Once she was convinced Ivy was OK to fend for herself, Camila went back home. She’d stayed at Ivy’s for a couple of days despite her deep aversion to being downtown. It worked out since Camila also worked downtown, so she just brought a few changes of clothing to Ivy’s and walked to work from there.
Now she was back to her usual T commute. Today she was seeing Kenny, a teenager who was battling a terrible dog phobia after an attack when he was younger; a new client named Lucy, who she was doing an initial consultation with; and Viviane again. Camila’s last few sessions with Viviane had been so strange. Viviane still complained about work in an obnoxious, privileged way that challenged her ability to give her unconditional positive regard, and she still intimidated Camila with her fancy clothes and overall presence. But it seemed like maybe, just maybe, Viviane was finally starting to open up for real. She was a little more self-reflective than she’d been in previous sessions. She asked Camila questions about herself, which was weird because it didn’t seem like Viviane was the type to care.
Her consultation was her first appointment that day. Lucy was new in town and she’d been in therapy back in Cleveland, and was looking for someone to support her through dealing with depression.
Then there was Kenny. They’d been using virtual and augmented reality to desensitize him to the presence of dogs. In the first few sessions, Camila had just talked about dogs with him or shown him pictures of dogs and coached him in deep breathing techniques. Then they moved on to using the headset. In each session, she had Kenny talk through his feelings as he observed dogs in the simulation. First the dogs would be far away from him, leashed and being walked at the other end of a park. Then the dogs would be walking toward him on the sidewalk. They’d made great progress so far.
Kenny talked for a bit about school and the argument he’d had with his parents that morning. About 10 minutes in, Camila went behind her desk to get an aid for this session.
“So today, I thought that we’d work on how it might feel to interact with a dog. The goal is that you feel comfortable enough doing this after a few sessions that you could actually go to a friend’s house and not be so worried about what to do if their dog wants to greet you. So I brought this to help.”
She held up a big, shaggy pillow that could, if you squinted, resemble a very furry lap dog.
Kenny laughed. “You might as well have gotten a stuffed animal.”
“I thought about it, but this is so much comfier,” Camila said, then pretended to snooze against the pillow.
“All right, fine. I’ll try it.”
Camila handed Kenny the pillow, which he placed next to him on the couch. Then he put on the headset. In Kenny’s view, the pillow was now a dozing pup, complete with little doggie snoring sounds. Camila cued him to describe how he was feeling being next to the dog, rating his anxiety from 1-10.
“A 2,” he said. “This is OK.”
Then she had him turn his eyesight away from the “dog” and have a casual conversation without being overly concerned about the dog’s whereabouts. The anxiety went up to a 4, but then back down to a 2 as the conversation progressed.
“OK, so now you can try petting the dog.”
Kenny was wary, but did it anyway. She watched him panic a bit but then noticed him using the breathing techniques she’d taught him. “This isn’t so bad,” he said. And then, absolutely surpassing her wildest expectations, he placed the pillow on his lap and continued to pet it while picking the conversation back up.
She could not have been prouder. Pretty soon the kid was going to want to volunteer at an animal shelter.
The wild success of that session made Camila feel a lot better about dealing with Viviane today. But when Viviane arrived, she was disheveled, for her. She was in minimal makeup, dressed in a plain twin set, and wearing flats that could have come from Target.
“Everything OK?” Camila asked.
“No,” Viviane said. Then she held out her hand, which had a ring with a diamond the size of a quarter. “I’m engaged.”
“Viviane, that’s great news. Congratulations. Unless… is it not great news?”
“No, it’s not. I knew he was going to do this any day now, but fuck.” This was the first time she’d ever cursed in session. “My fiance —” she said the word like it was foul-tasting — “has three older brothers and so many friends, and I have none. Not one. I’m going to be alone up there without a single bridesmaid while he has the entire Yale Law Review staff of 2010 standing up there for him. I’ve spent my whole life working toward my career and not making any time to make friends, and he’s done the same except he’s got a ton of them!” She wrung her hands. “I need to learn how to make friends. Can you help me?”
Camila wanted to sing. Finally. They were getting somewhere. “Yes. We can work on that.”
* * *
Now that Camila was done helping Ivy recover, Zach wanted to take her out to dinner. He was going to take her to a sushi place he and Irene liked to get takeout from.
He rang her doorbell. He waited a minute and rang it again. After a few minutes, he was kind of worried, so he texted her.
Zach
Fifteen seconds later, a gremlin who sort of looked like Camila came to the door. “Fuck,” she said. “Come in. I fell asleep. Fuck! Let me get ready.”
Camila’s curls had been in a bun, he surmised, but loops spilled out and the short ringlets that framed her face were frizzed out at acute angles. One of her eyebrows was still done up, but the other was a dark smear too high on her forehead. She was in a T-shirt with holes at the collar and paint splattered across the chest, and boxer shorts that looked damn erotic on her until he realized they might have been Liam’s. Smooth brain, he said to himself. Just smooth out that brain.
