Island Fever Ch. 26

Chapter 26: "Wellness"


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"My favorite part of that whole episode between you and Amy yesterday was when you took her blouse and just RIPPED it from her body," Devon proclaimed, standing in front of me and neatly looping the neck tie that went along with the rest of my outfit. Yes, I had chosen the business casual look for today. Soon, Devon fastened the black garment around my neck and added, "I was like, OH MY GOD ... I cannot believe Jeremy just did that to her! The look on Amy's face was priceless. You could tell that she did not believe what you did, either."

I smiled leisurely. "What did Krissy have to say?"

"Krissy said that she wished you would be as forceful and as domineering with her sometimes, too!"

The time was 9:10am and the date was June 29, 2013. Devon was in my private quarters with me, helping me get ready for my impending trip to the mainland with Amy. The helicopter which would transport us to Peru was due to arrive in a mere 20 minutes. It certainly promised to be a big day.

Of course, Devon and I were discussing the events of what happened the previous day between Amy and yours truly. I had went to a somewhat dark place in my decision to dominate and ultimately seize control of Amy, but felt it was necessary.

Not only would the newfound direction and guidance enliven her final two weeks on the island and most likely make them much more enjoyable, but I honestly felt as if becoming the authority figure that Amy so desperately wanted was the only possible way I could get her to seek medical help. I had to become her Master, and thus, make the decision for her.

Truth be told, Amy needed mental health counseling and care much more than she did a dominant authority figure at this point of her life. Making sure she got the treatment and subsequent medication that she required had been my primary goal all along. I simply had to find a way to get Amy to agree to seek help. She had been steadfast in her reluctance to do so, but that all changed yesterday.

"Krissy does not seem to be the submissive type," I told Devon, chuckling. "I could never imagine Krissy playing the role of Amy yesterday. Not in a million years."

Devon giggled and tapped me on the nose with an extended finger. "Jeremy, you silly thing! Women do not have to be submissive for them to want their man to be a little rough and forceful with them. Being overpowered ... it can truly feel exhilarating at times - IF it is done in a safe manner, and with the right partner."

"The problem with that," I mused, watching Devon as she now adjusted my shirt collar, "is that Krissy would want to turn the tables and be all rough and tumble with ME."

Devon snickered at my remark. "You think Krissy would use all those karate skills of hers and judo-chop your ass?"

I burst out into laughter. "I wouldn't put it past her!"

Devon smiled coyly and mused, "I like it when Krissy turns all superior and uses her strength to overpower me. I never really thought of subbing to another woman before, but I think it would be really HOT if I did it with Krissy."

"As do I, dear. As do I..."

"It was awesome what you did for Amy yesterday," Devon then surmised, putting the finishing touches upon my shirt collar and thus, my overall appearance. "I almost fainted and had a heart attack in the voyeur room when you made Amy stand in the corner, her body quivering and her emotions on edge, only to then slip that note into her hand and basically DEMAND that she gets the help that she needs." Devon blushed and giggled, "I almost creamed myself!"

"From start to finish, I was trembling and shaking the whole way through," was my honest admission. "It was so out-of-character for me. I had never done anything like that before. I'm surprised I made it through the whole afternoon in one piece. Beforehand, Krissy was SURE that I was going to crack and wilt like a little flower."

"You proved her wrong!" Devon exclaimed. "You did a GREAT job. I watched every minute of it from the voyeur room alongside Krissy. We were both AMAZED. I think it will do a world of good for Amy, too. A whole world of good!"

Just then, two quick, subtle knocks came to the entrance of my personal suite.

Not waiting for an answer, the door opened and in stepped the captivating duo of Kristanna and Amy. Normally, I would focus my attention upon my precious fiancee and admire just how breathtaking and gorgeous of a woman she was whenever she first entered a room. This time, however, the one whose appearance literally blew me away was Amy.

No, Amy was not wearing one of her trademark tops with the hot, erotic inscriptions sprawled across the front of them. My favorite thus far (and her most shocking) had been the Filthy WHORE, Sin For Sale tank-top that she wore twice a week. Amy had a t-shirt that I enjoyed as well; across those overflowing breasts, there was an illustration of a giraffe and the words Deep Throat next to it. The first time I saw it, I could not help but to laugh.

