Chapter 16
All the foregoing came to light, from Lena's own lips while she was in deep hypnosis. When it was all over, Dr. Richman administered post-hypnotic suggestions as to the fact that when she awoke, she would again remember all that she had just told them and be able to calmly and intelligently discuss the matter with Dr. Kleaver and be able to fully accept his prognosis, his explanation of how she should feel about the situation, now and adjust per his instructions.
When she was gradually brought out of hypnosis, she was able to do that. Dr. Kleaver explained to her the connection between her guilt feelings about this juvenile experience and her later denial of any of her natural sexual needs as an adult woman. He also explained how the association of visual stimulae such as that which had first made her amiable to seduction, was so stronglyingrained that when she again was subjected to it, her long suppressed natural instincts, burst their neurotic bonds and came violently into play, in an uncontrollable manner.
He explained to her that from now on, when she met some man she really cared for, that she would probably at first still have to fight against some residue of revulsion but that if she and the man both were patient, she would be able to overcome it and still enjoy a natural relationship.
As to her being abnormally stimulated by visual eroticism, either in person or in printed or photographic phenomena, he didn't think she would any longer be so violently affected, now that she was completely aware of the source of this neurosis. At least not any more so than the average woman would be. It would not be uncontrollable.
When she left Dr. Kleaver's office, Lena Troy felt better, more relieved, more at peace with herself and the world than she'd ever felt before in her whole life. During the next few days, she began to take up oil painting, something which she'd always wanted to do before. She spent long, lazy hours on the long, broad, white-sanded Clearwater beach. She knew, as Dr. Kleaver had told her, that she would still have to continue psychiatric therapy, that she had other behavior problems which she had told him about, which required treatment and to prevent any recurrence, for any reason, of the big, basic problem. But the prospect of this, did not bother her. In fact, she kind of looked forward to it.
Then, one evening she came back to her hotel room from the beach and found Bart Laramie there. They embraced and she clung to him for a long time, sobbing, partly from joy at seeing him partly from embarrassment. He told her, then, that he had bribed one of her lawyer's secretaries to find out where she was. Made her promise not to make trouble for the girl, though.
Lena said she wouldn't. Then, blushing, she listened to Bart tell her that he knew about her trouble; about Harry Fields telling him about her. He quickly told her that it didn't matter to him, that it didn't really mean anything, except that he wanted, now, to be able to help her.
She told him, then, about her session under hypnosis and briefly outlined the cause of her trouble and how she had been cured.
Bart fully accepted this, of course and seemed relieved and overjoyed. They had dinner together that night, at a waterfront restaurant and later, walked on the soft sand of the beach, in the moonlight They walked with their arms around each other and Bart never attempted to even kiss her. Lena was grateful for that. She didn't know yet whether she was quite ready to take a chance with the man she now knew she loved, of hurting him, humiliating him, if she wasn't quite ready for the natural fulfillment of their love.
For three days they spent most of their waking hours together in the bland manner of school time sweethearts. Then, one night at dinner, Bart began insisting that they be married, right away; he couldn't wait any longer. Lena, with all of her being, wanted to tell him yes, that she knew now that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But she had to wait. She asked him to wait just a little while longer for her answer. And she knew, then, she had to find out, without further delay.
After dinner they went to a jazz joint on the beach and had several drinks. Back at the hotel, Lena asked him into her room. They had another drink there. After their glasses were empty, Lena suddenly went over and put out the lights.
"Hey!" Bart cried, surprised. "What's this all about?"
She came and stood very close to him. She was trembling. Impulsively, she said, then, her voice breaking: "Bart! Make love to me darling. All the way. I want to be sure that I'm really ready to be your wife."
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. He took her gently into his arms and began kissing her, caressing the round flesh of her upper arms and her shoulders. His fingertips raised little fire trails along her arms and in the hollow of her throat and the nape of her neck and on her ear lobes. All the while he kept kissing her gently, soothingly, with only slightly increasing ardor.
Then his hands began tenderly to undress her. He helped her get fully unclothed, without even touching her, intimately, and now Lena was beginning to wonder what was the matter with him; she began to ache with the need to feel his hands upon her. When she was completely naked, he led her by the hand, toward the bed.
She lay upon it, while she listened to the rustling sounds of him undressing in the darkness.
Soon, he was beside her on the bed and again his hand cupped her chin and his lips touched hers and again it was not a particularly passionate kiss, but somehow, it stirred Lena all the more, because of that. The next thing she knew, suddenly, unexpectedly, she felt the fiery touch of his tongue just lightly brushing one of her distended nipples. The sensation was delightful. She cried out:
"Oh, Bart! Oh, my darling!"
Then he transferred his attention to her other breast, still in a light, teasing, almost imperceptible way. The fairy lightness of the caress almost drove her frantic. The fact that there was no savage lust motivating them but only the tender, patient passion of true love. While his lips and tongue caressed her throbbing breasts, she held his head, stroking it, digging her nails lightly into the short hairs on the nape of his neck.
Now, his hands were ministering to the fevered, soft, smooth flesh of her thighs in the same manner that his lips were paying homage to her breasts. They would move close, closer, while Lena breathlessly waited, but then never quite touched.
When he finally raised his mouth to hers, again, this time, Lena could no longer wait. She grasped his head and held it and her own mouth suddenly drove deep against his and her tongue forced its way between his teeth, found his and engaged it in a torrid duel. With that, Bart's hands began to run over her pulsing, twisting body, more demandingly.
Lena soon found her own hands seeking him out, exploring, finding, adoring. They extended their torrid love play almost past the point of endurance and then, finally, when she begged him, Bart placed them both in a comfortable position, catering more to her comfort than his own, which was rather awkward.
And then he brought about their union in the most natural, inevitable manner and they were joined and giving to as well as taking from each other, in ever increasing mutual, ecstasy, with Bart's expert hands and lips, constantly caressing, adding to her enjoyment, as they moved. It was better for both of them than it had ever been with anybody before.
After awhile they both surrendered to the no longer able to be denied needs of them both and soared together into the rainbow hued clouds of utter and final fulfillment, where there was nobody else in the world...
The pleasant aftermath, with Bart lighting cigarettes for them both, getting them drinks to sip in the darkness, made up the next most pleasant moments Lena had ever enjoyed in her life.
When they were finished with the cigarettes and drinks, they talked for awhile and then suddenly they were both, almost as if by signal, by mutual agreement, no longer needing to talk any more. Not with words, anyhow. They again let their hands and their lips speak for them, in the age-old language of love.
And this time was even better. They lingered and toyed and experimented and slowly, step by beautiful step, climbed the stairs to Paradise. It was during this session, too, that Lena learned that with Bart as her lover, her future husband, she would never, never have to yearn or even think about the kind of satisfaction that she had been led to believe only another woman could give her. Bart was more tender, considerate, catering than any woman could be. He knew everything, she learned, and some. The most pleasant variations from his usual masterful, masculine regular role.
She could hardly wait for tomorrow when they would be married and she would then know she would have him all to herself, for ever and ever.