Jennifer Unchained

We had established a rhythm now, but driven by the grinding power of one determined pair of hips against the other, neither slackening in ferocity. Suddenly, Louise howled as her body prepared for wholesale electrical discharges, swirling eddies of warm pulses washing around in her upper thighs and abdomen. She urged her body on, towards a climax. Finally, it gave way to all resistance and released an all-embracing orgasm that exploded inside her and set off multiple after-shocks. She continued thrusting upwards, urging me through gritted teeth, "Come, damn you. Coat the opening of my womb with your molten manhood."

That sent me over the edge and I climaxed with a massive eruption of hot semen. Several smaller orgasms followed as I granted her her wish.

We lay, physically spent, squeezed together, side by side on the single bed. In her post-coital state, there was something ethereal and delicate about Louise. She had lost all her animal vitality and seemed suddenly utterly vulnerable. I had to check her mood.

"Are you sorry?"

She rolled onto her side facing in to me. "No, not at all. In fact, if I get pregnant, I would be delighted. Don't get me wrong. I don't want a relationship with you, but I want to feel a whole woman. I thought that I would never get to experience that."

Her words didn't make sense. In a way, they alarmed me. She was a mass of contradictions, something that had not been apparent to me before. I had assumed that all four women practiced birth control. That is what Tessa had implied.

"Do lesbians normally want babies?"

I could have bitten off my tongue as soon as I said that. But Louise merely chuckled.

"We are just like other women. Some have maternal instincts, others would run a mile from the prospect. In my case, there is simply a disconnect between my mind and my body.

"I'm wide awake now. Want a drink?"

She rolled over me, pausing to lie flat on top of me. My hands went automatically to her bottom. It felt good, in an intimate way, to be able to touch it after what we had just done.

"You know, that feels so good, for a man's touch."

She rolled onto her feet on the floor and stood up, then turned to tug at my hand. We went downstairs to the main kitchen. She brewed a pot of tea whilst I stood to the side, watching her and admiring her body with a new-found admiration. She shot a glance at me that was warm and smiling. I pressed my body against her back, and she reached behind for my hands and pulled them onto her breasts. It was a very tender moment, quite unlike the Louise I had grown to know and respect.

She fetched some conveniently placed towels, and we sat on a sofa in the lounge, whilst the tea brewed in the pot.

She moved her hip and thigh to press against mine and reached for my hand. "I thought the moment had passed. I've tracked my periods for years and monitored my ovulation cycles. A baby was the one thing I wanted more than just about anything else - in my personal life, anyway. I had hoped that Susie, Jenny, or Tessa would develop a relationship with me, like a compensation. This job has been all-consuming of my time; no opportunity for external relationships. But it didn't happen, and when you arrived, I knew that it never would. All three ladies are crazy about you. In this male-deprived feminine hothouse, it was inevitable. It's only the delicate situation with Jenny which holds them back. You should know that, because I sense that your loyalties are torn, two ways. I can't help feeling that it can't end well.

"Tonight has changed my life. I seduced you because I was ready to play Russian Roulette with my body. The alcohol actually helped me to see the issue more clearly. I will always prefer other women to men, but a part of me can still get aroused by men. I just hadn't admitted that to myself before. I want more than anything to be a mother. But I need a family life as well.

"I've made up my mind to leave, and make a new life. I know that you will stay with the others. Your future lies here with them, one way or the other. I don't feel as if I'm leaving Jenny in the lurch. She's ready to take the next step on her road to her recovery, with your help.

"Can I make one last request? Can I sleep in your bed for tonight, for what's left of it anyway? Tomorrow is my day off. I intend to use it productively."

Chapter Four

I was at the hospital, hotdesking. I got a call on my mobile. I answered.

"Hello, Richard Wallace."

"Richard, it's the Director for you." It was an unrecognisable woman's voice.

Which Director, I pondered?

"Oh, Hi, Richard. Its Amanda Peel, Social Services. Can you come and see me? Are you free in forty five minutes?"

I could, because my Jag had finally been repaired.

