Jazz was on edge. She was uneasy. Uncomfortable. She felt a bit awkward. It wasn't anything that she did, obviously, but she just couldn't understand. She couldn't understand why, after the session in the bar bathroom with the woman whose name she didn't care to know, why the nameless woman ran out of the bathroom, as if in a frenzy, like she lost something very near and dear to her, like she had to find it. Jazz walked out of that bathroom and didn't look back. But, she could see out of the corner of her hazy eyes, that this woman was in a hurry. Jazz already knew what she was running for. She wanted Jazz. She wanted to know Jazz's name. She wanted to know who Jazz was, why she chose her and left her cold and alone in the bathroom without a word...with nothing but her thoughts.
Jazz didn't have time for it. She had no time in her mind, in her soul, in her body, in her thoughts for such confusion, complication. Why do people, these victims, feel the need to reach out to Jazz for more than just Biblical satisfaction? The closer you get to someone, the more you allow them to come near your heart, the more your heart stings, the more you start to loathe this person because all they're going to do is trample on and crush your feelings as if they never took in a breath of air, not at all...alive. Jazz treats these victims the same way love has treated her, like they don't matter. All of the love Jazz gave to those who were undeserving of all she had to offer were ungrateful, selfish, uncaring...SELF-ABSORBED. Even after all she's been through, Jazz doesn't feel like she's a woman scorned, but as an opportunist. If she's able to recognize a situation where she knows she'll trump every player involved, and everyone in the end is pleased, especially her, she knocks on the door.
This awkwardness Jazz is feeling at this moment brought flashbacks to her. This wasn't the first time Jazz felt this way. It wasn't her, she thought, it's everybody else. They just don't understand, and she didn't have time to try and explain it, nor did she want to. Let them figure the shit out on their own. What Jazz has is a gift and a curse. She's very charming, everyone likes her, men and women. She gets along with everyone, there was seldom someone who did not flock to her side. Those who weren't fond of her were the jealous ones, she knew. Such was the case with Dr. Kim Patterson. She was, at one point in time, Jazz's "pocketbook" doctor, as Jazz liked to call her.
Jazz had been going to Dr. Patterson for some time. Regular annual appointments, any problems Jazz had, birth control. She even delivered the shocking news of Jazz's unexpected pregnancy. Dr. Patterson was a very attractive woman, wide hips, round behind, chocolate skin, round eyes. Jazz was always attracted to her, but never made a move on her. Not all women are fond of women they way Jazz is. But it was this one particular day when Jazz had the surprise of a lifetime.
Jazz was sitting back on the exam table, legs dangling over the side, white sheet draped over her middle, waiting for the doctor. When she entered, she gave her usual smile and hello to Jazz. Dr. Patterson sat on the small chair with the wheels and instructed Jazz to place her feet in the stirrups for her exam. Jazz did so. Dr. Patterson grabbed the exam gloves to wear on her hands, but when her finger entered Jazz, it felt like a regular finger, no plastic...nothing. Dr. Patterson's finger reached all the way to Jazz's g-spot and tickled it, she pulled on it as if attempting to cause chism on the exam table. Jazz was frozen. It was quite enjoyable but it took her by surprise, so she didn't know whether to let it happen or interrupt. Still, Dr. Patterson said nothing. Jazz said nothing. The only sounds in the room were heavy breathing. They were both breathing very heavy.
Jazz decided to let the doctor have her way. After all, they would both get what they want, the taste of a woman and a satisfied appetite for the moment. The doctor's finger stayed inside of Eve's flesh, she felt her tongue. She was performing french tricks, producing mouth-music, and it was beautiful. Jazz slowly formed a river that flowed from the center of bliss. She sighed in amazement. The doctor got up from her chair and looked at Jazz with disdain, as if Jazz wronged her in some way. I'm in love with you, Jazz, the doctor said. Jazz quickly sat up and gawked at the doctor, shocked and confused. You never noticed me, Dr. Patterson said. You never tried to approach me and I've been in love with you since I laid eyes on you 3 years ago. You never said a word. Every time you walked into this office I didn't have the courage to do or say anything until this day. I had to seize the moment, overcome my fear of rejection. This was news to Jazz, who had no clue what this woman was talking about. Could she be mistaken, could she be referring to someone else, Jazz thought. Whatever the case may be, Jazz knew she had to get out of that room. She began to feel closed in, as if in a box.
Dr. Patterson, she said, I really don't know what you're talking about, but I'm getting dressed and out of this room. If you had or have feelings for me then you should have kept them to yourself. I'm not in the business of feelings, I'm in the business of getting what I want, and being responsible for someone else's feelings is not something I want. These words brought tears to the doctors eyes, and Jazz could care less. Jazz knew what she said was hurtful, but she didn't care. Why should I care, she thought. She got what she wanted, why is she so upset. Jazz will never understand...oh well...until next time
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