Yes, Chef

Chapter 3: You're Late

He picked Thursday before dinner service. He had the nerve to tell me I needed a cooling down period before seeing him again. Turns out Chef could dish it out, but couldn't take it himself. Typical.

I also met the death glare of Hillary as I exited that night. I stopped feeling sorry for her in that moment. I'm all for female solidarity in the face of being used and abused by men but not if she's going to hate on me for existing in his proximity. Have some self-respect, chicky.

Maybe I do need a cooling down period.

I don't know whether it's me being burnt-out, his attitude, my impending departure from the field, or the combination of it all. I definitely pushed some of my professional boundaries. Usually something like that would make me pause but I oddly feel energized by our interactions. Maybe because I'm getting somewhere with him already, even though he insists that wasn't a session. I still gleaned important information that I'll be using going forward.

I try to talk it out with my exercise partner, Joellen. Without identifiers of course because I haven't lost all my ethical underpinnings.

"So what you're not...saying... is whether this client is hot. Because...I've got a feeling...that's the kicker." She states as she slows her pace on the elliptical and gulps in air.

"Get the hell out of here! Where did you pull that bullshit observation from?" I argue as I push through my cramping legs on the stairclimber.

"First off, more than half of them are athletes so at the very least they're f-ing ripped! Odds are in my favor there. Second, whatever he looks like, he's got you twisted! Which is hysterical, by the way!" She grins at me, her sweaty bangs hanging over her sweatband in her face.

I school my face. I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing that I do in fact find Benedict to be a snack. Eye candy. Appetizing. Yummy. But also... forbidden fruit.

"No fucking way! I'm right! Mads, you are going out with a bang! Maybe even literally!" Joellen cackles loudly.

"Shhh! Shut it! It's not...it's not like that!" I protest as I slam the stop button on my machine.

"But you want it to be!" She antagonizes.

"No. I want him to take this seriously. I can't do that if I'm ogling him. Plus, that's a whole lot of ethical red tape." I shudder remembering the countless trainings I've had on not breaking that sacred boundary between counselor and patient.

"But you're literally on your way out. Like doesn't your license expire in like a week or something?" She drops her voice thankfully. I'm not that close up on the deadline but it doesn't matter anyway. License or not, I can't forego my ethics. And believe me, I've been tempted. Athletes in particular have no shame in showcasing their assets.

"Oh my God, you're thinking about him right now!" She squeals.

I roll my eyes. I actually need to get going or I'm going to be late for our "first" session. I sure hope he's ready to work today. I also hope that I don't have to be under Hillary's scrutinizing eye. It's not my fault he sees her as the equivalent to a bouncy house. Fun to mess around in but easy to tire of.

"And you're not denying it so it's true! If I guess who he is can you like cough or double blink or something?" She begs.

"I'm going to shower, Jo. I feel dirty after being pegged as the unethical seductress of the coaching world." I bid her farewell.

"You're going to need a better tagline than that!" She scoffs. "Meet again, Friday?"

"I don't know. I might be sore from my counseling session tonight." I joke to fit her narrative of me.