The Midnight Mafioso [#2]

01-how to heal

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Please note that I'm using
Google to translate some
Russian stuff here
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London, United Kingdom

Тишина

"I hate sex."

A dire shadow of silence suddenly hovered in the room making things look nastier than they were. The luscious whiff of a latte in the cup I was holding penetrated my nasal cavity inducing relaxation in my nerves.

My gaze rested on the lady seated across the sofa I was perched on. She had a pair of nebulous green eyes that were adorned with a pair of thick silver-rimmed eyeglasses. Swirls of her red hair toppled over her shoulders. She had trout pout lips that were coated with crimson lipstick. The same colour as that of the trouser  suit that she was clad in. Her beauty was to drool over, especially her well maintained figure which was accentuated by her suit. At her age, she looked remarkable.

What bothered me was the look she gave over her eyeglasses. Her wide opened eyes stared at me over the glasses making it hard for me to take a simple sip of the coffee.

It was a thing with therapists, also professors. It was as if wearing eyeglasses was the only thing to identify their status. The glasses couldn't have bothered me if she could have fixed them to the rightful position, above the nose.

It took her almost a minute before she scribbled some notes in her notebook. I wondered what she had to write about me hating sex.

"Inna Grace Ruslan," She had a British accent that took me years to understand and adapt. "You know the reason why we are here?"

Yes, depression, as dad would put it.

"I guess that My father hired you to be my therapist." I shrugged.

"Yes, and from what he gave, nothing here has to do with... sex."

And here I thought that the victim had to explain themselves so they could get help.

"You asked me what I hate." I placed the cup on the mahogany coffee table that separated us. "What did you expect to hear from me?"

"Your family situation." She declared and I breathed. I looked at her for a moment before crossing my leg over the other.

The sore part of my life was family. I could have been as calm but the lady in front of me had managed to arouse a topic I had never discussed with anyone. I hated it, I hated being there at that moment.

"Right." She broke the awkward silence. "Let's start with why you hate sex?"

I found it hard to drift from the topic she had touched on, but my hatred of sex was connected to our discussion. "Because they lie about it." I blurted. "Sex doesn't relieve stress, so I hate sex."