"The First Session Isn't Always the Best..."
The sweaty palms of Syaoran's hand finally pushed the door opened after the inner turmoil that had just taken place in his head. He still could not believe that he was really going to do this.
He was really going to sit in a session with a psychologist. The people that he hated the most, he was going to willingly sit through listening to the bull shit to fuck a girl that he did not even know. Had he really lost his wits?
He had sworn to never cross paths with these people ever again, and he was doing it anyway. All because of his stupid infatuation with a girl who was only good for her nice tits and ass. This was not okay. It was the last thing that would be okay for him.
Even though he dreaded it, he still stepped inside the little building and immediately felt the relaxing vibe that the place had. It only made him feel more hatred for the woman.
The walls were a light grey color, which was probably the source of the relaxing vibe. It was very spacious in the room, despite the fact that it looked like a living room with its cream leather sofa, glass table, and matching chair.
His eyes stopped taking in everything in the room when he noticed no sign of the psychologist. He looked at the front desk before humming. He glanced around the room until seeing a door in one corner of the room firmly shut. She had to be in there.
Deciding that it would be best to wait, he walked over to the sofa and sat down on it. He rested his back against the couch, a bit relaxed before sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees. He crossed his legs, before un-crossing them.
How was he supposed to present himself to the psychologist? Was she expecting him to sit a certain way?
He sat back again and rested his clasped hands behind his head. Maybe he should play it cool.
He dropped his hands immediately, realizing something. If he played it cool, she might not take him serious. He wanted to be taken serious.
He paused, wondering why he had thought that. He was just here to sleep with the psychologist. He was overreacting, like he usually did with her. He only had one mission here today. Fucking her. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. Why was he making this so complicated for himself?
His leg began to bounce up and down anxiously, the more he thought about the session with the doctor. He could do this. It was going to be alright. It was—
He heard the door open, seizing all movement. He resisted the urge to turn around to the door and take a glance at the beautiful psychologist, but knew better than to.
"Xiao Lang, was it?" He heard her voice behind him, causing him to harden in his pants. Why did she have this effect on him? Why could she not be so god damn gorgeous?
He did not bother to speak, even though he had heard her loud and clear. Hearing her voice always caused his throat to feel constricted.
He could hear her heels clicking on the floor behind him and his eyes closed, having never been turned on by such a sound before.
A gasp came from in front of him and his eyes shot opened at the sound. He came face to face with her standing in front of him with one of those damn skirts on that made him want to bend at her every whim.
"Dr. Li? What are you doing here?" Sakura asked with confusion evident in her tone.
His mouth opened, ready to speak, but nothing came out. He immediately sat up and rested his elbows over his knees, attempting to cover his boner from sight. Why did he find himself hiding this problem from her all the time?
Her brows returned to normal before a relaxed look washed over her face. "You're Xiao Lang, aren't you?" she asked, almost concluding it.
He swallowed thickly and nodded his head mutely, ignoring the jab in his heard at the name.
A warming smile appeared on her lips, which he could not seem to take his eyes off before she spoke, "I should have known, shouldn't I have? Xiao Lang, Li. That name is often all over the news too, huh?"
She giggled, shaking her head before walking over to the front desk and grabbing out something Syaoran could not catch a glimpse of before she walked back over to him and sat in the chair across from him with a clipboard in her hand.
"My Chinese name is Xiao Lang, so that's why. I use it often for stuff like this," he lied, motioning to the place.
She nodded before handing him the clipboard and pen. "I need you to fill out this paperwork form before we can begin anything."
Syaoran stared at her bare legs for a moment, fantasizing about them being wrapped around him before he looked away after feeling himself hardening more. Why was it so hard for guys to control their minds...and their wandering eyes?
He slowly began to fill out the form while sheepishly peering over at the doctor after every letter he wrote down.
On doing this, he began to realize what she represented, sitting in front of him in that chair, patiently waiting.
