A Sensual Saturday Page 2

  “Saving it for when I see you in person, Big Guy,” she said, looking up to find Chandler standing in the doorway of her office. It had been well over three months since she’d last seen the personal butler for her big hairy guy, and in her excitement, she completely forgot protocol, decorum, and anything else as she sprang to her feet, bolting across the room and flinging herself into his arms.

  “Madam, I take it you have spoken with Mr. Berger?” Chandler said, one hand around her waist, briefly returning the affection, but quickly pulling away. He wore the trademark black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie. The black shoes were polished, with toe shiny slightly, as he tried to add some distance between their bodies. Zelda wasn’t having it. She had never been so excited to see any man in her life, even Scott, as she was to see Chandler.

  Chandler in her office meant that Scott was close by.

  The arrival of Chandler meant they were going somewhere cool.

  Scott didn’t travel without Chandler.

  The tall, thin African man could not hide his surprise when Zelda’s hands came to both sides of his face, pulling him down as she planted a large, sloppy, loud, lip-smacking kiss to his lips.

  “Ms. Fitzsimmons!” Chandler said, sounding appalled at her behavior. Her actions were unacceptable, to display such affection in public, a fact he would remind her of once they were in private.

  “Oh, hush up! I am so flippin’ happy to see you that I don’t care where we are going. I am ready to go,” she said and moved quickly, gathering her things, picking up dog toys, and ensuring Diamond’s treats were in her doggy bag.

  Chandler cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the attention they were garnering from Zelda’s coworkers, who were all standing in their honeycomb pods, looking at the Queen Bee get personal with a man they had never seen before. He asked in a lowered tone, “Madam, would you happen to have your passport here at the office?”

  “Yep, got it right in my desk,” she said, pulling open the drawer to secure the documentation. She held it up, showing the blue-covered document to him as well as all the busy bee eyes watching the exchange.

  “Perfect Madam,” Chandler said. “Shall we go?” He asked, offering her his arm.

  Every eye in the office was on Zelda and the tall African man. Chandler comported himself as a man of high breeding and exuded class and a graceful elegance. She had never seen him out of his black suit, so under the clothing, she had no idea what shape he was in or if he had chicken legs. Several women in the office were starry-eyed as they looked at him. His ebony skin smooth, his perfectly trimmed goatee, and his deep brown eyes that took in everything he saw.

  She’d never paid attention to the simple fact that Chandler was a good-looking man. Her boss materialized out of nowhere, pretending to be a father figure since he’d never seen Chandler before, nor since had any man ever come to the office to collect his star reporter. His phone line lit up when she held up the passport. Her co-workers called in with concerns that a strange man was taking Zelda out of the country. He wanted more information before she left the doors of his office.

  “Hey, hold up there,” Nathan Ridgeway said. “Zelda who is this man, and are you leaving for the day?”

  “Yes, Mr. Ridgeway, I am getting away for the weekend,” she said, clutching onto Chandler’s arm. “My knight in shining armor has come to whisk me away for a romantic getaway.”

  She referred to Scott, but in the eyes of those around her, everyone assumed she meant Chandler since he was the one standing in the office, carrying her little doggy case.

  “Any who is this man?” Nathan asked, leaning back, spreading his shoulders wider to make his chest appear larger than the little birdcage it was.

  “This is Chandler,” she said, suddenly realizing she didn’t know the man’s last name.

  He extended his free hand to Nathan Ridgeway, adding a wide smile. “I am Chandler Hamilton Berger,” he said, shaking her boss’s hand. The deep voice, punctuated by the British accent made several of the ladies in the office nearly swoon.

  Zelda couldn’t hide her surprise at hearing his surname. She’d never asked before. Nathan blurted out the question she refused to ask.

  “Hey, are you related to that Berger guy who does the ventriloquism?”

  “Yes, I am. Scott Berger is my brother,” he said, giving a curt nod of his head, his hand in the middle of Zelda’s back, pushing her forward. “Please excuse us, we have a flight to catch. I will have her back in the office by Wednesday. Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Ridgeway.”

