Spencer Recover Center, Laguna Beach, CA

Layla

It was that time. Layla could feel the dread filling her heart. She know she needed help. But these group meetings? Where she had to let her business out to everyone, going into extreme detail of all the branches of her addictions? It was embarassing. Layla couldn't think of a better word to put it. But admitting your addiction was one of the easiest ways to overcome it. Well, that's what her coach said. It would be their first meeting, so it would probably be mainly introductions and backgrounds. But it could be different. Could be worse. Their first opinions of her would probably be along the lines of 'slut', or 'whore'. Layla tried not to think about it so hard, running one hand through her long, black locks. She sat back in the la-z-boy, her light eyes scanning the room quickly.

There would be others, Layla knew. But not very many with her problem. No, no, no. See, her addiction was rare. Most people didn't believe her when she first told them. But it was true. It was painful to admit, but true. She couldn't hide it anymore. People wanted to help her, and she needed it. People said they were praying for her. She didn't see anything coming out of that so far. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, staring at the light blue door that was to open at any second, telling her to come in the room, sit with a bunch of strangers, and spill her heart.

Layla pulled at her white pencil skirt. She had tried to dress her nicest, putting on a fancy shirt that someone had bought her a few years back. She wanted to make a good impression on these people. She didn't want them to know her secret before she put it out there. She toyed with the edges of her flowing hair, fidgeting nervously. She hit her black pumps up against each other, and her head snapped up at the sound of the door being open. It was a nicer man, probably in his early 50's, smiling at her and opening the door wider.

"Come in." He said softly. Layla quickly stood up, brushing her skirt against her long legs, before smiling at him briefly and stepping past him into the room. She looked around the crowd of people, all those who she would have never expected had an addiction or a problem. She took a seat in between a guy with blonde hair and a girl with cat eyes. She smiled at them as nice as she could, before she started drumming her black fingernails against her white skirt nervously. She wasn't good with formal introductions or meetings. And this was a mixture of both.

An unmarked cop car pulled up to The Spencer Recover Center. An officer opened the back door and helped Lance out of the car. Lance was dressed in a plaid button up shirt. It was unbuttoned exsposing a white under shirt. He was wearing a pair of black Dickies. He had been sent straight over from the court. Lance was then escorted into the front door of the facility by his handcuffs. The cop looked around and said,"Now are you gonna play nice?"

"Of course not. You should've known that by now." Lance said tring to intimidate the officer. Which didn't work.

"Well in that case will keep a cell open just for you." The cop said laughing to himself. This put a smug look on Lance's face. His cuffs were then taken off and he rubbed his wrist. He was nudged forward by the cop. Lance started to walk in and was greeted by an older gentle men. Lance thought he looked like a pushover and that he might be able to fight (verbally) his way through the rehab. "Lance," The officer called sharpply. "We'll be getting reports about your progress. If you srew up you'll be seeing me again."

"Don't count on it! Dick," Lance swore under his breath. He turned to face the old man. "What you staring at Gramps?" Lance said as the older man gave him an untrusting look.

"Do you think you're the first hot shot I've dealt with?" Lance went to open his mouth, but was quicklly cut off. "I didn't need a reply! You are just like the rest of them too." Lance looked a little shocked. "Trust me young man this is for your own good wether you believe it or not. We'll be having are first group soon. Come and grab a seat." Lance went to an empty chair. He was left a little speechless as he took a seat. Soon a nervous looking was escorted in and sat next to him. She smiled weakly at him and he rolled his eyes as she began tapping black fingernails nervouslly against her skirt.

Zenith tried his hardest. He really did. He tried to restrain from observing the females as they entered the room, he being the first one there out of all of them. He had even taken a seat away from the ladies as they had entered...but no. That Goddamned old man moved him right between two of the women in the group. The woman on his left had dark hair with red highlights in them, her somewhat dazed look easily revealing the reason she was here. Drugs. The woman on his right he had seen on some magizine. A model. Both for this knowledge and the unnatural skinny look she had allowed him to know that she was anorexic. He couldn't help but to notice how much the blue of her eyes complimented her hair...

