Headspace Page 2

  “That’s alright, kitten. Let Daddy take care of you. I know you meant no harm. Now get down on your knees and lick my toes.”

  The Headspace game proceeds from there, without a hitch. I lick, entice, provoke, stimulate. He comes on my hair, or that’s what he thinks he does. In truth, he probably came all over a towel in his dirty office space. The only real hitch is the sense of cooties I get from Captain Jack. I’ll need a good long shower tonight. But first, I’ll have to deal with Jonas.

  Chapter Three

  One hour and thirty-two minutes later, Jonas is on my doorstep. The guy is nothing if not prompt. His palm is pressed to his swollen cheek and he looks none too happy.

  “I take it you had more issues at the dentist than you anticipated?” I say, easing the door open for him. Even though I knew he was coming, I’m always cautious about answering the front door. It’s part of the job hazard. One time a client found out where I live. I don’t know how he found me, but he did and he stood on my front stoop for an hour until the police arrived to take him away. He said he was in love with me; I said I’d never met the guy in my life and they carted him away. Ever since then I’m a little bit paranoid.

  “They extracted a tooth,” he mumbles. “We’ve progressed in our culture in some amazing ways. We’ve developed some unbelievable technologies. But…dentistry is still dentistry.”

  “Gah! You got that right!” I exclaim. “Well, come on in. I’ll get a couple of cold ones out of the fridge and be right with you.” Before I follow him inside I take a look at the street I live on—or, what’s left of it. I live in what used to be a beautiful old established suburb of Seattle—the Greenlake District. The once-pretty little lake’s polluted as a cesspool, the street is falling apart, many of the trees lining the sidewalk are dead—a lot of what the hippies and activists professed would happen did happen. I know, I know—sometimes things have to get way worse before they get better—but still it makes me sad when I scan the neighborhood. With a sigh, I close the door and follow Jonas into the living room.

  “Are you ever going to tell me about your mysterious closet?” he asks, pointing to the door to the Headspace.

  “What’s to tell? It’s a closet. Full of ghosts, skeletons, and secrets.” I wink at him and meander into the neat and tidy kitchen to get us some liquid refreshment. When I return, we twist off the tops, tap the bottle necks together, and pour a generous swig of delicious amber liquid down our waiting throats. Some things, at least, haven’t changed. Micro brewing is one of them.

  He frowns, as if remembering something. “I thought you had to work tonight. Do you get to show up buzzed?”

  “Oh, I took care of a client while you were at the dentist. I’m done for the day,” I lie. Please don’t pry. I love our friendship and don’t want to mess it up.

  He looks at me and smiles. “Took care of a client, huh? That sounds dirty.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. Takes another gulp of beer.

  “Not like that.” I roll my eyes. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.

  He sits on the couch smiling.

  “This is awkward,” I say. “Since when do you not have anything to say?” I pour a sip of the slightly bitter, honey-colored brew in my throat and swish it, making it bubble and burn the inside of my cheeks.

  “Since you started the secret spill, I guess.”

  “That was a dumb move. Can I take it back?” I lean forward, letting my forearms rest on my thighs. My long blond and purple hair sweeps along my hands. I shake my head, tossing it behind me.

  “Not on your life. I like you sixteen times more since you shared your secret.”

  “What do I have to do to merit twenty?” I smile.

  He cocks his head and studies me. “Never had an orgasm? Ever?”

  “Not unless they’re so inconsequential I don’t have a clue what the fuss is about.” I eye him suspiciously and take another swallow. “How much time do we have to spend on this topic? I’d rather move along. Let’s talk about you and your girlfriend. Why, exactly, are you with someone you complain about?”

  He sets his beer bottle down on the side table a little too forcefully. It slams against the bronze and glass-like polymer with an angry thwack. “Oh! Damn it! Sorry.” He picks up the bottle and kisses it in apology. Once more he places it on the table but he’s much gentler. Ignoring my snide remark, he says, “Orgasms are incredible. Orgasms with someone you love are amazing with a cherry and hot fudge on top.”