  Zelda didn’t care what the office buzzes hummed about when she got on the elevator, clinging to Chandler like he was the main ride to the honey chamber. Her therapist said she needed to stop shielding her emotions, to allow the reactions she was feeling to be freely expressed. She was learning to live in the now.

  Today was happening. Thank you, Dr. DeNoid.

  Chapter Two – Welcome Doggone It!

  Whitney Denoid, Ph.D., MD, was the third therapist Zelda visited on her initial attempts to locate a professional to guide her to a new state of healthy. The first two, pompous white males who wanted to quickly diagnose her with a case of being blue, sat with their fingers intertwined, looking over wire-rimmed glasses in judgement of her and Diamond. The first certified psychologist even went as far as dismissing the dog, stating that it would have to remain in the waiting room to avoid being a distraction. She didn’t bother to take a seat in his waiting room, let alone his chair.

  The second, a man who reminded her of Sigmund Freud, was a licensed hypnotherapist, who wanted to put her under for a timeline regression, to pinpoint the exact moment in her life when all her problems started.

  “They started at my conception,” she volunteered.

  “Are you saying that you have memories of when you were conceived?” He asked with one eyebrow arched in amusement. His gray suit gave his skin a pallid tone, making the man resemble a talking cadaver. His arrogance was palpable, filling the room with the stench of his resentment at being reduced to placing the ad in the paper, taking on everyone who walked through the door for a first free chat with him.

  “No, I’m saying that my Mother got pregnant by the next-door neighbor, and her husband wasn’t happy about it,” Zelda offered.

  “And this...created tension in the household?” He asked, looking at her as if he failed to understand how getting pregnant and carrying another’s man-child would impact a marriage.

  Zelda picked up Diamond, frowned at the man, and left the office. There was no way this was going to work, free sessions or not. Sorting through her pain over and over again with strangers was a dumb idea. She shared her feelings with Pip.

  “Finding a good therapist is like finding a good boyfriend, Zelda. You have to go through some toads to find the one frog, who may or may not be Prince Charming,” she said touching her arm.

  “I don’t think there is such thing as Prince Charming,” Zelda said softly.

  “Okay, then let’s try Princess Charming,” Pip said, handing her the small card of one Dr. DeNoid. “Her office is across the street, within walking distance.”

  “What do you mean within walking distance?”

  Pip took her by the arm, pulling her over to the window. Their rooms faced the back of the hotel, away from the Las Vegas Strip. She pointed across the road, a block and a half down a side street. “See the blue building? She is in there on the 3rd floor. Your appointment is in a half hour. Get moving so you aren’t late,” Pip said, lifting Diamond and placing her in the carrier.

  “I’m not going,” Zelda said like a pouting child.

  “Yes you are, and if you’d like, I will walk over with you,” Pip said, grabbing her hotel key. “Either way, we are getting out of this hotel room. Your appointment first and then I will treat you to an ice cream.”

  “Don’t try and bribe me with sweets,” Zelda countered.

  “I’m not bribing you, but a scoop of Rocky Road in a waffle cone sounds like a mo
uthful of Heaven,” Pip said.

  “Okay fine. I’ll go, but I want a double scoop of Rocky Road in a bowl, not a cone,” Zelda said, picking up her purse.

  “Deal,” Pip told her as they left the room, taking the elevator and coming out on the street. Walking in silence, they crossed the main drag, reaching the blue building in less than fifteen minutes. They rode up to the third floor in silence, listening to the Girl from Ipanema as it piped through the speakers, coming into a lobby decorated in muted colors, with framed photographs of happy people, captured by a photographer who must have dosed his subjects with laughing gas. Each framed photo appeared to be a still shot of an individual in the throes of laughter at quite possibly the funniest joke they’d ever heard in their lives. Zelda counted the images. Ten photos of ten different over-happily people. She immediately felt resentment toward all the happy bastards as if they had come out of these offices with the secret to living an amazing life. The one which made her pause was the very last image of a man, blowing bubbles with a crazed grin on his face.

