Authors: Jessica Gadziala
“Ava...
are you sure you're alright. You seem...”
“I'm
fine,” I forced a smile, the movement almost hurting it was so
fake.
He
watched me for a long time, like he didn't believe me. Like he was
thinking about bringing it up. “Okay,” he said, finally.
“Tomorrow at seven.”
“Alright,”
I said, opening the door, “I'll see you then,” I said,
walking him toward the front door. “I'm sorry you needed to
come out.”
“I
didn't
need
to come. I
wanted
to come. And it's nothing. I'll... see you tomorrow,” he said,
looking uncomfortable.
“Yup,
see you then,” I agreed, then shut the door.
“Girl,
that was good.”
“What?”
I asked, turning and walking toward her.
“That
act. That was gooood.”
“It
wasn't...”
“Oh,
please. Girl, that shit might work on the men but we girls know
better. You are all torn up.”
I
debated just shrugging it off, but thought better of it, taking a
stool and dropping down
on
it across from her, watching for a minute as she added veggies and
cheese to an omelet she was making. “My other shrink says I
have transference.”
“That
thing where you like your shrink?”
“Yeah.”
“Girl,
you ain't got no transference. You got real feelings.”
“That's
what transference feels like though. The only way I'll know it's not
real is when it ends and suddenly all the feelings go away.”
“Mmmhmm,”
she said, her lips pursed like she wasn't buying it.
“And
last night... after...”
“After
you did it.”
“Yeah,
after we did it... I just realized how weird our situation is. How I
feel like I am in love with him... but he just sees me as a client.
And I freaked out and hauled out of there without saying anything.”
“Then
he showed up here with huge, worried eyes looking like he just lost
his damn baby in a mall, fighting with Jake to let him in. That he
needed to see you. He needed to make sure you were alright.”
“Right.”
“Yeah,
that totally sounds like something a shrink does,” she said
dryly.
“It
is,” I insisted. “They can't just watch a patient in
crisis and wash their hands of it because it is after hours.”
“Of
course not,” she said, again... dryly.
“Shay...”
“Alright,
alright,” she said, holding her hands up. “You gonna help
me eat this? I made it way too big.”
“Sure,”
I said, hopping up to get plates. “Where's Jake?”
“Gym.”
“Where
did you sleep last night?”
“Jake's
bed.”
“Oh,”
I said, glancing over at her.
“No,”
she said, not looking at me.
“No
what?”
“No
I didn't fuck him,” she said, taking the spatula and cutting
the omelet in half and letting the pieces fall into the plates I was
holding out. “His ass slept on the couch.”
“What?”
I sputtered, eyes wide.
“Yeah.
He was a good boy and changed the sheets 'cause I ain't lying my ass
down on those sheets lord knows how many skanks have been all over.
And then I gave him a pillow and a blanket and sent him to the
couch.”
“What
is this witchy power you have over men?” I asked, digging a
fork into the omelet.
“Girl,
it ain't as hard as all those women's magazines make it sound. Men
are simple. They respond best to direct orders and rewards. They
don't like all that thinking and feeling. That's for us. We project
that shit on to them. No. You tell a man to clean the garage and
you'll suck his cock while he watches the game on Sunday... girl,
you'll have a clean fucking garage.”
“You're
like the man whisperer,” I said, smiling. “So... what was
Jake's reward for sleeping on the couch?”
“That
I didn't pick up the phone and call his mama,” she said,
smirking. “I stole his
phone.
Idiot doesn't even keep it locked. It was two in the morning, she
woulda been piiiiised to get a call from a woman saying her son was
being less than gentlemanly.”
“Oh,
my god, Shay. I love you.”
“I
love me too,” she said, winking. “And you.”
“I
should kick Jake out and have you move in.”
“Girl,
in a heartbeat,” she said, nodding. “Hell, just stick me
up a murphy bed on some wall and get me a big chest for my clothes...
I'll be here.”
I
watched her for a second. “Oh, my god... could you imagine the
look on Jake's face?”
“When
I move in? Or when I make him put together my murphy bed?”
I
laughed. “Never change, Shay.”
“Promise,”
she smiled through a mouthful of food. “So when are you going
back to see Doctor Sex?”
“Tomorrow
at seven.”
Shay
nodded, then pointed her fork at me. “You're gonna need steel
fucking balls to get through another session with him without losing
your shit again.”
I
nodded.
She
was right.
“That's
the plan.”
Seventh
Session
Alright.
I could do it. I had a lifetime of experience shutting myself down. I
could do it to any situation that I knew would make me anxious. Going
to the dentist? Shut down. Going to jury duty? Shut down.
Going
into the arms of the man I had feelings for... Shut. Fucking. Down.
