Donna and Alexei

This book is co-written with thatsso-random

Warning: Mentions of sexual assault

DONNA’S P.O.V

I hate men.

No. Let me rephrase.

I hate men right now. Or more specifically, I hate the men around me.

I sat in front of my boss, the owner of the law firm I worked for, trying hard not to lose my temper as he continued to speak about how ‘angry’ I was and how my ‘nasty attitude’ was ‘affecting the workplace’. I wanted to point out that my attitude wasn’t nearly as nasty as the piece of meat wedged between his two front teeth; a result of not using a toothpick after he finished his lunch. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and my hands clenched into fists by my sides as he continued to drawl on and on about my ‘lack of anger management skills’.

“Splashing a colleague with water is highly inappropriate and incredibly childish,” He said. “I understand that you are one of the best lawyers I have but that doesn’t give you a right to treat others so rudely.”

I wasn’t ‘one of the best’, I was the best. I hadn’t lost a case in the three years since I joined the firm but I made no effort to point that out as I let him finish his little lecture.

“You’re lucky John chose not to press charges,” He referred to the guy I had splashed with a face full of cold water from the dispenser. “-but disciplinary actions must be taken and I think this would be good for you.”

He reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a business card before sliding it over to me.

It contained the contact details of a ‘Dr Alexei Zaytsev’. A therapist.

“He’s a very good therapist and his services will be paid for by the firm,” Mr Adler continued to speak and the piece of meat between his teeth continued to bother me but not nearly as much as those wily, green eyes did. “It would be nice for you to get rid of some of the baggage you seem to be carrying. You might learn a lot about yourself. Heck, maybe you’ll even learn to smile.”

If that was meant to be a joke, I didn’t find it amusing nor did I bother to laugh along with him.

“John deserved to be splashed with water,” I said, speaking for the first time since I’d entered the office.

Mr Adler raised a brow, “And why’s that?”

“Because he smacked my ass as I was walking past him.”

In front of people, nonetheless. He was lucky I didn’t break his jaw. In fact, all the guys who had laughed were lucky I didn’t go ahead and splash water on their faces as well.

“He told me that it was an accident,” My boss said, obviously siding with the male colleague he had been working with for about a decade. “He said you were passing by and his hand slipped.”

“And you believed that?” I scoffed humourlessly and got up to stand before he could answer. “Is that all?” I asked, staring him down until he shifted uncomfortably in his thick armchair.

“Yes,” He said.

I took the business card with the therapist’s number on it and left Mr Adler’s office, making sure to passive-aggressively slam the door shut behind me as I did.

I made my way over to my own office but paused when somebody whistled as I passed by. John and two other male colleagues named Liam and Nathan were sitting on a couch nearby, finishing up their lunch.

“How was the meeting?” John asked, clearly taunting me.

I flipped him off and continued to walk.

“Being a feminist doesn’t mean you have to be a total fucking bitch!” The one called Liam shouted they all laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world.

I ignored them and got to my office before sinking down on my chair, suddenly feeling too disgusted to eat lunch. I glanced down at the small card in my hand with a sigh.

I wondered if Dr Zaytsev had a solution for dealing with a workplace full of egotistical, misogynistic men. I doubted that he did but I supposed it was worth a shot.

There was a loud knock on my door, followed by John’s annoying voice.

“Yo, Corriza! Are you crying in there?! You know we were just joking!”

When I didn’t answer he began to curse at me.

“Fine! Keep being a stuck-up bitch! No one gives a shit!”

I really fucking hate men.

*

Alexei Zaytsev’s office wasn’t what I expected. I had never been to a therapist before but for some reason, I was expecting a lot of grey and white furniture, kind of like a hospital. However, that is not what I walked into.

After seeing the receptionist and telling her my name, she told me to go all the way to the top floor of the 20-floor building. There was only one door there so I knocked on it after I stepped out of the elevator.

“Come in!” A soft male voice shouted from inside the room.

I pushed the door open and entered the space before shutting the door behind me. The first thing I noticed was how bright everything was with furniture of different shapes and colours that didn’t quite make sense but somehow worked well. For example; there was a red armchair couch that sat across from a bright, yellow lounge couch with a baby blue carpet in between them and a white coffee table on top of that carpet.

