Therapist Pt 01

note: all of the characters are 18 and over. this is NOT a quickie. This is a story that contains rather long character development, which is essential to the progression of the plot. Enjoy reading, and don't forget to vote!

Is he looking at me? Oh please, please let him look at me. Make him look at me! He's looking!!! Liz thought exultantly, giggling foolishly to herself as she walked self-consciously past Peter, determinedly casting her glance in the opposite direction. He looked at me, and I didn't look at him! That's what he gets, that arrogant ass! She shook her hair like a wild horse and got on the subway to go home.

Liz Reynolds wasn't a popular girl – she had her distinct group of friends, but only girls. She didn't socialize with guys that much – and only those that weren't attractive to her. Only then could she behave normally, but if she was around someone good-looking, she couldn't loosen up. It just wasn't possible – she remained as stiff as a board when they were around, on the edge of her nerves, and always thinking – is he looking at me? Oooh pleeease let him looook!!

An interesting spectacle was awaiting her at home; walking in, Liz found her mother seated in the living room with some strange man. She didn't know him, and it didn't seem like he was a friend of her mothers' simply because he was so much younger. Oh, perhaps this was a "special" friend – but he was so young! And what made it even more bizarre was that as she walked by them into the kitchen, he smiled knowingly at her. Knowingly? What could he possibly know?? Liz growled to herself.

"Hey mom," Liz said quietly.

"Oh hi, darling," her mother answered distractedly, obviously deep in conversation with this man.

"Mom, can I talk to you for a second, please?"

"Sure, honey," her mother said, finishing a sentence with the man.

As Liz led her mother away to the kitchen, the man followed her intently with his shimmering black eyes.

"MOM! WHO is that?! You didn't tell me we were having guests over!" Liz growled furiously. "And why is he looking at me like he knows me, smiling that stupid smile?"

"Honey," Liz's mother said calmly, "Come sit down with us, and I'll explain."

Reluctantly, Liz allowed herself to be led into the room, and sat down on the sofa opposite the one her mother and the strange man were sitting on. She fixed her gaze expectantly on her mother, turning her mouth into a slight pout. Her steady stare was disrupted when the strange man suddenly crossed his arms over his head and leaned back into the soft couch. God, he is just getting too comfortable here, stupid asshole, Liz thought angrily. She was surprised at her harsh reaction to him, but there was just something about him that put her off, something that made her toes curl. Her mother shifted her position as well, leaning forward towards Liz as she began to speak:

"Honey, I want you to meet Mr. Vladimir Parfentev." Her mother stopped, waiting for Liz to greet the strange man.

Liz grudgingly turned her eyes to the piercing look of this strange man, and was uncomfortably overwhelmed by his striking beauty – the soft, yet angular structure of his face, the coal black of his hair, and his red, curvy lips, all melting together in one unbelievably sensual visage. And the way he sat, slightly leaning back, his hands behind his head, all the while his eyes the color of black marble studied her so intently.

She had never seen anything like this before, and this gorgeous man was sitting on her couch, trying to intimidate her with his "looks." Well, she wouldn't have any of it! Her gaze turned into a cold, challenging expression characterized by the slight upturning of her lips into a sneer, and the narrowing of her big eyes. She would let him know who would intimate who in THIS house! However, she was taken by surprise when all he did was smirk softly, his eyes twinkling, and as he opened his mouth to say something, she cut him off quickly.

"Hello, Mr. Parfentev," she said coldly, mispronouncing his last name on purpose.

She had a few Russian friends, and thus knew more or less how to pronounce syllables and words.

"Hi. Liz is it?" he drawled, his voice deepening at the end of the question, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Yes, it is," was her steely response.

"Nice to meet you, Liz," he spoke, with a sharp emphasis on her name.

Silence....

"Well, honey, you're probably wondering why Mr. Parfentev is here," her mother began cheerfully.

Liz looked at her mother, raising her eyebrows and putting one leg over the other.

"Yeah, I am," she said pointedly.

"Mr. Parfentev is a well-known psychologist, and he's agreed to work with you, honey! Isn't that great!?"