I sat waiting in her outer office, with mounting trepidation. Social Services were a key stakeholder on the project, one of many, but were not paying my fees. So this was an unusual request. I ran through my mind possible reasons for this summons, and potential consequences for me of a complaint to the Hospital Trust. The time for my appointment passed. I felt uneasy the longer I waited. It was thirty minutes late when the door opened and several people walked out with papers tucked under their arms, some of whom I recognised as project stakeholders.

The Director emerged a couple of minutes afterwards, and held out her hand.

"Richard, good to see you. Please come in.

"You're my last meeting of the day so we can spend some time on this. I don't normally do this, but would you like a sherry? It's my occasional after-hours tipple before I head home." She pulled a cut glass decanter of sherry out of a cabinet, with two lead crystal glasses. I nodded and she poured one each. Amontillado: I approved.

"How do you feel the project is going? Are you making headway?"

"I think we are, but I'd be cautious about over-selling progress, particularly with the fickleness of parents and some other stakeholders."

She gave a faint smile, which was encouraging.

"Well, we have reason to celebrate. I received a call from Walter Obarn a few days ago. You know him, the voluble parents' lead who has given us so much grief? His son is one of our service users. He and I talked, one of several difficult conversations over the years. He told me something interesting, so I asked him to put his thoughts down in writing. It's always better to have a copy for the record. I received his letter this morning. It simply says that - and I quote: 'after due consideration of the arguments put forward by the project manager and the assurances given about continuing support, my wife and I have agreed to Philip being rehoused in a supported living flat'.

"I wanted to thank you personally, Richard, for your contribution already to the project. After six years there is a chink of light at the end of what has felt like a very long tunnel. You breathed fresh air into a very stale project which was going nowhere. In hindsight, we needed a change of tack. Your detailed work has done the trick. Where did you find the source material?"

I told her of my research and how I had simply turned them into detailed procedures. "I knew very little about the subject until I researched it. Perhaps coming to it fresh and without preconceived notions helped with my objectivity? The Planning brief was just common sense. People tend to be fazed by Planning applications for the disabled. I should apologise for overstepping the brief and intruding into professional social care territory."

"A few of the professionals have had their noses put out of joint, but you shouldn't worry about that now. The healthcare team agreed with them, despite not having social care backgrounds. Those inter-disciplinary differences haven't helped us in the past. Maybe we would have got on our professional high horses and objected in principle to an outsider interfering, had we known in advance what you were doing. I know how some of my managers work. But having read the guidelines, I think they hit the mark. Sometimes a fresh perspective is just what the doctor ordered. I just wanted to say how pleased I am that the logjam has been removed. You probably won't get formal recognition for your work. There are too many egos on the Project Board to concede that. That comment does not go beyond these walls, by the way. Agreed?"

I nodded, in a mental whirl. So everything was fine on the project after all. Did we really have to have a one-to-one meeting to talk about this?

"Now, having got that out of the way, I want to ask you about Jennifer Walker. I understand that you have been getting involved with her? Is that true? Right, well do you appreciate that you are treading on eggshells there?

"Can I ask, when did you meet her, and how?"

Her words hit me like a blow to the stomach. So that was what this meeting was about. I had been found out, consorting with a service user. First the praise, then the hammer blow.

"I came across her by accident. Or rather, her sister propositioned me to help them. You might say that I was abducted on pretence of being offered a lift in the rain, and taken to their home. Jenny isn't a resident in the hospital. She is not on their books."

"Not now, but she was six years ago. Fortunately, the Statute of Limitations has run out on that connection."

I appreciated her grim humour, but it did nothing to allay my mounting anxiety. She continued.

"She is one of our services users, though, and we have a statutory duty to protect her welfare.

I know all about your introduction into the household, your interactions with Jenny and her carers; all the intimate details. I just hope you are not getting in too deep?"

"What sort of 'details' do you know?"

Amanda fished around among a pile of papers and pulled out a case file. She flicked through several pages then alighted on a tabbed sheaf of papers. She passed it across to me to examine.