“Do you want coffee?” Camila said. “Shit, I need a shower. Where is this place again?” More curses, this time muttered.
“You look exhausted,” he said.
“Are you telling a woman she looks tired?” she said, pointing the coffee pot at him like a weapon.
“It was more polite than saying ‘You look like you fell asleep in a closet after a kegger.’”
She scowled at him before laughing. “I mean, I have done that before.”
He took the coffee pot from her and poured the clean water into the tea kettle instead. “We don’t have to go out. Go draw yourself a bath and I’ll bring you some tea.”
“But you’re all dressed.”
He was dressed up, for him. He had new jeans and Italian leather shoes he’d bought years ago and never worn. He rolled up his sleeves, watched her eyes as they glided to his forearms. “You’ll fix that for me later. Go on.”
“The tattoo is healing well,” she said. When she smiled at him, he noticed how her almost-gone lipstick stained her lips and made them look bitten. He reached out and put his thumb on her lower lip, his other fingers across her cheek. The magnet pulled her in. He put one finger under her chin and tilted it up.
“Go,” he said, his lips close enough to brush hers.
Looking reluctant, she pulled away. Soon he heard the sounds of the tub filling. While the kettle heated, he scheduled a food order for later on his phone.
He kept the water heating on low until he heard Camila come out. She was rolled up in a pink towel when he got into her room with the cups.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. Her hair was tied in a wet braid dripping onto her shoulder. He thought of her other still-wet curls and how he could keep them that way. His hand traveled up her thigh. Her legs parted so slightly, so sweetly.
“Forget the tea,” she said.
“But it’s lavender stress relief,” he said, affronted.
“There’s a better stress reliever.”
“Like what? You mean me stroking this gorgeous pussy?” he said. He reached under the towel and found her clit with two fingers. She moaned. The towel slipped down as she curled her fingers around one of her nipples.
Zach stopped stroking her clit to pull her hand away from herself, pinning it at her side. She cried out in protest at losing his touch.
“You want me more than sleep, don’t you, gorgeous?” he said.
She wriggled her hips in response.
He reached back between her legs and she sighed, relieved. “I should just keep my fingers right here until you’re too tired from begging to stay awake,” he said, plunging into her wetness and curling his fingers just so. Camila pushed toward him, tilting up toward his fingers, and he curled them again. “You’d beg for it, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” she choked out. “Yes, I would.”
“Your standards are too low,” he said. “You should be begging for my tongue and not my hand. You should be asking me to lick you unconscious.”
He pressed his thumb against her clit and she swore. She rode his hand, desperate, and whimpered when he pulled away.
“Maybe later,” he said, giving her swollen, sensitized clit the tiniest little lick. He delighted in the way her hips bucked and how she giggled after, embarrassed but so cute about it. “Drink your tea. Take a nap. I’ll wake you up when food’s here.” He didn’t feel too bad about teasing her, considering he was in so much pain from his cock trying to rip a hole in his jeans.
* * *
Camila woke up from the kind of nap that makes you feel like you blipped out of existence. She had no idea what day it was. She could have slept two hours, or 20 hours.
It turned out it was two hours. Zach had hung up her wet towel and tucked her in. She threw on some sweatpants and a tank top.
“Are you still here?” she called out.
“Yup,” he called from the couch. “I didn’t know how long you’d be out, so I ordered Chinese food instead of sushi.”
She climbed into his lap and he looked up at her, dreamy. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“I left this earth,” she said.
“Do you want me to heat you up some food?”
Kissing the top of his head, she said, “Nah, I’ll go get it. What are we watching?”
“I fell down a Hank Green rabbit hole,” he said, pulling her closer.
“Ooh, science DILF. Love him.”
“Yeah, he can get it. Especially when he’s talking about disaster survival myths. Basically porn.”
They watched in silence as Hank talked about the pros and cons of eating snow for hydration and the chemicals in cactus water.
“I really admire Hank,” Camila said. “He and John have really managed to leverage video content into so many revenue streams, and they haven’t been immoral about it.”
“You’re so fucking hot when you talk about revenue streams.”
“Yeah?” She bit his earlobe and whispered, “Do you get hard hearing me talk about costs per mille?” A lick up the edge of his ear. “Or net follower gains and sponsored content?”
“If you don’t stop, my cock is going to rip through my pants and then I’m going to rip open yours as payback.” He rolled her onto the couch and growled into her neck until she was shaking with laughter. “Well, I’m hungry, so I’m going to heat up this food. You just keep watching science zaddy.”
Hours later, Camila was full of yummy food, had a working knowledge of thermodynamics and the space race, and had passed out on the couch. Vaguely, she registered Zach picking her up and carrying her to her bed. He was still there when she woke up.
It was the best sleep she’d had in months.