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Read My Mind
She didn't want the be the one assigned to this freak. This man was in serious need of some help. No emotion when he kills. An empty soul. A man who has made a name for himself by making death into an art, now sits across from her. But, this was her job. She didn't go to school for a great number of years to not be able to heal the soul. And as hard it was, she still believed this man still had a soul. It was just an empty one.
"I always knew I was different." His voice sounded exhausted, bored. His dark eyes stared into hers, as if he was trying to consume her. Like he was trying to slip her into his mind. "I felt nothing. People would laugh or cry, I never understood why. I taught myself to mimic them. I passed for ordinary."
Lainey decides speak. She didn't want him to speak too long. Just the sound of his voice could make you feel like your own soul was deteriorating. The day her soul would disappear is the day she'll no longer do her job. "So you've never been happy, sad, angery, in love, excited?"
A sadistic smile spreads across face. "I've been...excited." Lust suddenly forms in his dark eyes.
Lainey's shifts uncomfortably, but her face turns hot. She clears her throat and decides that she needed to change the subject. "Tell me what prison was like for you."
Franco's smiles slowly disappears, returning back to his bored state. "I was eighteen when I went to prison, for a crime I didn't commit." Lainey believes this statement. He had no reason to lie to her. But she senses no bitterness from his words. Usually, if someone was sent to prison for something they didn't do, there had to be some feelings behind it, right? "I learned a lot. All those cons goin' on about the people they've killed. Mostly lies, but, it made me curious."
Curiousity. She understood that. She didn't exactly understood the curiousity of death, sucidal or murder, but she uinderstood how hearing something over and over, hearing people brag about something, could make one curious about it.
"So when I got out, I decided to kill someone, just to see what it was like." Lainey's breath catches in her throat of the bluntness of his words. "Shot a man in Tribeca. Watched him die." He pauses for a moment, his dark eyes looking to consume her soul. His eyes were hypnotizing, slowly sucking her into the story so much that she'd forgot to cut him off at some point. "I didn't feel a damn thing. And so I turned it into art, and I've never stopped."
Lainey was speechless. But her emotions going through an obstacle course. First obsurd, then sadness, but the one that made her fear the most, curiousity. She's been through pain her whole life. Feeling pain, though she tried to not show her emotions, only caused her more pain. She only pretended to not have emotion with others, but there have been times where she wished she didn't have any at all. As he spoke to her with openness, she realizes that he's just looking for someone to understand. She didn't, not matter how much she wanted to. As if he was reading her mind, he gets up from his chair, making her immediately nervous, and pulls a red, silk scarf from his pocket and walk towards her.
"What are you doing?" Lainey's voice was calm. She had to be. If there was any form of stablity coming from anyone, it had to be from her. She had to hid her emotions.
He doesn't stop walking at the sound of her voice. It only made him more eager. "The only way I could get you to somewhat understand." She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. One wrong move and she could possibly end up dead. He steps behind her and he places the scarf over her eyes, tying it around her head. She couldn't see a damn thing. Her heartrate was so rapid that she wondered that even though he couldn't see her emotions, the sound of her heartbeat beating against her chest was all that he needed to know.
"You have now lost one of your human characteristics." His voice was in her ear so close that his breath blew against her ear and the back of her neck, so it was safe, or unsafe, to say that he was now kneeling behind her. "You can not see. Now, I'm pretty sure that you other senses have now heightened. You're listenning where I am. You're probably smelling around, making sure I haven't poured gasoline around you." She hadn't thought about it, but her nose was now sniffing around, just in case. "You sight, like my emotions, do not exist."
A moment passes by, and the soft touch of a rough hand slide between her right hand and her right thigh. Too close to where she suddenly found an urge for him to touch. Their connection has become mental, but for some sickening reason, she wanted it to be physical. His hand pulls her up slowly from her chair. He guides her around her chair, and she blindly follows without hesitation.
"Now you wonder if I'm disable from feelings. That's not ture. Feelings and emotions are two different things." He nudges her against something. Her desk. His body wasn't touching her, but she could feel the humid heat raidiating from him. Her body begins to tighten in various areas of her body. As if he was reading her mind, he gently grabs onto her waist. "I feel my hands on your waist." His hand slides down onto her ass, gently. She wants to scream, protest his inappropriate behavior, but what she wants most of all is to have hands to stop being gentle and to grab her ass with all his might. As if he was reading her mind, his hands cups her ass to it's fullest and sqeezes it as if he was taking full claim. She catches her breath from his erotic touch. "I feel your ass in my hands."