She was going to attempt to force him to give up the thing—the act that gave him the most intense, super-stimulating sexual pleasure ever. Was he even capable of giving that up?
He let out a soft sigh. That was not what he came here for because he never needed help. He was capable of doing everything in his life alone. He did not need help.
He glanced at her again and a growing hatred began to erupt.
She was doing it on purpose again. Making him question himself, forget why he came here in the first place and actually question if he really needed help. It was all supposed to be an act just to get in her pants. But why did it seem like so much more now?
He filled the last line out on the last sheet of paper before shakily handing them back to her.
He felt his cheeks warming a bit when her smaller, pedicure hand grabbed the clipboard from him. The fluttering sensation in his stomach caused him to feel like he was in high school all over again, seeing his first crush. What was the damn woman doing to him?
He watched her stand from the chair and walked over to the front desk and he began to weigh the pros and cons of this situation.
He was finally sitting in a room alone with the woman and she would be his for the next 50 minutes or so, without any interruptions. That was two pros in one, to his knowledge. That was all he needed to be here.
Then there was the con, where he just felt tremendously ambivalence about changing his habits because she would try and convince him to. That was never what he wanted to begin with though. He just wanted to have sex with her, not get unnecessary help.
He did not need help. He never needed help. From an infant until now, he never needed help. He had everything under control, so he was not going to sit here and allow the psychologist to take that control from him. Or make him feel like a vulnerable man or whatnot. That was not Li, Syaoran.
When she returned to her seat in front of him, he noticed the clipboard in her hand.
He felt triggered, bothered by it even. What was on the clipboard? What was she going to put on the clipboard? Were those his charts?
He was tempted to snatch the clipboard from her hand and tear it into bits of pieces.
"No clipboard," he found himself saying suddenly.
"W-what?" she stammered, clearly shocked by his demand.
"No. Fucking. Clipboard," he repeated himself, trying to control his anger.
"I'm sorry, but pardon me Mr. Li?"
He glared at the clipboard as if it had done something to him.
She cautiously placed the clipboard down beside her before she turned back to him. "No clipboard…will be used, Mr. Li," she said slowly.
Syaoran let out a sigh and sat back on the couch, a bit relieved. He had this under control.
If someone asked why he snapped, he would not even be able to tell them, but he knew that the clipboard, brought dreadful feelings back to him.
The session had not even begun and he was already about to lose his wits with the doctor.
"Well, now that the clipboard is out of our way, how are you today, Mr. Li?" she asked sweetly, giving him a dazzling smile.
Why did his name sound so...scrumptious falling from her lips? He could only imagine how it would sound if she used his first name. He would probably burst in his pants instantly.
Syaoran stopped, realizing what he was thinking about. He had never given anyone permission to call him by his first name, so why was he thinking about letting the woman?
What the hell was wrong with him?
He just hated her a minute ago and now he was loving the way her voice sounded calling his name?
He could not tell if he was going crazy or not, but as long as he could hear that voice, he did not give a damn.
"I'm good," he said simply, as his eyes drifted down to her body and began undressing her.
When his eyes traveled back to her face, there was a slight blush that tainted her cheeks and he could not help but smirk at that. He could play his cards right, right now if he wanted to.
"What brings you here today?" she asked.
His eyes shifted from her clothed breast back to her eyes. How was he supposed to respond to that? He had not thought that she would ask that.
Of course, she would, but he did not think about that question before he walked through that door this morning. His fists clenched, thinking what he could possibly—no, how he could tell her what brought him here without sounding like a creepy, perverted man.
His palms began to feel sweaty again as his fingers dug deeper into his palm. Sensing her eyes on him, he glanced up at her again to see her patiently waiting for him to respond.
"I..." he paused and took a deep breath. "I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"I see. Can you tell me why you made the appointment then?" she asked, still having an air of patience around her.
"I…I wanted to see you and…"
Fuck you.
She remained quiet, waiting for him to talk.