There was also art on the back wall; lots of it. Most of it was colourful, abstract stuff; the kind of stuff I usually hated but it suited this room. In fact, I could even say it looked nice. In one corner of the room, I noticed a see-through mini-fridge that contained all sorts of non-alcoholic beverages. Beside it was a small snack bar with chip packets, chocolates, candy and granola bars.

The left wall had a door attached to it which I assumed was the bathroom and, a couple of feet behind the couch, there was a massive ball pit, but instead of balls, it was filled with different kinds of stuffed animals. I spotted a massive giraffe one that I wanted to take home but I shook the thought away and glanced over at the massive windows that took up the entirety of the right wall. The view of the city was gorgeous from up here and one of the windows stood slightly open, letting in a lovely breeze.

But I didn’t come here for the sights or the breeze or the colourful furniture. I had come for a therapy session but I didn’t see my therapist anywhere in the vast, open space.

“Dr Zaytsev?!” I called for him, wondering if he might be in the bathroom.

“Here!” A voice called from within the same room and I frowned, wondering if the man might be invisible. However, a shift in the stuffed animals convinced me otherwise. And, after a few seconds, Dr Alexei Zaytsev was jumping out from underneath the large giraffe. “I’m here!”

He climbed out of the pit with his hair all over his face and I was certain he could barely see me. He shoved his phone into the pocket of his brown slacks and tried to adjust the white sweater he wore as it slipped off his shoulder, looking a tad too big.

“Sorry. I had lost my phone in the pit,” He approached me as he tried to move his hair out of his face but the long, jet-black strands just wouldn’t cooperate. “Oh-where did I put my hairband?” He grumbled to himself, searching his pockets frantically. “I swear I had it on my wrist. Oh, gosh...Nope. Is it in the pit? Geez...”

He was rambling to himself and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him. He was quite a peculiar specimen; tall-ish and lean with shoulder-length hair that wasn’t quite straight but also wasn’t curly. His complexion was fair, a contrast to my own brown skin. He was a little pink, either from being suffocated under a large number of stuffed animals or from being flustered by the fact that he couldn’t find his hairband.

“It was right here,” He mumbled in a strong, Russian accent. “Did it grow legs and run away? I don’t want to tie my hair with my hair...Should I use my shoelace?”

I decided to help put him out of his misery so I walked towards him and he looked up at the sound of my heels hitting the floor. I stepped onto the baby blue carpet where he was standing and his breath hitched when my hands moved up to touch his hair.

“May I?” I asked.

He nodded wordlessly and he lowered his head slightly so I could help him tie his hair up.

I gently moved his hair away from his face and slipped my own hairband from my wrist before I used it to secure his dark waves into a half-ponytail.

“Thank you,” He mumbled.

When I moved back, he raised his head and I froze upon getting a good look at him.

I had never quite thought of men as ‘handsome’. In my mind, they were either pretty or hot or downright ugly like John. But at that moment, the word handsome suddenly had a face to match and that face belonged to the man standing in front of me.

He had a dark stubble that only highlighted his strong jaw and pale pink lips that were full but not pouty. His eyes were blue; not light in colour but bright, as if they were reflecting light from within. They were framed by thick, dark lashes that matched his thick, dark brows. Everything about him worked well together as if somebody had taken their time sculpting him. Hell, even his nose was nice; elegantly straight with a high bridge.

My mouth literally fell open at the sight of him and I knew I was staring but I didn’t care. After going on an insane amount of blind dates with solid 5s, seeing a 10 was like seeing an eclipse.

I was downright flabbergasted.

“Um...” He blushed and timidly moved his hand to lift my chin, gently closing my mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I regained my composure and smiled at him. “You’re very attractive, Dr Zaytsev.”

“Thank you,” He whispered as his blush travelled up to his ears. “You can call me Alexei. This is a safe space.”

“Alright then, Alexei,” I said his name and he bit down on his lip, turning even pinker.

“Sh-Shall we start with the session?”

Gosh, he’s adorable...

I think I might just enjoy therapy.

