Confusion fills his expression. "What do you mean?"
"I did." I point to my bag. "I didn't even have to draw it on paper. You're going to lose your mind."
He presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Blue, we need to talk about your sleep. And your focus. And the intensity of?—"
"Do you want to see what I'm so proud of?" I interrupt, breath hitching higher in excitement.
He studies me further.
I reach for my purse and pull out the delicate, rose lingerie. "I made this for you."
His eyes widen, full of sharp shock, immediate alarm, and a flush he tries to fight. "Blue, put that away."
In a deadly serious voice, I ask, "Why? I made it for when I lose my virginity."
He holds his breath.
I add, "And not just lose it. Give it. On purpose. To someone I choose."
His voice drops an octave, torn between authority and panic. "This is not appropriate. You cannot bring sexual items into our sessions."
I breathe. "But don't you see? This is clarity. This is me admitting I was wrong about Brax. He doesn't get my virginity. I thought I was saving it for him, but I wasn't. I saved it for you. All of it. And I wanted you to see it first."
His jaw twitches. "No. I'm your therapist. I shouldn't see that, nor will I do what you just said."
"But it's what I'm going to wear," I whisper, leaning one inch closer, "when it finally happens."
He shakes his head once, but I can tell he's desperate to stay composed. "Blue, I need you to hear me. This is a boundary. A hard one. You cannot sexualize yourself toward me. You cannot bring lingerie into my office and tell me that I'm going to take your virginity."
"Why? You are," I insist.
He closes his eyes, shaking his head. He mutters, "Blue..."
I put my hand on his thigh. "I wanted you to know, because you're the only person I trust with it. You're the one I'll let burn my life down as long as you keep touching me."
He shuts his eyes, swallows hard, and his breath shudders. He asserts, "This tells me you're not safe right now. You're not sleeping. You're working compulsively. You're idealizing me to a dangerous degree. We need to refocus immediately on stabilization."
I smile and move my hand an inch higher on his inner thigh.
He glances down at it, then at me.
I graze my thumb against his leg, stating, "I didn't put it on today because I knew we had work to do. But look at it. I did good, right?" I pick it up and hold it in front of him.
The muscles in his cheek twitch.
My voice drops. "Tell me you can see my talent. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't even draw this out." My heart races faster.
Does he not like it?
My lips quiver as well as my hand.
He wraps his large hand around mine, gripping me and the lace. His voice comes out rough. "You're definitely talented."
"I need you to look at it," I whisper, then tear up and beg, "Please."
He lowers his gaze to the lingerie.
I murmur, "Can you see me in it?"