Seconds, even minutes ticked between them, but neither of them still spoke.
He knew that she was waiting for him to open up, but he could not bring himself to. He did not know what was happening. He had a solid plan before he even walked through that door this morning, yet here he was, raining free money down on her for him to keep his mouth shut.
He took one last breath before looking at her. "I've been having these...these thoughts..." he finally spoke.
"What kind of thoughts?" she asked, clasping her fingers together in her lap, making him imagine her fingers clasped around something else.
His eyes darkened, looking at her heatedly. Whenever she was around, he could never stop the lude thoughts from coming about the doctor sitting in front of him with her legs crossed at the ankle, patiently waiting for him.
Why could she not just open her legs for him and stop making it so hard for him? She could just make it simple by slowly unbuttoning her red, buttoned down top that was tucked into her black, pencil skirt. It would have been so simple...
She was so fucking close to him too. All he had to do was reach over and grab her, but she was making it hard on him. She was making him hard.
His eyes shifted from her skirt to her face again, deciding that he had wasted enough time fantasizing.
"Sex."
Sakura looked at him with a straight face and nodded her head slowly. "Sex is a normal activity that a lot of people think about and often engage in."
"An…excessive...amount of sex..." he said, almost sounding strangled.
"Does thinking about this act cause a negative or positive feeling?"
"It's...great, but then..." he stopped, not wanting to tell her how he felt bad about it sometimes.
She seemed to know that he would not answer, so she moved on. "I see. How often is it?"
Syaoran looked at her and began to think about all the erotic images he had been thinking about doing to her almost every second of the day since he met her but heard a throat being cleared.
He felt his cheeks warm a bit, feeling ashamed. He was not going to answer that.
They sat quiet for a moment before she let out a soft sigh, that sounded like she knew he would not answer that either.
"When did this begin?" she asked instead.
When had this started? He had never thought about that because he just remembered...it happening. But when?
"Middle school, so thirteen," he said after thinking about the first time he had sex. The amount of sex he thought about was excessive before that too, but she did not have to know that.
She nodded her head slowly. "Have you been engaging in sexual activities since you were 13?"
"That was the age I…first had sex, so yes."
"Why did you decide that you want to get help now?"
His fists clenched, hearing that question. "I don't need help."
"Why did you make an appointment then?" she asked softly.
Syaoran closed his eyes and let out another fresh breath of air that he had been withholding. "I wanted to see you," he said truthfully.
"Why did you choose to want to see me now, rather than a few months ago? This seems to have been a problem for years and—"
"It's not a fucking problem!" he barked at her, causing her to become silent. "It's not a fucking problem, but I wanted to see you today."
"Because of the excessive amount of sex, you always think about," she concluded.
"Yes," he slipped up.
"And it's not a problem."
"No, it's not. Now stop fucking questioning me about whether or not it's a problem or not," he snapped.
He was being irrational, he knew that, but the psychologist was getting on his damn nerves trying to tell him that he had a problem when he did not.
"Alright, Mr. Li."
She remained silent and he began to grow furious with her silence.
It was her job to do all the talking. She was supposed to be the one giving him advice on how he can stop having these "excessive" amount of thoughts about sex. Why the hell was she being silent?
"Talk. Isn't that your job? Isn't that why I'm paying you?"
She had him on edge about everything now. She should have never said that he had a problem when she knew shit.
"Mr. Li, I can't talk if you are not willing to communicate back with me," she said calmly.
His eyes closed, loving the way his name sounded on her lips, calming him down a bit. He nodded his head, giving her the signal to carry on. He was definitely being irrational.
"Do you engage in these thoughts excessively too?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"Whenever the chance is placed in front of me or if I find the time," he said.
"Is the urge uncontrollable?"
"Y—" he stopped and thought about it.
He could control himself if he wanted to. Maybe not his thoughts, but who could control their thoughts? Besides, he chose to give in to the urges. Not because the urges controlled him.
"I have complete control over myself."
