Helen Twelvesteps: Spy Woman Undercover

Harvey had been doing so well in his recovery process that it was safe to meet him off campus for a treat. We are very careful with our clients, and I wouldn't risk causing him to relapse. It's always tempting to go back to the old habits, but dear Harvey was ready to step out of the half way house for a few hours. I agreed to meet with him at a brand new Juice-ateria in a very staid part of Coconut Grove. He couldn't get into much trouble there, so I gave him cab fare for a round trip to and from our little outing. That was all the cash from his trust fund that I could let him have, since it wouldn't allow him to buy any of his drug of choice, should he try to elope from our lovely, pastel treatment facility. And I had him co-sign a receipt for the money I would need to pay for our carrot mocca mousse frappes. That is what we decided we would both have at the juice-ateria. I like to have my patients decide these things in advance, because even the tiniest of decisions may be too much for someone who has issues as compelling as Harvey's.
In the recovery business we think of these special little meetings as part of the therapy, part of re-integrating back into a larger community that doesn't shoot a couple thousand dollars into their veins each hurtful, empty day. Too, it's a reward for staying clean. But it's quite a gamble on our part to let him off campus alone, even for a few hours.
He wore one of his Armani suits, which draped sadly because he had lost so much weight. And he was nervous, reminding of a rabbit in box trap when he met me at Mimsy's Juice Treats. But he had done a nice job arranging his few hairs around his pate, and he was at least able to maintain eye contact with me in our bistro booth. Harvey needed a lot of reassurace, and at Helen's Twelve Step Haven we don't go in for tough love. We try to love our clients as if they were our very own babies. Harvey is so insecure, it's a challenge.

"I don't feel good about this, Helen. Your not letting us have this time because I'm a Friggley, are you?" he asked as I brought our two nonalcoholic drinks to our table.

"Harvey, to us you are like any other client. We have famous ones, and not so famous one's. A lot of fallen proffessional people come to us for help."

"How am I doing, Helen?" he begged.

"You've been doing so well, Harvey, that I talked to your old employer. It's a long shot, but I think they might just take you back."

"Do you really think the NSA can forgive me."

"I talked to them, and they already have. They just have to know that you won't compromise national security again."

After we finished drinking our treats, I told him I had a extra special treat for him. He was ready, I could see it in him.
"Harvey, I would like to see if you can surprise me. You'll need to be on your best behavior, but I'd like you to come with me to my apartment. I think it's time you made a leap in your recovery process."

Like a little child, that's our Harvey.

Oh, it's a tired, silly little trick of ours. My control personage, Tyrone, was thrilled when I suggested it, with so many upper crust adult children being allowed to work for the big league. After petting and soothing and fucking near diapering poor Harvey, I took out my private stash and spiked my vein right in front of him. With the ligature held firm in my white, white teeth I gave myself a thrill with the good smack that I so enjoy. Harvey could only agree that one last adventure wouldn't hurt him. His shot had some extra ingredients in it, taken as it was from my other stash. As soon as his eyes rolled upward, I called Tyrone. "Send the disposal team. Our Harvey decided to elope."