Pheromoan

Chapter 2

I haven't sleepwalked since I was ten years old. I had never hurt myself during my brief sleepwalking phase. Yeah, my mom said I did creepy things like talk to people who weren't there or draw pictures at three a.m., but I never hurt myself.

Now, I stared into the mirror at my bandaged lip, dark circles heavy under my eyes from lack of sleep. I was too afraid to fall back asleep after Monica found me downstairs, trying to burn my lips off. I sighed, finally gathering the courage to look at the wound. Tearing off the makeshift bandages Monica had placed on me, I was shocked to see it was only a small cut.

I was confused—it felt like I had burned my lips off last night. A knock at the bathroom door made me jump. Monica peeked her head in, concern etched on her slender face. She scanned my face, and the same look of shock crossed her features when she saw my lip. She stepped into the bathroom, fully examining me.

"What happened? You had third-degree burns... now it's barely a scratch."

I shrugged, confused myself. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, lips set in a frown. I took her hand in mine.

"What's wrong?"

*Huffing* "I'd like you to go see this therapist Karol from next door recommended."

I groaned. I hated therapists. To me, it was a waste of time and money. But the concern on her face worried me more than the missing chunk of time in my memory. Reluctantly, I nodded, not wanting to stress her anymore. I pulled her closer for a kiss.---As soon as I stepped into the therapist's office, my nerves shot through the roof. A pit grew in my stomach as I sat in the waiting room, waiting to be called. The room lacked much of anything—four chairs sat in the middle with a small reception desk where a dazed old woman worked. She knew enough to tell me to sit and that Dr. Desir would be with me shortly. The place gave off an eerie vibe, but then again, I was on edge about everything these days. I shook off the thought. I promised Monica I would try, and that's what I intended to do.

"Mr. Jones?"

My eyes followed the velvety voice, taking in its source. My breath caught in my throat. She was beautiful—something about her seemed familiar. Her eyes were the most beautiful shade of pink, making me curious if they were contacts or not.I walked into her office. The space was much more put together than the waiting room. Red and pink dominated the room—from the carpet to the pictures on the walls. A red sofa sat next to a large bay window, pillows and throw blankets covering it, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. I relaxed, if only a little.She gestured with her perfectly manicured fingers toward the couch.

"You can sit there, get all comfy, Mr. Jones. I'm Venus, or Dr. Desir, whichever you prefer."

Her smile lit up her face, showcasing her perfect teeth. She reached out to shake my hand. I made sure not to linger as I sat down quickly, sinking into the plush sofa. I hummed at how comfortable it was. Her laughter lit up the whole room—or maybe it was just the sun streaming in at that moment.

"I always say, to get people to spill their guts, you have to make them comfortable. Would you like some water?"

I nodded, hoping a drink would keep me grounded somehow.

"I kind of expected this to be more... clinical."

I admitted, shrugging. She handed me a water bottle.

"It can be, if that's what you want. That's just not how I work. Healing is hard enough; comfort helps. Besides, I've got great Yelp reviews."

I chuckled, rolling my eyes as I took the water bottle from her hands. She sat beside me, a little too close for comfort, but as long as we weren't touching, I could handle it. Her eyes took me in, long lashes sweeping over her cheeks effortlessly. I cleared my throat, taking a sip of water.

"So, I heard a little from your wife. She mentioned you've been having night terrors and sleepwalking. Do you know when this started?"

I nodded, avoiding her gaze slightly.

"I used to do it as a kid, but I haven't since I was ten. It only started again recently after taking on this case for work. I've never hurt myself before... except this last time. It was different."

She nodded, jotting down a few things in a small pink notebook before looking up, trapping me in her gaze as she licked her lips.

"How was your childhood?"

I took a deep breath.

"It was fine. I come from a wonderful single mother, Sage. She was everything I could ever want in a mom—patient, kind, selfless."

Dr. Desir smiled, leaning in a little closer.

"And your dad? Where was he?"

I shrugged, leaning toward her unconsciously.

"He was in and out of my life. My mom tried to keep the line of communication open, but he never really cared to get to know me. She always said he was a busy man, and when he was ready, he would come for me. Every time I pushed for more information, she'd repeat the same thing over and over."

---The session flew by faster than I expected. An hour and a half felt like minutes.

"So, will you be coming back, Mr. Jones? I'd love to continue working with you. My 'magic' healing usually happens within a week or so, depending on you," she teased, playing with the ends of her long hair, which nearly reached the back of her legs.

I nodded, swallowing harshly.

"I promised my wife I would, so I'll follow through a hundred percent."

She bit her lip softly, avoiding eye contact now.

"I hope she's not the only reason you want to come back, Mr. Jones."

I swallowed again, easing myself out of the office.

"You can call me Tarot. Mr. Jones makes me sound old. I've got to go pick up my son from school," I lied, rushing out of her office without a backward glance.

Guilt gnawed at me. My thoughts had wandered into sinful territory, and I was disgusted with myself. My body betrayed me, pressing against the fabric of my jeans at the thought of her. Guilt crept into my thoughts, battling the sinful urges I had toward that woman. I was disgusted with myself. My member pressed against my jeans at the thought of her taste.

Tarot -

Venus -