"Wider."
His voice was slightly hoarse.
Jeanette did as he asked, gripping the handles of her bag tightly.
He chuckled, studying her face, tilting his head slightly.
"Now, relax your tongue."
A pause. His voice grew softer, honeyed, almost hypnotic:
"Pull your belly in and tilt your head back slightly."
He watched her closely, as if tracking every breath she took.
Jeanette followed his instructions, not understanding why — or why her body was responding the way it was. Every cell in her body was waiting, begging. Waves of desire, long suppressed by work, rose in the pit of her belly.
Daniel leaned in even closer. The shadow of his body enveloped Jeanettes silhouette. His hand rose slowly and gently touched her cheek, fingertips trailing along her skin. Jeanette flinched in surprise. He savoured the moment, never taking his eyes off her lips — holding himself back from kissing them right then.
"Now, Jeanette, exhale slowly. I want to hear your sigh."
One hand slid down, lightly pressing her chin. The other stroked her neck, moving down toward her collarbones.
Jeanette exhaled raggedly and couldn't stifle an unruly moan.
"Excellent..."
Daniel slowly traced his finger along her lower lip, then stepped back. His voice turned a touch drier, with an edge of command:
"Close your mouth, Jeanette. On the count of ten, you may open your eyes. One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten."
He stood in front of her, staring intently into her eyes — very close. Jeanette was bewildered, unsure what had just happened or what was happening now. What should she do?
Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her breath came in short gasps. Her hands, which had been gripping her bag all this time, were stiff — her fingers refused to unclench.
What am I doing?
"You completed your first task. You learned to obey me even when you don't understand why. It's an important skill — one that will serve you well in our relationship."
A smirk flickered at the corners of Daniels lips.
"And tomorrow will be harder."
Jeanette blinked foolishly.
"Are you mocking me, Mr. Skinner?"
Daniel slowly crossed his arms and tilted his head, taking a step back.
"Oh, no, Jeanette This isn't mockery. This is just the beginning."
He walked over to the desk, picked up a stack of papers, and handed her a single sheet with care.
"Here's your first homework assignment — for the day after tomorrow. Don't be late."
Jeanette stepped up to Daniel's desk and took the paper.
His eyes were cold yet somehow too alive.
"If you think this is mockery, close your eyes and feel: do you like how you feel right now? Did your body feel good?"
Jeanette ignored his question and didn't bother reading what was on the sheet. She asked at once:
"What is this? What's the assignment?"
A nearly imperceptible smirk flickered across Daniels face, as if he'd been waiting for that question. He tilted his head as if debating whether to answer. Finally, he did:
"It's a list. An example."
He paused briefly, watching her carefully.
"Make a list of your fantasies. Use the questions on that sheet as a guide."
Daniel walked around the desk and resumed his seat.
"What kind of fantasies?"
The corners of Daniels mouth twitched upward slightly.
"Any kind."
He leaned forward over the desk, never breaking his intense gaze.
"Your secret desires. The ones you can't tell your husband — or anyone. The ones youre uncomfortable even thinking about. Shameful. Scary."
A pause.
"But starting today, you'll think about them constantly."
"But I don't have any."
Daniel chuckled, holding her gaze, tilting his head slightly. His voice dropped, almost to a command:
"Don't lie."
He rose from the desk again and stepped closer — so close she could smell him. Jeanette felt as if she'd stopped breathing entirely.
"Everyone has secret desires."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper:
"And that means you have them, too."
He slowly ran his hand along her cheek, burning her skin with his warmth, then stopped beneath her chin.
He tilted his head a little further, staring intently into her eyes, as if trying to find the answer in her expression.
"You're simply afraid to see them."
His voice grew colder. His hand brushed lightly along her neck, barely grazing her collarbones.
Jeanettes palms were sweating. Her shoulders tensed. She held his gaze unflinchingly, afraid to miss something important.
"You're afraid to look inside yourself."
He leaned even closer to her face. Now his lips were so near she could feel his warm breath. His hand moved more firmly along her neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. In a low, quiet voice — almost a whisper — he continued:
"But tomorrow you'll learn to see them. Your desires. They're only for you. You must learn to want and to desire."
