For Jayla
"The Intake"
Sarah finally got herself to the agency to get some help with her life. She sat down and began to fill out the intake form the receptionist had given her. The intense struggle to deal with the mounting catastrophe of climate, nuclear and global terrorism had taken its toll on everyone. All the survivors felt guilt, remorse and a deepening sense of doom. In a city that used to be overcrowded, the avenues were sparse. Food was rationed and not of good quality. It rained constantly, and with the summer ending, the cooler breezes brought more despair for the winter ahead. Water and sewer systems were constantly being shut down for testing. Gasoline was about to be rationed.
Sarah had worked as a high school teacher and was used to forms. Her life now consisted of taking care of her friends, cohorts and some students who had survived the disaster of the century. She needed help now and finally, a professional person was there for her. Her muscles ached, her headaches were fewer but still sometimes very intense, and her body was wracked with aches and pains. She hadn't felt any bliss or even pleasure in months and now she knew she had to surrender to a system recently put in place to help the survivors. She was a survivor now, nothing more, nothing less.
Address: She was staying at her parents' place. They had perished in the first sequence of terror attacks. It would be months before she'd possibly receive their ashes, but the scents and aura of their former lives surrounded her constantly. Rioters had burned her apartment after the subsequent upheavals in the cities. Her car was MIA and even her two cats perished, hopefully quickly."
Age: 30
Phone numbers: non-existent anymore. Finally, a way to silence the ever-present sound of people talking on the subway to a flat piece of silicone and metal.
Medicines: the form was an altered document from an earlier time, where prescriptions abounded. Most people sought black-market connections for painkillers and other prescriptions which were unavailable due to the crisis.
Height, Weight, Waist size: Sarah had lost quite a bit of weight in the last six months. The last time she was on a scale it was around 170 lbs. Her waist size was slim at best and her hips not as wide as a few years ago when she was eating regularly. She used to be a size seven but now probably way lower and slimmer. When she looked at her body in the mirror she was proud of her strong shoulders and core muscles, which had helped her, get through the tougher times. Her sandy blond hair fell nicely over her shoulders. It needed a trim but that was not even possible due to the lack of money and places open to this anymore.
Sexuality: Sarah considered herself bisexual but with a preference towards older more mature women. She lost track of when her last orgasm was with anyone she really had time to develop something of a relationship.
Nationality: Definitely American, born and raised in New York City.
The main reason you are coming to this clinic: I am very depressed and have been considering suicide for weeks. Deep in her mind Sarah wanted some real companionship and a reason to keep going on. Sarah was being blunt. She figured some guy would probably be reading this and maybe her bluntness would help move her up in the queue to meet with a therapist.
The waiting room was filled with crying children and mothers trying to get medical services for their young children. After a modest wait of an hour or so, a woman called Sarah's name and she rose slowly to be greeted by an older woman who was smiling.
"Hi, I'm Stacy and I've read your intake form already. We have a huge backlog of people with depression and severe anxiety but I can talk to you for a few minutes now. Please come follow me down the hall and close the door." Sarah did as she was asked and was quite surprised by the low-key lighting and subdued noise factor in the room, as it was located towards the rear of the sprawling facility. A white noise machine churned away on the floor outside, making a large hissing sound similar to waves crashing on the rocks at the seashore.
Stacy was a very attractive older woman of about forty. She wore jeans and a cotton top, as the weather was still quite warm despite the month of November. Her light-colored top allowed her ample breasts to be quite noticeable. Sarah always glanced at women's breasts and the type of bra they wore. This woman wore a workout bra or something very similar. Stacy saw herself as a confident woman who didn't care how people perceived of her dress code, as she knew she was an excellent therapist who helped many men and women who suffered from the effects of the climate crisis.
"Sarah so tell, me how you are feeling right now and how many times a day do you think about suicide?"
Stacy crossed her legs and sat back in the big chair as Sarah sat across from her. Stacy's first impression of this strikingly attractive woman was that she looked fatigued and stressed out like many from the months of terrible things that have occurred in America.
"Way too much Stacy."
