping the razor, and tossing the empty frame over her shoulder as she sank to her knees.

She looked at the razor blade lying peacefully in her open palm, glittering in the softly diffused afternoon light. So it had come to this. Erika had expected to be dead, murdered in prison years ago, if not by her own hand then by someone. Now it was over. All of it. Erika flipped the razor into the air and caught it easily with her other hand, watching it spin over and over in the air before it landed. She tossed it again, watching it spin until she snatched it out of the air and with a vicious jerk, sliced into the flesh of her inner arm from wrist to elbow.