The Confused Boyfriend Pt. 03

"I guess the answer is no, then. Let me tell you in that case, don't even think of it. Leave it to those of us strong enough to cope. And before you ask, no, there's not that much money in it."

"So why," asked Caris, "do you keep doing it?"

"I'm one of the few who went in with a plan and with their eyes open. And," she added with a real glint in her eyes, "I enjoy it."

Later, back with us, Caris looked concerned. "I've been through this place thoroughly and there's no good spot for fornication."

"Trevor's still not here," Miranda checked.

Caris looked at her phone. "No calls, and no response to my text," she confirmed. "No idea where he could be." She shrugged. "Oh, well. Now this house. The backyard is all lit up, so there's no hiding there. There are three bedrooms. One is Micheal's, one is the American's and the other is a small spare with a single bed that door just over there, so if you got too passionate the whole party would hear, which probably isn't optimum. There is however a mysterious room off the garage. It is most likely a storeroom, so there's an outside chance you could do a Boris Becker in it if you were desperate."

"You could hook up with the porn star," I suggested, I guess to be snarky.

"I have considered that," Caris agreed. "She is pretty hot, and hopefully she brings some new ideas to the bed. Otherwise there's that cute brunette who knows her Dorcel." We looked over at her. "Don't look," Caris hissed. So we looked again.

"She's taken," Miranda concluded.

"No," Caris complained.

"Susan, Carl's friend from before is an item with her," Miranda insisted. "The one who bumped into him."

"I think you're right," I added.

"They're trying not to look like an item," Miranda was certain. We all smiled because suddenly it appeared so true.

"I guess it's the porn star then," Caris concluded with some confidence.

"And it's getting late," Miranda decided taking my hand and placing it against her side. And so it was.

**

I was lying on the couch and Helene was stroking my head.

"If it's okay to fuck, then is it okay for you to punch me or me to punch you and then call it part of the therapy?" I asked.

"That depends," Helene said in her explaining voice. "Some of us believe that violence is always wrong. And that sex is always good."

"Let me try a theoretical that you've no doubt heard before. Is it acceptable for you to kill someone to save your children?"

Helene didn't flinch. "I'll theoretically say that if you carefully dissect your scenario, there are ways to avoid that sort of violence."

I unzipped my pants.

Helene smiled at me. "For the moment put your penis away and do your pants back up," she purred. "Now tell me what is on your mind."

I sighed and obeyed. "I had a dream," I told her, "it was about the time I was watching The Haunting Of Hill House. The dream was about a house that instead of wanting to kill people it wanted to fuck people."

Helene nodded. "So like your women friends said, this party house oozed sex and made them instantly want to fuck and wank and fuck."

I smiled. "Can a house do that?"

"Of more interest," Helene considered, "is that the women noticed that about the house and commented on it while you didn't seem to notice anything at the time. Did you perhaps miss some cues that they got? If the house was oozing sex can you use that as an excuse for what you did with Meg and Billy and Caris?"

I thought about that for a while. But it wasn't definitive. "I don't know the answer to that and anyhow how would I know?" I wondered.

Helene thought for a while. "Is it possible that you tend to overcomplicate things? Do you think that you know how to have a good time?"

I had admitted that they were good questions that I promised to take with me for my homework.

**

"I have one question for you," I said to Miranda. She smiled at me.

"Yes?" she asked with bright eyes. A look I thought I understood.

"Why did you go into that room?"

"Fair question. What did you feel when you were alone in the room with Caris?"

"I don't know. A bit subversive, a sense of the unknown. I think that was it. And scared of what you might do if you were watching. If I was enjoying it too much or something."

"What do you think my reaction would be?"

"I don't know. It's one thing if we had agreed on our limits and said the correct words ahead of anything happening. But that can be different from how you react when you actually see the reality."

The psychiatrist had looked me hard in the eyes. "How badly do you need to know the truth?" she challenged.

I spluttered since I didn't have an answer.

Helene pushed on with the issue: "Does it matter if it's a friend or a stranger?"

Which of course had me thinking. Did it matter? How possible is it for me to care about a stranger I might fuck if I don't know anything about her. That girl who was in the bed. What was her name? Meg? And how I didn't know how to find her again, even if I wanted to. And what does the truth matter? Is Caris right? Is this just about possessiveness?

Helene had continued as I relaxed on her couch. "You're nothing special, by the way."

"Oh thanks for that, what do you mean?"

"You're not particularly attractive. Or unattractive. But you may get the wrong idea about yourself being irresistible to women given your recent number of partners."

"I promise I won't."

"I hope that you understand that you're just lucky to be where you are at the right time in the widespread mix of people who want sex and are prepared to take on more than one partner. Your girlfriend appears to be extraordinarily generous and Caris may be hypersexual. Others are simply about you being in the right place at the right time."

"Well, if you put it like that..."

"You have to learn to enjoy the pleasures that life puts in your way and not get too strung up about consequences when, if you take a step back and observe yourself, there seem to be none. Remember that women are not conquests but equal players and just as good if not better at playing games than men."

"Sure, that makes sense. But tell me, what about what went on between you and me?"

"Oh, that's just therapy." Helene smiled. She struck a pose and then ran a hand down her body, from her neck and over one breast until she was pressing it against her crotch. "Come on," she smiled, "don't look so dejected. We still have some time. Now get those clothes off."

***

Miranda looked deep into me. "What's going on with the psychiatrist?" she asked.

I smiled thinly. "She fucks me as part of the therapy."

Miranda shrugged. "Why," she sighed, "am I not surprised?"