He, however, did not have problems like them. In fact, there was nearly no other who had his issue. He was a compulsive ladies man...a sex addict. He had know doubt that he would bang every female that was here in this room. He couldn't help himself. He hated himself for it, but hate did not stop him. He highly doubted that this "treatment" would help, either. Only death would stop him...and death alone...

Ah, shit. His thought was set in regard to his rapidly tapping foot. He was antsy. He needed "some". Soon. Hell, if he didn't at least talk to one of them, he might just very well take them away to the restrooms...and they would most likely not resist, how good he was with words and motions. "Well, this is boring," he said in general, giving a sigh and folding his arms. He then leaned toward the woman on his right. "I recognize you from somewhere...yeah, I remember seeing you on the cover of a magazine...Vouge, I think?" He gave a half-friendly, half-sexy smile, a deadly combo that could rip a girl's heart to shreds. "Forgive me if I am frank, but I think you look more goregous now then when I saw you then." His eyes portrayed sincerity, the words spoken to be true. "And you are certainly more wondrous in the flesh than on paper."

After the dangerous seeds of compliments were planted, Zenith mentally cursed upon himself as his eyes wandered to another plausible victim. She was the one who was still hazy, obviously figity slightly without the drugs she depended on. He turned to look at her, giving a look of seemingly worry. "Hey, are you alright?" He didn't touch her, knowing that doing so could set her off, but made obvious friendly and slow moves to show that he only wanted to help. "You look a little...tense." He let the last word dangle a little, a small undertone of induendo thrown underneath it, before offering a hand. "Here, give me your hand..." He gave her the same smile as he had to the other woman. One of friendly sexiness. The hook, the line. "...I promise I won't hurt you." His face showed sincerity in that, and it was true. In fact, if all went as planned, he'd probably be more hurt than she.

It took some time and silence, but she eventually hesitantly gave him her hand, of which he clasped gently, using his fingers to message the hand, slow and calming. It was not like a back or full-body message, but still carried the same relaxing effect. "Feeling better?" The words were innocent in tone, but carried a smirk that offered otherwise, knowing very well what he was doing.

His eyes wandered a moment as the final addition to the group wandered in, the woman's luscious brown hair flowing like the skirt she wore, that kind of swing in her walk, that kind of look in her eye as she sat down. He knew. Sex-addict number two.

That fucking geezer's supposed to help me...

"I recognize you from somewhere...yeah, I remember seeing you on the cover of a magazine...Vouge, I think?" "Forgive me if I am frank, but I think you look more gorgeous now then when I saw you then." "And you are certainly more wondrous in the flesh than on paper."

Jakeline couldn't help but raise a thin and artfully shaped eyebrow as the man spoke. She didn't reply as quickly as he might have liked, as he turned away from her and began flirting with another woman, the one with red streaks in her hair that Jakeline had been admiring when she first entered the room. As she watched him, she could see a very deep hunger in his brown eyes. A lustful hunger. She would let out a deep sigh yet continue to watch him, even as another member joined them, a right beauty in her opinion. The hungry look only deepened as he watched her sit down, and Jakeline couldn't help but chuckle to herself before responding to his words from earlier.

"I was on Vogue yes, but trust me hunny, I'm nothing more then a bag of bones now. The compliments still appreciated though."She added as an afterthought, flashing him a small impish smile before adjusting her outfit as well. She couldn't help but admire the new girls clothing, tilting her head so she could try to see what brand she was wearing. She finally gave up and then turned her attention back to the Casanova next to her, simply smiling and waiting for either a response or for the older gentlemen to interrupt them and start the damn thing up already.

Lance finally spoke up when he could no longer take the guys actions across from him. He watch him as he looked at the other women as pieces of meat. " Hey douche bag." He didn't even wait for him to look up at him. "Do you really think that girl even knows where shes at right now. Let alone care about who you are." Lance had his own problems. Being sent here and starting to come down was taking its toll on him. He didn't care that he was venting on others. "And drop it with the I promise I won't hurt you crap. This is rehab obviouslly we all have our own share of problems and I highlly doubt your the honest type."

