Satellite-Sequel to God Save My King (Steve Jones FanFic)

Steve-Choke On It

"Tell me about your childhood." Knee pat.

"Tell me about your mother." Knee pat. "Your father?" Knee pat.

"What kind of women are you attracted to?" Knee pat. "Are you interested in any men?" I moved my knee out of his grasp that time.

Kleptomaniac. Sex addict. Alcoholic. Heroin junkie. Rockstar. Each label was just as worse as the next, every new name only representative of a small chunk of me, yet somehow managing to make up my entire identity.

By the time I left Dr. Fields' office and stumbled back out into the waiting room, my body no longer felt the same way that it had when I'd arrived. The heroin I'd injected with Billy a few days ago had been enough to hold me over up until now, and all of the uncomfortable ticks that came with the heroin withdrawals had all but left me completely. However, after enduring yet another grueling encounter with that fairy, I was at my wit's end. I needed a fix or a romp, and I needed it bad.

I was itching to get away, to hurry off for some sex, some booze, or some dope. Just as I reached the exit, a soft voice called out to me from over my shoulder.

"Mr. Jones?" Kimmy.

Dammit. That was the other thing. That awkward exchange with Kimmy earlier had my mind in a whirl. She said she wasn't jealous of Linda, that she had no reason to be, and I believed her at first. Yet, the look in her eye, the stiffened posture of her back, the way she had set her jaw, I'd seen that look before. I knew it all too well, because it was that same look that I would give whenever Sid was brought into the conversation. A look I used to give whenever Kimmy spoke of him.

On top of that, I couldn't help but notice the fact that she had put more effort into her appearance today. More make up, some jewelry, and a gorgeous dress. Looking at her today, one would never guess that she was the same woman who had worn librarian-esque attire to our date last week. And, when she started pushing out her chest, I was forced to focus on the sign-in sheet to keep my prick in check. God only knows how badly I wanted to pull her up onto that desk and shag her right then and there.

"Hm?" I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket, my head lowered so that she couldn't see the increasing look of panic on my face.

"You've forgotten something."

I gave her a curious look, glancing up at her for another hint as to what it possibly could be that I was supposedly forgetting. When she held up the empty, plastic pee cup in her hand, I immediately realized my mistake.

"Oh, shit, right. Sorry," I murmured.

I tried to focus my eyes down at my shoes as I followed Kimmy into the closet-sized bathroom. Just as she had done last week, she closed and locked the door behind us before holding the cup out to me. I glared at the bit of plastic, this container that was beginning to take full control over my life.

"Here," she urged me, shaking the object around a bit for emphasis when I still hadn't taken it from her.

I grabbed the cup from her outstretched hand and began unzipping my pants. I made a haphazard attempt to point my dick down to piss into the container. My eyes scanned the bathroom, refusing to land on Kimmy, reluctant to acknowledge that she was standing right beside me. When I was done, I shook the droplets from my knob before zipping my pants back up.

"There," I placed the cup on the nearby sink, still refusing to look at her. "Can I go now?"

"Of course."

I side stepped her, my head hung low, and headed back for the door. Just as I reached out to open it, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I involuntarily flinched at the touch, but relaxed a bit when I remembered that it was only Kimmy. Well, relaxed as best as I could with the knowledge that Kimmy was touching me.