Wicked's Metamorphosis

My voice broke for a moment before I continued, "Ah, um -- I found our neighbor's daughter caught out riding her bike in the rain and had to rescue her. Right after that the power and phones went down. When we got out of bed this morning, I got the generator running. That's the first time I saw the recorder blinking when it started up. Had to drive into the city to find a working phone to call. It's going to take days to clear the roads and put the power lines back up. Lots of telephone poles smashed by the falling trees. How's everything, there?" I blurted out in a long-winded monologue.

"We're fine, here, Daddy. No storms this far sorth. Marie is going to fly me into the city this afternoon. My first plane ride! Going to do some girl shopping. Need us to buy you anything?"

"It's so good to hear your voices -- seems like a week already since I left; not just yesterday, Kitten."

"Ray, you're off speaker. I shooed her out the door. I didn't want her talking to you for any length of time. Fortunately, the twins were already here to take Katrina for another riding lesson. I had already told them -- just riding -- we have to take off in two hours. I have a meeting at the hospital and then we hit the stores." Marie said.

Marie filled me in a few pieces of the morning session with Kitten. Things seem to be on track. Although she didn't elaborate, from what she did tell me, it seems Katrina's promise may be susceptible to modifications -- a good sign according to Marie. I agreed to contact them again Friday afternoon before I left Saturday to pick up Katrina. At that time, if Marie felt she was ready to come home, I would head out on the highway for corn country.

The Flight to the Hospital

Katrina returned from her lesson with the girls. They told me they had ridden down to the lake and spent that ride time teaching her to guide the roan with pressure from her knees while leaning left or right. Movements that allowed a rider's hands to be free to work a lasso while galloping alongside cattle -- not something that's done often here on the farm. But it is often used out west where the Martinez girls grew up on ranches like Katrina's daddy.

As the twins filled me in, Katrina was not very talkative. She seemed preoccupied and a bit moody. I needed to find out what went on during that ride, or if this was about something else from her on the flight to the city.

I spent some time with Katrina explaining my flight protocols and then we taxied out to the lane that leads down to the lake. I prepped her for her first flight experience, got her buckled in and showed her how to use the headphone communication system. Without it, the noise level in the plane could get very irritating while yelling back and forth without the headphones; it was not very conducive to another therapy session.

As we picked up speed and became airborne, Katrina looked down and asked, "What's that house in the woods by the lake? Daddy, never mentioned another house on your property."

"Sometimes, special patients need some time away from a hospital setting. When they do, I bring them out here for some peace and quiet. No phones, no television, no Internet -- just fish and bugs." I informed her. "I built it a few years ago, so your Daddy doesn't know about it. The fewer people who do, the better."

Katrina looked over at me and asked, "So ... I shouldn't tell anyone, even my Daddy about it, then?"

"I'd really appreciate your promise not to tell, Kitten." I answered hoping to have her buy into making a promise to me, like the one she made to her mama. 'Building trust one bridge over troubled waters at a time,' I thought to myself.

"Kind of like your house, Marie" Kitten remarked, "No television, no radio, no Internet, and only one phone. Are you one of your own special needs patients?"

I hesitated to respond, but thought in for a penny in for a pound, and decided to give her a little background information.

"When I was a special needs patient, my Grandma let me stay in the room you have now. I didn't live with my parents for a couple of years. One day, I may tell you about that, but not today." Katrina stared at me, but was respectful enough not to ask more about what I just told her. I wasn't about to reveal my past to her now; it took me over twenty-four years just to build up the courage to tell Ray. Even as I told him, I nearly felt myself falling apart, again.

"Kitten, something's bothering you. Did something happen on the ride with the girls, today?" I broached the somber mood I noted as the girls unsaddled and put away the tack. I had noted that Katrina purposely separated herself as she brushed down the horses.

"Remember what Daddy said when he called?" She asked me.

'Here it comes.' I thought she hadn't caught what I heard, but I should have known someone with her intellect would always be acutely aware of language nuances. At this moment, I wished she were not so brilliant -- I had access to her tests results and they are off the charts - in the top two-percentile ranking.

"What did he say?" I asked, hoping for a different answer than the one in my mind. But it was exactly what I was afraid she had heard.