"Does this interfere with your life? Your job, friends, family..."
Deciding that honesty was the best solution and the quickest way to get the talk over with, he shook his head. "I'm always sure that the job gets done. I would never let anything like this ruin the life of a patient I operate on. Lately, the thoughts have been distracting me...a lot."
"Does that make you feel in control?"
His fists clenched harder, wanting to hit something—preferably a wall to destroy it. These questions were going to be the death of him if she did not stop.
"I don't know."
"Well, what about your friends?"
He shrugged, "I don't have time for friends."
"Your family then?"
His fists clenched and he let out a sigh. "Don't bring them into this. I know what you're trying to do," he shook his head unbelievably and inhaled. " It's all the same with you damn psychologists. You're going to try and dig into my past to see if my childhood has anything to do with my behavior today. I'm going to tell you this now though. My family has nothing to do with my actions today. I make decisions based off my own choices. Leave them out of it, stupid bitch."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he held a hand up, silencing her. "I'm just here to talk to someone about it. I don't need help, but it has been bothering me lately and I don't want to be in the ER thinking about fucking y—" he paused and closed his eyes. "Women..."
"I-I understand. When I said family, I meant a wife, or even a girlfriend, and maybe kids, if you have any."
He stared at the wall across the room from him for a minute, deep in thought about his assumption. He swallowed. "No wife, girlfriend, or kids. It's just me and...my fantasies."
"What kind of fantasies are they?"
His eyes landed on her and he felt himself hardening at that question. "They're..." his eyes travelled down her body slowly again and there it was again.
She was naked before him, letting him take control of the situation. She was letting him have his way with her body as he wanted to. He could never tell her that though. It would scare her off and she would end the session immediately.
He was willing to take his chances to fuck her while he could now though.
"This," he motioned between them and the room.
"P-pardon me?" She looked a bit bewildered.
"Situations like this..." he said huskily.
He glanced down at her bare arms to see goosebumps forming on them and held back the smirk that was trying to force its way on his lips.
"You...being in control of this situation, but letting me take control because that's what I'm best at. I've always been in control in every aspect of my entire life. When I eat, what I eat, who I associate myself with, who my partners in bed are, my job occupation...everything. And when someone takes that control from me...then allow me to have it back...it drives me insane."
"M-Mr. Li—"
"You're doing that right now and it's making me want to take you on this couch so hard and..." He closed his eyes after seeing her cheeks turn a bright red.
He was never one to force a woman into sex, but the way she was looking at him now made it almost impossible not to beg her to let him fuck her.
"Not just on this couch, but anywhere. Right now, I'd want to fuck you anywhere...especially when we were in that elevator...shit..." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Dr. Kinomoto, you don't understand how hard it was not to take you in that elevator. Shit..." He shifted on the leather couch uncomfortably and sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees.
Sakura cleared her throat and bit her lip lightly before letting it go. "H-have you ever had thoughts about taking someone against their own will?"
His face dropped and he glared at her, not believing she had just asked that. "Hell no. I would never—why would you even ask such a thing? Just, no, don't even answer that. I would never—" he scoffed, letting it sink in more and his anger only increased.
"Do you think I would do something like that?"
"Mr. Li, I am glad to hear that you have not even thought about it, but it was just a question. I'm sorry if I offended you in any kind of way. But there were no implications."
He took another deep breath and let it go. "This is...really hard for me, okay? I've never...I would never do anything like this—talk to a shitty therapist about my sex life, or anything, okay? I just figured...I need someone to talk to about it because it's been very distracting lately and I need advice on how to stop it."
"The thoughts or the act?"
"The—" he paused, wondering which one he was talking about now.
He did not even know why he was telling her all this. His intentions to come here today had taken a huge turn because he was doing much more than he was supposed to.
He was just supposed to seduce her, fuck her, then leave. Everything had changed the moment he sat on this leather couch and she started asking him all these personal questions about himself. She was actually making him think about the problem for once.