ALEXEI’S P.O.V

When one of the most prestigious law firms in the city asked to book three weekly sessions for an hour during every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of the year, I was curious. The person who had called me said that the patient I’d be dealing with is somebody with anger issues. I was therefore expecting Ms Donna Corriza to be somewhat frightening since Mr Adler had described her as ‘unhinged’, ‘chaotic’ and ‘emotionally unstable’. However, the woman seated on the yellow couch in front of me seemed to be rather calm.

From the second her eyes met mine, I couldn’t look away from her. I didn’t even want to blink. She was beautiful but not in the way I was used to. She was beautiful in a contrasting way. She was short and slim but intimidating with an aura that filled the room. I found myself staring at her lips which were painted a deep, dark red that made it hard for me to look away.

She had curly, dark hair that was thick and fell slightly below her shoulders. It reminded me of a lion’s mane, which would suit her perfectly because she was a bit like a lion in the sense that her brown eyes kept watching me with an almost hungry and calculating gaze. It made me feel both nervous and intrigued.

“Cute room,” She said and I let out a shaky breath as she released me from her mesmerising gaze. She looked around the room for a second before she nodded as if she approved.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling rather proud for some reason before I noticed that she was sitting upright in a rather stern position like somebody in an interview and not in a therapist’s room. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

She eased up a little and took off her heels. They were black, 5-inch red-bottom Louboutins that looked every bit as expensive as the all-black pantsuit she was wearing.

“Wow,” She mumbled as she moved to lie down on the couch. “This is surprisingly comfortable.”

“I’m glad,” I smiled. “Would you like something to drink? Or a snack?”

“A drink sounds lovely,” She said as she wiggled her toes which were painted red, the same as her fingernails. “Do you have Sprite?”

“I think so.”

I got up to retrieve her drink and she sat up again before popping the can open.

“Thank you,” She said after she took a gulp.

“You’re welcome.” I took a seat on my chair again before I pressed the timer that sat on the coffee table, officially starting our session. “So, Donna...do you mind telling me why you’re here?”

“I thought they already told you.”

“They did, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

She shrugged, “I hate men.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because the second I snap at one for smacking my ass without consent, I end up sitting in a therapist’s office,” She grumbled and I frowned.

“Your coworker assaulted you?”

“Yup,” She sighed and took another sip of her soda.

“Did you inform anyone?”

“Yup.”

“And what did they do?”

“They sent me to you,” She chuckled but it was humourless. “Apparently, throwing cold water at a rich White guy is worse than sexually harassing a Black Latina.”

I felt a surge of anger course through me and I stood up immediately without really thinking.

“What are you doing?” Donna asked as I turned to walk over to the door.

I paused to face her. “I’m going down to the receptionist and I’m going to call your boss and threaten to expose the discrimination in his law firm unless the culprit is properly dealt with.”

I turned back and continued walking but stopped when a hand wrapped around my wrist. I turned to face Donna and found her glaring up at me with angry, brown eyes.

“I thought therapists were supposed to be sensible,” She said. “Who the hell said I want you to intervene?”

“I just-”

“No,” She shook her head. “No more men making decisions for me. Sit your ass down right now.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” I whispered and went back to my seat like a scolded child.

Donna came over and sat back on the yellow couch but I could feel her glaring at me still. “I thought therapists weren’t supposed to get involved.”

“Yes, but-” I sighed, lowering my head shamefully.“I get...sensitive when it comes to issues such as sexual assault. I’ve never burst out like that before but I guess I lost my temper a little today. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” She said and I watched as she slipped her heels back on before she grabbed her handbag. “I’m sure even therapists have bad days but I think it would be best if I don’t meet you again.”

I felt a pang in my chest but I didn’t complain. “I understand.”

Donna left the room and I listened to the sound of her Louboutins hitting the tiled floor until it eventually faded away.

I let out a deep breath and silently cursed myself. I had never acted so unprofessionally before. I always ensured that my sessions were strictly about helping my patients feel better and I never let my own emotions get in the way. However, there was something about Donna that made me want to protect her despite how tough she clearly was.

I think it was the fact that she was so tough that made me worry about her. I was used to seeing patients break down or freak out when they talked about the issues that bothered them. But Donna spoke about getting mistreated in the office like it was normal and that worried me. I just wanted to help her but now I’d scared her away.

“I really need to get a grip,” I mumbled before adding; “And a Domme.”