This information hit Liz like a storm – what the fuck??? She didn't need a goddamn psychologist, she wasn't mentally unstable – she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I can't believe you would set up something like this without consulting me, without even talking to me first, I just, I - -" Liz was at a loss for words, and in a blind rage, stomped out of the room.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, oh dear, I guess I should have told her, I mean, I hinted on it a bit, but I never, Oh I feel terrible, just so awkward in front of y- " her mother stammered.

"It's alright, Ms. Reynolds. I'll go talk to her, see if she wants to change her mind, ok?"

"Liz, may I come in?" the man asked quietly, opening her bedroom door.

"Look, Mr. Parfentev, I'm really sorry, but I can't talk to you. My mother didn't even have the consideration to ask me whether I wanted therapy. I'm sorry, but this won't work. I just can't believe she did this without asking me..." Liz growled angrily, sitting slumped down on her bed.

"Liz, I know that this comes as a surprise for you, but your mother truly did this with the best of intentions – she knew that you would refuse therapy if she asked you outright. Now all she wants is to help you, and I would like to try to help you as well."

"I don't need help with anything, especially not from a stranger."

"That's not what your mother said..." the stranger replied softly.

"God, what did she tell you?? Did she say I was a chaotic manic depressive who does drugs and screws around all the time?? Did she? Because I DON"T!" Liz raised her voice.

"She did say you were a bit depressed, at times only. And she wants you to be – happy, and she feels that therapy would be the best method to make you feel better."

Liz sat there shaking her head in disbelief. Not all of the things that he said, as well as those that she said, were untrue. With her mood swings, she probably was really manic depressive, and she was certainly having a bad time lately.

"Let's humor her, shall we? Let's try it for some time, hmmm?" he queried calmly.

Liz frowned, bit at her fingernails, then looked up at him.

"No! I won't do it! I don't need therapy!!"

With that, she rushed past him down the stairs, and flew into the living room.

"I won't do it, mom. You can't make me, and it's indecent of you to set me up like this!" Liz fumed.

"Alright, honey! Alright. I'm sorry – I shouldn't have done it like this, but just think about it – if you do this for me, I'll consider La Sorbonne..." her mother responded hopefully.

Liz's breath almost stopped in her throat – if she tried this stupid therapy, her mother might let her go to France for college!! This was worth going to school in France any day!!

"Ok, mom. Fine. I'll try it." Liz resigned, shrugging her shoulders.

Her mother smiled warmly, and hugged her daughter.

"Oh honey, this is perfect! While I'm at work, Mr. Parfentev will come to conduct your sessions! Oh, I'm so happy you agreed!"

As Liz hugged her enthusiastic mother, all she could think of was, ah just get this over with, I'll do the therapy, then fuck this crap. I don't need anything from anyone – definitely not help!

The strange man stood silently behind the hugging couple, his mouth set in an amused smirk. This'll be fun...

AHHH the dreaded day – Liz had been fearing its coming for the past week. It was Friday, the day of her first therapy session with that strange, strange man. Strange in the sense of everything. She didn't really know who he was except for the fact that he was a psychologist. Perhaps she didn't have to know anything more, but it just seemed weird to sit there and answer personal questions in front of a person she didn't know anything about. And besides, the way he looked at her, so coolly, as if he knew what she was all about. As if he knew her thoughts, her emotions, her desires. He couldn't – there was no way!!

Uggh! Liz thought as she turned the doorknob to enter her house, I have to go through with this. My mom wants me to, and I just can't deny this to her. I mean, it's simple, right? Just talk to him, and that's it! Let him know a bit about who you are, and send him on his way – make him figure out who you are by himself. Besides, I don't have to answer anything that I find offensive or intrusive.

With this newfound courage, Liz greeted her mother cheerfully, and sat down at the kitchen table to eat a piece of pizza.

"So honey, are you excited for your first session today?" Her mother asked brightly.

"Yeah, I guess." Liz said in a voice that hinted on exasperation.

"And that Mr. Parfentev is rather a cutie, don't you think?", her mother pressed further.

"Hmm maybe..." Liz said slowly as her eyes focused sharply on the clock – it was almost time.

"Well, honey, I'm going to get dressed for work, and Mr. Parfentev will be here soon!" Her mother patted her back encouragingly before exiting the kitchen.

Grrrrrrr!!! Liz just wanted to roooaar out loud with the frustration and anger that she felt as a result of being caught up in this whole thing. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, making her jump and her fury escalate. That BASTARD was here EARLY!!!! The doorbell kept ringing, so Liz forced herself to get up and open it.