Problem? When had sex become a problem for him?
Here he was again, trying to switch up on himself. He had no problem. She was fucking with his head like he suspected she would and he was letting her. She was being a manipulative bitch.
Feeling angry with her, but mostly himself, he stood from the couch abruptly, causing her to flinch back in the chair.
He reached over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her up from the chair. He dragged her from around the table to him and pushed her down on the couch underneath him roughly.
Before she could respond or protest, his lips crashed down on top of hers bruisingly, but his hand moved up to cup her cheek gently, contradicting his lips assaulting hers. He moved his lips against hers in the tight lip lock, taking each breath, she tried breathing. Almost immediately, he swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, tasting her.
Strawberry, with a mix of her taste. It was amazing. Phenomenal even.
One swipe was not enough for him, so he licked again before suckling on her lip, tasting the flavored lipstick on her lips. It was addicting. He was not sure if it was the taste or the texture of her lips. He did not care one bit though, he finally had her lips between his.
He gently nipped at her lip as his hand moved down to her chin and tugged on it, asking for entrance.
She never complied, but her hands moved up to his shoulders, causing his lips to become more demanding, crushing hers with the passion he felt for her.
He knew her lips would be bruised, but he could not bring himself to stop assaulting them. She was not pushing him away, so that impelled him to do even more.
He pressed his erection against her, letting her feel the affect she was having on him before pulling his lips away from hers when needing to breathe. He looked down at her lustfully as he tried catching his breath.
She looked even more desirable, looking up at him shocked, but thoroughly kissed.
He leaned down and kissed her one last time gently before regretfully pulling away from her.
"When can I see you again? Another session?"
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He reached in the back of his pocket and grabbed out his wallet. He took out more than enough money and placed it on the table.
"I want another session. I want...this...to be fixed. I can't..." he leaned down and attempted to close the gap between their lips again, but she turned her head away.
"We can't do this, Mr. Li," she said finally finding her voice.
"When can we have another session?" he asked, ignoring her.
"I-I don't know—I'm not sure. I'd have to check, but this can't happen again."
Syaoran's fists clenched, feeling a bit rejected. He thought that feeling was gone, but here it was, presenting itself to him again. He would not allow it. He moved off her, allowing her to sit up.
"Check."
Sakura stood from the couch, having to catch her balance as she stumbled over to the desk and began to rummage through papers clumsily.
She was nervous. He could tell and he was thrilled by it. She felt something for him. He did not know what, but there was something there, going off the fact that she did not push him away.
"U-uhh...the next two weeks—"
"Two fucking weeks? You're making me wait two weeks just so you can talk to me again?"
She remained quiet and he could see her eyes watering a bit. "Mr. Li, if you didn't need any help, why did you come here today?"
"I already told you. Don't you listen? Isn't that what you psychologists are good for? Sitting on your lazy asses while listening to people pour their hearts out? Can't you at least try to pretend to be good at that?"
He scoffed before she could respond and stood from the couch. "Just...put me down for whenever I can come in again."
"The 5th. I-I will let you know if anything changes in advance."
Deciding not to respond to that, he stormed out of the building, feeling worse than he had before he walked in this morning.
This was definitely not a good idea.
Sakura slipped her shoes off and placed them in the foyer closet of her apartment. She walked to her living room and collapsed on the couch, resting her arm over her eyes, blocking the bright light from her eyes after she placed her purse down on the floor.
She was more than tired. She was exhausted and wanted to just fall over and sleep the rest of her life away.
Today was one of those days. Definitely one of those days where she wanted to be swallowed in a black hole.
She could not believe that Li Syaoran had showed up at her office today. The Li Syaoran. The same one she had been admiring for so many years now.
She had never heard anything about the man having a problem, despite the many articles that were written about him. He was like a hero in the town. Everyone knew and admired him, including herself. It was almost impossible not to admire the man.