He pulled back slightly, but his hand remained on her neck. A smirk flickered at the corners of his lips.
"We had an excellent session, didn't we? You enjoyed it, didn't you, Jeanette?"
She was lost and desperate. She didn't have desires like that except, perhaps, a kiss. She'd been waiting for him to kiss her — when she'd sat with her eyes closed, when she'd opened her mouth, when he'd been so close just now she'd been ready to kiss him.
Daniel drawled, as if reading her thoughts. His fingers slowly left her neck and slid along her chin, coming to rest on her lower lip.
"So you thought I was going to kiss you?"
His voice dropped even lower, tinged with a lazy mockery. The woman's eyes widened in fear — he'd figured it out.
"Or maybe you wanted me to do it with you?"
A pause. He watched her every breath.
"Then write it down on your list. Your first desire: I want Daniel Skinner to kiss me."
A smirk flickered across his face.
"That's not a fantasy That's a drop of truth — a glimpse of the flood you've been holding back all this time."
Jeanette flushed red in an instant, like a girl caught spying. She took a step back toward the door.
"Goodbye, Mr. Skinner."
She turned abruptly and left the office quickly.
Daniel made no attempt to stop her. He just watched her go, then gripped the edge of the desk to steady the tremor in his fingers.
Too fast, he thought, but then he smiled. Its working.
Almost in a whisper, he spoke aloud:
"See you tomorrow, Jeanette."
The corners of his lips lifted.
"Tonight, you'll write down that very first item on your list of desires."
As she left the office, Jeanette caught sight of her reflection in the mirror across from Daniels door. Her cheeks were burning.
"What am I doing?" she whispered to the stranger in the mirror.
Part 3
Jeanette
I woke up surprisingly easily this morning. Everyone was still asleep, and the alarm wasn't set to go off for another twenty minutes. I slipped into the bathroom, took a shower, and looked in the mirror. There was a glimmer in my eyes — longforgotten, but it flickered and died just as quickly as it had appeared.
I stood by the sink for a moment, tapping my index finger thoughtfully against the rim. Then my gaze fell on the threestep skincare set that Irène had given me for the New Year. I chuckled and picked up the case. Well Lets give it a try. The Koreans don't invent just anything.
Ten minutes later, my face was glowing. Yes gold. Gold. Not a woman — gold.
I stepped out of the bathroom, went into the kitchen, and switched on the kettle. I toasted some bread for Lily, generously spread it with jam and sour cream — she loves it that way. The neat triangles sat on her favourite pandapatterned plate with a yellow rim. Cocoa and a few marshmallows. Her morning had to be perfect today.
"Sweetheart wake up," I said, stroking my daughters head and brushing the hair from her face. I've made a wonderful breakfast for you.
She sat up sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She's growing up so fast, my beautiful girl.
Without a word, she got out of bed, slipped on her slippers, and padded over to the table.
"Wow" she perked up at once. "Mom, is it some kind of holiday? Maybe I dont have to go to school today?" Her brows arched, her lips stretched into a smile.
"No, you're going to school," I said, tousling her hair on top of her head. "But yes, it's a holiday — a new day has dawned, and we've woken up. Isn't that a holiday?"
I winked at her.
We sat down at the table. She devoured her toast, sipping cocoa and squinting with pleasure. Today, I drank coffee from a beautiful mug and, for the first time in years, I ate a cheese sandwich.
I never used to have breakfast. I skipped that meal every morning. I'd wake up exhausted, unrested, and with the onset of depression, everything had felt so grey, wornout, and meaningless.
My daughter and I left the house in high spirits, ready to conquer the day.
"Mom, will you pick me up today?"
"Mmm, I think so," I smiled.
Lily had nearly grown as tall as I was, and now we walked arminarm, smiling and joking. At the school gates, I said goodbye and headed to the office.
Yes, to the office — not back home to wake Paul. His breakfast was on the table: scrambled eggs and his favourite ham, tea with four spoons of sugar. He could eat it without me. And I wouldn't have to listen to him grumbling, farting, and belching loudly every few minutes. Ugh.