The door opened, and there he stood: Tall, dark, and unbelievable handsome – a sort of ethereal vision with a piercing, contemplative gaze that swept everything up in its sight, even that which was invisible. He made her weak in the knees, literally. And at the same time, he made her extremely nervous, and also angry because of the mind-numbing, knee-bending effect he had on her. And he was looking at her; he was always looking at her.

There they stood, for what it seemed like 5 minutes, when he finally moved forward and asked politely,

"Shall we stand here contemplating each other, or am I allowed inside?"

It was polite and insolent at the same time, but she had no choice but to let him in. After all, she had agreed to this.

"Hello, Mr. Parfentev – of course, come in, please." She said in her sweetest voice.

Suddenly, he leaned over, and right next to her ear whispered slowly, "Call me Vlad."

"Um, ok..." Liz said hesitantly, backing a little away from him.

Smiling a bit at her mistrust, the stranger called Vlad walked straight past her and briskly entered the living room where her mom was clipping on her earrings. At the sight of him, she turned around and shook his hand exuberantly, thanking him nonstop for agreeing to such comfortable working conditions. He politely repeated that the pleasure was all his until she finally pulled on her coat, picked up her bag, kissed her flustered daughter, and left for work.

Liz stood by the door, clutching the doorknob as if she had the impulse to swing it open and run after her mother. Minutes passed in silence. Finally, Liz turned her head fearfully to look into the living room, and there he was, sitting on the sofa silently, with his head against a pillow, seemingly absorbed in some book. Did he come here to read? What the hell was going on??

Suddenly, his eyes cut up towards hers, and she didn't look away, she couldn't – she was glued to his fierce gaze, and the trance was only broken when he motioned for her to come with an upward nod of his head.

Her hand tightened its grip on the doorknob, as if it was her only source of protection. Finally, her body willed itself to move, and she resolved that she would go through with this, although for some reason, the whole ordeal made her unbelievably uncomfortable.

Walking slowly to the living room, she settled herself on the couch opposite where he was seated, brought one leg over the other, and gave him a challenging (or so she hoped) look.

He smiled faintly at her attitude, and leaned over to place the book on the small coffee table that was standing in between his couch and hers.

"So Liz, tell me, how is life?" he began, his voice as smooth and silky as butter.

"Uh, well, it's the usual teenage stuff, you know?" Liz said, hoping he wouldn't press any further.

"Hmmm, can you give me any examples?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Uh, homework, school, pimples..." Liz finished with a nervous giggle.

"That's all?" he asked with a tone of surprise. "Why, in my day, I remember having much bigger problems than those you've mentioned."

"Oh. Umm, well, what, what were they?" Liz asked hesitantly. She quite suddenly regretted asking when he smiled wryly and raked a hand through his coal-black hair, settling himself even deeper into the sofa.

Damn – he was sending shivers down her legs with all of his movements. She couldn't look at him without feeling like she was on fire.

He looked at her for a long time before responding, his head tilted, his black eyes unblinking.

Finally he said, "Girls."

"What? I'm sorry, I don't think I –" Liz mumbled.

"I said, Girls – my problem? Yes, so girls were my main problem. Everyday was a battle for me – I was always wondering whether I attracted any, whether they would come up to me, and when I would be getting laid." His blunt response caught her off guard.

He looked at her reaction, and saw how her eyes widened considerably at this revelation of his.

He chuckled softly, yawned, then asked, "Is it like this for you, Liz?"

"Well, I uh, I.. I don't.. I don't really want to answer that" Liz said firmly.

"Hmmm, and why not?" He asked lazily.

"Because, I , just, I don't think it's appropriate," she retorted.

"I think I know why..." he said almost accusingly. "You don't want to answer because you aren't used to discussing such a sexual, personal topic with anyone. You keep it hidden, don't you? And all this time, you're thinking, Oooo look at me guys, ooo please notice me, little miss Stuck UP! Hmm, am I right, or am I not?" he finished slowly.

Liz was fuming by the time he completed his wonderful analysis, and her rage was fueled even more by the fact that he was right – he was completely right. Except for one thing:

"I'm not stuck up!" her voice trembled.

His red lips parted in an amused smirk, "Oh really?" he said teasingly. "Then what are you, mmm?"

