I knew what was coming, I could feel it.

Andrew's obsession that I was in trouble. His certainty that something was wrong with me and it needed fixing. No matter what I did-- planned getaways, flowers, food-- nothing worked.

I knew he wanted me to see a damn shrink, to "get some help, to get into some "good therapy"...this whole story was so old, I was bored.

I'm fine!

Damnit!

I'm fine and he won't believe me. Talk about someone trying to sabotage a perfectly decent relationship. Andrew was in charge of that. I mean, I was trying to put the past where it belonged, in the past. Would Andrew? NOOOOOOO. He had to cling to the past like it was life preserver.

I'm fine!

Damnit!

*****

"You again?"he asked.

"I don't even know your name, you know that?"

"And you're not gonna. I told you to be prepared for the worst, man. Are you prepared?"

I had no idea what he meant, this hustler from last week. I only knew I had to be ready for anything. He was dangerous, my ribs were only now losing the sensitivity from the last time when he kicked me in the side.

Same hotel. Same room.

"It's two hundred this time, y'know?" he smirked and started to strip down. His body was so tight, so taut and white-- this guy never went in the sun. He wanted to look sixteen forever.

"You don't arbitrarily change your fee, guy. That's not--"

SMACK.

Damnit, here it comes again. The hitting, the striking, the attack. In a second I was on the ground, he was on top of me-- striking and kissing, hitting and rubbing. Rubbing hard.

I knew what was next.

"Let me get the condoms, okay?"

"I told you to be prepared." He screamed.

"I am! I am!"

"No,"he yelled back. "I mean be prepared for whatever I want. And this time-- this time-- I'm not into condoms. This time I want skin on skin."

"You mean...?"

"Relax,"he smiled. "I'm negative."