"And you," Lance started up again looking towards the washed up model. "Why in the Hell are you smilling? Are you happy your here?" Lance couldn't help himself now. He was actually starting to feel better. "Or I get it this is some plublisity stunt. You get clean and all of a sudden your a movie star out of pity. Probably can write a book after all this." Lance was finally done he took a deep breath and when he let it out he had a smile on his face. " Well I don't know about the rest of you, but it's been a great fist day allready." He then sat lazilly in his chair wait for what ever came next. 'A ciggerrete would be nice.' He thought to himself.

A cigarette didn't come Lance's way, but Zenith did. He stood up fast, his face scowling in anger, the chair tipping over from the speed. "YOU DON'T THINK I FUCKING KNOW THAT?!" He pointed with an angry finger. "DO YOU THINK I FUCKING ASKED FOR THIS?!" He came of quickly and yanked the two legs of the chair the smiling, pompous man leaned back in, sending the back of the chair and its sitter onto the floor. Zenith stood over the man for a moment, fury and self-loathing in his eyes, his body quivering. He finally kicked the chair clear across the room, giving the man a final look. "Fuck you." He gave the man a swift. "Think you're better than fucking everyone?! Then why the fuck you here?!" He stormed away, out of the room, the man who was supposed to heal him only watching, taking notes. He turned for a minute, speaking to the elder. "Fuck you."

He stormed out of the room, storming out to...somewhere...anywhere. Anywhere but there. He made his way into the single-person bathroom, slamming shut the door, turning on the water. He looked at himself in the mirror, then punched the image, cracking it, glass embedding into his knuckles. He sat there, watching the blood run down, the clear slivers painful as he open and closed his fist. He could focus with pain. Meditate upon his evil. He sat down, allowing the water to run, silent tears slipping down. "Fuck it all..."

Layla was instantly filled with anger. But not as much anger as the guy Zenith had. She watched in horror as he stood up, yelling, before flipping the jerks chair over, still screaming at him. She quickly stood up, trying to stop him, but she could tell not to get too close. Once Zenith stormed out, Layla turned his attention to him, her eyes gone from a soft blue to an icy glare.

"Well, mind you, asshole, we all have our problems, if you haven't noticed. That's why we're here! Don't judge off of looks. Just because I'm slightly pretty, everyone thinks I'm some movie star or model. I'm not, I'm just as regular as the next person. So stop acting like you know people! And keep your mouth shut until you know the story behind the image." Layla snapped quickly, before turning on her pumps quickly and walking out of the door, slamming it behind her. She knew security would probably be coming soon enough, so she hurried.

She walked down the hall, looking for Zenith. The least she could do was apologize. After all, it was her fault that the whole thing happened. She heard the sharp crack of glass, then finally came across the slightly ajar single bathroom. She slowly pushed the door open, before finding Zenith sitting down with blood on his fist and tears on his face. Her eyes widened, and she stepped into the room before slowly closing the door behind herself.

"Are you okay?" Layla asked, running some water and grabbing two long paper towels. She soaked the towels inside the water, before folding them up and turning the water off. She gently squeezed the water out, before crouching down beside Zenith, and wrapping the towels around his bleeding knuckles. She then used the other towel to wipe off the blood, and gently pull out the pieces of silver glass. She put all the small shards in the towel and threw it away, before crouching next to him once more.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't even be here. I ruin everything." Layla said, before tending to the towels on his hands once more. She looked at him finally, before whispering. "I'm really sorry."

Never did the smile disappear off Jakeline's face, even as the boy (because that was what he was) began his angry tirade, first towards the flirt and then towards herself.

