Sexual Therapy Ch. 01byJackLuis©
I was bored. It doesn't sound very good, does it? No, I thought not, I wasn't too happy about it either. I had even gone to the hair salon yesterday and listened to silly womanly gossip just to be around people. It didn't help my feelings of loneliness but my red hair was now curly and shiny. I guess that was good. I had been in Oregon for six months now. I had moved up here to get away from the San Francisco Bay area and an unfortunate set of circumstances which I won't bore you with.
I had been a moderately successful Psychologist in California but had retired when I moved to Portland. My sister said it was a nice place and very much like the Bay Area, "it doesn't get too hot up here." She was right about that. What she didn't tell me is that it rains all the friggin' time up here. Oh maybe, I exaggerate, but I can't get out as much as I had in San Francisco which was driving me crazy. I had been spending a lot of time at the gym trying to get my forty-five year old body in shape, so I was intrigued when my friend Dr. Marsha Feingold asked me to take on a patient of hers.
"Karen, I want you to take over Derrick Kitrick's treatment," she said as she sipped her martini in the fashionable fern bar near her office. "Lord knows I like the money, but he is not progressing at all and I think it's because he needs so much help. I just can't give it to him. He needs to see someone three times a week or else he just backslides. "
Marsha was really just looking after me. She knew I was bored and knew that was something that drove me nuts. Marsha had been a sorority sister of mine at the San Jose State and I loved her very much. I admit that when my sister suggested I move up here, Marsha was the deciding factor. Marsha was my exact opposite. She was small and dainty, I was tall and had been described as "big boned" by the most tactful of my friends. She was blond and vivacious. I had red hair and was not too sociable. That is a real problem for someone in my profession, but I got by.
"So what is his problem, Marsha?" I asked.
"Sexual deviations," Marsha said, knowing that would peak my interest.
"What sort of deviations are we talking about?"
"That's why I asked you down here. I want you to see him in my office this afternoon. You can tell me what you think." Marsha finished her second Martini and waved the waiter over for another.
"You mentioned money?" I asked.
Marsha smiled. She knew she had me. I'm not poor by any stretch of the imagination but Marsha knew I liked money.
She smiled at me. "Yes, there is money, Karen. Oodles of money. The Kitricks have tons of money and are willing to pay almost anything to get young Derrick fixed. I've been charging him two thousand a session." She giggled.
I gasped. It was unheard of to charge so much for an hour of what many times amounted to small talk. "How in the world did they agree to that?"
Marsha smiled at the waiter, who put the fresh martini she had ordered on the table and took away her empty glass. "Thank you Robert," she said and tucked a twenty in his apron. Robert grinned at her. "You are most welcome Dr. Feingold," he said and swished away.
Marsha watched him walk away. "There is another you might want to take on Karen. Queer as a three dollar bill and hard as a hammer." Marsha smiled at me. "I see him twice a month. He has very good insurance and his family wants him 'cured of his homosexuality'. I tried to tell them that it's not a disease, but the old man says he has to see me to keep his trust fund." She giggled again. "I've been giving him Hetro-therapy. It doesn't change his love of men, but it is marvelous for my libido." Marsha laughed out loud and sipped her drink.
"Marsha, it seems you have gotten mercenary in your advancing years. I remember you as being much more interested in the patient's welfare."
Marsha laughed and said, "Oh Karen I do have a lot of patients that I care a good deal for. Some of them I do pro bono so I have to make up for it by milking the others." She sipped her drink again and said, "Besides there are so many apple knocking farmers who have more money than sense up here, I just can't help myself."
I leaned back and sipped my Jamison's and soda. "I see Marsha, so why do you want to spin off such a lucrative client as Derrick Kitrick?"
Marsha put her glass down and looked at me seriously. "In spite of my rather frivolous manner, Karen, I am concerned for Derrick." She hiccupped and grinned at me in apology. "I can't be what he needs. You'll see when you meet him. Besides if you are only going to deal with a few patients you'll need ones that are a challenge and can pay you enough to make it worth the time."
"Well let's order lunch and sober you up a little before we go to your office," I said.
She grinned at me. "Sure Karen, you're the Doctor," she giggled.
I thought "Physician heal thyself," but kept my mouth shut.
Marsha was almost sober when we breezed into her office. Her receptionist smiled and said, "Doctor Feingold, Mr. Kitrick is here, I had him wait down the hall." A uniformed man sat in the office reading a copy of Guns and Ammo.