He had graduated from high school at twelve and received his degree before the age of fifteen. Right afterwards, he went straight to medical school and got out just as fast as he got in. The man never stopped pushing and it was almost hard not to feel inspired by him.
She knew that perfect people did not exist, but she had always thought that he was the one-person close to being perfect, especially with the way he acted during all those interviews and banquet parties held on his behalf on TV. He was the perfect gentleman. The picture-perfect guy, even.
She still could not believe that he had been the one to tend to her sprained ankle.
He had touched her and she was too focused on her pain to even realize who the doctor was. He even flirted with her and she did not even know that it was him. How could she behave so stupidly in front of him?
When she had found out who he was, her heart had never beat so fast against her chest that she was afraid that she would have had a heart attack and died. It was the most amazing feeling she had ever felt though.
The man had actually acknowledged her existence. She had never been so happy before at that moment she found out that he was the Li Syaoran. In that elevator, alone with him.
But then today had to happen. He had to be the one who nearly made her cry. The rude, inconsiderate patient who made her feel less of a person.
She had never cried, nor felt tears come to her eyes because of a patient's behavior and she had more than a handful of rude, nasty patients. It was just something about Li Syaoran as her patient behaving in an inconsiderate manner to her. He was the one that she looked up to, her hero, her example of a close to perfect guy. Had she been wrong all these years about the man?
The media never displayed anything crucially negative about the man and they watched his every move. They knew almost everything about the man, so how could they have missed this? The bitter, angry side of him.
She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She could not blame him one bit for his rude behavior though. From the very first question she asked him, she had picked up on his behavior. It was not intentional, but she was a psychologist. He hated psychologist for sure, but there was much more to it.
He was a bitter man in denial to his own problems. He had openly admitted that he was addicted to sex, but refused to acknowledge it as a problem. He had really believed that he did not have a problem despite the fact that he admitted it to her indirectly!
He had only further proved her point when...
When he grabbed her like that and kissed her like he had been longing to do it for so long. She could not even register any of it happening, so she did not even try to stop his assaults on her lips. It was so wrong, yet she did not even put a stop to it.
She had felt his pent-up frustrations in the kiss. His anger from God knows what, but she felt it. The man was bitter, angry, and hated whatever he was feeling.
Even though she picked up on his emotions, she had felt guilty because she had liked it, even though it was barely a proper kiss.
Her hand moved up to her lips and caressed them, still feeling the ache on them.
He had been so angry with her like she had done something to him—or caused the problem that he had.
At the hospital was the first time that she had met the man, so why was he treating her like she had triggered the problem? He had said that it was a problem since he turned 13—when he first had sex. She treated him with nothing but kindness the moment she had met him, so why?
She could admit that asking him that question was stupid, but the way they were going, she was sure that he would not give her that answer if it were true. She needed to know what triggered him and what made him uncomfortable. She had started to think that she went wrong with the last few questions that she had asked. Especially when he had started talking about taking her on the couch. Her suspicions had only rose even more about him taking women against their will. Luckily, it had not been one of his secret fantasies.
She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat up at the thought of the man talking to her like that.
She was being terrible, she could admit. He was only telling her the kind of fantasies that he had, but she was secretly enjoying.
She could not have felt guiltier than she had at that moment. He just had to use her in the scenario of his fantasies, which was not okay.
She should have told him that, but hearing him talk in that sexy voice prevented her from chastising him about the issue. So, instead of addressing that problem, she had moved on to the next question to figure out what the real problem was.
She had many patients with this addiction, but most of them were able to tell her a solid, spot on problem. Like masturbation, pornography, exhibition, or even the unusual fantasies that they had and felt ashamed of.
Li Syaoran did not even seem ashamed of his problem, so it was hard to tell what his problem was.
It only made her wonder if he truly did have a problem.
He had to have though, because why else would he decide to come and get help?
He had only answered a few questions that she was able to draw conclusions about, but not enough to help him solve the problem.
