Creative Writing: The Psycologist

The pyshcologist wasn't certain to expect what type of Emily Harris would walk through the door. His practice usually consisted of adults, and he was practically experienced, with the teenage mind, particuarly since he and his wife, Grace., had put aside plans to have children of their own, to forge ahead with their careers. Enough to make him one of the most prominent psychologists in the city, and her, a senior marketing executive for an international publishing company, a position her Father, Supreme Court Justice, Parker Norris, hadn't even been required to use his contacts and influence for her to fill. Though, if had come down to that, he would have. Ellis's Father in Law was not a man to be denied.

Would the young woman be sheepish, demure, frightened, like a lamb to the slaughter? He'd read the transcripts, but he hadn't been there, and they hadn't described her tone or demenaour as she'd given evidence against the accused, however, at sixteen years or age, if anything, Ellis guessed, she'd be frightened and unsure, particularly in dealing with a man the same age as the one who'd abused and raped her, and likely to cover herself up with unrevealing clothing, so as not to be the subject of his attention.
Which is why, when with his eyes locked on the doorway, the man's eyes widened in surprise, when the first thing he noticed was the school uniform, and his eyes darted to the clock on the wall.
Plenty of time to go home and change, was his first impression, before he pulled his eyes back to her, and the confidence and strength in her voice surprised him again. As had her attractiveness, and the tight, young body, he could see straining against the shorter and tighter expected of a prestigious private school
uniform.

"Emily Harris, I presume?" Reaching for the pitcher of water on his desk, Ellis, poured himself one, to soothe a suddenly slightly parched throat, immediately recongising what Warren Trudea must have seen in her, and the possible effects she could have on an older man. The sixteen year old appeared as if she belonged on a cat-walk. Raising a brow, he shrugged, and leaned back in his seat, curious about her demeanour. "Sit, wherever you feel most comfortable," the request as if to whether she should lay on her back, not unheard, but deliberate not referred or reacted to. It had only been less than a minute, and Ellis was already starting to get a strange feeling about this one. A feeling that was only exacerbated, when she sat across from him, thankfully close enough, so that he couldn't see over the edge, and be distracted by the silky thights he'd already gained a glimpse of, thanks to the brevity of her skirt, however the way her breasts pressed together ,was unmistakeable. Purposefully, or not? Oh, yes, definitely purposefully Ellis though, containing a small smile, as he poured a glass of water over to her, then deliberately lowered his gaze to her cleavage, deciding to play what he thought was her little game, back, and show that unlike, Warren Tredau, he wasn't interest. After allowing his eyes to linger a second or two, he glanced back up, and crossed one leg over another, pursing his lips, as he looked at her.

The girl gave off a sexual arua, and her demeanour was quite strange, as the way she spoke. As if attempting to bait him, but, then that probably wasn't unexpected after what had happened with Trudea, where she'd been treated as a sexual object, and nothing but the subject of a man's perverted desires. She likely thought of herself that way, or had been taught by Trudea that using her sexuality was a way to get what she wanted, or to save herself from exposing her true feelings. That was fine with Ellis, with his experience, he could break down her shields.

Not speaking for half a minute or so, he continued to appraise her, and took a sip of his water, placing the glass back on his desk. "Start wherever you like, Emily. This is a safe place, and , so how about at the beginning, where it all started, or would you prefer to work back from the end? I presume you must feelings of guilt, seeing a man who, you must at one time, have had feelings for, even if they weren't real, or reciprocated, jailed for sixty years. Do you believe it's your fault, and that you somehow invited all that happened. Or are you glad it's over now, and that predator's is behind bars, where he'll never be able to hurt you, or anyone else again. I'm not here to mollycoddle, and I'll treat you as an adult, but to help you, I need to know you feel, Emily, and where you're mind is at. You'll need to be honest no games and no pretences, so you can stop with the obvious display of your tits, I'm not interested. Do we understand each other?"

Having exerted control, and hopefully put her

S. Anything you say is confidential, and won't be relayed to anybody, not even your parents "