Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Her smile is polite. “Come on in. I’m sorry my last session went over. I hope you weren’t inconvenienced.”
Oh, Maura. So goddamn polite. “Not at all. It’s no problem, really.”
See? I can be normal too when I put my mind to it.
She waves her arm out, and I step inside her office, taking a seat on the soft caramel-colored sofa, crossing my legs at the ankles, the picture of perfection. For two weeks, she’s been trying to break me. Little does she know I am a diamond and cannot be broken.
Taking a seat on the identical sofa opposite me, she smiles and reaches back to place her long, mousy brown hair into a clip at her nape. “Can I get you anything before we start? Coffee? Tea?”
Dr. Maura Sternson takes a different approach to other psychiatrists, no doubt why Julius booked me with her. She likes to keep things casual, tries to get close to a person, breaking them down bit by bit until they’re a blubbering mess. Oh, never fear. Dr. Maura will be there, tissue in hand with a shoulder to cry on. She cures people, she told me on my first visit. Boasted her recovery stats and all.
What the hell am I doing here?
Good news, brain. Dr. Maura Sternson is going to cure you.
Dr. Maura Sternson is a cunt.
I tame a grin at my inner dialogue and wave her off with a small smile. “No, thank you. I’d rather we begin.”
“Of course,” she starts, but loses her smile. Leaning forward, closer to me, her look of concern is award-worthy. “Ling, you’ve been to see me twice now and we haven’t even scratched the surface of your issues.” She smiles once more, softly this time. “I think we should start by talking about why you try to instigate a sexual relationship with so many men.”
I correct her, proudly at that, “There are no relationships. It’s just sex.”
“Exactly.” She nods. “Why do you suppose that is?” When I don’t rush to answer, she goes on a Dr. Maura spiel. “Intercourse sure can be fun, Ling, but without the emotional support of a relationship, where do you see yourself in five years?”
I smirk. “I don’t even know if I’ll make it five years from now.”
Her expression dims. “This is what I’m talking about. You joke about the most morbid things. It’s a worry.”
I shift in my seat as the beginnings of anger start to boil inside me. “Would you prefer I cry about the morbid things in life instead?”
“No,” Dr. Maura states. “But talking about them and how you feel would help a lot. And we could start by brainstorming if you like. Let’s pinpoint where sex turns violent for you.”
I deadpan, “Could be when my dad and brothers started beating and raping me when I was five.” She tries desperately to mask the shock on her face, but I see it. And I rage inside. “Or it could be when I was sold to a whorehouse at six.”
Don’t you fucking pity me, bitch. I’m more a woman than you’ll ever be.
This is over. I’m ending this now. Fuck this hoity-toity asshole and her civility.
I glance over at her desk and see the black and white photograph of Dr. Maura, her Hispanic-looking husband and a lean, pretty teenage girl, all midlaugh. How precious.
It makes me want to ralph.
I jerk my chin toward the photo. “Your husband… is he your daughter’s father?”
She looks over at the picture and smiles sweetly. “No. He’s her stepfather. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” I smile. “You were telling me how sex is evil. Go on.”
She lets out a surprised laugh. “No, Ling. I wasn’t. Sex can be wonderful in a meaningful relationship between two people who love each other.”
Oh shit. She’s asking for it.
A dark smirk crosses me. “You know what’s even better?” I pause for effect. “Fucking a stranger down a dark alley. You don’t even exchange names. He pushes you against the filthy wall and it’s on. Like a mutt and bitch in heat.” I breathe deeply and rest against the sofa. “It’s invigorating.”
She looks disappointed in me. “Ling, that doesn’t sound very fun.”
“Do you have sex with Bobby over there?” I ask, knowing full well this question will not be answered.
Dr. Maura blinks, surprising me with her response. “Of course I do. He’s my husband.”
I roll my eyes at her sweet disposition. “Yes, but do you let him fuck you.” I grin. “You’ve been a naughty girl. He puts you over his knee and smacks that round ass till it’s nice and pink.” I push some more. “Do you let him eat your pussy? Or is that too uncouth for you?”
Dr. Maura swallows hard and her voice quavers. “We’re talking about you, Ling.”
Adjusting on the seat, I sit up straight. “No, no. Let’s talk about you, Dr. Maura Sternson.” She’s in trouble now. “About your sad sex life and how your husband beats off every time you’re not home. Or about how you fake your orgasms to make him feel better about not being able to take you there.” My face turns mocking. “No, I know. Let’s talk about how women like me fuck husbands like yours down dark alleys. Or maybe about how your husband is at home spreading the luscious legs of your daughter and eating that tight little muffin of hers like he’s on an all carb diet.”