"Almost all the time as I haven't had a good day in weeks!"
"Have you found someone to confide in around your apartment where you live? Do you have any friends or associates who you can talk to at all?"
"Not really, only a few people I work with are single and around my age, many are married or have someone caring for them,"
Stacy consulted the intake form as she listened to Sarah. She wanted to help this woman and
As quality of life issues for everyone got worse, she had to improvise her strategies and techniques with clients.
"I see you think you 've lost a considerable amount of weight recently...?"
"It's been tough to find food. I used to enjoy eating, you know we all have some problems," Sarah said, looking right at her.
"Yes, I agree. Finding good meals or food available is getting very tough. I totally understand."
Sarah felt her compassion as a real emotion somehow. This woman was trying her best to understand and be compassionate. She was also very easy on her eyes. Sarah kept glancing at her crossed legs wondering what type of underwear she enjoyed. The distraction of intrigue was one of her coping mechanisms she subconsciously used to survive right now.
"There is some food available but not much good stuff to eat,"
"And you're living...?"
"I live alone in my folks' former apartment. It's been very isolating," Sarah said dejectedly.
Stacy didn't want to depress her more and have to inform her there were no more anti-depression meds available now. She tried to relax many of her patients with meditation and even some very light massage.
"Okay, I want you to sit back and close your eyes and try to relax and tell me what your fears are right now, can you do that for me?"
Sarah sat back in the deeply padded chair and put her feet up on the coffee table too. She somehow trusted this woman to help her.
"Close your eyes now and let your legs and arms go limp and try to feel the peacefulness of this room. Let your mind drift to anything you want to share about. Talk about any fears, frustrations or fits of anger that are on the forefront of your mind," Stacy said to her calmly. She took in Sarah's nice young body with her eyes.
"I feel scared that there will be no food to eat soon, that war will encompass everything around us. Food warfare, a struggle to survive! I'm terrified this will happen soon!" Sarah was breathing really hard. This was her reason for coming to get help. Her eyes welled up with tears.
"Okay, these are real fears and it's good you're feeling this. It's normal. We are going through some of the toughest times of our lives. Your fear about survival and getting good food to eat is very real and I want to help! Do you have any other fears that are in your consciousness now?"
"Yes, I feel that I will not find another woman to love again. I miss being held and giving love to another woman." Sarah was being honest and yet, wanted Stacy to know how gay she was, just in case there was a chance...
"I've always been afraid to open up to women, and be myself. It's harder now to find someone who is compassionate, single and open to being loved," Sarah added, keeping her eyes closed.
"I want you to know that I can help you with your problems. If people stick together and help one another there are always solutions. I'm going to give you solid referrals for places to go for food handouts in your neighborhood," Stacy said confidently, hoping to gain Sarah's attention away from this basic fear.
"Sarah, I know it's also tough to be alone during this upheaval. I want you to consider allowing your mind and body to wander outside the realm of the now, maybe to some fantasy where you can find some solace. Is there a person you want to be with who you lost contact with or someone you want to be close with?"
The unprofessional therapist paused and considered saying something even more overt that could tempt her but held back, after realizing how attracted she found her patient. She didn't want to mess this up but was very aroused by Sarah's honesty and trust. These were exceptional times, she rationalized. Maybe she could just bend the rules a bit. No one is around to do any oversight. She was alone with all her patients now. Only her inner morality and integrity could keep her from crossing that line where a patient or client became a lover due to excessive stress on both of the people involved. Stacy decided to just touch Sarah and hold her close. Maybe they could just comfort each other for a few seconds during this difficult time, the therapist thought to herself.
"Can you feel comfortable letting your mind wander to some sexual and emotional needs?" Stacy knew she was treading on thin ice now, but she wanted to get Sarah's trust and hear her desires.
"Yes, I can, Stacy." Sarah moved about in her semi-reclined position and her hand instinctively touched her breast for a second, and then slowly retreated to her side. She seemed to blush but continued to try to meditate on what Stacy had asked her.
"Most people during stressful periods just want to be touched, caressed and held close," Stacy said while carefully observing Sarah's sensual body language.
