Head Games Pt. 01 by Phoenix Cinders
Dive into “Head Games Pt. 01” by Phoenix Cinders, where passion ignites and boundaries blur in an erotic journey of desire and intrigue. Explore the tantalizing connection between two sensual souls as they navigate the intoxicating game of seduction. Get ready for a thrilling ride that will leave you breathless.
Hey all. All characters involved in sex are 18 or older. Because someone has tried to copy my work and post it on amazon, I must state my all my work is protected by copyright laws. That being said, I hope you enjoy. , “Seeing how this is our first session, why don’t you tell me about yourself,” she says as she tucks a long string of black hair behind her ear. Her dark brown eyes seem to flicker with the light coming through the window as she stares into mine.
“No offense, but I don’t really care to tell my life’s story to a complete stranger. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself first,” I say.
“Very well.” She gives me a smile as bright as a daisy. “There’s really not much to say. I grew up with my sister. I knew early in life what I wanted to do with myself. I’ve always been interested in learning about what makes people tick so I decided to study psychology in school. One thing led to another and here I am, sitting with you now.”
She left out quite a few details. The part about her transition in college. The incident she had as a kid. Her absent mother. The death of her father. Yes, I know all about her.
Other than the few black stains in her past, she seems like a somewhat trustworthy person of integrity, unlike myself. I’m the type of guy who can take another man’s life without giving it another thought. At least that’s what I did last night. Not like he didn’t deserve it. That’s beside the point.
“So, now I think it’s your turn to share,” she says, still showing me the beauty of her smile.
“Well, what would you like to know?” I ask.
“Anything… Everything,” she says. “Why don’t you start with what brought you here.”
“A friend told me I needed to see a head shrink. That’s all,” I mutter. The thought of the old man brings back a flood of memories. Always putting his nose where it didn’t belong.
“We prefer the term therapist. Head shrink just comes off a little.” Her eyes scrunch together like she ate something sour and she twists her hand in the air. “Harsh.”
“Therapist it is,” I say.
“So tell me, why do you think your friend suggested you see a therapist?” she asks.
“My line of work weighs heavy on the conscience.” I lean back and rest my leg on my knee. Her office is rather neat, but she seems to have a thing for elephants. They’re everywhere.
“And what kind of work is that?” she asks.
“I’m a contract assassin,” Her eyes widen at my statement. I let out a chuckle and she relaxes a little. I’m sure she thinks I’m joking.
“Oh…” she says. She brings the tip of her pen to her lush lips coated in a light pink lipstick. “Well… So what do you actually do?
“I wasn’t joking, I kill people for money,” I say with a smile.
She lets out a sigh. I can tell she thinks I’m full of shit. “How about we start from the beginning. What was your childhood like?”
“That’s a wound I’d rather keep sealed,” I laugh.
“And that’s precisely why we should talk about it,” she says.
“I didn’t have a typical childhood,” I say.
“Tell me about your parents,” she says.
“Can’t. Never met them.”
“So you were an orphan?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“You could say that.”
“Mr. Hunter, you’re going to have to expand on that if you want my help. I can’t make an assessment without the proper information,” she says.
“Well, I was raised in a boarding school-like environment. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but it made me proficient in my line of work.”
“What exactly went on in this boarding school?” she asks.
“We were put through countless drills, made to fight each other. But through rigorous regimes. Taught to kill. Nothing out of the ordinary,” I say.
“Are you kidding me? That sounds awful! That’s abuse,” she says.
“Eh, that’s nothing,” I say. “That can’t even light a match to the things I’ve seen and done.”
“Like what?” she asks.
“The things I’ve seen in my line of work will leave you heaving up your lunch. But what else would you expect when you’re paid to kill people.”
“Can you give any examples?” she asks. I adjust my glasses. The feed I get from the camera I stuck on the front of her office door gives me a clear view of the hallway in the lens of my glasses.
“No, not really,” I sigh. I’m sure she doesn’t want all the gory details. Besides, I don’t think she really believes me. I wouldn’t even believe it myself if our roles were reversed. I’m sure she has tons of patients who are pathological liars. There’s no real way to prove the truth behind my words without putting her in danger.
And so far, I’m starting to like her.
“As a doctor, I understand. But, there is such a thing as client, patient confidentiality. Anything you say to me will stay between you and me.” She swings her pointer finger between the both of us. I can feel it in her face… She definitely thinks I’m full of shit.
“Let’s move on to something else,” I say.
“What would you like to talk about?” she asks.
“Well, my friend said I’m a little OCD about things. Overly sarcastic. I believe he called me narcissistic. Let’s work on those,” I say.
That smile she’s trying to hold back makes me believe she still thinks I’m joking.
“Even though I’m totally paraphrasing, that’s what he said. Narcissistic, can you believe that? Me? Narcissistic?”
I can’t hold it in anymore. I laugh so hard, my lungs hurt. “Okay, that’s totally true. But, come on. Everyone in my line of work is a little bit of a Narcissist.”
She nods her head with straight lips and wide eyes. She definitely thinks I’m crazy.
“I guess, narcissism is as good as a place to start as any. Tell me, did your friend give any reasons as to why he thinks you’re narcissistic?”
“Oh, many times over. He says I like to showboat. I lack any humility. I’m too much of an attention-seeking asshole. But he didn’t say I was a dumbass, so that’s saying something.”
“Why does he think that?” she asks.
“Well, it could have to do with the incident we had in Vegas. It was work-related. But the short summary is that I got the job done. I don’t really understand why he feels that I’m an attention-seeking asshole? Sure I may have snorted a line of coke off of a woman’s breasts and while I played in a game of high stakes poker with the money we were supposed to use for our assignment. But so what? Not only did I complete the assignment, I emptied all of those chumps’ pockets. I see it as a win-win.”
“Yeah, I can see why he might think you’re a bit narcissistic.”
“Was it the coke? Or the fact that I snorted it off a woman’s bare breasts? No, I know, it’s the poker?”
“You want the honest truth?” she says.
I nod my head. “Give it to me straight, doctor.”
“Did you even at all consider your partner’s feelings in all this? Did you ask him his thoughts on the matter?”
“Well.” I shrug my shoulders. “You know when you’re in the heat of the miss… Task, sometimes you have to make decisions, like an audible. You watch football, right?”