I sat straight, on the edge of the cushy sheet, fingers twisting nervously around the zip of my jacket. I fixed my gaze on a spot on the industrial carpet, not saying a word. I could feel Jo's stare on me, and I was unnerved. We were in the hospital, in Jo's office, for our weekly psychiatry session. I had promised Gerard I'd talk to her about my eating habits, but now I was here I was tempted to forget the whole thing. I clasped my hands and looked up at her. She still didn't say a word. Dammit. She had this way of just staring at me wordlessly and making me want to fill the silence, so I ended up talking about myself anyway. Irritating, but effective. I took a deep breath, but to my surprise she spoke up. "You have something you want to tell me." A statement, not a question. "What's up?" I sighed, looking down at my hands. "I... I'm not sure how to start," I admitted. "Well, Krissy, first of all, you should know that I won't be shocked, disgusted or anything like that over what you tell me. I just want to help you. So tell me however you want." I still stayed quiet. "You don't have to tell me at all, if you don't want to." Stupid reverse psychology. "I- I think I may have an eating disordrer." I flinched on the last word. 'Disorder', it made me sound so... Broken. Jo studied me for a second. "Krissy, admitting that is a huge step. It may not feel that way, but you should be proud of yourself. You're clearly a strong young woman, and you don't need to be ashamed, especially not with me. So, lets talk about this eating issue." And we did. I told her about my insecurities with my body, about how Mitch had always called me a fat bitch and how I had started to believe it. I talked about the starving, the vomiting, the awful binge-purge cycles I sometimes got into. She listened patiently, asking questions all the while. At one point, she stood me up and studied my body, making me squirm. She asked my dress size, which I hesitantly told her. Then she put her hands on her hips and looked up into my face - I had height on her - and she told me almost sternly that my size was nothing to be ashamed of, that I was not fat and I shouldn't believe so. Our hour was up before I knew it. "How are you getting home?" She asked suddenly and out of the blue. "Um, I'm walking. My boyfriend should be meeting me." She nodded. "Could I speak to him before you leave?" I was surprised, what would she want with Gee? But I nodded, and went out to the reception area where he was sat waiting. I quickly told him Jo's request, and he went into her officr, surprised but willing. It felt like they spoke forever, but he eventually came out and took my hand to leave. "What was that about?" I asked curiously. He grinned mischievously, and tapped his nose with his index finger. "That would be telling." I mock-punched him in the ribs, and he gripped his side in an exaggerated show of agony, making me giggle. Laughing himself, he slung an arm lightly over my shoulders and pulled me into his side. He buried his face in my hair as he spoke. "She basically asked me to keep an eye on you. She said she thinks you have confidence issues, and I should help you get past that by, as she put it, 'making you feel beautiful.'" He drew air quotes. "Shouldn't be too hard, though," he added. "You are beautiful. Just means I gotta keep telling you, sugar. And showing you." With those last words, he pressed me against a wall, pushed himself in until there was no air between us, and kissed me passionately. I returned the kiss eagerly, not even caring that we were having what was quickly turning into a full-on makeout session in the middle of the street. We fought with our tongues, an epic battle for control over the other. He won, dominating the kiss in an instant. He laughed into my mouth at his victory, making me shiver and tangle my fingers tighter through his hair, almost violently pulling it. He moaned a little at that, and dipped his head to kiss my neck, in the exact spot where he knew I liked. He went on to give me what I was sure would be the mother of all hickeys, dooming me to high collars for a week. I didn't care, though. I'd spend the rest of my life in a scarf if it meant getting this. When he finally pulled his mouth away, with a tremendous sucking sound, the cold air washed over it, making my skin freeze. He beamed down at me, his hands on my hips, as we stood there silently to catch our breath. Then he ran his fingers over my cheek, and took my hand to continue walking on once more, as if nothing had happened. Only the smile we shared gave any evidence of the events that had just passed.

Notes

Ta-Daaaaaaa!!!!! New update!!! Jo is based on my actual mentor who I see in school. That entire session was actually pretty much the same as my first session with my mentor. Thought I'd share that with you :) Now, serious question: do you want smut? Usually, I don't write it, I never have before, but I kinda feel like this story needs it... I don't know. So I decided, I'll write it if the readers want it. Opinions would be greatly appreciated. Although I warn, any smut I attempt to write will probably be crap, it's not my thing. A friend of mine told me I should, she thinks I'd write 'really graphic' stuff hahah. Buuut anyway, what do you wanna see?