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“Three things?” she frowns. “Um…cream-coloured ponies and crisp apple strudels, doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles.”
“The Sound of Music,” I chuckle. “Great film. But I asked for three and you gave me five.”
She throws her head back and laughs; a sweet laugh that makes my balls tingle. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from. The song just popped into my head—”
“Let’s try that again,” I say gently. “This time I want you to relax. I can tell you’re nervous, but there’s really no need to be. I don’t bite, Carly. We have all the time in the world, so just take it easy, okay?”
“Okay.” She giggles hysterically and she looks so good, it takes all my strength not to pounce on her. “Right,” she smiles, “three things I like are:fruit salads, Mickey Mouse and sunny days.”
“And three things you hate?”
“Mushrooms, spiders, politicians.”
“Do you like your job at the media company?”
“Yes.”
“And why do you want to quit smoking?”
“Because I don’t like it.”
“Why don’t you like it?”
“Because… because it’s bad for me, and it makes my clothes stink and I think it will give me lung cancer. And… and it makes me feel weak.”
“Do you like being in control?”
She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”
Oh, don’t play innocent with me. You know damn well what I’m talking about. I can just see you in knee-high boots, dominating me with a whip, ordering me to submit to your every demand.
I smile wryly, shaking the thought from my head. “You said smoking makes you feel weak, so does that mean you like being in control?”
“Um, I suppose so,” she replies. “All I know is when I smoke a cigarette, I feel terrible afterwards.” Carly then tells me about her father’s health problems, and my heart goes out to her. She looks so distressed, I can tell it’s obviously affecting her deeply. I wish I could do something to take away her pain.
After she’s finished speaking, there’s a short silence. My protectiveness kicks in and I fight mighty hard not to throw my arms around her. I want to comfort her, wrap her in cotton wool, be her knight in shining armour.
At last, I resume: “When did you first start smoking? How old were you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You must have some vague idea. Were you still at school? Did you sneak behind the bike shed for a clandestine smoke?”
“No, it was much later than that. I started smoking after I finished university, so I would have been in my early twenties.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Thought association,” I explain. “If I can take your subconscious back to the first time you smoked, it may help to kick the addiction.”
“I’m sorry, Nick, I don’t remember the exact day I started.”
“That’s absolutely fine. There are still plenty of avenues for us to explore.”
She grins like an adorable little pixie. “Does that mean you’ve agreed to take me on?”
“What do you think?” I pause to prolong the suspense. “Yes, Carly. I believe you’re an ideal candidate for me.”