"When we got out of bed this morning ..." That's what he said, Marie. "When WE got out of bed this morning ..." He didn't say, "When I got of bed this morning." Her recall was spot on and her analysis matched mine from earlier.

"How do you feel about him sleeping with your neighbor's daughter, Marie?" I asked in as calm a manner as I could.

"He didn't just sleep with my neighbor's daughter! He fucked Jackie, my best friend! And he probably fucked her virgin cunt more than once last night, knowing how that goddamned 'Richard' always keeps going and going. He's probably fucking her again while we are up here in the clouds. I feel ... pissed ... betrayed ... I guess." Her tone ran from rage to near calm as she spoke toward the end of her response. I thought I detected a small crack in the armor that she had built up around her moral compass.

"I guess I should have expected it in some ways, though." She went on, "If I'd gone home Sunday with him, that wouldn't have happened. Jackie and I talked about finding someone for her to fuck before she went off to college this fall, but we hadn't found anyone she liked to do it with, yet. Her itch got scratched by the last person I expected to scratch it." She drew out the words as if they were forgone conclusions -- Karma playing out in the wings of some unnamed drama.

"Katrina, I recall that Saturday morning you told me, with great confidence, the bottom line is, 'You can fuck whomever you want, no matter who they are or what their position in life is, and still feel good about yourself, even if others disagree with your behavior. It's like a democracy, not everyone has to be in total agreement.' Do you remember that?" I asked her to test -- to challenge -- her previous view in light of her Daddy's dalliance with Jackie. I was looking for a crack in her belief system that I could exploit as a means of separating Ray and Katrina on a permanent level as Ray requested.

Kitten was silent, unusually silent for a while, deep in thought before she responded, "Yes, I remember what I said. I still agree with that view. It doesn't mean that I can't get pissed with Daddy a little, Marie. I just have to know that they both wanted it and no one got forced into it. I can live with that. Is that a bad thing, Marie?"

"No, baby. That's not a bad thing. I was just making sure you had not changed your mind about everyone being able to fuck anyone, whenever they felt like it, that's all," I answered her. And I'd have to add another note to her file as I just confirmed that her believe system remained firm, even though it wobbled for just a few moments when it came to her Daddy.

"So ... Marie, how are you're feeling about Daddy right about now?" She changed the subject on me rather quickly.

This little tigress was gaining confidence and picking up, rather quickly, on my techniques. I had to get better at concealing my inquiries or else sharpen my resume or, one day, she might be pushing me out of my own practice.

"I feel ... pissed ... betrayed a little too, Kitten. After all he just fucked both of us the night before and we seemed to have some sense of a new relationship developing between your Daddy and I.

But I never felt I had some sense of ownership over your Daddy. Your mom and I accepted sex as a gift from one another. Sometimes the gift comes in the form of love with sensual sex as a reward. And sometimes it's just fucking sex accompanied with coital bliss. Your Daddy liked both and so did your mom. Your mom was bi-sexual, just in case you didn't know. But after you were born, she stayed true to your father. I just liked girls though, until you brought your Daddy to me, again. I have to admit he does a pretty good job of satisfying a woman, though. We accepted our hedonistic living style when we were young like you. I'd be a hypocrite if tried to change or rebuke your Daddy, today, for the way he has always lived."

"When you were out with John Deere, your Daddy and I had a lengthy talk. We talked about you, about me, about your Daddy and your Mom. In the end we concluded that you're the center around which his life and mine could revolve. Kitten, your Daddy said that he would accept whatever you want to do. We have four days to assess how you want to proceed before your Daddy comes to get you. I'd like you to give some serious thoughts to that when we fly back tonight. Okay?"

"When I get to the hospital, I have a four-hour staff meeting, what would you like to spend some time doing in the meanwhile?" I asked as I lined up the final approach.

"Find a good tattoo parlor! I promised myself one!" WicKed answered with a wicked gleam in her eyes. I laughed as the anger-switch hit off again in that teen magazine model's giggle-box once more.

"Done! Danielle is an intern at the hospital. She has several, beautiful tattoos. I'll have her take you to her favorite parlor and she can tell you all about them on the way over."