"Why in the Hell are you smilling? Are you happy your here?" "Or I get it this is some publicity stunt. You get clean and all of a sudden your a movie star out of pity. Probably can write a book after all this." Jakeline would only jiggle her foot more as he talked, her eyes looking him up and down with an almost amused expression. But before she could get get a word in, the flirt began yelling and stormed off, along with the girl wearing the fantastic shirt as well. Even if she was one of the ones the boy had decided to put all of his rage on, Jakeline had no attention of moving from her seat. Instead she would only lean forward and clasp her hands together.

"Listen up. I'm not about to storm out over some mild bullshit some twenty-something year old spewing just because he's got his knickers in a twist over being sent here. You've never been in my situation, I haven't been in yours. You haven't been in theirs, and I doubt been in yours either. So before you go and decide to act like it's alright to say whatever the fuck you feel like because you don't like someone or what their saying . Don't. Because at the end of the day all of us here have probably hit rock bottom, and from what I can see there's more of us here then there are of you, and I have no problem beating anyone's head in with my five inch stiletto's. I'm sure the "Paparazzi" would adore that too hmm?"

Jakeline would flash him another brilliant camera smile before leaning back in her chair after the talk/threat, and reaching into her bag to grab her tic-tacs.


Cinnamon flavored.

Oh, no. Oh, no no no no. This was bad. He knew the woman, the one that similar problems like his, was in the same room as him. A small room. With the door closed. Without the incessant pain, it would be near-impossible to fight his urges to advance upon her. "Please..." He clenched his fist, attempting to gain one last ounce of pain from it to fight against himself. "Please, just...just go...my problem..." He grit his teeth. "Damn it all...my...problem...I..." He could feel the hunger surfacing, apparent in his eyes, his voice, his fidgety hands. Why, God damn it? Why? Especially now? "I'll only hurt...everyone..." His heart rate increased as he could feel the unnaturally natural cycle of his issue began to force him into submission of his own instinct. He could stay still for now, but if she didn't leave...

...well, it would be safe to say that neither of their issues would be helped.

Lance kept his cool even when the younger guy tipped him over and cursed at him repetadly. As he stormed out all Lance could do was luagh to himself. He slowlly got back in his chair as The other girl took her own stabs at him. Yelling about how were all the same. Sure we are he thought to himself. Lance didn't really consider taking pills a problem though." And keep your mouth shut until you know the story behind the image." Lance was not about to keep his mouth shut as he watched her go check on the guy who stormed out. The fact was this was the only way Lance knew how to act no one was gonna ask him how he felt or wonder why he is this way. He liked it better this way and was happy that they shunned him as the Jerk.

Lance was a little shock and impressed at the dirty blonde he tried to insult. She stayed calm and stood her ground. He respected that and took a liking to the fact that she wasn't gonna let any one push her around. She was the only one who said that they weren't all the same. It was true he didn't know how the rest felt and it was good to know that they didn't know how he felt. "Wow," he said to her. "At least someone isn't gonna take it so personal. And out of all of them I'm the most afraid of you so far." He gave her a cheesy smile as she put a tic-tac in her mouth. "I have to agree with you though I would love to see you beat someone with a stilleto." He smiled, lowered his voice, and leanded in before saying, "I vote the little one who ran away." Lance sat back up and started luaghing again.

Layla frowned a bit, watching him struggle. Struggle with what? She couldn't quite tell with his problem. He seemed tense, distressed. She became all to familiar when she felt his heart race increase in his hand, and the way they were fidgeting. She looked back up at his face, and saw his eyes. If that wasn't her answer then nothing would be. So maybe she wouldn't be so alone with her addiction in this blasted place. She wanted to smile, but she knew the longer she stayed, the worse it would be for the both of them. She quickly stood up, brushing her tight pencil skirt off, before rubbing the back of her thighs.

"I-I'm sorry. Um, I'll just go now." Layla said, turning her back to him and opening the door once more. Before she closed it behind herself, she stopped and turned around to look at him, her eyes soft. "Trust me, I know how that feels." She said quietly, before turning and closing the door behind herself once more. She walked like nothing had happened back to the room in which she had just left. She saw the rehabilitation coach sitting there, and he looked up at her entrance. She took a seat farthest from Lance, not even wasting her time to glare at him. She crossed her legs and bounced her pumps against each other, leaning back in her chair.

