Page 31 of Praise Me: Soldier

I want her to take selfies with my phone while I’m giving her head.

I want around a million pictures of those sweet, motherfucking tits.

I’m going to use up half the memory on this thing within a week.

Noticing my familiar surroundings, I realize my feet have led me to the sidewalk outside of July’s work building. My stomach muscles pull taut, my heart climbing up into my mouth. Go in there and get her. That’s my impulse. Take her home and spend the day worshipping her body, the only body that tempts me or gives me relief.

My woman’s body.

But I can’t follow through on the urge, because she’s working. Her work is important to her, and I want her to succeed. Not to mention, I made a vow to myself to be better, to do the work to rejoin civilian life in a healthy way, so July will be proud to call me her boyfriend.

Instead of storming the building and kidnapping July, the way I want to, I untuck a business card from my wallet and make my first official call on my new phone.

Mark, my Army buddy, answers after three rings. “Hello?”

“Mark, it’s Theo.”

An amused puff of air. “You finally got a phone.”

“Calling you is easier than looking at your ugly face.”

A laugh bursts down the line, followed by several beats of silence. “Why are you calling?”

I inhale deeply and let it out, glancing up at July’s building. “I’m ready to see the therapist. As soon as possible, actually.”

“Wow. I thought you’d be in denial over needing help for a lot longer.”

“Surprise.”

“What changed your mind?”

An image of July sitting down across from me in the café blinds me to everything else on the sidewalk. I see nothing but her, pushing those glasses up her nose and reaching out to touch my arm, her touch turning me back into a human. “I met a woman.” Christ, my throat is suddenly tied in a knot. “I metthewoman.”

“That’ll do it!” Mark laughs. “So you need to see the therapist and get cleared for security work in order to buy this woman a diamond ring. Am I on the right track?”

“Yeah,” I rasp. “Might need an advance.”

“She’s that special, is she?”

I almost turn around and charge the building. Who the hell are these walls and elevators and security guards to keep me from my other half? “She’s a walking miracle.”

Mark makes a warm sound, and I hear the tapping of keys in the background. “As luck would have it, one of our guys had to cancel his therapy appointment today. There’s an opening. How fast can you get to the west side?”

“I’m on my way.”

It’s funny how one chance encounter brings me back to the land of the living. I complete my first therapy session that afternoon and it’s nothing like I expected. The therapist is a former soldier himself and even so, didn’t try to relate to my experience or wrap it up in a neat little bow with some psychological terminology. He listened. Asked minimal questions. Validated the horror I experienced with reactions that neither jarred me or pissed me off.

Unbelievably, I’m looking forward to going back.

Hours later, it’s 5:09 and I’m standing outside of July’s office building.

She isn’t there.

I’ve been standing here since a quarter to five. She never comes out.

I check the bar I found her in yesterday. She’s not there, either.

I’m beginning to panic when I see her co-worker walk out the building, along with another woman I don’t recognize.

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