Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [17]
She took some sort of prescription medication to control her mood swings, talked twice a week by telephone to a shrink who lived out of state, practiced yoga, meditated, and exercised religiously. But as far as Andy could tell, none of it made a difference when Crystal decided to tune out the world.
The sound of the shower stopped and after a few minutes Crystal padded into the living room in her bare feet with a towel wrapped around her torso. She nodded in the direction of the bedroom and dropped the towel on the floor. “Come on,” she said without a flicker of emotion on her face.
Aroused and grinning with anticipation, Andy followed her down the hallway. In her bedroom she stripped him naked where he stood, put her arms around his neck, and curled one leg around his waist. He pulled her up by the buttocks and held her firmly while she rode him, staring into his eyes, breathing heavily into his face, her wet hair tangled against his cheek, until they climaxed in unison, both of them gasping in pleasure.
They stayed locked together for a moment, then slowly he lowered her to the floor. She patted his cheek, turned, and walked out of the bedroom.
As he dressed, the thought struck Andy that Crystal had never kissed him on the lips. Not once. He shrugged it off as a meaningless curiosity. He was a twenty-three-year-old bartender from Minnesota boffing a hot young heiress who made up her own rules as she went along, and he was having the time of his life.
After Andy left, Crystal slipped on a pair of thong panties, sat at the small desk in the corner of the living room, and called Benjamin Cohen, a semiretired New York City shrink who’d been her therapist for the past ten years.
“How are you feeling, Crystal?” Cohen asked after he’d picked up.
“Tense, and I just had sex and that didn’t help at all. I’ve been taking things again.”
“Tell me about it.”
Crystal sighed. “Why? You’ll just tell me to increase my medication, and I don’t want to. It stops me from feeling horny.”
“There is that,” Cohen replied. “But let’s talk about what you’re really feeling.”
Crystal giggled. “Guilty, but I’m not giving anything back.”
“Care to tell me why?” Cohen asked.
Crystal sighed. “Because I don’t want to.”
“Sometimes, in the past, you’ve returned the things you’ve taken, or given them away as gifts.”
She opened the locked desk drawer, looked at her new possessions, and caressed each of them. “These are too beautiful to give away. I’m going to display them in my Paris apartment. No one there will ever know I stole them.”
“What else are you feeling?”
“Alive, euphoric, irritable, sexy, depressed. The usual stuff.”
“Have you stopped taking your medication entirely?” Cohen asked.
“It turns me into a zombie.”
“It helps to stabilize your mood.”
“How boring.”
“I think it would be best if you came back to the city for a time so we can talk about this in person,” Cohen said.
“I can’t stand New York. I’ll never live there again.”
“You need to think about what you’re doing, Crystal.”
“I hate it when you judge me.”
“I’m judging you?”
“There’s always that undertone, at least that’s what I feel. Crystal doesn’t need to steal. Crystal is a rich girl who can buy anything she wants. Crystal is so uncooperative and difficult. You don’t say it, but it’s there.”
“Why have you decided to go back to Paris?” Cohen asked.
“Because Daddy’s returning to Santa Fe next week and I don’t want to see him. Besides, Paris is fun and sexy. The French are so accepting.”
“Do you think Paris will ease your guilt?”
“Why not? I got a gun last week. A pistol. It’s very small, so I can keep it in my purse.”
“Whatever for?”
“Protection,” Crystal replied. “Women get raped in Santa Fe all the time.”
“You sound pleased about having a gun.”
“In a strange way, I am. It gives me a feeling of control.” She opened the expensive, imported crocodile handbag she