  “Like the kind you and the missus have?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her that.”

  “Okay. Your longtime ‘wishes she was more’ girlfriend. Better?” I press the bottle to my chest. “It’s hot today.”

  “Every day is hot thanks to global warming. And no, not like the kind Jenner and I have. They’re adequate. They get the job done.” He smirks and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “Geez, none of us had any idea it could get this bad, did we?”

  “You mean those of us who were toddlers, babies, or non-existent specks in our parents’ eyes when all the global-warming talk ensued? No. I was fully preoccupied with not getting a beating at a tender age.”

  Jonas winces.

  He looks at me with something like sympathy, which I loathe. Do not, do not, do not ever feel sorry for me. The past is gone, along with the people who inflicted it on me. I’ve moved on. “Can you wipe that sympathy face off? You know how much I detest someone feeling sorry for me.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that you…that I…never mind. I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted. So why don’t you tell me how I can get to the elusive orgasm by Christmas. Will it come with a bow? In a box? Will Santa himself deliver it?” I admit, I’m intrigued.

  He takes another healthy swallow, pauses, and then finishes the beer.

  “Santa needs some bravery, huh? Want another?”

  “Yeah. No. Jenner hates it when I come home smelling of beer.”

  “Does that happen often?” I ask, picking up his empty.

  “Yeah, lately. Lately it does.” He looks off into space. “I’m not happy, Vienna. I’m not happy with her anymore. I…I feel as if I’m outgrowing her.”

  “It’s about damn time. She’s a bitch. Always whining about what you did to her and what you do to her and how you take all the credit for everything. I get ill just listening to her.”

  “Yeah…” Jonas says, and his voice trails off. “I…she…I thought you and I could…”

  I interrupt him. “Hook up so you could have an excuse to leave her? Hell to the no, Jonas. Hell to the fuck no. I will not be someone’s excuse to leave his wife or girlfriend or significant other. No. That’s a commitment I made to myself a long time ago. You want me? You take the steps to extract yourself from the situation that you’re in and then we’ll talk. Only then…” I wander into the kitchen and fetch us a couple more beers. “We still won’t know if it will work. Or if you’re the guy whose cock I’ll come around.”

  Jonas laughs his deep laugh again. “It’s a tempting thought.” He takes a sip and looks at me. “So. You’ve had a guy go down on you?”

  I splutter and choke on my beer. “Puh-leese, Jonas! That’s none of your business!”

  “Have you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Knowing you, the answer is yes. Big cocks inside?”

  “I’m not going to answer that.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Lots of foreplay?”

  “Jonas!” I say, batting the side of his head. “This conversation is getting much too personal!”

  “I’m just trying to help,” he says, laughing.

  “I didn’t tell you because I needed your help.”

  He instantly sobers. “Why’d you tell me then?”

  “I don’t know. I, uh…” I look away from him. I told you because it’s starting to become an issue. I’m starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I told you because you’re perhaps the only person on the planet wh
om I trust.

  Food was good today. Nigel wanders and sits on the floor, staring at me. I could’ve told you this would get awkward. He lifts his paw to his mouth and pauses. You should’ve asked me. I would have told you true. His tongue darts out to moisten his paw, and he starts grooming.

  Yeah, well keep it to yourself.

  This is going to mess with you big-time.

  How do you mean?

  You’ll see. He chews and tugs at a toenail, making tiny clicks as his teeth snap together. I think you dropped raisins on the floor. One of them’s stuck to my claw. He pulls with his teeth. There. Ick. He spits out the raisin. It could be for the best, it could be for the worst. Only time will tell.

  “Gah,” I blurt. I shoo away my saucy, know-it-all cat.

  “You and your cat.” Jonas cocks his head at me. “Why did you tell me?” Jonas says again, this time softly. He reaches across to touch my cheek with his finger.

  The caress feels smooth, silky, and intimate. “Jonas, don’t. What are you doing?”

  He brushes my lips with his rough thumb. “You’re my friend.”

