Jonathan Gilchrist sat at his desk, his head in his hands as he grumbled quietly to himself.
He was a trained psychiatrist! He had attended one of the best schools in the country and had a list of professional credentials a mile long! Right now, he was supposed to be sitting in some oak paneled corner office with a great view while dressed in a corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows, listening to the rich and famous whine about how unhappy their childhood had been!
How had he then ended up as a high school guidance counselor?! Why was he sitting here trying to shepherd spoiled, snotty children through their ridiculous teenage dramas?
Damn economy . . .
As far as he could see, the only saving grace to all of this was that he got to spend so much time around a veritable army of drop dead sexy girls, each and every one of them in the prime of life and armed with perfect young bodies. Even this was bittersweet though - not merely because he certainly wasn't allowed to touch any of these girls, but also because he had to sit here and listen to them talk about how their lives had been ruined because their mothers wouldn't buy them the right color of nail polish.
There were times when it was almost enough to make a man like him want to stick a gun barrel in his mouth.
A knock on the door made him groan in misery, but it at least brought his head up.
He knew who this would be. It would be yet another kid looking for someone to tell him he's right to think that his parents should be waiting on him hand and foot! It was the last thing he wanted to have to deal with right now, but then again he could hardly just hide behind the closed door of his cramped office and expect to keep getting a paycheck. Taking a quick moment to straighten himself up a little so that he would at least look reasonably professional, he heaved a long-suffering sigh, braced himself, and bit the bullet.
"Come in!"
When the door swung open and this new visitor to his tiny sanctum was revealed, Jonathan's mouth fell open, his eyes bulged, and his mind completely short-circuited what with all of the blood rushing from it down to the snake that was starting to rear up in his pants. His long litany of whiny complaints was instantly forgotten.
The girl who appeared in the doorway was a vision, an absolute wet dream come to life. He had never even imagined that such incredible beauty could exist, much less that it might be found in a crappy little high school like this one! How could he have spent so long working in this place and not caught so much as a glimpse of this piece of perfection?
Maybe he should leave his office every once in a while . . .
Very thankful that he was sitting behind that desk, he motioned for her to come in, stammering out, "C-come in, my dear. W-what can I do to . . . er, for you?"
The girl drifted slowly into the room, glancing back into the hallway. Her body language made it evident that she was nervous, unsure if she was really prepared to talk about whatever it was that was troubling her. He guessed that she was probably deathly afraid that anyone she knew would see her going into the counselor's office and so wasn't surprised in the least when she closed the door behind her just as soon as she had entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gilchrist," she ventured, coming over to stand behind the chair opposite him, keeping as many obstacles as possible between her and this authority figure. "I'm Layla . . . er, and I'm a senior."
He noted how she had quickly caught herself from telling him her last name, no doubt wanting to stay as anonymous as possible in case he felt the need to do something about whatever she'd come to talk about.
A senior? Eighteen years old, then. That she was almost two decades younger than he was not enough to squelch out his lust, however.
Jonathan found himself constantly reminding himself that he had to be professional here, that there would be all sorts of traumatic repercussions if he actually tried to make any of the fantasies currently swirling through his head a reality, but it was proving to be a rather hard sell. As he looked this sexy babe over from head to toe, all he could think of instead was how incredible it would be if he could only get his hands on her.
"Why don't you come and sit down, Layla?" he invited, making an effort to keep his voice calm and his smile friendly. The girl was on a hair trigger and he knew that just one wrong look would be enough to send her flying back out the door. "Tell me what I can do for you."
She was still worried, though. "Um, this will remain confidential, won't it? I mean, this won't go beyond these four walls, will it?"
He just kept smiling, his eyes focused more on the full swell of her bosom than on her face. "Now you know I can't promise that, my dear," he answered, praying that she would understand. "I mean, if your safety is at risk, I'm legally required to do whatever I can to make sure you're all right. Short of that though, I can promise that I'll never reveal to anyone whatever you choose to tell me."
He allowed himself a small sigh of relief when that didn't send her rushing out the door. On the other hand, it didn't exactly get her talking either.
