Pixie Kissin'

Pixie Kissin’

Helen Chalker looked across the table at her patient, Liam Henry, age fifteen. Her brown eyes gave away not the merest hint of derision, the corners of her mouth remained in a firm line without rising into an impromptu smile or sneer. ‘Your best friend is a pixie?’

‘I never said that, did I? She’s not my best friend. She’s just a mate. She’s more an object of lust really, a fuck buddy. Do you know what one of those is?’ He stared back at Helen insolently, his face angry, his expression daring her to ridicule him.

‘So she’s a fantasy, something that you focus your libido on, maybe like one of those sexy Japanese cartoons. But she’s not a real pixie?’

‘Not what she told me. Says she’s a pixie, looks like a pixie, see no reason to doubt her.’

‘What does she look like? Describe her to me.’

‘She’s got great tits.’

‘She’s definitely a female pixie then?’

‘Well, unless she’s a bloody convincing tranny, of course she’s female, I’m not going to fancy a bloke pixie, am I?'
Helen raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer him.

‘Oh right, I get it, so not only am I nuts, but because I’ve got a pixie, I’m a queer? I don’t play with fairies at the bottom of the garden, you know? I’m not a Nancy boy. Gini-Maary ‘s cool, you know? She’s kind of ordinary once you get away from the fact that she’s a pixie. She’s got great tits and blue hair and she’s got a pointy face with this really hot smile.’

‘How did you meet her?’

‘I bought her, didn’t I?’

‘Go on.’

‘Nothing to tell, I went into Bright Ideas and she was sitting there on a shelf with a load of other pixies and fairies and stuff. I bought her for me old lady for Mother’s day. She was giving me a hard time and I thought it’d keep her off me back for a bit. Best three quid I ever spent. She gives great head, if you know what I mean.’ He winked at Helen and smirked showing his slightly yellow teeth.

Helen sat back in her chair and twiddled a pencil between her fingers. He’d given her a lot to roll with and she didn’t rush to come back at him. She let him wait while she thought carefully about which line of questioning to take.

‘Did she ask you to buy her? Did she talk to you?’

Liam laughed, ‘Get real; she was a fucking pot ornament. What do you think she did, called me across the shop and told me to drop my kex while she blew me? Christ and they think I’m nuts.’

‘You said she was a real pixie, not me.’

‘She’s real now, isn’t she? Came to life that night and woke me up in her special way.’

‘What way’s that?’

‘She touches me when I’m asleep. It started with just her hand. I’d wake up and she’d be there stroking my dick. Man that pixie’s got some special powers going on in them hands, but that was only the start, I was getting a bit embarrassed about the cum-stains on my sheets, so now she uses her mouth. And yes, she does swallow, in case you’re interested. If I keep doing what she tells me she says that she’ll kiss me one day. Do you get off on this? Does it turn you on when your patients talk about sex? Carry on like this and I’ll be getting a boner. We can see if you suck like a pixie, if you’re up for it.’

Helen moved forward in her chair. This was the first thing he’d said that really got her interest. The kid was a fantasist, using predictable, invisible friend, tricks to get away with things that most kids had long grown out of by his age. But this was interesting. ‘Isn’t it unusual, in a boy your age, to hold kissing in higher esteem than oral sex? Surely the kissing would have come first, maybe before she’d masturbated you?’

‘I’m not allowed to talk about that.’ He put his head down, his face sullen. The bravado he’d displayed when trying to shock her with his sexual explicitness was gone. Helen knew a brick wall when she saw one.

‘Says who?’

‘Gini-maary’

‘Why?’

‘Look, I just can’t, awright. Now, talk about something else, or let me go back to my cell.’

‘We call them rooms here, Liam, you aren’t under arrest.’

‘Does your bedroom have a thick metal door and a grill so they can see if you’ve hanged yourself through the night? When am I going to get out of here, anyway?’

‘That depends on how quickly you get better.’

‘I’m not ill.’