It was quite clear that the man was indeed addicted to sex, but he appeared to have no shame for it. Most people addicted to sex had feelings of shame, confusion, and despair, but he did not seem to have any of that.
He was more in denial than any of those emotions. Denial was what he should have been feeling before he even set up the appointment with her, but it was backwards. He was in denial during the entire session, which brought up the same question again.
Why did he make the appointment if he did not think that it was a problem?
He did not provide enough information for her to answer that and it made her slightly annoyed, but curious simultaneously. Curious enough to have let him set up an appointment, despite him trying to break the rules of the no doctor/patient relationship.
She wanted to help him. This was the exact reason she chose this path. To help people overcome the obstacles that they faced in life. But the man was making it so hard to help him. She had to do this for him though.
For starters, she wanted to help him realize that he does have a problem. She would just have to use a different method of therapy with the man that she did not have to normally use, but she would. She had to do this.
Being reminded about that caused a new motivation for her to hop off on. She was going to help him, help himself. It sounded crazy, but that was the way she had always viewed her occupation. She led people in the direction to finding ways to cope with their problems.
Knowing that he had a problem made her feel obligated to help him. And she would.
There was a distinct sound of her phone ringing soon after her thoughts, causing her to groan in protest. Nevertheless, she lifted herself from the couch and reached over on the floor for her purse. She grabbed her phone out of her bag and looked at the caller.
Tomoyo.
"Moshi moshi?"
"Get ready and grab your purse! I'll be outside in 20 minutes," she heard her best friend over the phone chorus.
"Tomoyo, are you seriously going to drag me out in the middle of the week?"
"You need this, honey. It's been a long day for both of us. I'm going to be there in a few minutes, now get dressed!"
Before Sakura could respond, she had already hung up the phone.
Sakura groaned and stood from the couch and headed to her room, already knowing that her best friend would not take no for an answer.
She took a quick shower and slipped on a cute, simple halter crop top and dark skinny jeans.
Just as her best friend promised, she was outside waiting for Sakura to come out 20 minutes later.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Sakura said, holding the phone up on her ear with her shoulder while slipping her sandals on.
"Hurry your tail up if you want to get in for free!" her friend yelled in the phone.
Sakura rolled her eyes exasperated before hanging the phone up. It was like her best friend to pester her about this kind of stuff.
They had been best friends since they were 10 when they met in fourth grade and Tomoyo still had not changed one bit.
Sakura pushed her door open and walked out of the apartment, not forgetting to lock the door behind her. She walked down the stairs and saw her best friend's car parked.
She caught a glimpse of Tomoyo's face and held back the giggle that almost escaped her lips. She had looked a bit furious.
"About time!" Tomoyo said the moment Sakura slipped in the car, buckling up her seat belt.
"You didn't even give me enough time to get ready. You called a few minutes after I had gotten home too, so cut me a little slack, please?"
Sakura turned to her and smiled. "You look hot, you know," she complimented her best friend, hoping to calm her down a bit.
Besides, it was not a lie. She really did look hot with all her dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail with that black halter dress on.
"Oh, stop it. You're just trying to distract me," Tomoyo said with a huge grin on her face.
"It's true! I feel like I'm underdressed now."
Tomoyo cranked the car up and pulled out. "You look more than hot Sakura and you know it."
Sakura giggled, shaking her head. It was typical for her friend to try and boost her confidence.
"So, tell me all about your day," Tomoyo said while keeping her eyes glued to the road.
Sakura began to tell her about her day, leaving out the details of the session with Syaoran, not sure if it would be a good idea to tell. She had told her earlier about a patient being rude, but knew better than to give away names. That was confidential information, even from her best friend.
They arrived at the club, only five minutes after talking about their day. They both got out the car and was making their way to the entrance line.
"By the way, where's Eriol? He let you out on your own for once?" Sakura teased.
Tomoyo giggled and tapped Sakura's bare shoulder lightly. "Oh, stop it. He had a ton of work that he had to get done before the night was out."