  “And I want to keep it that way.” I gently push his thumb away. His touch does feel good. Too good… “I’m not some science experiment.”

  “I know that. Neither am I. I have needs, you have needs. Maybe our needs could meet in the middle.”

  “So, we’re back here again, huh? You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “No,” he says, looking me right in the eyes. “I haven’t had too much to drink. We’ve only had one beer. I’ve just never had enough of you.”

  I get kind of squirmy inside. This does not make me feel comfortable, at all. “Jonas…stop. This is the beer talking.”

  “The beer only made me tell you things I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I think I’m with the wrong woman.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “That just means I have a lot to look forward to.”

  I roll my eyes. If you only knew. I think of Captain Jack and Horny Dude and Lonely Guy and Hot Rocket and all the various guys who enter my Headspace. No, Jonas and I are never to be more than friends. A creamy sensation slithers down my throat. “Uh, Jonas? My pulse-com’s going off. I gotta go. I told you, I’m working tonight.”

  “At your mysterious job as some sort of counselor? The one where you get to show up buzzed?”

  “One and the same.” I squirm.

  “I thought you said you were done for the day?”

  “Could be a client emergency. I serve a need for my clients and when the need arises…” I shrug.

  “You heed the call,” he says, unfolding to his entire six-foot-four-inch height. For a snap second his eyes narrow at me.

  My eyes sweep up his muscular body. I quickly turn away.

  “I know when I’m not wanted.”

  “It’s not that,” I protest, standing.

  “I know, I’m kidding.” He reaches to give me a hug like he always does only this time he holds me a little longer than usual. “You feel good.”

  “Thank you.” I push him away. “You do, too. But we’re still, and always, just good friends, and duty calls.”

  “Got it. I’m not going to let this topic go, though.”

  “Which one? Your horniness or…?”

  “All of it.”

  I shake my head. “Please let it go. It’s a tender topic.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” he says, winking. He leans over and brushes my cheek with his lips and lets himself out into the sultry autumn evening.

  Chapter Four

  My client has been waiting in the antechamber of the room—a virtual world Kaama helped me devise. It’s got a comfy couch, whatever virtual refreshment the client would like, food, and alcohol. There are no drugs in there—there are never any drugs, real, virtual, make-believe, or otherwise. I insist that my clients enter this space literally drug-free. Their energy is too chaotic otherwise and the game gets all weird. I slip into my Headspace and quickly affix the nodes to my jumpsuit. “Hey, big dog, who wants to come out and play?” I answer, in my typical greeting. This time I’m using the voice of Katiana.

  “Hey, sugar, how’s about some love?”

  I smile. Devon is one of my favorites. Devon is his real name, not just his avatar. He’s beautiful inside this room and out. In here, he likes to show up as a rock-solid, six-foot-six-inch linebacker just after the game. He’s got dimples and a smile like liquid sunshine. He’s a big, beefy guy who’s a personal trainer out there in the real world. Out there he’s a devoted husband and father. He just likes to come in here and get his masculine groove on from time to time. “Hey, Daddy, what’s your pleasure this time?”

  “Oh, you know I like it rough, baby. Show me you know how a big man likes it.”

  “Oh, you know I do, Daddy. I’ll be your little minx any time.” I know his wife is devoted to him. I know she treats him right. She just refuses to let go in bed when she’s with him. She likes hers vanilla. I like mine however they want it.

  I settle onto the plush sheepskin. I’m tired tonight and the beer has gone to my head. This scene will only be conducted mind to mind, for me at least. I close my eyes and away we go. “How was the game tonight, big dog?”

  “It was brutal. But we won the game. We’re heading for the championship.”

  “Oh, I know you are. You’re a champion in here every day.”

  “Oh, baby, you just say that because I know how to please you.”

  “You do please me right, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Show me. Show me what you mean.”

  “Alright, darlin’.” My Katiana self slinks up next to Devon. I’ve dressed her in a form-hugging, low-cut, glittery gown and high heels. Her makeup has been applied to perfection. She looks pure diva delicious, worthy of a linebacker.

