pss:
maria tiptoes quietly (well, as quietly as you can with hooker heels on) through the hallway leading up to the office of her marriage counselor. she passes a mirror hanging on the wall and she stops to examine herself.
hair? brown, full, curly, shoulder length. beautiful. check.
lips? ruby red, voluptuous, kiss-ready. smoking hot. check.
skin? baked (no, not that way) to a golden tan perfection. sexy. check.
she giggles a bit, catching her sparkling green eyes in the reflection and playfully pawing the air. and that's when her husband walks by.
"c'mon, maria, we have an appointment. stop standing there futzing in the mirror!"
maria tosses her head petulantly, bats her not-too-mascaraed eyelashes and pouts.
"i know, pete. why don't you go in first? i just want to make sure i look presentable!"
pete frowns, mutters something under his breath, and pushes the chestnut door open. it closes with a snap. maria sighs, wringing her hands. suddenly, she doesn't think she looks all that attractive anymore.
so much for attracting john's attention today, she sighs. it takes all her self-control to not flop into the standard, melodramatic, "woe is me" pose. she reaches for the cold, metal door handle and hopes that it doesn't chip off any of her emerald-colored nail polish.
---
"maria! how are you?"
john greets her with boundless enthusiasm. his soft brown eyes meet hers and when he smiles, they crinkle in the most adorable manner ever. his teeth are white and pearly, they're straight, they're perfect, they're--
"maria! say hi to the man already!"
maria shakes herself unsuccessfully out of her reverie.
"hi john. i'm..."
yours? hoping that you'll ask me to marry you?
"yes...?"
she twiddles her thumbs before turning around to sit on the black leather couch.
"i'm alright."
john smiles at her again and she blushes, directing all of her embarrassment on the small, glass fishbowl sitting on the coffee table, hoping that if she stared at the goldfish long enough it would take away her shame. maybe.
---
"is there any way of possibly helping you guys to meet halfway on this issue?" john asks, a pencil behind his ear. his short brown hair (reminiscent of john stamos, but of course maria will never admit that to anyone) is a bit mussed up from excessive amounts of stress-induced carding.
"absolutely not," pete answers vehemently. "that is a part of me and there is no way that it is ever changing. not for the world."
john sighs, running a hand across his face. maria tries as hard as she can not to stare as his palm scritches slightly on the slight dusting of coffee-colored five o'clock.
"...are you sure?" he tries, resignedly. "relationships are all about give and take, after all."
maria stares down at her shoes before reaching for the can of goldfish food she knows will be on the table.
"john, has your goldfish eaten yet?"
pete glares daggers at her.
"maria, we're here for--"
"no, he hasn't," john mumbles. "you can feed him if you want."
maria slowly twists the white plastic cover off in her hands and gently sprinkles the pinkish flakes on top of the water in a careful pattern. both men watch her, fascinated. and then she's finished, capping the food. pete's expression suddenly goes stony, and john blanches.
"i think that's enough for today."
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