Jennifer Unchained

"Is that ethical? To let her display herself to an unknown watcher? A voyeur?"

"What did you think of her?"

That was a leading question. How was I supposed to respond to it?

"You didn't answer my question. However I would say that she was clearly very excited, and she was naked. The way she leapt on you was totally uninhibited."

"Did you like what you saw?"

That question seemed totally inappropriate, prurient, even. I was damned, however I answered it, particularly since I had admitted to being a voyeur, and had indulged my predilection with Tessa. I weighed up my dilemma in my mind. There seemed no benefit in lying, and perhaps it would resolve the situation for me to be absolutely honest.

"Fromm what I could tell on the monitor, I think her face and body are probably incredibly beautiful, even allowing for the distorted view from your low-res monitors. My guess would be that her breasts and body are near perfect, something you share in common. Her bottom is a good shape. If she threw herself at me, whether in public or in private, I'm sure I would be tempted to fuck her. It would be hard to resist."

"I note that you didn't say to make love."

"It wouldn't be love if I don't know her, just pure lust."

"But I think you would resist taking advantage of her if you knew all the circumstances. Do you think she was safe in the hospital - from the predations of the male orderlies? The hospital can't afford to be choosy about how they deploy their support staff. Sadly, the world isn't as squeaky clean as we would like to think."

"There's a lot to think about. I just don't know how I would react to her. What do you expect of me?"

"She needs to try and establish a normal relationship with a man. It might help her to map proper boundaries to her behaviour, provided that the man is prepared to conduct himself honourably. You know enough about social care to understand the issues. She does, too."

"And how far might such a relationship develop?"

"That depends on the man, and on Jenny's feelings."

"Come to think of that, how might she react to me?"

"She can behave, most of the time, when she isn't being wilful. She masturbates frequently and is usually subdued after that for a few hours. I would like you to get to know her, and she you. I want to bring some normality into her life."

"Normal?"

"Contact with a man in supervised, non-sexual circumstances. At least, that would be a start. She would agree to that."

I agreed to think it over.

Chapter Three

I gave the situation a few days respite in my own home, then got a taxi from the hospital on the Friday evening, with an overnight bag. It took my mind off my divorce, which was progressing painfully slowly. The house would have to be sold.

Tessa's reaction to my arrival was overwhelming. With tears streaming down her face she thanked me, then kissed me over and over. I was astonished and feared the worst. "What's happened? Why are you so emotional?"

She tried to laugh it off but just looked embarrassed.

"I thought you were going cool on the idea. I'd set so much store by you. I'm glad you're here now."

Now I was bewildered. I wasn't sure just what the idea was that she was referring to. She saw my confusion and dragged me through the front door.

"I've had the main gate repaired. It opens and closes electronically. It's the only way out. The side gate doesn't have a handle on the inside. When it is unlocked you can come in that way but have to be let out by the main gate. It doesn't keep visitors out, but it keeps Jenny in. We can control both entrances through an intercom system connected to our mobile phones.

"I'm on duty this evening, but I'm taking time off to talk to you whilst we eat. Susie is looking after Jenny. You haven't met Susie yet."

We ate and chatted, small talk, using the wine to ease any awkwardness. Then I broached the subject which had most been bugging me.

"So you and your sister were both affected sexually by the accident. Jenny developed sexual disinhibition, and you the opposite. She remained hospitalised, but you function perfectly well in the community. Is there a connection?"

"I didn't suffer a brain injury, only a mental trauma. There is no reason why I won't recover some day. Jenny is showing sings of improvement and she has a strong will, but we can't distinguish her calculated impulsive behaviour from uncontrollable uninhibitedness. At the moment I'm quite content as I am. She remains an enigma."

"Yet you teased me before and took great satisfaction in exposing yourself to me and smearing my spunk all over you?"

"Yes. Oh, I do like it when you talk dirty! I haven't lost the desire to be desired, nor to see a man cum over me. I want to be considered attractive. I just don't want intercourse, some foreign body inside me. I have had orgasms with Susie and Louisa, enough to satisfy my cravings. I didn't think I could at first, but it is non-threatening with a woman.