As I read the first page, my stomach lurched. I looked up at the Director in alarm. What I read was a summary of the daily log of all the activities since I had first been to the Walker's home. I turned to the back pages and the first entry, and sure enough, even my first evening sexual encounter with Tessa had been recorded in outline. That particular report was signed by Tessa!

I looked up at the Director of Social Services. She shook her head pityingly.

"You didn't think that this was a casual encounter, did you? It was all carefully planned and cleared with the Safeguarding Board before you were brought on board. We didn't know your identity here at the time, of course. We might have objected if we had, on grounds of potential conflict of interest. You might be surprised that such a licentious scenario could have been sanctioned beforehand. Well, the details were not, but the principles were carefully considered. Previous logs recorded the sexual interactions in a previous phase. We took care not to be too prurient with the details.

"This therapy is, to say the least, highly unusual, exceptional. Yet the manual hasn't yet been written that deals with the support of an individual in Jenny's predicament. She was judged to be highly vulnerable in the community, in view of her history, and without constant supervision. This seemed to be the best solution to keep her stable.

"What has surprised us here is the relatively rapid transformation in her personality. So I ask you again, are you into this too deep?"

"If by that you mean, can I extricate myself, I have to say that I don't want to. I have genuine affection for Jenny, but it feels more like as a brother than as a lover. We have not had sex. The log should bear that out."

"It does, but the report from a psychiatrist does not."

Another blow to my chest from the shock of her words left me breathless as I digested that remark. Was she suggesting that I had been fucking with Jenny's mind? The Director stared patiently at me and waited for me to signal that she should proceed. She studied me like an interrogator judging the veracity of a witness. I nodded.

"What does the psychiatrist report?" That croak in my voice again.

"She states that Jenny is hopelessly in love with you. She talks about you as if you are a guru. She hangs on your every word. She engineered several erotic situations involving you and her sister and the carers. It is an unintended consequence of part of the strategy to give her complete control of her life within boundaries, but we did not foresee how far she would stretch them. She is highly intelligent, as you know. She knows what she is doing, even when it may be inappropriate.

"She suffered a temporary relapse in a pub recently. She said that she wanted to express her frustration, because you had agreed not to have sexual relations with her."

I interrupted. "I must qualify that. I told her that I would not have sex with her because I thought it would be unethical. I didn't know she blamed that for her relapse."

The Director nodded. "Whichever way it was, she understood the rationale but found that she could not cope with it. The problem I foresee is that if she cannot resolve her present dilemma, her therapy may start to become counter-productive. Having you around but unavailable to her may trigger a mental relapse, if not a physiological one."

The pregnant pause was clearly intended for me to respond. But what could I say?

"Director, I feel awkward discussing intimate matters with you. I never wanted to be sucked into this situation. I certainly never wanted to mislead a vulnerable woman. I insisted that we keep a boundary between us so that she could work within clearly understood parameters."

"Did you do that for her benefit, or for your own? I'll answer that: I think you did it to protect yourself from any accusation of improper conduct with a vulnerable person. You were not prepared to cross a line into intimacy, even when she laid the grounds for it by engineering a situation between you and her carers. You are failing her."

"It's an impossible situation," I protested. "I have my reputation to consider, and my fitness to continue to work with Social Care organisations. At least I can defend how I've dealt with this situation."

"Can you? Theresa trusted you to handle her sister with sound judgement. You did that. Jenny responded. Once the Safeguarding Board learnt of the situation, no one of us - yes, I was involved, too - intended that you should harm Jenny by refusing to consummate a relationship with her. She arranged it on her terms. She got you accustomed to sex with her carers so that it would not be such an outlandish thing to occur when it came to be her turn."

"How can you calmly and dispassionately discuss whether or not I should seduce a vulnerable adult?"

"There are no rules or social niceties where a person's welfare is concerned. There is only the right decision to take at the right time to assist them in their recuperation and/or progress towards independence. As has been said many times with this case, there are no hard and fast rules, except as regards exploitation and abuse.

"You cannot be forced to have sexual relations with her, of course, but if your relationship does not get consummated, you may do greater harm by continuing to be there. Jennifer is venting her frustration in her own particular way."