At the office, the receptionist greeted me. Mary had joined us a month ago — beautiful, smart, and quick to catch on. But it seemed she'd had her share of bad luck too, though only with a boyfriend. If things work out with Daniel, I'll recommend him to her. I remembered his gaze and his whisper, the way hed commanded me — a pleasant shiver ran through me.
"Jeanette, two letters from partners have arrived for you. The courier delivered them; they asked for a reply as soon as possible."
"Thank you, Mary." Ill look into it. "Anything else?"
Daniel
That morning, he'd sent her a bouquet of white lilies, wrapped in matte paper with minimal decoration, along with a note.
Is she at the office yet?
He glanced at the clock.
Work wasn't going well. Patients spoke; he listened, but his thoughts were elsewhere — with her silence.
What is she feeling now?
Shame? (I've let him down. He'll think I'm weak.)
Anger? (Why is he pressuring me so much? I'm not obliged) Relief? (I'm safe. It's too dangerous.)
He closed his eyes, picturing her face: her unrestrained moan, her frightened eyes, her indignation, the way her lips had trembled when he'd said, "Open your mouth." How her fingers had clenched around her bag. How she'd obeyed.
She trembled, but she didn't pull away. She waited
She'll come back. She'll definitely come back. She'll be here again tomorrow.
But somehow, it didn't sound like confidence — it sounded like a spell.
Jeanette
The bouquet. A bouquet of white lilies The scent somehow reminded me of him — his shirt, his collar, his neck. I wanted... I wanted so many things then. But it's silly and frightening.
Flowers from him. Very interesting. I walked over to my desk, where the understated bundle of flowers sat. I traced the petals with my fingertips, feeling their softness. My gaze fell on a note hidden among the blooms. I pulled it out.
You forgot to ask what happens if you don't come. Can you guess? D.
My cheeks flushed with heat. Right. The list. I have to make that list today, without fail.
There was a knock at the office door.
"Come in."
Irène burst into my quiet workspace, radiant and cheerful as ever.
"Hi, Jeanette!"
The scent of her perfume instantly filled every inch of the room.
"Hi!" I smiled, setting aside my papers.
"Mmm, you have flowers? Who are they from?" Without waiting for an answer, her hand dipped into the bouquet and fished out the note I'd shoved back in, embarrassed.
"Hmm, very interesting..." She raised one eyebrow. "Could it be Daniel?"
Oh Lord, why is she so nosy?
"I think so. No one else would send them. Did he send you bouquets too?"
"What? No," she waved it off. "But with you I can see he's acting completely different."
Irène sat on the chair by my desk, one leg crossed over the other, swinging it playfully up and down.
"So... he?.." she drawled, fanning herself with the note.
Please don't let her ask...
"Decided to treat you differently?" my friend finished.
I exhaled almost imperceptibly with relief. I didn't really want to tell her what Daniel had done during our sessions.
"Are you sure this is just therapy?" she asked with a meaningful smile.
"What do you mean?" I chuckled. "What else could it be?"
Unconsciously, I traced the edge of my notebook — and only then did I remember that gesture from Daniels office. He does that. What? Am I starting to copy him?
"Hmm. Alright," but Irène narrowed her eyes slyly. "You do realise he's overstepping boundaries, right?"
A pause.
"He gives you assignments?"
"He does. And yes, the bouquet is unsettling. But I don't even know how to react to it." I bit my lip unconciously, remembering how he'd stood beside me, giving his orders.
"And I have to make a list of desires."
"Ah! Yes, thats fun. You know, when I..." my friend began chirping, recalling how she'd completed a similar task for Daniel, instantly forgetting her thoughts about the bouquet.
But it seemed her assignment had been different from mine.
When I was alone, I picked up my phone to message Daniel:
Mr. Skinner, thank you for the bouquet. But you really didn't have to. I remember about the session. I'll be there at the appointed time.
A moment later, his reply came:
Gratitude is sweet. But you know what happens for overdue assignments. The list will either fix the situation — or worsen it.