His hands lower from her ass, down her long smooth legs, his hands stopping at the bottom end of her skirt. She tries to stop showing that his touch wasn't affecting her, but she gasps as his hands eases it way back up her legs, only this time it was now under skirt, easily coming back to her ass. She leans forward, her hands landing on his shoulders, as he's kneeling in front of her. He lifts her skirt up and reveals to himself that she is indeed not wearing anything underneath. She shivers as his hot deep breaths is close to her front. He grabs her waist and lays her down on her desk. She feels him standing up, and her legs automatically spreads open, eager to feel his feel his body occupy the vacant space. As if he was reading her mind, she feels his clothed pelvis area press against her hot area. She feels two fingers gently slide along her inner thigh to her core, slowly rubbing her up and down. "I feel your wetness between my fingers."
Without able to take more, she blindly reaches for his shoulders and pushes him back down to his knees. She grabs a hold of his curly hair on the back of his head and pushes his face into her center, adding fuel to her fire. His tongue slips inside her, and her whole body shudders. He slips his tongue back out. "I feel your wetness on my tongue."
He stands back up, and she can here his belt buckle rattle as he tries to disclothe himself. She needed him now, and if he didn't make her come soon, she wouldn't give it a second thought to finish the job herself. But it wouldn't be the same. She needed to understand him, mentally and physically. That's why she was doing this. That's what she told herself.
As if he was reading her mind, he came back to her, giving her what she want. Her rips open her shirt and not to long after, her bra as well. he rubs her breasts, her back arching off the table again. His hands slowly slide down her torso, teasing her. He grabs her waist and slides her body to the edge of her desk. With one intial thrust, he was in and the scream she wanted to release was stuck in her throat and her back arched like it was the limb of a bow and he was collided within like and arrow. He didn't move for what seemed like forever, but she was glad. She wanted to savor that moment, a moment she hasn't felt in a long time. "I feel your pussy around my dick." His vulagrity didn't sound like vulgarity at all. It sounded like poerty, like it was something he'd taken out of erotic literature. It sounded like...art.
But she needed him to continue. She didn't do all of this for him to just stop. As if he was reading her mind, he began thrusting with forceful but smooth thrusts. She knew he wasn't just physically fucking her, but he was mind fucking her as well. They were connecting and it was her job to try and connect with her patient. This was her job. She's never came close to going to this far. But now, she wasn't becoming close to something else. She was coming close to understanding her patient, close to understanding how not let pain exist, but most of all, she was close to cumming.
She wraps her legs around his waist, her hands comes to her chest, rubbing on her dark, smooth breasts. "I feel you tightening around." His hands slides hers away, replacing the warmth that her own hands felt on her breasts. But it didn't last long because she was getting ready to cum, and his hands remove themselves from her top, to her sides, lifting her body and presses it against his own. Her breast against his bare chest. Her tight stomach against his smooth abs. The side of her face pressed against the side of his face. Her fingernails digging into his back, drawing blood. She didn't want to show any emotion, and as if he was reading her mind, he give her a thrust that makes her cry with ecstacy as she releases and her body "I feel the shuddering of you body as we cum togther."
He gently lays her body back on the table, but never remvoes himself from inside her. They sit in silence for a moment. "Do you feel anything?"
She takes a moment, thinking about the question, and they answer that came to her was as mind numbing as the pleasure he had just given her. "No." She felt nothing. She didn't feel love. She didn't feel attachment. She didn't feel regret. But most of all, she didn't feel pain. She was supposed to connect with him so she could find a way fill his empty soul. But now, it seemed that he had taken hers away. She now felt nothing, and the one thing that ran though her mind was that it was now time for her to retire.
His hand takes her right hand and places around her throat as if she was chocking. He extends her arm out, spawled to the side. Still inside her, he shifts her body till she laying on her side. "Now, you feel what I feel. Nothing."
Lainey body jumps as she feels some nudge her. Her eyes fly open and her eyes widen at her nudger. Franco, fully clothe, with a sadistic smile on his face stands over her. She looks around her office, realizing that she had fallen asleep at her desk.
"What are you doing in here?" Lainey voice wasn't shaking because she didn't feel fear as she looked at him.
"I believe we have a court ordered session." Franco responds his eyes burning deep into her. She could see it. The emptiness of emotion. She understood it. she accepted it with him, as well as herself.
"My apologies." She rises from her chair at her desk, looking away from his eyes, and she walks over to her listening chair in the middle of the room. She gestures for him to sits in the chair for her patients. They both take their seats and her eyes lock back into his, and a deep connection is sent from him to her and it was as if he could read his mind. "Whenever you want to begin."
Without hesitation, his smile slowly disappears and the bored look on his face is present as he begins. "I always knew I was different. I felt nothing. People would laugh or cry, I never understood why. I taught myself to mimic them. I passed for ordinary..." Even as she understood now what he felt. She too, felt nothing.