Amy did not have on a flirty miniskirt either, which was another of her personal trademarks. Amy loved prancing around in little, glove-tight skirts and eliciting responses from not only me, but the all of the ladies here as well. She had a luscious pair of legs, and knew how to use them.

Nor was the 31-year-old dressed for a day out enjoying the island. Amy did not have on a pair of sneakers and cotton shorts, with a t-shirt two sizes too small, and a string bikini underneath just in case the beach beckoned.

In fact, there was nothing promiscuous or demonstrative about Amy's wardrobe. Not today; not with a trip to Peru and a visit to a health care provider on the horizon.

Amy looked much more different to me right now than she ever had before. I was used to wild Amy, with her often lascivious choice of attire and wear. I was certainly not accustomed to seeing Amy quite like this. But if a single word could accurately describe her appearance at this precise moment in time, it would simply have to be spectacular.

From my initial glance, it appeared as if Amy had just stepped out of the board room of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Amy looked like a power broker; perhaps even the CEO. She wore a stylish blazer top, its color beige, with a large, single button holding it together in front near her midriff. The fabric was a mixture of polyester and rayon. The blazer itself had long sleeves with buttoned cuffs and flap pockets on either side of her waistline.

Amy also had on a blouse with several black and white designs, but it was tough to make out because she had the blazer buttoned and mostly closed in front. In addition, the young woman wore a pair of straight-leg trousers that effortlessly matched her top in terms of color and appeal. The pants went all the way down to her ankles, and gave way to a pair of open-toe beige pumps with modest two inch heels.

A great deal of time and effort had even been put into Amy's hairstyle as well. The burgundy tresses, which were often kept loose and free-flowing, were actually pinned-up and done in fashionable curls and ringlets. The look not only accentuated the full outline of Amy's neck and its slender contours, but also her spellbinding face as well.

"Oh my God!" Devon squealed, full of excitement, as she scurried over to Amy and grasped her wrists with both hands. She even hopped about, gushing, "Oh my God, Amy! You look fantastic! You look amazing!"

"I have Kristanna to thank for it," Amy quietly told her. "She spent the past two hours giving me this make-over."

Devon turned toward Kristanna and smiled appreciatively. "Amy looks like a Hollywood movie star getting ready to walk the red carpet! Wow, Krissy! This was all your doing?"

"I outdid myself," Kristanna agreed, glancing at Amy one final time and admiring her from head to toe. "It is what Jeremy wanted. He wanted Amy to look classy and professional for their trip to Lima. I told him I'd take care of it."

"I have NEVER dressed like this in my life," Amy murmured, before shifting her gaze my way and smiling faintly. "Do you like it, Jeremy?" The red-headed goddess glimpsed at herself momentarily in a nearby wall mirror, then turned her attention back to me and asked, "Is this how you wanted me to look?"

"Very much so," I responded, grinning broadly. "You look ... radiant." I pulled Amy into my arms and offered her a warm, loving embrace. I tucked my chin over her shoulder and promised, "We're going to have a fun day in Lima. It's not all gonna be about seeing a psychiatrist and telling him your problems. We will go out to eat for lunch and perhaps even dinner. We will also do some sight-seeing. I'm going to show you a really good time today."

"You're a lucky girl," Devon told Amy, also smiling at her. "Lima is such an interesting city. You get to spend the day there! Can you bring me back a souvenir or two?"

"We are still spending another day in Peru before the next two weeks are up?" Kristanna asked me, wanting confirmation. "I mean ... all of us? You did say you wanted to take all of us back to the mainland, Jeremy, one more time before the others all go home in two weeks. Am I right?"

"Not this coming Monday, but the one following," I told her. "Everyone gets to see Lima one more time. I'm even taking you all back to that salon. If you weren't pampered and spoiled enough the first time, I'll make sure you are THIS time." I paused for a brief moment, allowing those words to sink in and register. "Please make sure, Krissy, that you tell the others of that when they start asking where Amy and I are today. Please tell them that I WILL take them for a day of sight-seeing in Peru one more time."

Now concerned, Amy glanced my way. "You think any of the girls will be jealous that you took me to the city today?"

"How could they feel jealous?" Devon retorted, her eyes fixed upon Amy. "Jeremy is taking you to the doctor there! He taking you there because you need it."

