Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 05

"Doctor!" Lenore screamed.

Dr. Monroe, realizing her error, turned to nurse Alicia.

"Help me!" she said frantically, as she ran around and knelt down in front of François, holding the large, glass container directly in front of his spurting tool.

Nurse Alicia knelt on the patient's right, grasping the huge prick in her hand in an attempt to direct some of the streams into the beaker.

"Get it higher!" Dr. Monroe ordered the nurse. "Get it..."

Before she could finish her sentence, François recoiled violently as the introduction of the pretty nurse's hand forced his cock to an almost vertical position. He cried out as her hand held him just beneath the glans, the action of which helped him to produce a very long and stringy cum shot that flew upward and to his left, splashing directly into Dr. Monroe's face and hair.

The powerful blast forced her backward into me.

"Holly!" she cried, her face a completely awash in white sauce. "Get that sample!"

Without hesitation, I quickly picked up the beaker and placed it over the monstrous organ. Nurse Alicia finally managed to position the penis so that François was now joyously spurting into the cylinder. We watched in awe as he shot load after load of hot sperm into the glass receptacle, the long rivulets of cream splashing into the sides and bottom of the beaker, filling it up to beyond the one-cup level.

"Oh, my God!" nurse Alicia squealed as the juice continued to shoot out beyond her, or anyone else's, capacity to comprehend.

Seeing the look of ecstasy on François' face was quite satisfying. But watching that oversized cock fill the jar with his plentiful seed was even more rewarding. More importantly, I had attained my objective: I had produced the sperm sample, and I had done what Angelique could not.

A few final squirts and François finally stopped ejaculating.

"That was great!" I said to the exhausted man. "Well done!"

A thunderous round of applause greeted me as I rose up and hoisted the beaker of sperm above my head. Lenore was ecstatic and clapped loudest of all. My aunt, too, seemed genuinely happy that I had solved her dilemma, even though her daughter had come up short. Angelique didn't even look at me. She couldn't, because she had, unbeknownst to me, left the room.

Dr. Monroe's two assistants had managed to help her remove most of the sperm from her face and she ordered them to take the beaker from me and put the sample on ice.

"Holly, that was splendid!" Lenore shouted to me above the din. "And you did very well too, young man!"

François and I turned to each other and smiled. To be recognized in such a fashion by Lenore must have been a great honor for him and no less for me. I nodded in the older woman's direction and uttered the words "thank you," which she graciously acknowledged with a proud smile.

"Thank you, dear Holly," François said to me as nurse Alicia gently applied a warm sponge to his genitals. "I could not have done it without your help."

Seeing that the nurse looked a little forlorn, he added, "Or yours."

She glanced up at him just then and smiled as she cleaned up the remainder of his sperm. He watched her hands lightly move over his private parts, and when she was done she returned with the soiled sponge to the exam room.

"I have never seen any man ejaculate so much semen in my life," Dr. Monroe said to her once reluctant patient. "I know that my colleague, Dr. Swensen, has produced such orgasms in men artificially at her Clinic in Sweden, but this is...unprecedented."

She looked at François as though he were some sideshow curiosity, but her respect for him was genuine.

"I would like to do more studies on you if you will allow it," she said. "Especially now that you've seemed to conquer your shyness."

"I am at your service, doctor," he replied.

Her eyes moved to his penis. "And even after you ejaculated all that semen, it's still big and hard. It's one for the record books."

"I am sorry that I squirted you," he said apologetically.

"We'll have to see if it does anything for my skin," she laughed. "Go and put your clothes back on. My office will be in touch with you in a few days."

He rose and threw his robe over his shoulders, not bothering to cover himself up.

"I hope I shall see you again, Holly," he said cheerily.

I replied that I hoped I would see him again too and took one more look at his magnificent penis as he turned and headed toward the exam room.

"I have to give you credit, Holly," the doctor said to me. "I really thought he was going to be consigned to oblivion, but you did a great job of psyching him out." She shook my hand. "And I'm glad you put your cousin in her place."

With that, she said goodbye and followed François into the adjoining room.

"All right, everyone," Lenore said to the audience. "Show's over. See you at the dinner party tonight."