"Can we just get these introductions over with?" Layla asked the coach. He nodded and made a motion with his hand for her to start. She didn't want to, but she had dug her own hole already. She cleared her throat and sat up in her chair. She turned to look at the rest of the group, specifically ignoring Lance.

"Hi, I'm Layla, and I'm addicted to...ah, I'm addicted to..." Layla began, but felt her face flush and her throat close up. Hm. She didn't think it would be this hard. "Sex."

"Very well. Thank you for volunteering. Any one else that would like to go?" He asked, looking around the room with a raised eyebrow.

Zenith gave a sigh as the woman left the room, the noise caught between relief and frustration. He was glad the woman left. But he wished she hadn't. He pulled at his hair slightly, spiking it up. She seemed so nice...like she understood...he shook his head, putting his head against the wall. "Seems" is the operative word, here.

He closed his eyes for a moment, continuing to clench and unclench his fist, wishing the release was still there. The pain. He, like in love, was only a slave to his own desires, and pain was the only control he could have. The only thing that could break the shackles, albeit only for a short while. He gave another sigh, and stood to leave, but not before seeing a larger shard from the mirror on the floor. He stared at it for a moment, then picked it up. It was just small enough to conceal, but was large enough to be a skivve. He gave a small, sad smile, then wrapped the new tool of pain in some paper towel, then pocketed it. With the new tool on his person, he made his way back to the room he had originally been in.

As he entered, he stood at the door, a small blush of embarrassment rising to his face as everyone turned to stared. "...uh...I guess I should apologize for my sudden behavior." While the blush was on his cheeks, a childish and cute reation, one could tell the pain upon his face as he sighed. "I am sorry for any and all pain I have caused here...and any that I will cause in the future." He continued to stand over by the door, frowning as the doctor asked him to take his seat, back between the ladies. "I'd prefer to just stand here..." Where I'm less likely to do something. He gave a second sigh as the man told him to introduce himself. "I am Zenith Seguine. I am here because I am a slave to the desires of my body; I cannot control my own will." He stayed silent for a moment, then put it bluntly. "I am a sex addict."

Jakeline only mildly chuckled while the guy in front of her spoke, admiration for her apparent by both his tone and the look on his face. She watched with a blank look on her face as both the man and woman returned with similar embarrassed expressions, and in turn told their addictions when the doctor asked for the introductions. When the older gentlemen turned to face Jakeline, she uncrossed her long legs and leaned forward, clasping her hands together before speaking directly to everyone in the room.

"Hello darlin's, I'm Jakeline, and I'm here because...I'm fighting anorexia and an alcohol addiction." She wasn't going to apologize like either of the other two had, having done nothing wrong herself, but she did continue to speak with an even more serious look on her face. Her accent wasn't quite thick, but she was sure people would be able to still tell she had one."If you see people with camera's outside, I would appreciate if none of you talked to them. It only encourages them to come back, sort of like Mormons coming door to door, no offense if anyone's Mormon tough." Jakeline would flash everyone a sheepish smile before slipping back into her chair and tossing a few more tic-tacs into her mouth.

So far, there was two sex addicts, an anorexic model with a booze addiction as well, and a girl on drugs.


They could be on a reality t.v show.

Lance couldn't help but chuckle as the first two introduced themselves. Adictted to sex doesn't sound to bad to him. He sat there lazilly as soon all eyes were on him. "Huh," he said as he shrugged. He looked to the others a little unsure of himself. "Ok fine," Lance seemed aggitated. "I'm deffinitlly adictted to being an asshole." He smiled to himself, but the room stayed silent. The older gentlemen wrote something down on the clipboard he was holding. He looked around the room to the diffrent glares he got. "Oh thats not enough for all of you," He said rather annoyed. Lance had no desire to share with the rest of them, but it seemed they had to give them something so they would leave him alone.

