Mike was at the front of a nice townhouse with his wife of six years, Zoey. He gulped as he looked at the sign, it was a wooden one that said, "Lessee Chavez, Therapist and Psychiatrist" with fancy letter font and chains holding it up as it swung in the light breeze. The tall, seemingly empty house was a little unkempt, yard wise, vines going up the worn, blue paneling, wrapping around the chipped white shutters, weeds sprouting in a dirty, old looking garden. Mike ran his hands through his dark brown hair as his light brown eyes locked with his wife's,
"This is the right address." He informed her as she let out a sigh of annoyance.
Mike let out a small sigh as he lead his wife up to the building and saw a rusty, yet charming fixture on the door. He raised his hands up to use the fixture to knock on the door. It took a couple minutes, about five minutes and twelve seconds, before Mike knocked again. A feminine and evidently grumpy voice called out,"I heard you, get your dick out a knot!".
Mike bit his lower lip and looked at Zoey, whom was disgusted by the remark of the lady behind the door.
The door swung open, revealing a dark inside of the house and the lady. This lady looked about three years younger than Mike and Zoey, them being twenty-four and this woman looking at the least, twenty-one, her eyes looking heavy with a lack of sleep, causing bags and dark circles to form, she was undeniably pretty, her face being free of acne, nice soft lips that rested in a cold way, her face slightly pudgy, her nose was very doll-like and she had deep, dark, intense brown eyes that were framed by full and luscious eyelashes, her hair was fluffy and brown, being tied back in a sloppy bun and a strand hanging in her face, her body was alright, slumpy, small shoulders, a nice, okay sized bust, a semi-flat stomach, violin hips that protruded into nice, plump thighs and calfs being held up by dainty, small feet.
"Who are you?" She asked, bluntly and a little aloof as she folded her arms.
Mike cleared his throat befor introducing him and his wife, "I'm Mike and this is my wife, Zoey. Are you Lessee Chavez? We're here because we need some counciling, marriage and self wise.".
Lessee sighed and let out a snort of annoyance, "Get a divorce. Trust me, I've done it twice and look at me, I'm fine." She deadpanned before shutting the door.
Mike stopped the door with his foot, being annoyed with this female's behavior, "You're our last hope! Can you stop being such a fucking bitch and help us?" He asked, his foot being slightly crushed in the door.
Lessee felt aroused at the way , 'Fucking bitch', rolled off his tounge, but there was no way she was saying that, with his wife right there? She didn't think that would be a good idea. She then let a display of annoyance out, rolling her eyes and letting out a mix between a frustrated, bear-like grunt and a obnoxious moan. She let out a heave as she opened the door and waved her hand,
"Come on inside. Excuse the mess." Lessee murmured, walking to her couch where her three cats, Luckee, an old, purebred Calico cat, Chobi, a mixed breed, grey and white mutt, and Jimothy also called 'Pops', a half Siamese mix, feisty youngster, were basking and wallowing in their own cat-like laziness.
"Sit on the couch, the one they aren't staring all fuck-faced into space." Lessee ordered, cold but not rude.
Zoey scoffed and heard Lessee say her cats were 'fuck-faced', "They're just cats, no need to be a complete cunt about it." Zoey scolded, folding her arms and plopping down onto Lessee's black leather couch.
Lessee snickered and grabbed her fork and box of Chinese Take-out and leaped straight onto her other couch, missing her cats with ease, "Alright, my studies show you are... An over-sensitive crybaby bitch. If you're gonna judge my parenting style, under my roof, I have the right to deny service to you, by law." Lessee sniped, disliking that the red-haired female just called her a cunt, right in front of her own babies.
Mike coughed to attract attention and break up the two female's petty catfight, "So, are there any papers we have to sign? What kind of services and sessions do you do?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his eyes to Lessee and back to Zoey.
Lessee nodded and gulped down a fork full of noodles, "Yeah, I have the papers around here somewhere.".
She stood, shuffling across the room, looking through scattered papers, looking for her folder with the papers. She began speaking to the couple,
"I do individual therapy, Marriage counciling, Group therapy, that kind of stuff." Lessee told them as she found the folder with two packets of papers.
Zoey flipped through, "Do you recommend medication? I know of someone who really needs it." Zoey asked, squinting her eyes at her husband.
Lessee nodded, "Yes, I'd recommend a depressant for you. In other words, take a damn chill pill." Lessee remarked, cradling a mewling Luckee in her arms.
Mike let out a chuckle, seeing Lessee was pushing Zoey's buttons. Soon, Lessee might drive Zoey away and Lessee would be his own personal therapist. He liked her, she was snarky, salty, and sarcastic, but she was also honest already and honesty was something the man valued and being with Zoey as of late, it was something she didn't have. First it was little things, like 'forgetting' to do vital things like take their dog out for a walk and doing the dishes when she obviously just, to put it straight, didn't want to do them out of laziness, then it started getting worse and the lies were more crushing and hurtful than the last, 'Sorry, Mike, I forgot to get the mail.', 'Sorry, Mike, I forgot to pay the water bill.', 'Sorry, Mike, I was just out because my sister's... cat... died.', 'Mike, I really do love you.'.
Mike knew after awhile he knew she was lying to him, her sister didn't have a cat because she didn't have a sister. It annoyed Mike, it angered him and frustrated him. Maybe Lessee was right, a divorce might be the option for them. Zoey finished her papers and Mike hurried to finish up his and Zoey started sneezing.
Zoey got up and stomped like a four year old throwing a tantrum because they got a Pinkie Pie doll instead of a Rainbow Dash doll for her birthday as she whined, "I don't like it here! She's a fucking dickhead and she has shitty, satanic cats. My allergies are acting up!".
Lessee clumped all of her cats together in a protective ball and cooed to them as if they were sobbing infants, "No, no, my loves. Don't listen to her. She's just ugly and mean." She muttered, lovingly to the cats as she planted a kiss on Pops's head causing him to growl.
Zoey grabbed Mike's hand and started ordering things from him, "I want to leave now! Take me home! I wanna find another therapist!" Zoey complained, still throwing a tantrum.
Mike started getting angry, before he could burst into an explosion of harsh words and spitting venom he started his statement, "You can leave, Zoey. Here are the keys," he started, jingling the keys in his hand before placing them into hers, then he continued, "You can go home, you can look for another therapist, I'm settling on Lessee.".
Lessee sat back on her couch, eating her noodles, amused by this argument happening in front of her very own eyes. She moved a mouthful of noodles into her stretchy, chipmunk pouch-esqe cheek before saying, "Wow, Mrs. Smith, you really do need a chill pill.".
Zoey heard this and with the sparks of anger igniting, all Lessee did was rub salt into the wound. She was stirring the pot just to stir the pot. Zoey burst into a rage and let out a loud, obnoxious yell before flipping Lessee's food straight onto her face and onto her chest that was covered by a wool-knit sweater dress.
Lessee rolled her eyes and gulped down her noodles, "Wow, thanks. Just another twenty dollar sweater dress that I have to toss out now. I love you, sweetheart." She monotonously said as her cats began nibbling and licking the food off her.
