The Cure

By Your Editor

I was tired. So very tired. You cannot imagine the stress I face, day in and day out. As I sat in the darkened room, waiting for my therapist to arrive, I tried to stay awake long enough to review what I had to tell him.

Stories. Stories. Everyone thinks I have this cushy job. I get to retrieve some email, file attachments to my hard drive; I do a little makeover, if necessary (not often, though!). I get to look at and select terrific pictures, I get to pop both into an attractive, easy-to-use web page template. And then I get to post messages at several locations telling the chicas that "There are new Kisses!"

Big deal, you say? (And yes, I hear you out there, saying exactly that…) A trained monkey could do it? I beg to differ. First of all, certainly I get to read the Kisses first, and I love that. But I am constantly awed by the talent of the women who write them - you have no idea how hard it is to do these stories justice with images, and how I struggle to write something that is one tenth as good, when I can find the time to write. And then…the pictures. Oh, the pictures! They fill 35% of my hard drive; I spend hours staring, staring - trying to match the perfect image of Antonio to the story at hand. You cannot imagine the stress! Studying each photograph, lovingly, touching a finger to the already totally smudged monitor to trace an eyebrow, that mouth…sigh. Impossible decisions, which gave me terrible tension headaches and incredible dreams.

I was drifting into a pleasant Banderas-related daydream when I heard the door open. Rumors of other therapists employed here at the clinic were already circulating…Bain, Carlos, Mario, El Tipo, Caesar Soto - chicas were wandering the halls with vacant stares and wide smiles - who would I get to help me? Footsteps…more than one set. Then, "Good afternoon, KC. You look…exhausted. That voice! I knew it…it was Tony. As I slowly looked around, another voice chimed in. "Si, querida, you have not had an easy time of it, have you? We are here to help." Alejandro…oh wow…

"Uh, hi," I stuttered, struggling to rise out of the plush sofa I had been sitting on. "Are you, oh geez, are you two my therapists…I thought, well, they told me that there would...oh I don't believe this! Sorry, they told me that my session would be with an individual." The two men gently took my arms and pushed me back down, seating themselves on either side of me - close to me. Despite the air conditioning, the room was becoming decidedly warmer.

"That is normally true," Tony replied, "but your case is special, unusual. It was thought best if several of us tried to help you."

"Several?" I repeated faintly. "What do you mean, several…"

"This is such a unique problem. We thought Ahmad's special talents might help in this case - ah, here he is" Alejandro murmured, taking my hand and caressing it. I was getting dizzy. My beloved men...here with me. Ahmad entered the room and sat at my feet, gently toying with my sandal strap. My ankle. My toes…

"What do you want me to do?" Besides faint dead away and ruin the most perfect afternoon of my life.

"We want you to tell us why this job bothers you so much. After all, didn't you volunteer to do it? You have done a very good job with my stories," Alejandro smiled. He raised my hand to his lips and continued the caress. "And, doesn't it bring you great pleasure?" Oh, to hear him say that word…pleasure.

"Well, yes, I did volunteer," I began hesitantly. "I thought it would be good experience for me, you know, because I do have to deal with web pages on the job. It really isn't hard to do, and I know that some people think that…it's a joke, but it's special to me. It's just so overwhelming!"

"You do not like to look at the photographs of us?" Tony inquired. "And read the sexy stories? I certainly have enjoyed the ones about me." His arm was suddenly around me, a hand idly playing with the hair at the back of my neck…I wished I could do the same thing to him.

"Oh, yes, YES! I do. I really do," I whispered. "But there are so many of them - they are so beautiful, the writing is so great. It's so hard to choose the pictures."

"My love, you you must continue with this duty," Ahmad said, moving his hand slowly up my calf. "And I must admit, your choices are admirable. However, when may I expect to see one of myself?"

I gulped, and blushed. "Soon, my lord, very soon in fact…I am sorry, I know you are all trying to help, but this is just making things worse."

The three men looked at one another for a moment. "Gentlemen, I believe that Dr. Leal's 'Special Therapy' may be called for here - do you agree?" Tony slid his hand down my free arm, pulling me back against him. The other two nodded their heads, grinning wickedly.

The three men rose, looking down at me. I stared back, eyes wide. "Special therapy? What is it? Will it hurt?" I whispered.

"Nooooooo, not at all, chica, but it is very…physical, very much hands on," Tony laughed. "It will be the most wonderful experience of your life. We want you to lie back, close your eyes…and let us help you…"

Note: Due to its' graphic nature, the remainder of this case history has been censored. Please apply to Dr. Leal for the full transcript.