Lance straightened up in his chair. After a moment of silence he spoke up, "I'm a pill popper. I like to take drugs and normally would get in trouble soon after." Lance's eyes were solelly focused on the older gentle man. He didn't want to know the others reactions. Even though he was sure they weren't shocked. " After the last time I saw a judge he said this place or jail. I figured this place would have softer beds so I decided to come here." Truthfully though Lance was a bit terrified of jail and would have done anything not to go there.

The rehab coach stood up, pulling three keys out of his pocket. He tossed them to Layla, Lance, and Jakeline. Layla barely caught hers, before she looked up in confusion to the coach. He noticed her confused glance, and cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looked at each of them quickly before looking back at Layla to answer her question.

"These are you room keys. Pair up with your addiction partner. Once you do, you'll be looking at your new roomie. Now, don't get too excited. There are cameras in every room. Don't do something you wouldn't want other people to see." He answered, giving Layla a sidelong glace. Her face turned bright red. "Since it is the first day here, you have the rest of the day as free time. Go swimming, unpack, whatever you want. Good luck." He said, before turning and walking out of the room. Layla sat shellshocked, before standing up with her key. She looked over at Zenith, before taking a deep breath. Well, this would be hard.

"Uh, let's go, I guess." Layla said to him in her voice. Her voice was specific to her. It was naturally seductive, with a tinge of taunt in it. It was just like listening to soft bells. Her voice had never been mistaken for another. She turned to walk out of the door, with Zenith behind her. She looked at the number on the key, looking at each door to see which one it would match. When she finally found room 201, she shoved the key in the door and turned it slowly.

She looked around the large room, she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at the sight. It was beautiful, but simple. Nothing too much. And, she peeked out of the blinds and saw a water view. She smiled before closing her blinds once more, taking the bed closest to the wall. She then turned to look at Zenith.

"Sorry, it's just something about sleeping near a door. I hope you don't mind." She said, looking at him with one thin eyebrow raised. She then placed her bags on her bed, before digging through her main suitcase for her black bikini and a grey towel, before walking inside the bathroom in their room to change. Once she did, she came back out, throwing the towel over her shoulder.

"I was about to go to the beach, if you wanna come. I'll wait for you, if you do." Layla said, looking at Zenith.

Zenith looked at the man, who tossed Layla the keys to the room they would apparently share, as if he had grown an extra two heads and was eating a baby for the hell of it. He was putting them together? The two of them? In a room? Together? "I thought the fucking geezer was supposed to help me..." He muttered under his breath.

As he entered the room, he had to admit that he was pretty impressed. Simple yet elegant seemed to be the motto. As he set his bags on the bed, he waved away the issue of the beds. "I don't mind," he stated plainly, simply trying to not think about anything. Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies... He couldn't help but to eye her as she walked past him into the bathroom. Deadpuppiesdeadpuppiesdeadpuppiesdeadpuppies... She then walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a bikini. Deadpup--HOT DAMN. His mind made an instant switch, his eyes devouring her, his hands once again fidgety. She invited him to come with her to the beach, to which he gave a friendly smile. "Why, certainly. I would love to join you." He dug in his bag for a moment, grabbing his bathing suit and towel, then went into the bathroom to change. He had changed quickly, ready to go until he caught a view of himself in the mirror. He looked at the scars littering his body, all caused by himself. Many were just random slit marks in the hopes of escape. However, the most noticeable was perhaps the most in meaning. Over where his heart lay was a heart-shape carved into his flesh, and X through the shape. Underneath, a series of tallymarks could be seen...and a lot of them. It was the count of every time he was broken; everytime he had succumbed to his desires. He gave a sigh before exiting the bathroom.

"Ready when you are," he told her, attempting to casually hide the largest scar by slinging the towel over his shoulder, the white fabric covering that area, though it was plain to see the other scars he had bestowed upon himself.