"Jenny is quite different. She never had as great a sex drive as I growing up, yet she craves sex now. I don't think she's a nymphomaniac; she can go days without wanting sexual activity. But when she is aroused nothing will stop her getting gratification, hence the difficulties in public. I've tried to give her as normal a life as possible, but we haven't been able, so far, to let her go out in public unaccompanied, or into situations where she might get too aroused. We've received lots of advice from psychiatrists and psychologists, clinicians and so on, but it has all been speculative and often contradictory. The only point on which they all agree is that she cannot be allowed to roam free and rampant. Quite apart from diseases from casual encounters, she is at risk from sexual violence, rape, abuse, and even three kidnap attempts, so far."

My eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Oh yes, she has a reputation amongst local lowlife as an easy lay. She could be tracked by her mobile phone whilst she had one, and was traced by the police to an East London brothel on one occasion. Luckily the police found her before she came to harm, and incidentally discovered eight sex slave workers there.

"We lost her overnight on another occasion. She had gone willingly to Manchester with a man she had met on the internet. She called me the following evening and told me where she was. She had starred in several porn films in just a few hours, and posed for endless pictures under the name of Jenny Beckons. They were up on the web before we found out; they're probably still there somewhere. You see, she is very noticeable. She stands out in a crowd. Quite frankly, my younger sister is a stunner, in every way. She attracts the wrong sort, like a magnet, and doesn't see any problem in that."

I changed tack. "What is the big idea you mentioned, the one you had set so much store by?"

Tessa tensed up at that question. All the vivacity in her face drained away and she slumped back in her chair. She did not answer for several minutes. I let her compose herself, and waited without speaking. When she began, mixed emotions welled up visibly in her eyes, in her facial expressions, and through her fidgeting fingers. This was clearly an important moment for her to get right.

"Jenny's life here is far better than it was in the hospital bungalow. She is safer here from abuse. She has better protection. We can afford it, whereas the Hospital Trust couldn't spend that type of money. I want the best for my sister whom I love utterly. But this is no life for a vivacious young woman. She is in her mid-twenties and in the prime of life. She should be having a family, or whatever she wants to do. Yet she is cut off from the outside world and from the world of men. None of the specialists disagree with her being confined, on grounds of personal safeguarding. Yet it isn't enough."

Tessa had been talking in staccato fashion, snuffling and occasionally sobbing as she laid out the situation. She fell quiet for a few moments, then pulled herself upright as if she had made a decision.

"I want Jenny to get used to men again, with a man I can trust. Someone who is sympathetic, and who cares." She had been looking down at her fingers. Now, she raised her head and looked me straight in the eyes. "I think that man is you."

"But you don't know me. We've hardly spoken. This is crazy -"

"Do you remember, back in Millhampton, in a function hall. You and the main project team discussed strategy with the wider project team of seconded managers. We got into a debate - an argument, even - about why we needed to collect more data and for whose benefit. Many resisted the extra effort it would require. At one point you spoke with real conviction about care in the community, and how we social workers could use data and technology to plan care, and transform lives. You referred specifically to people with mental and physical disability challenges. Someone in the audience who had bought into the message for a more sophisticated system in order to serve our 'customers', pointed out that you were an accountant by training and yet you showed more commitment to service users than many care professionals. At that point, I had a sort of epiphany. It first occurred to me, then, that the solution for Jenny wasn't in a residential hospital, but at home, amongst familiar possessions and memories. I had flutterings in my chest and I felt impelled to touch myself under my jacket on my lap. I had an orgasm. My panties got soaked. I don't recall ever being so affected before. It might be explained by Jenny and sex being uppermost in my mind at that point, but you were very much part of that realisation. The memory of that occasion has never left me.

"So you can imagine how I felt when I heard in passing on Monday morning in the training that you were the new Trust Project Manager. Our paths crossing so closely a second time didn't feel like a mere coincidence. It made me quite giddy. So I went looking for you."