"I'm shy," she said defensively, tucking her legs underneath her.

His eyes traveled over her slowly, taking in her soft, billowing hair that looked like cotton to the eye, her flushed skin, heated from the interrogation that he was putting her through, her long eyelashes that weren't long enough to cover her round, guileless eyes, filled with indignation as they looked upon him accusingly.

What a little child, he thought. What a sweet, sweet little girl – it's time she grew up. He smiled at her broadly, and watched her lower her innocent eyes.

"Why are you shy?" he asked slowly.

At this, her head jerked up, and she blinked, her mouth open slightly.

"Don't be shy of me," his voice was barely a whisper.

She sucked in a big amount of air, letting it out slowly.

"I'm shy," she began uncertainly, "I'm shy because I don't think any one likes me. I mean, boys. Because, I dunno, they don't pay much attention to me, and I'm just too shy to go up to them and start a conversation. So now, I think I'm just not attractive. I don't know!!" she slapped her hands on her knees, looking from side to side.

While she was speaking, his smile grew, until he was positively beaming. He had to keep himself from laughing.

"Darling, you don't know it, but I'm sure those boys go crazy over you. But when they see you acting so shyly, so reservedly, of course they are afraid. They're simply afraid to come up to you for fear of rejection." He explained calmly.

"What, but why? Of course I won't reject them!" she exclaimed, completely taken aback by this idea.

"Hmm, you just don't know the teenage boy's psychology, but I know – I was there once, and it's just a bunch of nerves that can never be settled. The only thing that makes their lives easier is the presence of easy girls who are not shy. That's all. It doesn't mean they don't like you – in fact, they probably admire you above every other girl, but that doesn't mean that their fear is not there. And this fear overwhelms them."

Even with this explanation, her look of outrage told him that he must go even further with this idea in order to soothe her frantic thoughts.

"It's completely illogical," he continued, "but think about it – in a way, it does make sense: with an easy girl, a guy doesn't have to be afraid of rejection – it's an easy score. But with a girl, say a girl like you, he has to work at it, he has to really want you, and be persistent in his actions. Not every man, rather, unfortunately only a few are willing to go through that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I guess. Yeah, it does make sense, and I guess it's a relief, knowing this – maybe someone does like me," she said hopefully.

"And I'm sure they do. How can anyone not – look at yourself – you're a very attractive girl."

His gaze settled on her soft, pink mouth, her lips curving into a shy smile, revealing a row of small, white teeth.

Suddenly, her smile dropped, and her face became sullen again.

"But this doesn't help me... I mean, I'll still be, well, you know, alone... If the guys are too afraid to come up to me, then I'll be alone." She said hopelessly.

"The guys might be too afraid, but the men sure aren't, are they?," Vlad said quietly.

Liz blushed at this, and her eyes flew to the clock. It was almost time for their session to be over. She got up quickly, and said, not looking at him, "Well, uh, I think our session's over, um, cuz it's almost 8 PM. So, uh thanks a lot, and I'll see you next time..."

When she looked up, he was standing next to her, his eyes twinkling and his height overwhelming her.

"Until next time then, Liz," he said, his voice a deep, throaty bass.

"Uh, yeah, bye," she muttered, unsettled by his proximity.

Stepping even closer to her, he whispered softly, "What's my name?"

She backed away from him, a frightened look on her face, but he just followed, his black eyes shimmering with amusement.

"Say it," he whispered again.

"Vlad," she spit the word out at him, her hands clenching into fists.

He smiled slowly before turning to leave.

Later that night, as Liz was trying to sleep, her thoughts kept flitting to her first therapy session with the disgustingly smooth and sexy Vlad. For no matter how much his attitude scared her, she could not deny that he was unbelievably alluring. But his behavior was quite disconcerting. Next time, Liz resolved not to tell him anything.

SESSION TWO:

Boy oh boy. It was time for the next session. Liz had been dreading this day for a whole week. Considering how the first session went, Liz wasn't sure whether she wanted to go on with this endeavor. She just hoped this time Vlad wouldn't ask her anymore questions relating to sex or relationships, and that he wouldn't get "frisky" like he did last time. Otherwise, she resolved to tell her mother that his behavior was inappropriate, and hope that her mother would trust her and dismiss this sly man.