Amy shook her head at Devon as I implored, "No. Please don't tell the others why we are there. No one but us needs to know that Amy is going to see a psychiatrist. She has enough apprehension about seeing one as is. This is a personal and private matter for Amy, Devon. Please ... DO NOT give any of the others even a CLUE as to why we went there. The only ones who know are the four of us in this room."

Amy pouted. "Camille would make jokes about me behind my back if she found out!"

"You can't tell anyone," Kristanna stressed to Devon, before looking back at me. "I'll take care of it, Jeremy. If anyone asks, I'll just say that Amy had a personal issue that needed to be dealt with in the city, and you had to go with her to straighten it out. I will leave it at that."

"It's no one else's business, anyway!" Amy cackled.

"Shhhhh," I consoled Amy, bringing her back into my arms and embracing her yet again. "It will be okay. No one else is going to know that you're seeing a psychiatrist today."

"You two better get down to the beach and the heli-pad," Kristanna said to Amy and yours truly, gazing at her wristwatch. "Kevin will be here very shortly."

"Who is Kevin?" Devon inquired, suddenly puzzled.

"Kevin is the helicopter pilot," Kristanna answered. "Whenever Jeremy doesn't feel like taking the big boat to the mainland, he calls Kevin and asks him to fly him there instead via helicopter. Nearly every single time I came to the island to visit Jeremy in the past, Kevin would fly me here. I would stay for however long, then Kevin would simply return at the end of my visit and fly me back to the airport in Lima. Kevin always told me that Jeremy pays him really well for his services. Jeremy made him a rich man!"

"What it boils down to," I informed Devon, "is whether or not I want a four hour boat ride one-way, or an 80 minute helicopter flight. Today, it's the helicopter."

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Located just a hop, skip and a jump from the beach in the Miraflores District - an upscale, ritzy section of Lima - was the office of Dr. Gabriel Humala. A well-known and respected psychiatrist throughout his field, I had been under the care of Dr. Humala for the past three years. The medication he had prescribed for me - Effexor - had helped stabilize my mood levels and improve the quality of my life. I was once a non-believer myself, but now I openly embraced the idea of mental health diagnosis and treatment.

I suffered from dysthymia, which is basically a chronic state of depression. Without the care Dr. Humala had given me over the years, and the subsequent medication, I honestly do not know if I would still be alive today.

With that as a backdrop, perhaps now one could understand why I had such a vested interest in getting Amy some help.

Amy wanted me to go into the doctor's office with her and listen in during her diagnosis. Even though she was nervous and full of trepidation, I opted not to. I told her that I would be just outside, in the waiting room.

I implored to Amy that Dr. Humala was a good and reputable man. He was easy to talk to and even easier to trust, and would not stop until she was on the path to wellness. And though a life-long resident of Lima, it also helped that Dr. Humala spoke perfect English.

I again stressed how very important it was for Amy to be totally open and honest while inside the examination room. Dr. Humala was not going to judge her, or look down upon her, for anything she said to him. He was here to help her, I insisted, but that could only happen if she allowed him the necessary access to do so. "You HAVE to be honest," were my final words for her, before she disappeared into his office.

20 minutes turned into 30. 30 into 45. Before long, I looked at my wristwatch and noticed it was well past 1:00pm. Amy had went into Dr. Humala's office at precisely noon, which was her scheduled appointment time. Soon, 1:30pm was creeping up on me a lot quicker than I thought it would.

There was not much of anything for me to do in the waiting room. Most of the literature here was Spanish, so all I really could do with the books and magazines strewn about was look at the photographs contained within. I spoke a little Spanish - enough to get by in the city for a day or two - but I was downright clueless when it came time to try and read it.

There were no other patients on this Saturday afternoon and Dr. Humala's female receptionist, although very nice and friendly, spoke very little English. So, all I was basically left to do was play the waiting game.

The time was now approaching 2:00pm, but I was in no way impatient or frustrated. I may have been bored, but I was not feeling one bit impatient. I was glad that Amy had been in with the good doctor for nearly two hours. I simply figured that the longer she stayed, the more Dr. Humala would learn so he could properly diagnose and treat her.

I would have been fine if Amy spent six hours, or even longer, with him. The cost was inconsequential to me. I just wanted Amy to feel better, and ultimately be happy.