  The image was a direct juxtaposition of the sad-faced clown perched in the chair underneath it, seated next to an equally scary looking woman with piercings in her face, eyebrows, lips, nose, and earlobes. Pip, God bless her soul, spoke to the two characters issuing an afternoon greeting and went to the counter as if they were something she saw every day.

  “Zelda Fitzsimmons is here for her1 pm with Dr. DeNoid,” Pip said to the receptionist. The young woman behind the glass had dead eyes, as if she too were tired of the freebies coming in for an instant cure from years of neuroses. She and Pip were told to have a seat in oversized colorful chairs that Zelda also resented. The chairs, like the pictures, were bright primary colors with stripes, polka dots and large flowers as if the chairs would start the happiness train to rolling via osmosis through your ass. Zelda didn’t want to sit− she wanted to leave. She wanted to run as fast as she could to the exit, but Pip lifted a magazine from the table, quickly finding a recipe she wanted to try, pointing it out to Zelda.

  “This chicken dish sounds amazing, Zelda! It is simmered in capers,” Pip said, snapping a picture of the recipe with her phone. “I’m not sure if Michael likes capers. Let me send my baby a text to find out.”

  Zelda shrugged, not interested in the article nor the dish, but more fascinated by the two odd people in the waiting room. They are together. What could those two possibly have in common? Maybe a relationship?

  Dr. DeNoid came from her office, walking with a young woman with large green expressive eyes, who seemed like she was scared of her own shadow. The doctor, a tall woman with exceptionally large feet, scanned the waiting room, her eyes resting briefly on Diamond, then Pip, before turning to face the Sad Clown and his prickly-faced companion.

  “I will see you in two weeks, Teresa,” Dr. DeNoid said to the green eyed, waifish woman in the thin red dress. “In the meantime, you are to practice your exercises.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” the woman said, scurrying towards the door.

  “Teresa, you need to make your next appointment,” she told the young lady, who looked at the Sad Clown and Pierced Face, not wanting to engage in breathing the same air.

  “I’ll call back and make it,” Teresa said.

  “How do you plan to get healthy, Teresa, if you fail to make the smallest steps towards a better Zelda?” Dr. DeNoid asked, pointing at the girl behind the desk. Reluctantly, the young woman moved to the counter, speaking softly to the receptionist. The good doctor turned her attention to the clown.

  “Giggles,” she said to the clown. “You do not have an appointment today.”

  “I know Doc, but I have a gig this afternoon and it’s with kids. It’s a kid’s birthday party. You know how I hate kids,” Giggles said forlornly.

  “We have talked about this several times. You can’t keep booking kids shows if being around children breaks you out in hives. It is counterproductive to your healing,” Dr. DeNoid told the clown.

  “Yes, but so is being homeless. I have to work, and the birthday gigs pay the most and come more often,” Giggles said.

  “I am not doing this today. Angel,” Dr. DeNoid said to the pierced face woman. “I am unclear why you continuously bring her here, as well as book these engagements for your sister, knowing how much she fears children.”

  Holy shit, Giggles is a woman! Zelda, fascinated by the exchanged, observed the interaction between the clown, the doctor, and the woman with the pierced face, inappropriately named Angel. Again, the surprises kept coming as the studded-faced woman opened her mouth, letting out a high pitched, childlike voice in a falsetto.

  “Doc, honest, I didn’t book the appointment! Giggles did. Then she wanted to break down crying as if she didn’t know what she was doing. All night I am rubbing her down with anti-itch creams, trying to calm her and her skin. I can’t take it,” Angel said.

  “You two are in an unhealthy symbiotic relationship that is beginning to fester,” Dr. DeNoid said softly. “I have an appointment and you will have to work this out yourselves. Giggles, you can never expect to get to a state of healthiness if you continue to sabotage your progress.”

  “I’m not sabotaging...,” Giggles said.

  “This conversation is over. Either you make the healthy decision to move yourself forward, or you will continue to spiral in this circle of bad decisions, hiding behind the truth and using it as an excuse to put yourself in positions which hinder your growth,” Dr. Denoid said. “I will see you both next week for your normal appointment.”

