Sorry for my not-so-many-readers-that-I-love for taking a month to write this short ass lame chapter. I'll do better, I promise.
Just a question. I intend on writing sex scenes in the story. Should I warn before I write them for ppl who don't like smut? (not yet, not yet)
anyways, I hope you enjoy don't forget to comment, it gives me ideas, but more importantly makes me laugh
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I don't really remember how we got where we are, but this is the first time my therapist has totally left my mind. I'm too focused on undressing Eva, who is standing, back against the door of my room.
The moment we had arrived and I had taken care of her coat and heels, she had attacked my lips with hers, my sides with her hands, and I hadn't protested one bit. On the contrary, I had encouraged her to go on, because I knew that if she just stopped for a second, then my resolution would fade and I would chicken out.
I lead her inside my room, still nervous about the whole thing. She doesn't tease me about it though, but quickly takes charge.
Still not breaking our kiss, she pushes me back, and I walk backwards until the back of my knees meet my bed. Eva takes advantage of the sudden stop grab the hem of my shirt and takes it off, throwing it on the floor.
She pushes me on my bed, and crawls on top of me. On top of my body, but not quite facing me. I have to raise my head from the mattress and look down at her to see her. And what I see is turning me on, maybe as much as what I feel.
I feel her lips meeting the skin of my tummy, creating goose bumps all over my flesh.
Eva trails kisses up my tummy, stroking my thighs over my jeans whilst doing so. She kisses right in the valley between my breasts, and I loose it. I cannot contain myself, as my already ragged breath turns into whimpers and moans.
"Eva..", I moan while she kisses my neck, slowly, drawing circles with her tongue, her teeth grazing my collarbone.
"Mmhmm?" She hums, then smirks, looking up at my probably pleading eyes.
But that smirk, her smirk.
It suddenly reminds me of... her.
***
Dr. Alexander
I kept my promise.
From time to time, when I'm not teaching, but sitting in my office in between patients, I see it. And it's hard to keep my promise.
The folder is taunting me. Kennedy Grant's whole story is there, on the shelf, next to a few dozen of other patients', a few meters away from my desk. I can stand up, take it, and open it. I can read it, and no one would know. She would never know.
But I would, and my conscience tells me not to do it.
I can't help it. I'm a curious woman. But most of all, I can't lie to one of my patients. I have to have her trust me.
"... But I know she's a whore! And she's fucking other guys. I'm sure of it. Why would she want to break up with me otherwise?"
I try not to sigh, which would surely show the boy sitting opposite me I'm not quite agreeing with everything he says.
"Let's leave your girlfriend aside for a moment. What I'd like to know, is what makes you thing a girl who sleeps around is a whore?"
It's nearly 9:50 am, and I can't wait for my next patient. The patient I waited for since I saw her drunk and had to take her home. Weirdly comfortable around me, hitting on me, maybe to hide how lost she was. She seemed desperate for something. Something I had to find out.
Or she was just very drunk. Sometimes I have to stop overthinking things.
She is hard to read, unlike the juvenile looking teenager spitting profanities to my face.
This young man, Jonathan, is not very dangerous. Not particularly charming though, as he is strongly misogynistic, and, well, I have to sit through his horrible speeches.
Moreover, I think he has some sort of crush on me. I'm used to it, of course, and I'm not even being arrogant by thinking so.
It is something that happens a lot.
When my patients, of all ages, get used to sharing their lives, their loves, and their deepest secrets or fears with me, they associate me as a friendly figure, sometimes more...
And Jonathan, well Jonathan is no exception.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
Hmm, no. Never have, never will.
"Mr. Daniels, the subject here is not me. I want to help you not feel the way you feel about you girlfriend, about all women. This is important you think about my question. You don't have to answer today. Think about why you throw around the words 'whore', or 'slut' so much."
"Or maybe she's just a dyke."
At this exact moment, keeping my poker face becomes an extreme exercise of self control.
"Now, Mr. Daniels, I must stop you right there. You are free to talk about anything here, it is a safe space. But you will not spread hatred. Today's appointment comes to an end, but I'd like it in the future if you come with an open mind and a better language. Is that clear?"
My voice is unwavering, and in glad of it. The teenager shrugs and rolls his eyes.
What is happening to young people nowadays?
I ignore him and his attitude and put my reading glasses on. Outside of my office, I hear the main door open and close, and Sofia's muffled voice along with another woman's.
"We'll see each other in two weeks, alright? 9:00am, Saturday, the 3rd of October? And please do think about what I said."
I quickly make him leave, using my five minutes before Kennedy to regain my composure, and maybe touch up my make up a little.
Nope, nevermind about the make up. Why am I thinking like a teenager?
A few moments later, I rise and open my door for Kennedy to come in.
And here she is, her first raised, probably about to knock on the heavy door.
Her greenish eyes look up at me, as I'm a good two or three inches taller, not to mention the fact that I'm wearing very, very tall heels.
"Come in, Kennedy."
After we sit and she's laid back on her chair, I notice something changed.
She seems... happy.
