When awake, the only doorway you have learned to unlock and then open, is the one found through precise connection with your clitoris. And she’s a feisty and finicky little Piscean fish that one. She stays in sight, but swims away whenever you try to catch her, she’s hard to net or hook, and even harder still to reel in.

Any lover hoping to know her would first need to be intimately skilled, passionate and patient. But the rewards are incredible. An intimate inner light pouring out from your skin, a soul surrendered, an afterglow unlike any this therapist has ever seen.

Vibrations of love fill the room. Your therapist watching your breathing, checking his notes, patiently sharing this moment, wondering who on earth the man on the beach might be.

Patiently your therapist waits.

Then intimately he soothes: “Where are you?”

“Among the stars” you answer, with a deep sigh of physical relief and mental release.

“Do you need to sleep? Your therapist considers.


And with that one word, the room falls silent.

Your therapist notes the time, and updates his journal, reporting how the subject effortlessly segued from hypnosis to deep sleep.

He leans forward to study your closed eyes, and he listens to the pattern of your breathing.

He notices how the movement behind your eyes has quickly become rapid, indicating you have entered the dream state.

He checks his watch. 45 minutes of this session remaining.

~ XIV ~

I feel the give in the throttle. The power fading. The engine gasping to drink the last of the gas in her tank, finding only fumes, she’s run dry, and she’s distressed, floundering, like a fish pulled from the water she’s suffocating.

The gradient is gentle and downward. I kill the ignition and put her to sleep, letting her momentum carry me for the moment.

I look on to the vanishing point. At this elevation, is the horizon 10 miles out, or further? That’s a 2 and ½ hour walk just to get from here to there. And then, who knows what lies beyond?

Well, they always said if you want more adventure in your life, do less planning.

I coast on for as long as possible. Surprised by how far that is. The heat rising as the breeze, brought on by my momentum, begins to fade, and the sound of the silence begins to fill my ear-plugged ears, growing now that the engine is fast asleep.

I check my mirrors, and almost double take. Seriously? Is that a car on the distant horizon?

I squeeze the brake. Easing to a halt. Kicking the side-stand down, pulling the keys from the ignition, sliding off the bike, grabbing my water bottle and stowing my gloves.

I look back down the road, pulling my earplugs from my ears.

Is that the sound of an engine, or am I imaging it because I so want it to be?

I squint into the distance, it’s not a trick, it’s a car, gradually approaching.

I stand tall and wave my arms above my head, wanting the driver to be aware at the earliest, wanting them to see I’m alone and in need of help.