Spotting my land marker, I ended the conversation, needing to fully concentrate on putting my Song Bird down on the tarmac.

I watched as Marie lined up the twin-engine plane with the runway and gently set down on the airfield, like spreading butter on toast, so smoothly. My first flight experience - great! The conversation -- not so much.

Marie taxied to a hangar at the other end of the field. Two guys ran out, as she cut the engines, and secured the plane to some tiedowns. A car was also waiting to carry us to the hospital. I stood looking up at a nine-story building as we exited the car. Marie seemed like a different person as she headed to the front lobby -- all business driven. This place didn't look like a regular hospital; there were no uniforms and no one was dressed in doctor's whites. I found out later, the reason for non-white attire was to lower patient anxiety. Even then, this looked more resort than a shrink palace hangout; no flower shops but a number of boutiques serving coffee and other delicacies.

Entering Marie's World

As Marie entered the front doors, people began to move; some to open doors for her with a 'good morning Dr. Johnson' greeting and others -- well they just moved as though they suddenly had to be somewhere very urgently. Marie waved to the attendant staff desk and guided me down a nearby hall and we entered an elevator marked staff only and exited on the top office floor. It was really quiet there, spooky quiet, I thought.

There, we entered a small anteroom, where her secretary greeted her, "Glad to see you back, Dr. Johnson. The staff meeting is on time. Anything you need before then Doctor?" She looked at me all the while she addressed Marie.

"Yes, Nancy, please send Dr. Bagatti to me right away. And this is my cousin's daughter, Miss Katrina Schumacher. Take good care of her, please."

Marie responded as she motioned for me to take a seat in the anteroom. Marie proceeded into her office, to wait for Dr. Bagatti I suppose. I guess whoever this doctor was, she didn't need for me to be with her.

So, I sat down and rummaged through some magazines without finding anything of interest and gave up looking just as a lady in her mid-twenties breezed in and hastened up to Nancy's desk. As my Daddy used to say on occasion, "She is a wonderful long drink of water." Her face wore a worried look as she held a quick whispered conversation that ended with a headshake from Nancy indicated she had no idea why Dr. Johnson called for her. So, she glided over to Marie's door, knocked, waited a few seconds, and then entered.

'I hope she didn't forget about my tattoo date.' I thought as nearly fifteen minutes had passed. I was getting antsy under Nancy's furtive scrutiny. I was about to ask Nancy if she knew someone named Danielle when Marie's office door opened.

Dr. Bagatti exited Marie's office looking a little less worried than when she entered. Walking up to me, she introduced herself, "I'm Dr. Danielle Bagatti, Ms Schumacher. Dr. Johnson says you and I have something in common, shall we go?"

Once we were out in the empty hallway, Danielle dropped some of that crisp formality she was displaying, I presumed, for Nancy. "Call me Dani, if you like, but after we get off the grounds, please," she winked with a delightful smile.

"Marie said you were an intern, but when she told Nancy to call you, she said Dr. Bagatti. So ... are you an intern or a doctor? I asked Danielle.

"Well, both actually. I have a medical degree in internal medicine, so I am a doctor. And I was also graduated from the Harvard Medical School's Master of Medical Sciences in Clinical Investigation (MMSCI) program. But to become certified as a psychiatrist, you have to complete additional medical training and then an internship, followed by passing the state board certification test, hence the intern label. In short, I'm a third-year, resident psychiatric intern," she answered.

My mouth dropped open as all that shit flowed down hill into my daze brain. I thought to myself, she must be a lot older than I first surmised to get through all that shit and still need to finish another internship. Who the fuck wants to spend so much of their life as a bookworm? I began to wonder about Marie's background and how much stuff must be behind her medical training and such.

"Quite a mouthful, no wonder Marie just asked for the doctor." I chuckled when she finished her explanation.

"Dani, just how old are you, out of curiosity?" I asked.

She gave me another of those wide disarming smiles and answered, "Twenty-seven, if you ask my Daddy. But I tell everyone I twenty-two."

"And you, Miss Schumacher?" She queried me with a raised eyebrow.

"Eighteen. And that's for real. You don't have to ask my Daddy. Marie can verify that, if you ask," I replied giving her the same raised eyebrow move and an uncontrolled giggle.