"Camille is angry that you took Amy to the city and not her," was a text - from Kristanna - that I received on my tablet at 2:06pm. I texted back, asking if anyone else was upset. The response I got? "Only Camille. Furious."

Just then, Dr. Humala stepped out of his office and made his way over to me. I stood and greeted him, and shook his hand. He said that he had an action plan for Amy, but she requested that I also come into his office so the doctor could tell me of the diagnosis and findings first-hand. He said that Amy rather I hear everything from him instead of her, for fear that she may butcher some of the information.

"That young lady really cares about you," Dr. Humala told me as I followed him into the aforementioned office.

Over the course of the next 20 minutes, I learned that Dr. Humala believed that Amy suffered from two different mental disorders. The first I had already suspected, and even made mention of in prior chapters of this very story. The second disorder? I was easily able to associate Amy with it, but I had no idea that it was listed as and considered an actual mental health disorder.

First, Dr. Humala explained that he believed Amy was suffering from cyclothymia. A lesser, more milder version of bipolar disorder, cyclothymia is characterized by various and sudden mood disturbances. Its root cause, like most depression types, was unknown, Dr. Humala told us, and less than one percent of the U.S. population was impacted by it.

Amy also went through bouts of hypomania, he explained, which was tied into her cyclothymia. While in a hypomanic state, an affected individual can be quite energetic, outspoken and full of confidence. It can cause a person to become reckless and careless; so much so, that the effects may have irreversible consequences in the long-term. I had caught a few glimpses of Amy in such a state before; none more so than during her initial day on the island when her emotions bounced around like a yo-yo.

The physician elaborated that he believed, under the right circumstances, Amy could go from a hypomanic episode to feeling severely depressed at the drop of a pin. She could be floating high in the sky one minute, then come crashing down just a short time later with no apparent trigger as to why. Individuals with this sickness do not need a reason, or a trigger, for their moods to fluctuate so violently. This was obviously not healthy, he told us, and could worsen over time and lead to the much more severe and dangerous bipolar disorder if not properly treated.

Dr. Humala linked Amy's cyclothymia and hypomania into one, saying he believed that was her first disorder. The other? Amy was a nymphomaniac. Yes, nymphomania was actually considered a mental health disorder. Oddly enough, I would have never guessed that in a million years.

The technical term he used was hyper-sexuality, but it meant the same thing. Amy had sudden sexual urges and felt the need to act on them as often as she could. The problem, Dr. Humala said, was that several of those sexual urges were actually unwanted. Amy did not want to act on some of those feelings, but felt compelled to anyway as if some unseen entity was forcing her to do so.

The good doctor looked at his notes and gave me an example. "Miss [Last Name], when in her homeland of Ohio, gets together with five black men every Saturday afternoon and engages in full, non-protected intercourse with all of them at once, despite the fact that she does not care about them and nor she believes they care about her."

Amy lowered her head and covered her face in shame as the doctor continued, "Yet this is a ritual for Miss [Last Name], and she feels overly compelled each Saturday to see it through no matter the ramifications - short-term or long-term."

It was one thing to hear something like this from Kristanna, who was good at judging others and had made eerily similar assumptions about Amy in the recent past. But it was something different to hear it from a licensed health provider such as Dr. Humala. It was downright scary.

So much so, in fact, that I found myself holding hands with Amy between chairs as we sat side-by-side in the office. It was a poor substitute for what I really wanted, which was to pull Amy into my lap and embrace her, or protect her, and give her assurances that all was fine and there was nothing for her to feel ashamed about. Unfortunately, this examination room was not the proper place to do such a thing.

The good news, Dr. Humala told us, was that everything that troubled Amy was treatable with the right medication. It would not cure her problems or make them go away forever. Rather, the medication would level her emotions out, and help keep her on more of a steady playing field.

Dr. Humala gave Amy a three week sample supply of an anti-depressant called Lexapro and told her that she was to start taking it immediately. I asked for more details on the drug; he called it a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI for short) that regulates chemicals in the brain which cause a person to become unbalanced, anxious and/or depressed. Dr. Humala said that not only would it combat and relieve her symptoms of cyclothymia, but also her hyper-sexuality. Given time and if taken properly, Lexapro would ultimately cause Amy to feel much better and be in much better control of her emotions.