  She turned to Zelda, looking down at Diamond.

  “What an adorable puppy. Ms. Fitzsimmons, please come in,” she said to Zelda.

  Impressed with the way she handled the three very active clients, optimism moved Zelda up from the chair and into the office. Surprisingly, it was a warm space, continuing the bright colors with large, overstuffed yellow chairs with blue polka dots. The framed images on the walls showcased people in normal activities like reading, writing, and playing sports, with looks of intensity on their faces. She liked these images a great deal more than the ones of the laughter crew in the lobby.

  “Your puppy is so cute. Dr. DeNoid asked, “is it a boy or a girl?”

  “It is a girl. Her name is Diamond,” Zelda said, looking about the space as if she were cataloging the contents of the office in a personal memory folder.

  “Please, take her out of the carrier and allow her to roam free. Do you have training pads for her to use?”

  “I do, as a matter of fact,” Zelda said happily, placing the carrier on the floor. Dr. DeNoid watched her unpack the doggy bag and lay out a few toys, then the training pad. She provided the animal with a small treat, then praise, followed by a quick kiss on the nose. Speaking softly to the puppy, Zelda explained to the dog where she was, why she was here, and how long they would be staying. “Be good, Diamond, while I speak with nice lady.”

  “How long have you had Diamond?” Dr. DeNoid asked.

  “Only about two weeks. My boyfriend gave her to me as a present,” she said, cheerfully.

  “You seem to love her a great deal.”

  “She’s grown on me,” Zelda offered.

  “And what about him? Has he grown on you as well?”

  Zelda’s face contorted as she looked at the woman. “Who? My boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” she said, watching Zelda’s face.

  Scratching her lobe. Zelda placed a strand of her black hair behind her ear, while looked at the yellow chair, pointing at it in a quiet request for permission to take a seat. Dr. DeNoid’s hand offered her the route to take to navigate around the playful pup to the chair. She took a bottle of water from the fridge, giving it Zelda.

  “Thank you,” Zelda said as the Doctor took a seat in the chair opposite to her. Zelda took a seat in the polka dotted chair, her butt sinking into the soft cushion as if she weighed 100 pounds more than she currently did.

  The doctor was waiting for an answer from her
new appointment.

  “He has. I love him and we are supposed to get married next year,” Zelda said.

  “Supposed? You say that with some doubt,” Dr. DeNoid countered. “I am detecting some resistance in response to my question.”

  Zelda felt like Giggles the Sad Clown. Her face was made up to look happy, but inside she was down to a low spot. The itching hives she had were on the inside. She thought of Angel with all the piercings in her face, publicly displaying her pain freely to the world, showing her ugliness. Then her thoughts went to Teresa, preferring to leave the now, to call back to the office to make the appointment at a later time. Three very different people, all representing the current state Zelda found herself in and her view about her life. Instead of hiding and waiting to come back, she opened her mouth and became very candid.

  “Supposed to, yes, because I am uncertain if I am capable of loving him the way he deserves. I am torn on the inside because I have no idea what I am walking into or if I even have the ability to be the wife he deserves or to become a mother to our children when my childhood was so jacked up. I have no concept of a mother’s love, so how in the hell am I supposed to love children?” Zelda asked.

  “Easy, just like you love and care for Diamond,” the Doctor told her.

  “She’s a cute little puppy. Who wouldn’t love her?”

  “True, but in order for you to love her, someone had to teach you,” Dr. DeNoid said. “You can mimic behaviors to show that you can function, but you took time to explain to an animal where you were, what you were doing, and how long you would be doing it, just as a mother would a small child.”

  Zelda looked at her with no expression on her face.

  “We are led to believe, as women, that there is a certain way to love and to give love, which is untrue. Love is a conditional thing. It is doled out to those we feel deserve it in increments, holding back enough to avoid being hurt, because, at one point, we gave it all to some person who was unworthy,” Dr. DeNoid told her.