Now that the "punishment" had concluded, the crowd quickly began to disperse. Several of the women applauded me on their way out, complimenting me on my "innovative" strategy in getting François to produce the precious sperm sample. Others just simply walked passed me without so much as a nod, making it clear to me that they thought little of my efforts. Most of the women, however, did take the time to actually stop and talk to me. Felicia was the first of these to congratulate me, taking my face between her two hands and planting a kiss on each cheek.

"Masterful! Bravo!" she said excitedly. "You controlled him like a puppet! Bravo!"

But no one was more generous with her compliments than Lenore herself, who, from her seat at the head of the table, openly professed her admiration for my "very skillful handling" of the timorous patient with the surprisingly bold attitude.

"We'll talk later," my mentor said to me, looking eminently satisfied.

The Sisterhood leader spoke briefly to her friends and then hurriedly left the room, followed by my aunt, Justine, and Estelle. I could only surmise that Angelique's unnoticed disappearance was the topic of their conversation, as they didn't even bother to conclude the meeting in their usually formal way. But then again, it was very late, and the dinner at theLe Boeuf sur le Toitwas going to take place in less than a few hours—and Craig Lundquist was going to be there!

"You look quite pleased with yourself, I must say."

I turned around to find Charlotte standing behind me, minus her small entourage.

"Oh!" I said. "Ms. Anjou. Hello."

I reached out my hand and she gave me a nice, firm handshake.

"I took a big gamble and it paid off. I guess I am kind of happy about it."

"As well you should be," she replied. "And please call me Charlotte."

I had remembered what Angelique had told me about this woman, but nothing in her attitude suggested to me that she was anything but a genuinely warm, and very refined, lady. Now that she was standing next to me, I was surprised to see how tall she really was, and how intimidating she could be if she chose to be so, simply by virtue of her graceful stature and commanding presence. But it was her resemblance to the mysterious visionary of my tormented dream, the enigmatic Yvette, which impressed me most. Her eyes, like twin orbs of translucent blue, so reminiscent of those of my erstwhile guide to the underworld, seemed capable of reading my innermost thoughts and feelings, and while I should have felt uncomfortable under their scrutinizing gaze, I felt instead a bond of commonality; an intuition such as that which fosters an immediate, yet inexplicable, trust.

"I want to thank you and your friends for helping me out," I said.

"I did nothing. And those women you call my friends...well, they did even less."

"They did seem to pay you a lot of attention."

"Hangers-on," she said dismissively. "It was your insight and intelligence that won the day, not anything that we did."

"Well, in any case, I appreciate that you at least tried to help."

She smiled warmly. "My gratification was in seeing you make a fool of your cousin. That girl is a terror waiting to be unleashed."

It surprised me to hear her make such a brazen comment, considering there were a few Sisterhood members still mulling about. Even so, Charlotte made no effort to lower her voice or conceal her feelings.

"I may not come to many Sisterhood meetings, but I have been friends with Lenore for a very long time. She's told me a lot about you, and from what I've seen today, she made a wise choice in naming you her successor. Angelique may have inherited the indomitable Anjou will, but she has none of the heart and compassion that makes a true leader."

"I think she hates me now," I said. "But I did what I had to do. I don't regret helping that man, even if she thinks I'm her enemy."

"I can assure you that she does," Charlotte said firmly. "Oh, she may not come out and act openly hostile to you. In fact, it's possible she may do just the opposite. But don't fall for it. I have known that girl since she was a child, and she's a master at playing mind games. Be careful."

"Up until today Angelique was my best friend," I observed sadly.

Charlotte put one of her graceful hands on my shoulder.

"Angelique is no one's best friend but her own."

One of Charlotte's associates, who was waiting for her by the doorway, called to her just then to join the rest of their group. Charlotte seemed disappointed that she had to leave, as it seemed there were many more things she wanted to say to me. She told the woman to wait as she fished out a card from her purse.

"This is my private number," she said, handing me the card. "I can't say anything more now, but there is much we need to discuss. Call me tomorrow."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned abruptly and started to walk out of the room.

"Wait!" I said. "Won't you be at the dinner party tonight?"

