“I hate my therapist, she thinks she knows me after one sitting! All because I told her I need a drink!” I am angry, maybe because my therapist is right, I am treating alcohol like a partner, a lover.
“If you need someone, to talk to, to hold you, for sex…”
My eyes bulge behind my sunglasses at the thought.
“…whatever you need, you call me!”
I smile. I fidget. I Nod. “Ok” my promise is sealed.
My hand circles the bottle of a bud on the table before me, the label alone attractive enough for me to sit and juststare at it for hours. For now I do not touch it, I just look.
You see, I was suspended from work on the account I was an alcoholic. A meeting shortly followed where by I was given one month out, for therapy! Otherwise I would lose my job, simple right? So I agreed.
I can not help myself as I lean forward and feel the bud in my hand, it is cool from the fridge and is sweating in m palms. I fondle it like a lover, the flesh is hard but it holds a treasure, it is as much as a lover to me.
If I called her, maybe I could leave the bottle untouched?
I rest my hand on my chin, smelling thebud's sweat on my fingers andI suck one. Delighted by it I bite the top off of the bottle and search the opening.
I felt her eyes on me from behind as I slipped the key into its lock, turning it with a click, the door opening as it did I moved inside finding a light switch on the wall to my left as I past through. She followed me, her eyes not moving off me even now the light was on and my life lay naked before her; taste in furniture, textiles, books, music and the bud left opened on the table, all there for her to see and make judgement.
I watch her step closer, only inches apart I attempt to place my keys aside but my train of thought is long gone when she closes the inches and asks “Can I…” she pauses as the keys hit the floor. Not caring about the keys I take my hand and place it on the back of her head inviting her to kiss me.
Smirking she places her lips on mine,her mouthsoft but desperate. My lipsstay closed until her hand reaches for my cheek and her tongue nips and slips inside. I taste the wine she’d hyped on about during the evening and I agree it tastes sweet and I enjoy it even more.
She smiles knowingly before she begins pushing her hips against me making me step backwards, seconds later hitting the wall where she keeps up the movement against me. Her hand slips up my shirt and in a brief movement her fingers linger over my chest making me flinch.
She pauses and looks into me eyes, her hand still rested on my breast “I’m sorry… too fast?” her breath is warm on my skin and grinning I undo my shirt and fling it on the floor.
She is pleased and is quick to get the hint, pulling her own top over her head, leaving me wide eyed and ogling at her olive skinned beauties.
She stands clear and looks at me with appreciation “I always new you were a black lace kind of gal!”
“Really?” I tease as she leans into me. “What does black lace say about a woman?”
“That she is my type of woman!” She grinds he hip into me pushing me back against the wall once more where she shows me just what she means.
The night after:-
“Ms Sidle, shall we begin?”
Her hand slips away like a warm breath against my skin and leaves me feeling colder than I’d expected. She waits for me to respond and I nod. A therapist is dependant on logic so I sit back with ease and began going through the motions with her, all the while discovering that maybe this wasn’t as simple as I first thought.
“It’s been 11 days now is that correct?”
I am reluctant to give more than a nod. It’s been 11 days, 6 hours and… I look at my watch and ignore my desire to count the minutes, instead place my palms together. “Yes, that’s right” I offer her more.
At that moment she writes something, not much, just one or two words but I’m lucky not to be suffering from paranoia as well as a drinking problem the way she takes notes.
“And how have you found the past 2 days since we last spoke?” She breaks my thoughtwe make eye contact.
I lean forward “It’s been… consistent. Each day feels the same except, well. To be completely honest with you I really don’t need to be here now that I…”
“Ms Sidle…” she takes a deep breath and try’s again “Sara, it’s not that I mean to say otherwise but you need to do this, if not for yourself then for the sake of your job.”
“Has something happened since we spoke last, I get the impression you're not as comfortable as before?”
I look up, consider telling her what happened last night. “No, nothings happened.” I lie.
Who was I kidding, she could read me like a book, a book written in huge print with pictures.
I nod “It’s…” I take a second - would she understand? “…no, forget it!” I stand up. “Look I’m sorry can we please just cut it short, I’m not feeling good, think I ate something funny this morning…” my feet shuffle toward the door and she places her hand on my arm making me turn around and face her.
I look down at my hands and then up into her eyes. She is right, more than she knows.
“It's been 2 days. Are you sure nothing has happened, you're notnow in a relationship or seeing…”
“I have to go…” I cut her off “I’m sorry!” I apologise and leave before she can ask me anymore questions.
I reach me car and pull out my cell phone. I keep my promise and call her...
"Sara?" she ask's.
"Yeah, it's me. Are you busy?"
© Copyright 2016 Nixie. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Flash Fiction
Short Story / Fantasy
Poem / Poetry
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