Layla quickly stood up once he came out of the bathroom, and she couldn't help but look at his chest. He was definitely in shape. She noticed little tiny scars in random placings across his chest. She didn't mind them, though. It didn't change the fact that he seemed nice, and he was very attractive. She had to remind herself to get her head out of the gutter before she turned toward the door to leave. She grabbed the key off of her bed, before opening the door and holding it open for him to walk out behind her. Once they were both out of the room, she locked the door behind them. They walked down the hallway until they reached the door that led to the beach, walking out of the building into the warm air of the arising night. The sun wasn't completely set yet, and it left a golden haze against the water and everything around it. Layla turned to look at Zenith with a large smile on her face.

"Isn't this just perfect?" Layla asked him? She kept thinking of anything but the fact that a very attractive and shirtless guy was behind her.

Zenith smiled as he gazed upon the setting sun. "Yes, it is..." His smile was actually somewhat relaxed, as if he had no problems in the world--which was a complete lie. He was in an internal war inside, he attempting to stave off his desires as they came to him. He was already very longing of her...having him follow her may have not been the best idea. His mind had been frozen with the thought of that fine ass the entire walk out. She had not turned to him, which he guessed was for the same reason he should not be looking. That only drove his desires deeper. "Just a man and a beautiful woman, at the beach, with the sun setting...just perfect." His eyes devoured the shapely body, admiring her curves, lust on the agenda of his mind. Inching slightly closer, he asked, "Tell me a little bit about yourself, Layla. Where are you from?" He absent-mindedly switched shoulders with the towel, unknowingly revealing his largest scar.

Layla felt the heat of his body behind her as he inched closer. She dug her nails into her folded arms, trying to fight off those feelings that came oh so naturally to her. When he spoke, it sent vibrations through her own body. She had to fight off the shiver that tried to consume her. She wanted to turn around, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him full on the lips. The doc said that things would be monitored inside in the rooms, but there was no way they could make cameras on an open space like the beach. She tried to focus on what he was saying, before finally it registered somewhere in her crowded mind.

"I'm from New York. I lived there for a while before moving here, to California. And what about you?" She asked him, finally finding the nerve within herself to turn around and face him. Although she shadowed most of the scars with her curvaceous body, a few on the tops of his shoulders were illuminated. She moved forward unnoticingly, before reaching one hand up gently and tracing it with her index finger. It was beautiful in a way. It intrigued her deeply, though she didn't know why. She lightly traced it though, not knowing how fresh or tender it might be. She wanted to place a little butterfly kiss upon it, but decided that it wouldn't be good for either of them. Their chests were mere millimeters apart, and her breath softly fanned his chest. It took every single will in her to pull her finger away from him, and take half a step back. Her body only took a half step; there were some things she just couldn't control. She looked at him, trying to calm her lust, which was raging through her like water through the ocean directly behind them.

Zenith's heart pounded as her finger sensually traced his scar of his broken heart, her breath warm against his skin, he feeling the heat her body gave off. She finally stepped back, but only slightly, obvious to the effects he had upon her. At least she's succeeding better than I am... He unconsciously stepped closer to her again, if only to feel the warmth she gave off, to let her feel his scars again, to do as she wished. "I'm from the cornfields of Illinois, in a town just between being a country village and a full-blown city." Every inhale he took excited him further, her breath upon the air he breathed. "My parents sent me here..." He hesitated for a moment, then decided that he might as well tell her. "...they sent me here after I attempted to hang myself for my sins..." He shook his head, giving a sad sigh. "They think I can be fixed..."

His attention was then drawn to her eyes. "Why don't we take a walk on the beach?" He suggested, moving neither closer nor further from her.

Layla nodded when he suggested taking a walk on the beach. Her body was just about to break out of her thin veil of resistance. She moved closer to him, before smiling up at him slowly. He seemed to have a soft side. She was already in too deep for her own good. She couldn't help herself, though. It came natural to her, as natural as breathing or eating or walking.

"You sure you wanna take a walk with me of all people?" She asked, raising a thin eyebrow at him before laughing quietly and grabbing his hand in hers, pulling him slowly behind her. "Too late now." She said with a quick wink.