I
showered, forewent makeup because I wasn't going to try to impress
him anymore, and slipped into a long sleeved dress because, well, it
would make less of a project out of getting naked. And I
was
going to be naked. And we
were
going to be having sex. I was
going to let myself experience the act of sex, enjoy it, have an
orgasm. But I wasn't going to let myself think about it, try to mine
feelings out of it.
It
was just sex.
Besides,
it was only another two sessions of intimacy. The he was going to
take me out and teach me to flirt with other men. That was good. I
needed that. I especially needed
him
to be the one to throw me
at other men. That would just further cement the fact that he was not
into me.
The
last session was my choice.
Could
my choice be to
not
have a session? I doubted it. Talk therapy
would be hard. He would want to know what had flipped a switch, why I
was so different. And while I might be able to brush it off when we
had other things on the plate, I doubted I could fool him when talk
therapy was the main course.
Oh
well.
It
was just going to have to be a refresher course then.
He
could fuck me goodbye.
“What
the fuck is Shay talking about?” Jake asked, standing in the
doorway to my bedroom.
“What
do you mean?”
“Something
about a damn bed in the wall.”
“Oh,
that,” I said, smiling a little.
“What
do you mean 'oh that'? You two bitches can't be serious.”
“I
can assure you,” Shay said walking behind him, “this
bitch is dead serious. I'm sick of my roommate. And I am needed
around here.”
“Fuck
you are,” Jake said, lowering his eyes at her.
“What's
the matter, Jakey?” she asked, leaning against the doorway,
making him squish back or move into the room. He stood his ground and
squished. “You afraid of what it will be like to have a
roommate you can't walk all over?”
“I
don't walk all over...”
“You
kind of do,” I said, shrugging.
Unable
to defend himself on the topic, he quickly changed it. “We're
too fucking old to be living like a bunch of poor college kids.”
“Oh,
what the hell does it matter?” I asked, sitting down on the
edge of my bed to slip into my shoes. “I'll let her crash in
here. It's not like I need the privacy.”
“There,”
Shay said, smiling. Victorious. “It's all settled. Sorry you're
going to have to start washing out those nasty ass protein drink
shakers. Oh, and dig out your old tools.”
“I
don't have any tools.”
“Then
you better go buy some,” she shrugged, pulling a nail file out
of her pocket and starting to shave some of her nails.
“Why
the fuck do I need to buy tools?”
“Because
you're building my bed.”
“No,
I'm not,” Jake said, folding his arms over his chest, trying
his damndest to stand his ground while it was crumbling underneath
his feet.
“No?
Would you like to tell my brothers that?” she asked, pulling
out her phone and searching through her contacts. “I have
three. One is a cop, the second is a marine, and the third is a cage
fighter.”
“She's
fucking with me, right?”
“Actually,
no,” I said, thinking about the huge towers of muscles that had
visited her at work on occasion.
“Fuck
it all to hell,” he growled, charging past Shay.
“Where
are you going?” I asked, my voice sickeningly sweet.
“To
the god damn hardware store,” he grumbled, slipping into a
shirt.
“Hey,
Jake,” Shay called.
“What
now?”
“I
walk around naked a lot,” she told him, smirking.
“You
fucking better.”
And
that was how Shay came to live with us.
Okay.
I
took a deep breath, reaching for the door handle.
I
could do it.
No,
I was
going
to do it.
“Ava,”
he said, sending me a sweet smile. Light gray suit, black shirt. Two
buttons. I really needed to stop realizing little things like that.
“Chase,”
I said in return, locking the door.
“How
are you feeling?”
“Can't
complain,” I said, moving across the room. I wasn't going to
let him walk to me. I was the one in control now. No matter how much
I was shaking inside.
“You
sure? You seem a little...”
“My
roommates are at each other's throats,” I said, moving into his
office, leaving him to follow behind me for a change.
“Roommates?
Plural?” he asked as we stepped into the other room and I went
to the stereo.
“Yeah.
Shay is moving in,” I told him, trying to figure out what play
list would work. No more slow, sexy songs. No more metal. I was
beyond that. And while what matched my mood was the “heartbreak”
play list, I wasn't going to let him know that. I looked under the
'sex' title and found 'love making' and 'fucking'. Then I chose
'fucking'.
I
turned, taking my martini from a very perplexed looking Chase.
“What?”
I asked, feigning innocence as a very raunchy song came on through
the speakers.
“Nothing,”
he said, shaking his head, watching as I drained my drink.
“So
session seven,” I mused.
“Yeah,”
he said, shaking his head again and gesturing toward the nightstand.
There,
settled in a pretty white wicker basket, was what looked like a
supply of sex toys. I walked closer, curious, and found packaged
vibrators, feathers, floggers, handcuffs, and butt plugs. Yes, butt
plugs. Apparently, we were at a kinky point in my training.