What? I asked as if I knew nothing. What? Its my phone, doc, just got a text message is all. No big deal. (LIAR), its probably not important (LIAR, LIAR) who ever it is can wait (PANTS ARE DEFNITELY ON FIRE, GIRL -HOT HOT HOT DOWN THERE). I squirmed a little on the leather sofa hoping my excitement wasnt leaking through and leaving a spot.

I didnt say anything, now did I, responded Dr. Repp. I just thought we had agreed not to have cell phones going off during the session. But I guess a reminder that you have a text message is ok.

Sorry doc, didnt mean to interrupt the moment. Maybe I should leave my phone in the car next time.

Its ok , Beach, really. Now what were you about to tell me.

In my haste to exit the good dr.s office and get to the task at hand – READING THAT FRICKIN HOT MESSAGE – I simply rambled on about what a good idea she had and that maybe I will write something, somewhere. I needed to end this session despite the fact that K had encouraged my return to these face-to-face chats – despite the fact that I might actually benefit from listening to the good docs insightful comments – despite the fact I needed to learn to trust and be truthful – *****–WHAT I NEEDED WAS TO GET OUT OF THERE AND READ THAT FRICKIN HOT MESSAGE . . . ***** ALL THIS OTHER ***** . . .

Dr. Repp seemed pleased at my desire to examine another outlet for my addiction, and we shook hands, scheduled another session and exchange pleasantries and goodbyes.

As I frustratingly donned my jacket in the elevator, my hands searched each pocket for the cell phone. I pulled the phone from its hiding place and flipped up the cover just as the elevator doors opened to the lobby of the doctors office building. Without looking I strolled out the revolving door to the busy street and began reading the message. Tried as I might, I could not keep my eyes in my head or my mouth closed as I read my cyber partners description of the upcoming evenings activities. As I walked down the street, I read and thought to myself . .

(HOLY MOTHER ***** SOMEBODY GET ME A COLD TOWEL FOR MY FOREHEAD I AM BURNING UP WITH DESIRE . . THIS GIRL IS OUTTA HER ***** . . . . . .BANG!!!!!!!!

Before I knew what hit me I lay on the ground, blood gushing from the forehead which was in need of a cold towel. Because I was reading while I was walking and not paying much attention to where I was walking, I ran right smack dab full force into a steel light post on the streets corner. Thankfully, the cell phone turned itself off as I hit the ground, keeping the curious public from reading my *****-laden message as they attended to my bloodied face.

In a matter of seconds a crowd had gathered around me to see if I was alright, one stranger even offering me his brand new kerchief (WHO CARRIES THOSE THINGS ANY MORE??), pressing the gash to keep the blood from escaping further. Someone had suggested calling 911 but I refused when a local hot dog vendor arrived with a baggie full of ice. I sat up and placed the icebag on my forehead and thanked the gathering masses for their assistance.
Several people offered to hang around while I arranged for someone to help me. And as I chatted with them I diverted my eyes to the sidewalk across the street, not particularly looking at anything, just staring out across the road. Even as I looked at the opposite corner, I didnt notice her, didnt see her watching me.

I didnt see K shaking her head in disbelief and disgust as she tried to call me from her cell phone. . . .

T..B..C..