"You got through all that shit by twenty-seven? So how old will you be when you get through all this intern and exam stuff?" I inquired, not believing the twenty-seven-year-old story."

Without batting an eye, Dani answered, "Twenty-two!"

Rory's Tattoo Salon -- Meets WicKed

"Dr. Johnson has a car for us downstairs. Ready?" It seems Dr. Bagatti operated somewhat like Marie, she didn't wait for an answer, just took off expecting me to follow. We were back in the elevator and out the front door in a flash. The driver had the door open already; he closed it as we slipped inside. I'd never been in a limo before; it had a backward-facing seat. She slides in behind me taking the opposite seat. Dani turned and gave the driver an address and we were off.

"I'm taking you to Rory's Tattoo Salon. He is absolutely the best artist. Rory has been in business for nearly thirty years -- and hasn't killed not even one person yet!" She cracked, trying to imitate a teenager's speech pattern -- not too badly done, I thought; she just needed some chewing gum to almost pull it off.

"So, tell me what you know about the tattoo process, Ms Schumacher," Dani asked as the driver navigated the expressway toward what looked like downtown sky rises. Marie must have told her it was my first one.

"It hurts?" I responded, half as a statement and half in wonder, not really having known anyone with a tattoo before. "And if I'm to call you Dani, then please call me Kat."

I almost wanted to ask her to call me WicKed, but kept that temptation from slipping out. For sure, after getting this tattoo today, my mind seemed to be wandering down the road in that direction. I hadn't even discussed those thoughts with Marie, yet. So, blurting it out to a third-year resident psychiatric intern ought not be the place to begin that line of thought.

"Okay, Kat. Yeah, there's some hurt. But there are some other things you should also be aware of as well." She remarked with some reservation in her voice.

"Marie told me you have some tattoos. Did they hurt a lot?" I asked.

"They start out with some pain, but nothing you can't bear. Then as your body responds to the process, the pain changes and feels more like ... well like other feelings you may be familiar with." She chuckles nervously in response to my question before continuing.

"Kat, are you comfortable with discussing human arousal?" Dani quietly asks.

I smiled at her attempt to maintain a professional tone and replied, "Yeah, but my vocabulary is more colloquial than yours, so if you don't mind using my vocabulary level, I'd say I'm very comfortable, Dr. Dani." I answer slipping into my southern girl, velvety accent -- the one that charms John Deere and Daddy.

"Kat, when you get tattooed, your body responds like it is in a fight-or-flight mode. The body pumps out high levels of adrenaline because of the initial anxiety and pain sensations. The adrenaline increases your blood flow and ups your heart rate. The same kind of reaction happens to your body when you have sex. Like sex, with a tattoo you start getting excited, then as your body ramps up you reach a sustained plateau, keeping the good feeling going. That leads to you getting pushed over the edge and you can even have an orgasm. And finally, you come down off the mountain or resolution as it's often called. Similar to having anal sex, once your body is fully relaxed, endorphins are released creating a natural "high" and temporarily block any pain you feel during anal sex - or - from getting tattooed."

Dani went out on a long-winded dialogue and crammed everything together that I never knew about tattoos and some things I didn't even know about sex.

I sat back trying to absorb everything she just said. "Well! I sure didn't know that about tattoos! Guess I will be getting a lot of them from now on, Dani" I cracked.

"Seriously, you're telling me getting a tattoo is as good as getting fucked, for real?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, yes almost, but it doesn't always get to the screaming stage, you get that, right?" She answered, cracking a wry smile at my frank colloquial vocabulary.

I wasn't sure how much I should be telling her about me. But I finally decided that as she is a doctor and works for Marie, I could tell her a little. After all, it's not like she can go out and tell anyone, being a doctor and all.

"Well, I don't scream very loudly when I get fucked -- sometimes I just pass out from the intensity. Dani, I've never had anyone in my ass. Are you saying that feels good, too?"

"Ms Schumacher, I might have said too much already for your level of experience to understand. Yes, anal sex can feel really good too! You just have to be careful and do it the right way. But that might be a better subject to discuss with Dr. Johnson. You might ask her to cover some ... more basic beginner sex education topics with you. You do know sexual gratifications are one of her specialties?"