I shook my head to clear it of the random thoughts bouncing around in it. Was I being urged to consummate a relationship with Jenny?

"What if I don't love her?"

"Did you not consider that possibility when committing to this particular 'project'?"

"Of course I did, but I was never in control. I never believed that a loving relationship could be engineered, nor that I was committing to one."

"Well, do you love her?"

It felt wrong, the Director asking such an intimate question. Was she entitled to an answer? On reflection, I conceded that she probably was.

"I don't dare even think about it. Having three attractive other women around her, all of whom appeared to need some interaction with me, made it easier not to have to consider it."

"Well I suggest you go away now and think hard about it. If you find you don't love Jenny, talk to Tessa about an exit strategy from their lives. That would be a bad outcome, but the alternative would almost certainly be even worse."

I left the Director's office with my head swimming. As I sat in my car, I raged at how everyone around me now seemed to be manipulating me. Why was I, a strong enough and assertive male, being so easily played by these women? I knew, of course, that I had done my utmost to be sensitive and caring, and thereby fallen into the trap laid out for me. Nor could I extricate myself by being mannishly assertive. That might only make matters worse.

I had to go home, to my own home, and have a good, long think.

~*~*~

Tessa and I talked it over on the phone. She did not entreat me, only put their case cogently. I agreed to drive over the following Saturday.

Susie was on duty with Tessa. Tessa looked tense when I arrived. She didn't offer her cheek for a kiss. She showed me into the main lounge.

"We've had a bad week. Jenny has withdrawn. She won't talk.

"What, talk at all?"

"Monosyllables. She just sulks. We can't coax her out of her mood."

"Where is she?"

"Up in her sitting room."

"Can I talk to her alone?"

"Sure, just go up, and ask Susie to come down here."

"No, you come up with me and let me bring Jenny down here, away from her living environment."

Tessa grimaced, but shrugged her shoulders.

We went upstairs together. When we entered Jenny's sitting room she stood up and held out her arms like a sulky child demanding attention. I hugged her.

"We should talk alone, if you agree?" I said. She nodded, and turned to Susie.

"You go with Tess," she suggested.

I shook my head. "No, you come with me, Jenny."

I led her out of her confinement and down to the main kitchen.

"The sun isn't over the yard arm but I feel like a drink. What do you say to a gin and tonic?"

She smiled and nodded. Then bucked up. "I'll cut the lemon."

We sat on the big sofa in the lounge, at arms' length. I broke the ice. "So what's the problem?"

Jenny sat there with a thick lip. I could see her brain cogs whirring, as if she had a big secret to impart. Then she sullenly spoke.

"I told them. I told them all."

"Who?"

"Social Services, the psychiatrist."

I tried to calm my fluttering chest. "What did you tell them?"

"Everything. About the teasing, the nudity, my feelings, my fears. They know it all now."

"Is that a problem?"

"I've got nothing left inside to hide. I've given it all away."

"Is that a problem?"

She dropped to her knees on the carpet, and stared up at me, as if in supplication. "I kept it all inside; never told them what I was really feeling. That was something personal to hold onto. It was easy at first. Nobody was really listening. Then you came. Suddenly people were asking me questions about us, about how I felt about you. I wanted to keep my secrets, but it was hard to know what I had said and what I made up. I thought they were starting to disbelieve me. I had to be honest."

Tears were trickling down her cheeks. She wasn't making much sense. I dropped to my knees facing her, to be on the same level.

"What could you possibly say that could hurt?"

"I told them that I loved you."

It hit me like a blow between the eyes. Other people had referred to her feelings, but it was very different, much more real, hearing it from her own lips. My mind reeled at her delivery of that simple statement. All at once, all the pretensions of my presence in her home, my caring front regardless of what I was really thinking, all came back to haunt me. Somehow, I had lassoed the brittle affections of this stunningly beautiful but vulnerable young woman. And I didn't know what were my true feelings. I had never even dared to explore them. How could I have so misled this tender child? Unaccountably, tears welled up in my eyes too.