I was embarrassed by her acclamation. I felt a fraud. "I don't think there's anything remotely remarkable about me. Maybe your reaction was a result of your accident. Perhaps you had built up some sort of impossible image of a man who doesn't exist? I'm an ordinary - a very ordinary consultant at heart."

"I see something different, and what I see is a lifeline, a possible way out of this mink-lined hell Jenny and I are in. Maybe it isn't about you as much as being all bound up with my situation."

"As long as you appreciate that I'm not qualified in any way to bring any special medical or psychological insight into Jenny's condition - OK, I'm intrigued enough to want to hear more. How long do you plan this project of your own to last for?"

"Months, years, maybe. We would have to adopt a gradual, experimental approach. Try and make life more conventional for Jenny. Get her back out into the world, but in a controlled way. Then perhaps both she and I can get our lives back."

"All well and good, but I have an assignment to complete at the hospital. I don't know how long it will take. And they must never get wind of my involvement with your sister -"

"She isn't one of their patients anymore. She is technically under the care of social services in Wiltonshire, not London. That few miles across the border makes all the difference. And your involvement needn't be full time. You've told me that a lot of the work has already been done for the Hospital Trust in designing community homes and supported living units. All it needs is for the plans to be turned into action. You are the catalyst, not the engine room of that project. I'm sure you can spare us some of your time."

She looked so earnest that I couldn't resist her plea. I was suffering mixed feelings and typical male double standards to the plight of a beautiful woman. It would represent a challenge to me to get involved, as well as being a disruptive element for Tessa and Jenny; perhaps they knew that. A cautionary thought intruded into my mental deliberations: once I became involved it would be very difficult to extricate myself. Others would depend on me. Yet I couldn't imagine what form my commitment was likely to take.

Tessa wanted to wrap up the discussion. "I've got to go back to Jenny now. Why don't you change and I'll come and find you in, what, an hour? Then it will be time for you to finally meet my sister."

I went into the study wearing the tracksuit, and watched the interactions going on in Jenny's sitting room on the monitors. The scene was relaxed with a good three-way conversation going between Tessa, Susie and Jenny. Then Jenny leapt up and disappeared. I switched between monitors until I found her in her bedroom. She had shed her clothes and was searching in a drawer. She pulled out a dildo and threw herself energetically onto the bed. In minutes, she was writhing and mashing her breasts with one hand whilst bringing herself to a pinnacle of stimulation with the dildo. She thrashed around in a physical frenzy. I watched with grim fascination at a scene I should possibly not have been witnessing, yet equally aware that this was precisely what I was getting involved with: the unbridled sexuality of a vulnerable woman. It wasn't in the least erotic.

I tried to assume the detachment of a clinical psychologist, yet could not help imagining myself watching her in the flesh and enjoying as she writhed with unashamed pleasure. Tessa had said that my role was to help get her back out into the world in a controlled way. I might be witnessing many occasions like this on the way. Despite the poor monitor definition image, I felt my groin tightening. It wasn't the ability to watch her as such, more the realisation that a beautiful woman was acting with total abandonment, only a few yards away. Now, that was hot.

She had spent her energy and lay with arms and legs spread, recuperating. I switched back to the sitting room in time to see Tessa get up and leave. She didn't enter the bedroom. The spectacle was over. I pondered on the implications of what I had just witnessed.

"Did you see that?"

I turned. It was Tessa standing by the door. "Jenny knows you are going to visit her. She was excited and wanted to prepare herself."

"Like that?"

"You'll see."

Why had I got the impression that Jenny had been playing her part in a shared performance?

Tessa turned left at the top of the stairs. She keyed in a four digit code in the keypad and the sound of a lock being released made me think of a prison. My heart was thumping in my chest. I had been mentally preparing for this moment for some days. I had a sense that Tessa had also been preparing me. I took a deep breath as I entered the doorway to Jenny's mink-lined prison.

Beyond the light oak door was a short, dimly lit hallway with a door to the right, a door at the end, and a dark passage running off immediately to the left, behind the landing wall. Tessa headed for the room on the right. It was brightly illuminated by natural light streaming through two large windows, looking out over the Downs and westwards. It was the room above the downstairs study and playroom.

