𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲
/ˈθɛrəpi/the treatment of mental conditions by verbal communication and interaction
· —————— · 𖥸 · —————— ·
His words reverberated in my mind as I found it challenging to come to terms with.
How damn stupid can I be? Of course, he's a psychiatrist; there's just something about him that gives it away.
But then again... are you seriously telling me... that this fine, gorgeous-looking... freshly roasted piece of man meat... is my psychiatrist?!
Flushed, I cleared my throat. I'd nearly forgotten I'd surely made a fool of myself one second into the introduction.
Way to go, Ksenija.
But never mind that now! I was just struck by the fact that I'll be spending plenty of time... alone... with this eye candy!
Right, I should probably say something.
"Oh, I... all right."
"Oh, I... all right." Seriously? If there's a god out there, please let him bury me alive right this instant.
The thing is, I'd expected them to pair me with a grumpy old woman in need of retirement or someone middle-aged. Even a pissed, sex-deprived psychiatrist would have worked.
Wait... What if he's the pissed, sex-deprived psychiatrist?
What the hell am I thinking about?
I'd known, but not really known, the man for a bloody minute, and I was already thinking about his damned sex life. Yup, issues at their finest, I was definitely done for.
However, he didn't quite appear pissed nor sex-deprived. I mean, there wasn't a way for me to know; I merely assumed by his demeanour. Besides, who would have left such a bright, fine-looking man hanging like that? Not me, that was for sure.
Okay, what the fuck? Enough, get it together. You're here to get help, not mark the place with your dribble!
On a serious note, I hadn't known younger people were eligible to occupy such positions – he couldn't be much older than me by the eye. I presumed he was in his mid to late twenties and perhaps in training. But then again, if that was the case, where was the legitimate psychiatrist?
Besides, I'd thought such things had only occurred in cliché romance novels!
Oh boy, this is gonna be a ride, isn't it?
"If you're ready, we may head to my office," his smooth voice awoke me from the trance of offbeat thoughts.
I briefly nodded, unable to utter a sound.
"Splendid, follow me."
I followed him down the hallway like a lost puppy, feeling a fusion of emotions running through my being. Was I scared? Baffled? Excited even? Who knows.
We finally reached his office, the last door to the right, and I quickly examined the room: the walls carried a warm neutral tone matched with a white polished linoleum floor. A large window with vertical blinds pushed to the side took place behind the swivel chair, office clutter occupying the white L-shaped desk along with a PC on the left, equipped shelves and several pins on the pinboard above it. Two seats were available before the desk. Overall, his office exuded a pleasant vibe.
YOU ARE READING
Therapeutical
General Fiction❝𝘋𝘰𝘯ʼ𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ... 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐𝘵ʼ𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.❞ · -------------------- ·...