"I wouldn't waste my time with such nonsense," she replied without looking back. "But I'm sure you'll find it entertaining."

As I watched her pass through the door I realized that I was the only person left in the room. I looked down at the card she had given me and on it was written, "Madam Charlotte, Clairvoyant," along with her address and phone number.

Clearly, there was no love lost between Charlotte and Angelique. But what circumstances had led to their disaffection? I felt that the time had come for me to know more about the workings of the Sisterhood and its adherents, and whereas Lenore, my aunt, and even Angelique, had been satisfied to feed me such information in piecemeal fashion according to their whims, Charlotte seemed amenable to passing this knowledge on to me without any such restrictions. I don't know why I felt so trusting toward her, but I did. Maybe it was because of her direct and fearless approach. Or maybe it was because she reminded me of another clairvoyant who seemed only to have my best interests at heart. Whatever reasons I harbored for trusting her were based more on intuition than logic. And even though I had always been a more or less logical person, logic alone could not compute the mysterious workings of the human heart and its motivations.

Charlotte's warning for me to "be careful" had far more implications than I could have imagined at the time. I had, after all, only been allowed to see the surface of the Sisterhood Empire: I had yet to be introduced to the vast substrata that comprised the bulk of its entirety. And if Charlotte were willing to offer me a glimpse of the underbelly of the beast, then I would be foolish to close my eyes to it. If what I beheld were anything as terrible as my dream, the deeper one probed, the more truth would be revealed.

I was beginning to understand even now that naiveté was a characteristic inimical to my welfare; especially since battle lines were now being drawn between Angelique and me. I would have to leave behind many of my girlish ideals and embrace a new ideology—one in which eternal vigilance would determine the future of my survival. And if such vigilance determined that I could no longer count Angelique amongst my friends, then so be it. What she had tried to conquer by fear and intimidation, I had conquered by patience and compassion, and I felt that my way was a far better way to treat human beings, even if it meant sidestepping normal Sisterhood procedure, or making someone look like a fool.

************

Just off the Champs-Elysées, theLe Boeuf sur le Toitrestaurant is one of those mythical, Art Deco establishments that are still visited by the Parisian intellectual elite to this day. In the 1930s, this restaurant became one of the centers for jazz in Paris. On the ride into the city, my aunt Phoebe informed me that musicians such as Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli used to jam there after their concerts.

Like my aunt, I had an interest in jazz, and I was happy to hear that the restaurant was going to feature a jazz performance called the "Dance of the Waiters" this very evening. The dance was being held in honor of the many contributions my aunt's "philanthropic society" had made to the city, and she emphasized the uniqueness of the occasion by informing me that one of France's greatest dancers would be performing.

"Mr. Jean Luc Etrillard is a splendid dancer," she told me as we rode together in the back of Jake's limousine. "Charming, handsome...so full of joie de vivre. There's no one like him. I think you'll enjoy the performance very much."

"I'm sure I will," I replied.

"And they're going to have a 30-piece jazz orchestra too," she went on. "An old friend of mine, Paul Sturgess, is the leader of the band. He's from New York. An amazing tenor sax player."

My aunt had been looking out the window while she was talking but suddenly paused to admire my dress.

"May I say that you look very fetching tonight in your little emerald-green outfit. I have no doubt you'll have that Swedish boy...what's his name?"

"Craig Lundquist."

"I'm sure you'll have him falling all over you in no time."

"Well, I'm not quite immune to his charms either aunt Phoebe."

"Which means you might be falling all over him? Oh, that's a dreadful thought. Please don't embarrass yourself in front of the Sisters."

I laughed. "I promise that I won't fall all over him. Don't worry."

She gave me a longer look this time. Whether she believed me or not I couldn't tell.