The silence is now getting uncomfortable, while I'm examining her. Her skin is glowing, her hair is shinier than usual.
"Well, you seem to have gotten better since Wednesday!"
She looks down, and I'm quite sure that if she could, I would've seen her blush.
I realize my tone and words weren't very appropriate. Firstly, she already apologized to me the day before. I remember her getting all flustered and muttering an apology about waking me up in the middle of the night.
Secondly, I'm only her therapist. I don't get to be all friendly and start joking around. This is a new rule I imposed for myself, as soon as I saw how beautiful Kennedy is. I knew the first time I saw her that I had to be strict with myself, because it would be so easy to get attracted to her if I lowered my guard.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, and during that short time, I see her eyes get darker. Interpreting this as her anger resurfacing, I hastily say something to calm her.
"Pardon me, I didn't plan it to sound like I'm making fun of you."
"I know."
Silence, again.
I've never been a talkative person, but I'm quite comfortable with people in general. It is my job to get people to talk, after all.
Right now, in front of Kennedy, I suddenly don't know how to do my job.
She probably thinks that I'm pensive, or examining her, or reading in her soul through her eyes- in short, being smart. But no, thanks to my poker face, she can't have a clue that I'm totally lost, and I don't know how to get her to tell me anything.
"Is there something we should talk about?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. I trail my gaze on her face, before realizing that she asked me a question.
"Um, whatever you want." 'Um'?! Did I just stutter? "Something that doesn't make you upset, 'Cause I'm quite enjoying the view of you smiling," I add, half smirking.
Her glance drops down to my lips when I smile, eyebrows creased. A fraction of a second later, her gaze is wandering around the room.
"I made quite the discovery yesterday," she starts.
My smile is widening, but I don't try to hide it. She has to know that I'm glad she's talking to me.
"Did you now?"
"Yes... I went with a friend to a, uh, you know, my friend Kyle,"
I nod.
"Well, we went to a place, where, um," she trails off, seeming suddenly unsure of herself.
"Kennedy," I enjoy saying her name, for some weird reason that I ignore. "You're free to not tell me where you went, if that's the problem."
She smiles, seeming reassured, or maybe she likes hearing me say her name.. Wow, how egotistical of you, Diana!
Still, she shakes her head in negation.
"Thank you, but I'll manage."
Our eyes lock, and silence again. As a doctor in psychology, I'm the first to know that this intense eye contact must mean something. But it is me being hypnotized, right now.
Then she drops the bomb. Or at least she thinks she does.
"I slept with a girl."
Saying I'm shocked would be wrong. I'm not shocked at the fact the she likes girls, that she probably is gay. Hell, how could I be shocked about that?
What's happening is, it gives some sort of meaning to our long eye contact, to our weird interactions. I suddenly can't act like all of this was just in my head, and she didn't think the same of all our short but strange moments.
When she touched my hair, than my face. When she asked me to call her by her nickname. When she placed her hand over mine, on her knee. My skin is still tingling only at the thought.
All those teenager thoughts I started to have when seeing her for only a week suddenly mean more, as if they could be getting real now.
I frown at that thought.
Wrong move.
Her voice, not as warm and inviting as usual, wakes me from my daydream. Rather quickly.
"What kind of therapist are you? I tell you things, you barely listen, and now you judge me?", she growls.
"I didn't judge you, Kennedy. In fact I didn't say anything."
"Don't you start being smart now! I saw you! You know that body language tells more than words, don't you!" Her voice is getting louder, and I could swear I see flames burning in her eyes.
"Of course, but-"
"So your body language, your body language told me that you don't like what I said. So what, are you a homophobe? Do you not think it is normal, and that love is love?"
"I didn't s-"
"Wow! And you want me to trust you with my life? Will you judge me too when I tell you about my parents nearly killing me and-"
She stops talking. And I stop trying to interrupt her.
I can see she regrets everything now. She regrets yelling. Because all of this led to us, here and now, looking at each other with probably the same expression on our faces.
Shocked she let out so easily something so important for her. As for myself, shocked about the sudden revelations.
This time, I know what to do. I don't have to think about it, because if I do, I'll surely chicken out, and seem like a cold-hearted bitch. I need to tell her this, otherwise, she'll never trust me, ever.
"Kennedy, about what you said.." She stiffens on her chair, and when I look at her again, her eyes are red, her jaw clenched.
"What you said earlier. I'm sorry if you misinterpreted. I wasn't reacting to anything you said. I could never, ever judge someone on how they choose, or don't in your case, to live their life, when it doesn't hurt anybody."
She sniffs, and I know she's crying, even though she's hiding her face behind her long dark curls.
So I continue my monologue, not taking the time to think if I'm about to say something inappropriate.
"Most of all, I won't judge you on your sexuality. I myself have been with women as well as men. A lot of people have. There's nothing wrong with th-"
"You WHAT?"
I ignore her. I don't want it to be some kind of extremely serious matter. Now that it's out, I might as well lighten up the conversation. I scratch my chin, pretending to think hard.
"Well, now that I think about it, I do prefer women. . . Yes, they're better than men on a lot of aspects."