"Oh yeah, how is that going? The new advertisements?" Sakura asked, showing the man at the entrance her id when they finally reached the door. She was cursed with the, 'look too young for your age' syndrome.
"Great! They're getting tons of more customers buying the new products, so that's why he has so much work to do."
They walked in as their voices were drowned out by the loud music in the club. The club was dark, but there were blue lights that provided a bit of a visual view of all the people on the dance floor.
"You said that Naoko would meet us here, right?" Sakura asked over the loud music.
"Right! Come on, she should be where the bar is, if she is here." Tomoyo grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction where the bar would be.
It was a little less quiet in the bar section, but the music could still be heard.
"It's on you tonight since you dragged me out with you." Sakura stuck her tongue out at Tomoyo playfully.
"Fine, but only this one time. Don't get too spoiled."
Sakura giggled and sat on the bar stool, following suit after Tomoyo.
"Can I get a margarita, please?" Sakura asked the fairly attractive bartender, grinning from ear to ear at him.
He smiled at her before he nodded and turned to Tomoyo.
"Mai Tai," Tomoyo requested.
He nodded and turned to get their drinks ready for them.
"You know, flirting could make neither of us pay tonight. Smooth Sakura."
Sakura gasped dramatically and placed a hand over her chest pathetically. "Me? Flirting to get a free drink? I would never!" She giggled and shrugged her shoulders.
"Right, keep it up and we'll be getting free drinks all night." Tomoyo winked at her playfully.
"Oh, you can't do the dirty work since you're taken, so you'll put it on me?" Sakura raised a brow at Tomoyo, giving her a pointed look.
Tomoyo shrugged and nodded her head, laughing. "I have to find new resources somehow."
"I pity you taken women," Sakura said dramatically.
Tomoyo giggled and shook her head good-heartedly.
"Here are your drinks, ladies. Let's say the first one's on me." He looked at Sakura and winked, causing her to blush slightly.
Tomoyo laughed and grabbed her own drink, taking a sip of it.
Sakura took a sip from her glass and smiled shyly. "Thank you, kind sir."
"What time is Naoko planning to get here?" she asked when turning to Tomoyo.
Taking a sip from her drink, Tomoyo shrugged. "I have no clue. I told her that you had a bad day and needed to have a little fun tonight, then she told me that she'd come out too with us."
Sakura hummed and took a sip from her glass. "Well, looks like we'll be having a bit of fun without her."
Tomoyo laughed, giving her a knowing look before taking a larger gulp from her drink. "Right."
"Free shots for the first round," the bartender chimed in, seeming to have been listening in on their conversation.
They smiled and nodded their heads before picking up the small, shot glasses and downing them.
Sakura cringed before letting out a loud sound of protest from the burning, disgusting taste.
The bartender and Tomoyo laughed at her reaction and that was how the night went from there.
More light flirting rewarded later with two shots and one more glass of alcohol had Sakura feeling a bit tipsy, but fully aware of her surroundings.
"I think we've had enough to go on the dance floor and embarrass ourselves now." Tomoyo smiled at the bartender kindly who was clearly smitten with Sakura and all her flirting.
He chuckled and nodded, motioning for Sakura to go have some fun.
Feeling a bit more confident in herself, she winked at him before sliding off the stool.
She turned around, getting ready to walk towards the dance floor with Tomoyo.
She halted in her tracks when she was staring into a pair of piercing, amber eyes of the last person she had wanted to see tonight across the room.
Was the man trying to torture her?
A/N: Thank you guys for the reviews, follows, and alerts! I hope that some of your questions were answered in this chapter. I am sorry for the late update though, but I hope this chapter was satisfying enough for you guys. I will go back later and recheck for any grammatical errors or awkward, rushed moments in the story lol.
Please drop a review and let me know what you guys are thinking of the story so far! It would make me feel a little bit better about my writing and line of vision I have for this story! :D
Ja ne!