I was taken aback. Worsen it?» What does he mean? Will he cancel the session? Come to my house? Or make me say out loud what I've written on the list? What on earth should I reply?
I pushed my worries aside, throwing myself headfirst into work. Meetings, signing documents, appointments with teachers — it all spun past like a carousel throughout the day. I forgot about lunch again. As always. It's a good thing Mary brings me coffee — she knows I need it.
By three oclock, I left the office to pick up Lily from school. An hour later, we were back home.
"Why did you pick her up? I could have done it," Paul said, holding Lily, who'd just taken off her shoes and jumped into his arms for a hug.
"I'm perfectly capable of picking up my own daughter from school," I replied. "We can take turns doing it."
"Uhhuh. Still dont see the point. You're usually stuck at work till late anyway," he said, hanging Lilys coat on a hanger and closing the wardrobe.
"But I love it when Mom picks me up!" Lily chimed in, joining the parents conversation. "Let Mom pick me up!"
"What about me? Have you stopped loving me, Lily?" Paul leaned toward the child and pouted his lower lip, pretending to be sad.
"Daddy," Lily placed her little palms on his cheeks, "I love you very much — and I love Mom too."
"But you love me more than Mom, right?"
Lily stayed silent, just smiling and hugging her dad.
"Why ask the child that?" I snapped, walking deeper into the apartment.
"You definitely love me more than Mom," Paul insisted loudly, kissing the child on the cheek.
"Jeanette, will you make something to eat? I'm hungry," he added — and then another loud belch followed.
Oh God What's wrong with his stomach?
"I'll make something," I tossed over my shoulder as I washed my hands.
"Make it now. I want cutlets," Paul called after me as I headed into the kitchen. A mountain of unwashed dishes had piled up in the sink.
"What were you doing? Why so many dishes?"
I felt like crying. I was exhausted from work — yes, not a full day today, but still... Isn't it possible to?
"I was making pumpkin juice! I looked it up online. Look — there was a whole carafe!" He pointed to a plump, nearly empty glass jug.
"Mmm... Was it tasty?"
"Yes. By the way, were out of cookies. We need to buy some. Could you run to the store?"
I clenched the sponge in my hand, silently.
"I'll buy them," I sighed, letting go of my frustration.
As I washed the dishes, I felt his eyes on me. He sat at the table, finishing his pumpkin juice, boring a hole into me with his stare.
"You've put on some weight, Jeanette. You've gotten so plump," he laughed. "Look at that belly."
He came up behind me and squeezed my waist with his hands.
"I'm fine"
Paul kept squeezing, and I thought of how Daniel had touched my wrist — lightly, yet with authority. One touch made me burn; another extinguished the light.
"No, look. See how you've let yourself go," he pressed on. "Come on, lets step on the scales."
"No. Do you want me to cook?" I tried to pull away from his grip.
Once upon a time, I'd loved his touch. But that was long ago. Very long ago.
"Come on."
Paul took the sponge from my hand and, wiping his hands on my house dress, led me to the scales.
"Step on."
Jeanette obediently stepped on.
"There, look."
He tapped with his index finger. Once, his fingers had been extraordinary — not anymore.
"Someone's been eating too much. Lily, don't be like your mom. She's put on a lot of weight."
Sixtyfour kilograms.
"Leave the child out of this," I hissed.
I stepped off the scales and silently walked into the kitchen. Paul went into the room, turned on his show on the laptop, lay on the bed, and laughed — and laughed.
Just a few more decades, and it;ll all be over... It;ll all end...
After dinner, we went to our separate rooms. Lily played her games. Paul kept watching his show. And I I sat down to write my list.
What do I want?
"Then write that down on your list too. Your first desire: I want Daniel Skinner to kiss me."
She remembered Daniels words from the day before. A fluttering knot twisted in the pit of her stomach. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared Paul might hear it.
She smoothed the sheet of paper with her hand and finally decided to write her list.
I want...
She crossed it out. Rewrote it:
I want to feel alive.
But it felt too vague. Too safe.
I want Daniel Skinner to kiss me.
Her hand trembled. She glanced at the door, as if he might walk in.
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