The room was a complete contrast to the rest of the house. There were two large sofas and a matching armchair in the centre of the room. It was carpeted with a deep pile carpet in a modern design, in pastel pinks, green and grey patterns. Various cabinets and bookshelves were arranged around the walls. They were filled with photographs, ornaments, a large clock, and other family memorabilia. All of the former life of the house appeared to be concentrated in this one room. A large television hung on a side wall with a glass-topped occasional table below it, containing various decoder boxes and a hi-fi unit. Speakers sat either side of the table.

This was a room with all the creature comforts of home, if none of the freedoms. I realised then that all the emotional energy in this big house was concentrated in this one room, on Jenny. She was contained, but Tessa had done it with love. It felt as if the rest of the house had been drained of all humanity in the process.

Behind heavy curtains in matching colours to the carpet were horizontal blinds, partially closed to shade the room from the westerly setting sun. Pictures of hand-painted local scenes adorned the walls whilst leaving space for a white screen. A projector was suspended from the ceiling. If anyone had to be confined, there were plenty of amenities to relieve the boredom.

"Susie, meet Richard."

Susie was of oriental origin, very pretty and evidently in exceptionally fit and attractive condition, as was evident when she stood up and offered me her hand. "I'm Susie, pleased to meet you, Richard."

I heard a sound behind me and turned. Jenny was skipping gleefully through the doorway with a considerable degree of exuberance. "Hi Mr Richard. Can I call you Dick?" She said it with a disarming smile.

Despite my voyeuristic viewing of her on monitors, I was not prepared for what faced me in reality. The atmosphere in the room had felt oppressive until Jenny entered. She brought brightness and gaiety with her. She had managed to dress herself in double quick time in white slacks and a loose smock top in white with tan stitching around the neck, seams and short sleeve cuffs. She had welcomed me playfully with a teasing use of my occasional nickname, which I detested. The fact that I was more than ten years older than her did not stop her teasing me. I recognised her likeness from the TV monitors, but the reality in the flesh was an altogether different woman from what I expected.

I had known that she was pretty, and could guess at that that from the low-res monitors. But in the flesh, she was something else entirely. Her beauty shone dazzlingly, making it difficult for me to hold her gaze at first, so entrancing was the vision of her. I needed to look away just to refresh my visual receptors. I was so over-awed that I could not fully take in just how gorgeous she was. Unlike Tess, she was a natural honey blonde, with large brown eyes, a perfect nose and full lips.

Her body features all looked perfectly in proportion in her chosen outfit, if perhaps slightly top heavy with her full bust.

I engineered a smile, aware that it must look forced. But it wasn't from annoyance, but from nervousness. Having recovered from that first glimpse of her in the flesh, I tried not to stare, or to be seen to be examining her too closely. It was as if I was the one under intense scrutiny about my reaction. I imagined that a professional would ignore the beauty and concentrate on the person. I couldn't do that.

I nodded to her and said, "Hello Jennifer, I'm pleased to meet you."

She moved up close to me with lips slightly parted, and lightly traced her fingertips across my chest, then flowed on with her touch across my upper arm and onto my back. I stood motionless, unreacting. The direction of her fingers' progress changed 90 degrees and slipped ever so slowly and deliberately down my spine to my coccyx and down into the thinly clad cleavage of my bottom. A twinge of a nervous response shot down my spine. Should I react? I steeled myself not to show any reaction. Her fingers retraced their journey out of my bottom crease and stroked their way across my left butt cheek and onto the side of my hip. There was no question where they were headed. My mind turned to my seventeen times table, which I often had trouble remembering in times of a want for distraction. It did its work and my groin remained relaxed.

I don't know whether sudden fear of discovery kept me limp in the face of extreme provocation, or was it the sheer force of self-control? I prefer to think it was the latter.

Jenny turned to her sister. "Was he not searched before admission for any suspicious package? I detect quite a bundle of unauthorised goods which have been prohibited in this house for as long as I can remember. Is the prohibition over? Can we now make love, not war?"