  Devon slips the dress off of one shoulder. He caresses Katiana’s shoulder with his smooth fingers. “Damn, girl, how’d you get skin so soft?”

  “I know you like your woman soft and smooth, baby. But a girl’s gotta keep her secrets, doesn’t she?” Saying the word “secret,” I think of the secret I’ve just spilled to Jonas. The Headspace sputters and darkens.

  “Hey!” Devon calls. “Where’d you go?”

  Shit! Don’t you go getting all vulnerable, V! I take a deep breath and bring myself back to control. The Headspace resumes in all its glorious detail. “Just a little techno glitch, sugar. I might need a man to look at it…a man like you,” I purr.

  “Oh, baby, I’ll do anything for you, you know it.”

  “Then, show a girl what you’ve got.”

  “You mean this thing?” he says, unzipping his fly and releasing his generous length. “Is this what you’re wanting?”

  “Oh, yeah, baby. Put that cock where it belongs.”

  “It belongs inside of you, sugar, that’s where it belongs.”

  “You got that right, Daddy. Give it to me.”

  The game proceeds. He pushes my avatar against the wall. Yanks up her dress. Slides down her silky thong. Sticks his fingers into the dark, slick world of her secret garden. Pulls her brunette hair while he’s rocking his hips into her from the front, from behind, with her bent over. He’s experimental tonight. Trying out new positions. He pulls out, coaxes her back around to face him, takes his big, muscular arm and pins her to the wall. Makes her say his name over and over and over when she comes.

  When she comes…my mind interjects. I only imagine it when it happens. I’ve seen enough movies and virtual slut shops and techno-sex to be able to master the moves. I’ve just never known what it’s really like.

  Once again the room starts to fade. Damn, damn, and double damn! Zip it up, Vienna! “Oh, baby,” I moan, pushing those thoughts away, and the Devon and Katiana Headspace returns. “Oh, Devon, oh, Devon, oh, Devon! You get me so hot, I lose control.”

  “That’s right, baby. That’s how a man does it. A man knows how to get his girl off and
good. Tell me how good it is.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe! This one was the best one yet!” In this Headspace, I scream and yell and moan and buck my avatar’s hips against Devon’s. He shoots into Katiana, gripping her ass. Only thing is, I’m lying on my little wooly rug, curled into a ball and he’s making love to a fantasy. When I’m in this Headspace, I can have whatever experience I like and I don’t have to move a muscle.

  Chapter Five

  “Hello, Grammy,” I say to my elderly grandmother. She’s sitting in the corner of her room at the elder-care adult-living facility, high on a hill overlooking downtown Seattle.

  “It’s just so sad,” she says. “Every day I look outside and every day I remember what it used to look like. Seattle used to be so pretty.”

  “And it will be again.” I wander up and plant a kiss on top of her silvery hair. “Restoration teams are active everywhere.”

  “Yes, but there just aren’t enough of them to go around.” She sighs and turns to me. “We lost so many from the illnesses in 2045. Entire cities were virtually destroyed.”

  “I know. I know, Grammy.”

  “That global purge of wilderness areas in favor of millionaire resorts really got my goat. Gaudy, opulent, over-the-top dwellings sprouting on top of Half Dome in Yosemite? The Alaskan wilderness turned into a hunting paradise and luxury lodge for bored, wealthy businessmen with time on their fat hands?” Grammy shakes her head. “And the oil spills and natural disasters of the early twenty-first century seemed like childish precursors to the devastation that followed. It’s a wonder any of us lived through those sorry years.” Grammy and I had been two of the “lucky” survivors. The rest of my family had been wiped out, leaving me and Grammy clinging to each other for family support. Thank God I have Jonas. He’s always felt like family.

  All the turmoil left our political system in shattered ruination. The left blamed the right and the right blamed the left. Everywhere, politicians bickered while the people pulled up their bootstraps and got to work with restoration. The general public lost itself in debauchery and wild, crazy behavior—like my Headspace affords them. We endured so much tragedy for so long that we all seem to live as if there’s no tomorrow.