Marsha smiled and caressed the girl's cheek. "Thank you Glenda. We wouldn't want him to smell up the reception area would we?" The uniformed man who everyone was ignoring snickered and turned the page of his magazine.
Glenda gave her small smile and said, "No Doctor, but since he's your last patient today, may I leave now? I have some shopping I want to do."
Marsha smiled and said, "Of course Glenda, I'll see you in the morning." Marsha turned to the uniformed man. "Albert, this is Doctor Karen Peters. I'm asking her to take over Derrick's case. Will you inform Mr. Kitrick we will be out to see him in a day or so?"
Albert looked up and nodded. "He's going to Brazil in the morning. You had better see him tonight."
Marsha said, "I'll call his office and make an appointment."
Glenda made a fast exit and Marsha took me into her office. The office was much like Marsha, delicate furnishings and tastefully decorated in a feminine manner. Marsha went to her desk and took out a blue jar, dipped her finger in it, and applied some of the contents under her nose. She turned and said, "Here Karen, you'll need this."
I looked at the jar. It was Vicks Vapo Rub, "What's this for?"
She sniffed and said, "Derrick is less than pleasant. The Vicks masks his odor." She looked at me, "Now Karen I want you to be very firm with Derrick from the outset. He needs a firm hand and he will try to intimidate you, so put on you dominatrix face and just listen to me talk to him for a minute. Okay?"
I wondered just how strange Derrick was going to be, but put a little of the pungent rub under my nose and followed Marsha down the hall.
Marsha opened the door to a small office and went in. I followed her in and saw a young man about 22-25 sitting in a chair. The office was small and other than two chairs was completely empty. Marsha went directly to the window and opened it. She turned and said, "Derrick you haven't washed this week have you?"
I only got a small whiff of him but it made my stomach roll, despite the Vicks under my nose. He was vile looking. His hair looked like he had cut it himself with nail scissors. He was wearing a pair of slacks that looked like they had once been very nice but now were dark with stains around the crotch, a ragged tee shirt also stained under his chin and looked like he had wiped his hands on it after wiping his ass after defecation.
Derrick grinned at Marsh and then looked quizzically at me. "And who have we here, Marsha?"
Marsha frowned at him and said, "Please sit down Derrick. I brought Dr. Peters to meet with you to see if she would take your case."
Derrick didn't sit down but came closer to me smiling and picking his nose with hands that I wouldn't want anywhere near my ass much less my nose. He got close enough that I could smell his rank odor like a dead skunk.
"Sit down Mr. Kitrick!" I said in my most commanding voice. I had a former Marine drill sergeant for a patient and she showed me how to use my voice to intimidate. My command voice had made me a lot of money in San Francisco with the submissives.
Derrick flinched and sat down. He wasn't smiling any longer. I could see fear in his eyes.
Marsha sat in the other chair, I stood behind her and put on my most disdainful look and waited for her to speak.
Marsha sniffed and said, "Derrick, I asked Doctor Peters to take over your therapy because you aren't making any progress with me."
Derrick sniveled, "But Marsha we were making progress."
Marsha frowned. "Derrick, I've been treating you for six months now and every time I think we've made progress, you backslide, I'm afraid we have to admit that you need someone else. I know you have made some progress. You seem to have given up smearing your self with your own defecation and you no longer masturbate in front of people, do you?"
Derrick bent his head down. "Well, I did yesterday, Doctor," he looked up and smiled. "Mother asked me to do it so she could take my picture."
Marsha shook her head. "There, you see, you've made no progress. You know your stepmother is just using your affliction to blackmail your father. She doesn't care about you, Derrick."
Derrick frowned and said, "No, mother cares about me, she said she's the only one who does. Father only cares about his business. She wants me to be happy. She told me yesterday."
Marsha looked up at me and shook her head then addressed Derrick. "What have I told you about your stepmother, Derrick?"
Derrick frowned and looked down, mumbling something.
Marsha said, "Look at me and speak up."
Derrick looked up crying. "You told me that my mother doesn't care about my welfare. That she is only using me to humiliate my father and take his money. But, Dr. Feingold, she told me she does care and she let me smell her pussy and everything."
Marsha said, "Derrick, I've asked Dr Peters to take over your treatment. I just can't do it any longer. I hope she will, as the alternative is for you to go back into hospital."