‘Three separate doctors say that you are,’

‘If you try to get rid of her, she’ll make me kill you.’ He aimed for more bravado but the threat came across as a cry for help. He seemed genuinely frightened by what he’d said, and Helen noticed that he was sweating and had begun to rock slightly in his chair. He was agitated. He slumped in an effort to appear nonchalant and regain his composure. ‘I will, I’ll kill you. I won’t have a choice. She’ll make me.’

‘But you aren’t a killer, are you Liam?’

‘I might have to be. If she says, “Do it,” I’ll have no choice. If I don’t do exactly what she tells me, then she won’t do what I want.’

‘And what’s that, Liam?’

His eyes darted across the room and then he looked nervously at the table. ‘Can’t say.’

‘Do you want her to kiss you, Liam?’

‘Shhh, she’ll hear you. Jesus, do you want to die? Shut up.’

Helen pressed the point home, assessing his reaction to being pushed into an uncomfortable place. She wanted to ascertain just how violent the boy could become. ‘What’s so special about her kissing you, Liam? Why do you want her to kiss you so badly, after all, you’ve freely admitted that she gives you oral sex in return for you doing bad things for her? Do you need her to love you? You’re just a little boy really, aren’t you? You want the little pixie to give you some mummy kisses.’

‘No,’ He said this in the tone of voice that teenagers use when they feel they are being ridiculed. He was sulking, but Helen sensed that there was something important at the crux of the kissing subject. Her intuition told her to keep at him. Getting imaginary sex acts from an imaginary friend was one thing, but there was something sacred to this boy that centred on being kissed.

‘What kind of relationship did you have with your parents when you were little? Were they affectionate towards you and your sister?’

‘Oh, come on. I thought you’d do better than that. Let me make your job easy for you. I don’t have an Oedipus complex. I wasn’t abused by my granddad in the tool shed and I was never starved of cuddles from my mum. I just like getting a blow-job from a horny pixie, okay?’

‘Have you ever had a blow-job, Liam?’

‘I’ve just told you I have, haven’t I? Anytime I want one.’

‘No, in real life, I mean?’

‘This is real life.'

‘Okay, have you ever had oral sex with anybody other than Gini-Maary?’

‘No, but I don’t need anybody else. She might be a pixie, but she’s knows her way around a dick.’

‘Tell me about the kissing Liam.’

‘No,’

‘You won’t get out of here until you do. Does Gini-Maary want you to stay in here indefinitely?’

‘No, she says I should burn the place down.’ Helen ignored the veiled threat.

‘Tell me why you want her to kiss you.’

‘She won’t like it.’

‘Tell me.’

‘For Fuck’s sake, I want her special powers?’

‘What special powers?’

‘Invisibility, and spells, and shit like that. If she kisses me it’s the only way that she can pass her powers onto me. I can be the first human with Pixie powers. I can take over the world. You still don’t believe she’s real, do you? And I don’t care. See, I know she’s real. I’ve seen her. You only think she’s not real, because you’ll never have the proof of experience that I have. You can’t prove that she isn’t real. So, Miss Chalker, I think that makes me a greater authority on the subject than you. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘No. Not really, you see, I have proof from your own hand that Gini-Marry is merely a fantasy.’

Helen took a piece of paper from the top of Liam’s file and passed it across the table to him. She watched his reaction as he read the two words written on the sheet. Earlier she’d asked him to write down the pixie’s name. This was the top word on the sheet.

‘Liam, why do you think that Gini-Maary spells her name with the extra A in the Mary?’

‘How the fuck do I know. Ask her mother.’

‘Do pixies have mothers?’ Helen took the paper back, and with a pen, she distractedly began to score out corresponding letters in the two words.

‘Yeah, of course they do. Well I think they do.’ Liam saw what Helen was doing. One by one she’d scored out the same letters in each word. Liam’s eyes glazed over. He rocked in his strait-jacket and he went somewhere where, for the time being at least, nobody could follow.

Helen looked at the two words and added another three to the bottom of the paper.

Gini-Maary

Imaginary

Continued committal order.