The Doctor invited Mila in and she perched on an ivory coloured chaise lounge, picked out by his wife, no doubt; this simply wasn't a man's taste. She raised her voice and called into the kitchen where he was pouring her water.
'Dr. Lecter,' She cleared her throat 'your wife has exquisite taste in furniture.'
'Thank you Miss Alkaev, though I do not have a wife. I choose all of the furniture for my home and reupholster it to suit my palate.' He handed her the glass. Dr. Lecter's choice of phrase was questionable but only Mila's subconscious picked up on that. Her mind was too busy wandering the well-trodden path of seduction and how to apply it to this circumstance. That, however, abruptly halted as Mila felt Dr. Lecter observing her as she took a sip of the ice cold water. Understandably a girl of her Kite-esque nature believed him to be taking note of her satisfaction. Understandably a man of his private, second profession –one very few people had come to discover – he was closely watching her neck, imagining her trachea gently pulsing between sips. Lecter found himself becoming too engaged and resumed focus in the present moment. This one was not for consumption. Lean, she may have been, but the inherent desire he usually felt for making a meal was lacking.

'Please, take a seat,' He hummed restfully. 'And be so good as to explain why you have presented yourself to me with such urgency.' Mila looked up at the artisanal ceiling of his office and pursed her lips.
'You know? I'm not even sure any more.'
'You insinuate that there was a point where you were sure, Miss Alkaev.'
'Call me Mila,' she purred. 'And yes, maybe there was.' Hannibal Lecter paid attention to everything: Every vocal inflection, each blink of an eye, people's nervous habits, and their not-so-nervous habits. He did, however, practise the art of ignorance, and chose to dismiss the youngster's evident attraction to him.
'Yes, doctor, but I'm not so sure that it's what I want to discuss with you anymore.'
'Oh no?.' He urged her to continue.
'My matter of urgency is one I feel you personally could help me with. We've only just met, but my intuition tells me that you're the man for the job. I'm lonely, Doctor Lecter, is there anything you can do for me?'
'I beg your pardon, Miss Alkaev, but psychologists aren't known for their ability to ease the sense of loneliness.' His voice was monotonous and he didn't once avert eye contact.
'I told you, you can call me Mila.'
'And I have chosen not to.' Despite his lack of willing to ease up, Mila could see herself making love to this man. It was just a matter of time.

Doctor Lecter asked Mila for a brief medical history and information on her upbringing; All standard procedure, he assured her, and she was more than happy to oblige. No less than forty-five minutes had passed before Mila felt she had covered everything, and it had been long since the doctor had taken notes, or pressed her to continue. She had made no progression as far as intimacy was concerned, but still her focus was on Hannibal. She wondered whether there would come a time when he allowed her to use his first name.
'Thank you for opening up to me today, Miss Alkaev. I look forward to seeing you a week today. As I said previously, the direct debit payments won't be necessary, I don't feel we will need many more sessions before we both have what we want.' As they walked to the door, Mila smiled to herself. That sounded more like what she was used to.
'If you insist, doctor. I'll see you next week.'

All week long had been torture. Mila had paid extra attention to her studies, purchased Sudoku books, taken up crocheting; anything to ease her mind off how every hour of every day was seemingly being dragged out. None of it was any use. Lecter's silky voice echoed through her mind and sent quivers through the fibres of her being. Each moment spent on distractions led to a thousand more fantasising. It wasn't ordinarily like this. College boys woke up each morning with smiles plastered across their faces, reminiscing about lewd dreams from the night before. They obsessed over her, not the other way round. Infatuation wasn't something Mila was familiar with and it left her ill at ease. She wasn't simply pursuing a night of pleasure, she longed to wake up to Hannibal in the morning, kissing her passionately, making her breakfast. Yearningly she imagined pandering to his every need; each benign desire would bring her crashing to her knees. With any luck, her natural charms had persuaded the older man and he would be lusting after Mila in return, but she had no way of knowing.

Presenting herself subtly was tormenting Mila. The day of her appointment came around so suddenly in comparison to the drag of each day prior and she felt overdressed in the taxi on the way to Doctor Lecter's house. Two hours before the session had seemed like the right time to get ready – she couldn't have waited any longer. Mila opted to avoid her push-up bras, if the session were going to end the way she wanted it to, Doctor Lecter would be analysing every inch of her body, and she wanted him to be under absolutely no illusion. The underwear she settled with was lacy, an expensive brand she hoped the Doctor would appreciate. Dressing to impress was an altogether new experience - hoping someone would be impressed rather than assuming they would be required a lot of thought and effort. Mila applied her makeup minimally with the exception of her eyes which she delicately dusted with a smoky bronze, accentuating her natural beauty. The day before she had been practising an alluring gaze in front of the mirror and was confident that she could dig her claws into the Doctor. Her clothing choices were somewhat rushed, resulting in a more formal appearance than she originally intended to exhibition. She sported a lustrous, navy dress that was appropriate for evening events, but for all the psychologist knew, she could have been attending one immediately after their session. In the back of her mind Mila had been speculating, 'Who knows, maybe Doctor Lecter will jump the gun and invite me to dinner?' She thought to herself, and grinned.

The taxi pulled up before Doctor Lector's home-cum-office and after a final ruffle of her thick reddish curls, she paid the driver and approached the door.

When Hannibal opened the door, he was stunned to see his young client like a peacock displaying her plumage, perched on his doorstep showily, a slightly artful grin painted onto her lips.
'How pleasant to see you again. Do come in, Mila.'