Since the moment we left the castle she had refused to mention one word about the session with Mr. Villon or her daughter's failure to pass Lenore's test. I guessed that it was still a sore subject with her so I did not bring it up, but I couldn't pretend that everything was all right when we both knew it wasn't. By time we had left the house, Angelique was out riding Antares and didn't even bother to explain to her mother why she wasn't coming to the dinner party with us. They had exchanged some heated words earlier, which had resulted in a stalemate, and which left my aunt looking frustrated and upset. I know Angelique had been looking forward to going, but it seemed that she wished to be alone now, far from the searching eyes of the women who had seen her fall flat on her face at the feet of the "pathetic" Mr. Villon. My aunt argued that Angelique should not cower from her misfortune but learn from it and move on. My cousin would hear none of it. I felt sorry for her in a way. It could not have been easy for her pride to suffer so, but her desire to seek solace in isolation worried me, and I knew it worried my aunt even more.

"It's okay if you want to talk about it," I said to my aunt as we arrived at the outskirts of the city.

She looked at me with a puzzled frown. "Talk about what?"

"You know what," I replied. "Come on, aunt Phoebe. I know you're upset. Stop hiding it."

"If you're referring to what happened today, I can only say that you proved yourself to be smarter than my daughter. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Disappointed, I suppose."

"There is no 'suppose' about it. She failed the test and that's all there is to it."

There was no hint of anger in her voice, but her eyes looked sad.

"I know you would have preferred that she become Lenore's protégé, but I didn't do anything wrong. And if I hurt you, I'm sorry."

"There is nothing for you to feel sorry about, Holly. My daughter is an angry young woman. Angry toward men, toward me, the world... I don't know what to do for her sometimes. All she cares about is riding that damn horse."

She turned to gaze out the window again.

"Would you like me to leave aunt Phoebe? Because if you do, tell me, and I'll be on the plane tomorrow morning. I don't want to come between you and Angelique."

Suddenly the frown on her face turned into a smile and she threw her arms around me and gave me a powerful hug.

"Oh, my dear little niece!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you to leave. Yes, of course I am disappointed in my daughter. But she's an adult and has to accept responsibility for her own actions. I cannot hate you for trying to do your best for the Sisterhood, and I know you never meant to hurt Angelique. It's just unfortunate that Lenore thought it necessary to pit the two of you against each other."

"I guess she felt that she had to justify her decision to the Sisterhood," I offered. "But it's also driven a wedge between me and Angelique. I don't know what to do."

"For the time being, don't do anything. She'll come around eventually. And she will. I promise you."

There was no doubt in my mind that my cousin would indeed rebound from this latest defeat after taking a few days off to lick her wounds. Such a ruthless and controlling person could not remain distant for too long without feeling that she was losing touch with the outside world. But it was these brief periods of isolation that concerned me. What new ways of wreaking havoc on the world were right now being devised in that devilish mind of hers? What new forms of punishment and humiliation could she inflict upon her adversaries? And did she have some sort of punishment in store for me? My thoughts suddenly turned to Charlotte and what insight she might provide me as to the inner workings of my wily cousin's mind.

"Do you know anything about Charlotte? I asked my aunt.

"Other than that she's an oddball, not much. Why?"

"I got a chance to speak with her today."

"I know. I saw you two talking for quite a while," she observed. "Did she promise you that she'd read your fortune?"

"No," I laughed. "She really didn't say much about herself at all. That's why I'm asking you."

My aunt cocked her head to one side, her eyes half closed as if trying to remember some long past event.

"She used to come around when Angelique was very young. For a while she was a frequent visitor at our house. And then the visits stopped. Pierre told me that she spent a good deal of her life traveling around the world, especially in the Middle East learning about the occult arts. Many years later she became a member of the Sisterhood. I do know that she tells fortunes and professes to know the future. She's been a close friend of Lenore's for years, but I never quite hit it off with her."

"Angelique doesn't seem to like her much."

"I'm not surprised. They're both possessed of that stubborn Anjou temperament."

"She seemed nice enough to me."

"She has no reason not to be nice to you. But I wouldn't pay her any money to predict your future."

As she finished these words she pointed her index finger to the side of her head and made concentric circles in the air, indicating what she thought of Charlotte's mental abilities.

"Don't get me wrong," she went on. "Charlotte's a nice woman but definitely a kook. I'd take what she says with a grain of salt."

For the next 20 minutes my aunt and I discussed sundry matters, most of which were related to my academic studies and my plans for the future. We didn't speak of Angelique or Charlotte again.