Don't Stand So Close Read Free

deeper and more intense, the colour of cold, hard tanzanite.
    Stella tilted her head from side to side, trying to release themuscles that had seized up in her neck and across her shoulders. ‘Then why have you come here?’ she asked.
    If she panicked, if she breathed too fast, if she allowed her heartbeat to thunder out of control, she was lost. She should have gone upstairs when she heard the doorbell, shut the door of her bedroom, swallowed a sleeping pill, ignored the goddamn noise. There was a tightness in her chest, it was impossible to take in enough air.
    ‘I came because I need to see Dr Fisher,’ the girl said.
    ‘My husband?’
    ‘Yes.’ Blue’s mouth set in a stubborn line and she began to scratch at the skin on her forearms.

Session Four
    At the beginning of the session, he sat all quiet and serious, while he waited for her to say something first. His eyes were hidden away behind the black frames of his reading glasses and she couldn’t see what he was feeling. He always wore suits and ties. As far as she could tell he had two: a navy one and a tan one. His shoes were black and shiny and expensive-looking, with square toes. Under his shirt there was a slight curve to his belly. She didn’t mind at all. She also liked that he wasn’t too tall and that he had a beard. She didn’t know why, but these things pleased her.
    He was still watching her.
    ‘I hate these chairs,’ she said.
    He didn’t say anything, yet.
    ‘Why do you put your chair so far away from mine?’ Her voice sounded a little whiny. ‘I don’t really hate the chairs. I could curl up in this chair and stay here all day and not go back home. I’d just stay here with you.’
    She leaned forward, pulling a strand of her hair into her mouth. Men were always looking at her. He looked at her too, in that same way, she was sure of it, but he pretended he didn’t. He shifted in his chair, changing over hiscrossed legs to the other direction. He leaned back and rested his chin on his hand. She looked up at the clock. Five minutes gone. That meant forty-five minutes left. She squeezed her bottom lip with the fingers of her right hand. He was still watching. She wondered if he stared at all his patients so hard. She liked his lips – they were sort of thin, but in a sexy kind of way. She had been in therapy of one kind or another for as long as she could remember. So far, he was her favourite.
    She was wearing her school shirt and the top two buttons were undone. She played with the next button, slipping it open. She leaned slightly forward, watching for his reaction. He cleared his throat.
    ‘I think about you a lot,’ she said.
    ‘I’m your doctor,’ he said. ‘Our relationship has boundaries that are very important. Do you understand what I mean?’
    ‘I think about you kissing me. I think about it a lot. I don’t know why, that’s just what I think about.’
    His hands were tightly clasped in his lap, like he was afraid of what might happen if he let go. ‘This is not a seduction,’ he said. ‘It’s a therapy session. You shouldn’t get the wrong idea.’
    But she already had lots of her own ideas.
    ‘It could be a seduction,’ she said.
    ‘There are other kinds of relationships you can have,’ he said. ‘I mean, other than sexual.’
    She slipped her hand inside her shirt and stroked the velvety skin between her breasts. She slid a finger under the cup of her bra to find her nipple.
    ‘You need to stop the acting out, or we will have to end the session,’ he said.
    She removed her fingers from her shirt. She sat on both hands. ‘Fine. What do you want me to talk about?’
    ‘Only you can know for sure.’
    ‘Give me a break.’
    ‘You’re angry now? Shall we take a look at that?’
    She shook her head. ‘I’m not angry with you.’
    She picked at a loose thread on the arm of her chair. She liked having his full attention, but fifty minutes was much too short, too little time. She sighed. He massaged his