Derrick looked stricken. "No, Doctor. I don't want to go back there and have them shock me and wrap me again." He fell to his knees and begged her. "No don't send me back there. Please, please Doctor!"
Marsha looked at him sternly. "Then you will have to do what Doctor Peters tells you to do, Derrick. I'm going to leave you now and let Doctor Peters take over. This will be the last time I see you, Derrick, and I hope you will get better. I really do."
Marsha got up and left the room. Derrick was on his knees and sobbing now. I looked down at him. "Mr. Kitrick, sit in your chair," I said firmly. Derrick slowly got up and returned to his chair. He was still crying and I felt sorry for him but I didn't let on. "Mr. Kitrick, if I am going to treat you, there will be rules," I said softly.
He sniffed and looked up at me. "Rules?"
I looked down my nose at him. "Yes, rules. The first rule is that before you come to see me you will shower and put on clean clothes."
He looked stricken. "But Doctor that would mean …" He stopped and looked at me. When he saw I was serious about the point, he sobbed, "Oh, Oh," and rubbed his hand on his trousers and wiped his nose on his ratty shirt. "Oh don't make me change clothes Doctor, it takes months to break them in."
I just stared him down and finally he realized I wouldn't relent. "The second rule is you will let your hair grow out."
His hands flew to his hair. "Oh no, Doctor, it tries to strangle me."
"Would you rather have it shaved then?"
He smiled. "Could I?"
"Yes, and the sooner the better. Can you get it done or do you need me to see to it?"
He thought about it for a second. "Maybe Albert could take me to a barber?"
I nodded my head. "Yes, but you will have to bathe and change clothes before you do."
He looked at his trousers and then at me pleading silently for help.
"Yes Derrick, if you want to get your head shaved you will have to get clean or the barber won't even let you into his shop."
Derrick rubbed his hand over his thighs and whimpered but looked up at me. "Okay Doctor, but it will be hard to put on clothes that aren't my friends."
"I believe you will find Derrick that wearing clean clothes will help you make new friends." I kept my face stern and stifled a laugh at him.
His face brightened and he said, "I can make new friends?"
"You want to make new friends?"
"Oh yes Doctor. I want a good friend that will let me jack off and squirt all over him. Oh God it would be wonderful to have a good friend like that." Derrick's hand strayed to his crotch and he rubbed his penis thru his stained and greasy trousers.
I frowned at him and he slid his hand down to his thigh. "Derrick, I don't think that that is very friendly to masturbate on your friends."
Derrick got a grin on his face. "But I do Doctor. I like to jack off and shoot it on them to make them mine. Mother says that's the way to make friends. She told me that friends like it. Don't they?"
"Does your mother let you masturbate on her?"
He grinned and said, "Only if I'm really good. Then she lets me smell her pussy and her asshole. Sometimes she even shits on my chest."
He was rubbing his chest and smiling at the memory. He had forgotten I was in the room now and his left hand grabbed his growing erection and he began to stroke himself.
"Derrick, please stop pleasuring yourself. I want you to get a hold of yourself and…" Oh shit!" I thought "Wrong words" "Stop that!" I said forcefully. His hands stopped what he was doing and he looked at me resentfully.
"Derrick I will talk to Albert and have him take you home. I want you to take a shower and change clothes then Albert will see to getting your head shaved, Alright?"
Derrick apparently was thrilled to be rid of his hair. "Yes Doctor," he nodded and grinned at me.
I left the poor young man and went back to Marsha's office. She was leaning against the receptionist's desk looking through her mail. Albert was still looking at his Guns and Ammo. "Marsha I will take on the case but we need to do something to keep his mother away from him for a while at least."
Albert snickered but didn't look up from his magazine. Marsha nodded. "Believe me I have tried to get a restraining order and everything, but Mr. Kitrick won't go along with me."
"Why not?" I asked in surprise.
Marsha shook her head, "I don't know. Every time I've suggested it he refuses and won't even discuss it."
Albert snickered again. I turned and asked, "Albert, what is it you do for Derrick?"
Albert was in his late forties and seemed to be a powerful man. He stood up and I thought he was never going to quit unfolding from his chair. I mean I'm 5' 10" and there aren't many men I have to look up to, but Albert must have been 6' 5" if he was an inch. He had a square face, a bit rough around the eyes and his hands were huge. He rubbed his chin and said, "Well, Doctor, I look after the boy. Drive him around and generally keep him out of trouble."
