Chapter 6
DR. WELLINGTON MADE ME MAD. ALL HE WANTED to know about for a long time was my father. And what did I know about him? Nothing. And if I had and could have told him, what did that have to do with me?
Also, he did a lot of talking about how different Hank was for me than Lex. How I would probably have followed Hank around like a little dog if he'd let me, although that wasn't the way Dr. Wellington put it. And that in contrast to what I did to Lex.
He asked me if that meant anything to me, and I told him no. Why should it?
We spent a couple of sessions, on what happened at home after that. How Frank and Sis got married and how, three years later, Frank was dead.
I told Dr. Wellington how it was. That Frank turned out to be a hood. And whoever it was who came in and beat him to death that night was a hood, too.
He knew, of course, that Sis cracked up and had to go to a sanitarium. That was because of the shock of Frank's death. But there were other reasons, and I told Dr. Wellington what they were. I didn't pull any punches. I told him that Sis and Frank went sex crazy. And it was true.
Frank was a sex degenerate. A sex maniac, really, with a lot of skill at hiding it. I told him some of the things Frank made Sis do^ and how she began to like doing them.
But the main thing was that he kept her so busy with their sex life that she didn't have any time for me, and I went out pretty much on my own. So that two years later, when I was going on nineteen, I knew a lot of people and knew my way around, had begun to really live.
I got along fine because I'd learned early that you had to take care of yourself. Nobody would do it for you. And that was the way I played it.
The doctor and I had a little argument about my saying that I wanted to have every experience in life. I claimed I hadn't actually said that. I told him things just happened to me. But that when they did, I never let them get me down. I took them in stride.
I told him about Sam, naturally, because Sam opened a lot of doors for me. But I didn't tell him about the thing that happened about a month after I met Sam.
About the five guys.
I didn't tell him because he would have said I was to blame. That the five guys happened because I wanted to have every experience.
But he was very much interested in one of the fantasies I had. One of my dream guys. I didn't have very many after Sis married Frank, because after that I wasn't alone too much. I was with real guys, and so I didn't have time for dreams.
But there was this one, and Wellington kept hammering until I told him all about it.
My last dream guy, I called him.
I made this guy very handsome, and it was natural that he would have been a dancer, because Frank was around all the time and his friends were dancers. But he didn't look anything like Frank. I called him Ben, but he looked like Hank. All blond, golden and muscular with broad shoulders and slim hips.
Ben was a very proper person, and he came to the house all the time; but all he wanted to do was talk. He said I was going in the wrong direction, and he wanted to set me straight.
I'd sit and listen, but all I wanted to do was go to bed with him.
He wouldn't though, he said all that could do would be to lead to trouble. That I should keep myself pure and after a while some nice guy would come along and marry me.
It was all very boring. But it went on and on, until finally I couldn't stand it any longer and so I made a plan. I'd come to hate him by that time for being a dope, so making the plan wasn't hard.
Down in the basement we had a long narrow table that had been there a long time. Somebody had used it for a work table once, but now all it did was stand against the wall and gather dust.
After I made my plan, I went down and did a little work on it. I broke the chain on the handcuffs I'd bought at the theatrical supply house, the ones I'd used on Lex and fastened them to the edge of the table on either side. Then I got another pair and fastened them to the bottom for the ankles.
It would have been hard to do it had been real, but it was easy when the whole thing was being done in my dream world.
That was why I couldn't figure Dr. Wellington out. Why he was so interested in that silly dream idea.
But he was, so I told him how it went: After I had the table fixed, I waited until Ben came the next afternoon and talked him into going down into the basement with me. Dr. Wellington was very much interested in how I got Ben to get on the table. I told him it was easy because you can do anything in a dream, and he had to be satisfied with that.
After I got the cuffs on Ben's hands and ankles, I put a gag in his mouth to keep him from yelling, and I was ready.
Then I raped him.
I think it really rocked Dr. Wellington when I told him that. But I couldn't figure out why it should have. He'd been around and listened to a lot of people and should have been very sophisticated.
I told him it was not only easy in the dream, but it would have been easy in reality.
I was wearing my bright colored sack with nothing under it and climbed onto the table and laid there looking into Ben's eyes. He was choking and mumbling through the gag, and I kissed his eyes and his cheeks and made love to him that way and I told him I was sorry but I had to do this because I loved him and had to have him one way or another.
I was getting more excited all the time, and it was a good thing I was lying on the table. If I'd been standing beside it my knees would have melted, and I would have fallen to the floor.
Passion swept over me like a hot wave, and I opened Ben's clothes the way I wanted them. I watched his eyes as I did this, and I could read them; the excitement I felt just didn't have any words to fit it. I looked and saw female eyes and sensed female thoughts and fears coming out of him.
But he was all male otherwise and could no more keep himself from responding physically than he could have dissolved the handcuffs.
My dress was up now, and my flesh was rubbing against his, all hot like something warmed by fire. My knees were against the hard table on either side of him.
At this point, when I was lying on Dr. Wellington's couch telling him about the dream rape, he interrupted with a silly question.
"Didn't you have a pad on the table?"
I opened my eyes, angry. "What difference does that make. A pad or not. It was only a dream thing."
"Of course, but I think you want to make your dreams accurate, don't you?"
"How do you know whether it was right or wrong? A dream doesn't have to be either. Or it can be both."
"I'm sorry," he said. "Go on."
So I told him the rest of it: the wild, hot feeling of being a man, kind of. The feeling of forcing and dominating and getting my way. Of knowing how a man feels when he takes a girl.
Ben couldn't help himself, because I was forcing him to conform. And he had to respond. He wouldn't help me at first, but I looked into his eyes while I kept lunging and lunging and lunging, my eyes and thighs aching from the work he should have been doing.
Then he was helping because he couldn't keep from it. Passion had taken him over, and he gasped and moaned through the gag. I wanted to take it off, but I didn't dare.
I said, "Oh, darling, darling, love me! Take me! Move for me!" Just as though he had a choice in the matter.
He lunged up at me viciously now and tried to tear his hands out of the cuffs while I writhed and twisted and lunged.
And the world exploded for both of us.
I lay there for a while afterwards, exhausted, and then I got off and let him up. He was weak and he staggered, the passion having taken all his strength away.
I helped him upstairs and onto the lounge.
And well, that was that. My last dream man. And I wondered why Dr. Wellington was so interested in it.
I think maybe he was imagining me doing it to him. Psychiatrists are human too ...