'Marriage' Counseling

Jezabel Vessir sits in a dim coffee shop when Bunny Colby steps inside. One look at her and Jezabel locks up, heat crawling up her neck. She can’t drag her eyes away. From the counter Bunny tells the barista she works as a counselor, and the words hit Jezabel like a spark. She glances down just long enough for Bunny to look back, her gaze sliding over Jezabel’s body, but Jezabel misses it. Jezabel wipes her palms on her jeans and pushes up from the table. She blurts that she’s desperate for a session. Bunny gives her name, then adds that her specialty is marriage counseling. Jezabel hesitates half a beat, then lies—she’s hitched, she claims, marriage on the rocks. They set the date. Three days later she’s in Bunny’s office, spinning a story that’s full of holes. Bunny listens, head tilted, eyes narrowing, until she calls bullshit. Jezabel stops mid-sentence, then confesses: she made the whole thing up. Bunny leans in. “I was staring at you in the café too,” she says, voice low. “Was going to ask for your number until you walked over playing patient.” The air snaps tight. They meet in a hard, open-mouthed kiss, tongues sliding, hands already under fabric. No excuses left to hide behind—just skin, breath, and the low creak of the couch taking their weight.