"Does he obey you when you're out?"
Albert grinned and nodded. "Pretty much, Doc. He knows that if he doesn't I'll make him go back home."
I nodded. "Well, I told Derrick that he had to take a bath and that after he bathes and changes clothes, you would take him to have his head shaved."
Albert flinched. "His Daddy won't like that Doc."
"Why ever not?" I asked.
Albert shook his head. "I don't really know Doc. When he interviewed me for my position he asked me if I was a skinhead, you know a Neo-Nazi or whatever. I had just gotten out of the Army then and kept my head shaved. I told him that I kept it that way in the Army for sanitary reasons but he asked me to let it grow out if he hired me. I did because I needed the job."
"I see." I looked at Albert's hair. There wasn't much there at all. His hair line was receding and the rest was less than an inch long. "Hum, Well I think we'll let Derrick shave his head anyway. He expressed a fear of his hair strangling him and I needed a way to gain his compliance. I'll talk him in to letting it grow out again just enough so his father doesn't mind."
"Doc?" Albert asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"How about we wait until the old man leaves tomorrow and then I'll shave the boys head? That way the old man won't know about it. He's going to be gone a couple of weeks and by the time he gets back, Derrick will have a little fuzz."
Marsha laughed. "Karen, Albert has a point."
I nodded. "Okay, but he has to be made to bathe and change clothes today."
Albert smiled. "Thanks Doc, now maybe I can get the Lincoln aired out. The smell is horrid, worse than Baghdad in the winter."
Albert left to take Derrick home and Marsha told me we had to go see Mr. Kitrick right away. We left her office and talked in the car.
"So what is your diagnosis, Marsha?"
She glanced at me, then continued to drive. "Well, he is a real mess. His birth mother died from giving birth to him and Mr. Kitrick hired nannies to raise him. He seemed to be a pretty normal boy just a little shy, until Mr. Kitrick remarried when Derrick was about ten. His step mother made him dependent on her. I think it was a way for her to get a firmer hold on the old man's money. Anyway, his step mother warped the boy's mind and reinforced his behaviors. Finally Mr. Kitrick divorced her two years ago and she took a good settlement, but she refused to let go of Derrick."
I thought about that as we drove out to Mr. Kitrick's office. He ran an international food commodity import-export business and had an office down near the docks.
The meeting wasn't long or pleasant. Mr. Kitrick senior was in his sixties, wore a blue pin striped suit and had a red silk tie tight to his shirt which was loose around his gaunt neck. His hair line had receded to the top of his head but his sandy gray flecked hair was long almost down to his pinstriped shoulders.
He hardly looked up from his desk as Marsha spoke. "Mr. Kitrick, I am sorry to inform you that I will no longer be treating Derrick. I have asked Doctor Karen Peters to take over his treatment."
Mr. Kitrick looked up and eyed the two of us, and asked, "Why?"
Marsha frowned a little and said, "Derrick just doesn't respond to me. I don't have the time to devote to him and he makes a bit of progress, then slips back into his old behaviors. Dr. Peters has just moved here and will be able to devote more time to him."
The old man looked me up and down and asked, "Are you qualified, Doctor? How do you see you will be able to cure my son if Dr. Feingold has failed?"
I smiled at him. I didn't want to but I did it to show that I hadn't taken his insult to heart. "Mr. Kitrick, yes, I am a qualified and certified Psychologist. I studied at San Jose State University and followed up at Perkins Institute in Cleveland. I have had 18 years of practice in the San Francisco area and thought I was retiring when I moved to Portland about six months ago. Marsha and I have known each other for many years and when she asked me to take over the case, I was a little reluctant. After meeting Derrick this afternoon however I saw that I had no choice. Your son needs a firm hand and a very concentrated regimen of treatment if he is to overcome the problems I saw this afternoon."
Mr. Kitrick sat back and looked at me for a second. Then he asked, "And how much is this going to cost, Doctor? I ask because I'm sure it will be more than Dr Feingold has been charging me."
I stared the old bastard down for a second. "I will charge you five thousand dollars a treatment session, Mr. Kitrick. I expect that I will have to see Derrick at least three times a week and perhaps more if he continues to back slide. I was able to get him to agree to bath and change his clothes before he sees me again. If he does that I believe he will make progress."