In a world in which fraud and deception have become the order of the day-a world in which the highest placed public officials corruptly accept bribes of every sort, in which scandal, after scandal erupts, merely to be brushed aside as the norm-every segment of society has suffered. The persons to whom the distraught individual has traditionally turned-the clergy, the members of the teaching profession and those of the medical as well have lost the confidence of the average person. Like everyone else in this less than perfect world, they too have become objects of deep suspicion and distrust.
In many cases, this suspicion is completely unwarranted. The majority of the men of the cloth are decent and dedicated. The world is full of inspired and inspiring teachers. The medical profession abounds with those who truly abide by the Hippocratic oath. But inevitably there are the "few rotten apples who spoil the barrel".
It is just such a person whom Paula Dunbar has chosen to describe in her brilliant new novel Patty's Doctor. Dr. Smith is by no means the protagonist of this fascinating book. He is, rather, the catalyst, the agent which sets the events in action and which lead to the terrifying denouement.
Ms. Dunbar writes with skill and objectivity. A less competent, a less sensitive writer, might well have turned Dr. Smith into a caricature and made of the Richards family-John, Gloria and Patty, whose very existence is threatened by the machinations of Smith-an equally absurd and distorted picture. It is to her credit that she has seen all of the characters with her own deep sympathy-Smith in his evil, the others in their innocence-and has described them as they are. She has told it, as the current saying goes "like it is".
As a result, all emerge from the printed pages as live and believable human beings, whose problems are universal, whose facing up to them awakens a responsive chord in the heart of every reader. And such a chord will be set in motion by everyone who has faced the terrifying threat of mental illness in someone close to them.
While depicting the evil acts of Dr. Smith, Ms. Dunbar by no means condemns the practice of psychoanalysis, nor the many thousands of honest and dedicated psychiatrists who have brought hope and help and happiness to many more thousands. Rather, she vents her anger against those squalid few who abuse their profession and exposes them in all their malfeasance to the rest of the world.
For this reason we, the Publishers, feel that Ms. Dunbar has done a service to the public. We believe that her book is not only a fascinating novel, but a true and shocking story which must inevitably have a great impact on the American public.
It is the fervent hope of the Publishers that this is so, and that, as a result, the effort needed to rid the world of both the inept and the dishonest who hide behind the caduceus and the Hippocratic oath will be promptly made.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Gloria Richards clenched and unclenched her hands nervously on the steering wheel of the Mercedes she drove slowly and carefully along the narrow gravelled road. The car's headlights on full beam showed up every pothole and illuminated the trees and undergrowth growing right up to the edges of both sides of the country route. It was eerie, she had time to think as she concentrated on peering out of her side of the car, trying to locate some telltale sign of her daughter's small, foreign sports convertible. Her husband, John Bart Richards, peered as best he could into the bush on his passenger side of the car, in between quick checks on a road map he held on his knees. John had always been the better map-reader of the two, and Gloria had climbed behind the wheel automatically when at two a.m. on a pitch black night they couldn't stand it any longer and decided to go look for their maverick sixteen year old daughter Patty.
"Why?" Gloria suddenly exploded. "Why did we have to have that row?"
John looked at his wife, his concentration on the search abruptly broken. The painful picture now came back into his mind of the way in which their long-legged daughter had flounced off the verandah of their summer lodge more than six hours earlier. Patty had just finished her last swim of the day in the pool and was talking about driving over to see some friends at a large nearby summer camp for teenagers when her parents decided they couldn't put off any longer telling her about the visit they had been asked to make that afternoon to the camp. Patty was officially in residence at the camp, seeing her parents at the family-owned lodge only at weekends and holidays, and the camp director in telephoning to ask the Richards to see him was all politeness. But in his office, Peter Sims was quite blunt. An outdoors type not given to tactful disclosures, Sims quickly laid it on the line that he and the other counselors considered it in the camp's best interests if the Richards would withdraw their fiery young redhead.
"There's no point in beating around the bush," he had held up his hand as both John and Gloria had half-moved out of their chairs in reaction to the "notice-to-quit" announcement.
"Patty is an extremely nubile girl for her age," Sims went on, "to be perfectly straight about it so that there won't be any misunderstanding, she is sexy, and what she's doing to the male population of this camp wouldn't bear telling." He looked at the stunned faces staring at him from the other side of the desk, then added, "In fact, the hysteria she's caused among her fellow females as a result of her activities isn't something to be laughed off easily, either."
When the Richards found their voices they were angry and at first refused to accept that truth of their daughter's behavior, but the husky, weather-beaten camp director was prepared for their indignation. The file he brought out on Patty was well-documented and he read it all to the two aghast parents, interrupting himself from time to time to emphasize that the camp was not so much interested in sitting in judgement on Patty's level of morality as in breaking the influence of her high jinks on the others. And to stop this influence she had to go.
"Now you've got it, chapter and verse," Sims finished, closing the file. The last straw for the camp administration had been the streaking incident. One boy caught running through the camp in the nude had been summarily expelled, but almost immediately a phantom trio of girls streaking with nothing on had appeared. The three naked girls picked any time of the day to do their racing between the bunkhouses, sometimes impudently making a quick dash passed the small, log-built administration building. The lightning-quick glimpses of the girls that any staff members of the camp caught were too brief to make positive identification possible, but for sure one was a redhead. Always in the lead, the redhead was tall and well-developed and there was pretty well a certainty in Sims' mind that it was Patty. He tried organizing several traps, and one day Patty ran literally into the arms Of one of the male counselors. Sims, in recounting this particular episode to John and Gloria in his office, finished by strongly indicating that at the point when Patty was caught in the act she had tried to "buy" her way out of any retribution by trying to seduce the counselor.
"The last straw", said Sims, shaking his head. "If she stays on after that, every kid would know you can get away with murder in this camp and any managing we try to do around here would become impossible."
John Richards looked down the tunnel of light made by the Mercedes' headlights and sighed deeply, desperately trying to think of some way to ease the tension of the beautiful woman sitting at his side.
"There's no way we could have avoided a fight with that girl tonight," he said at last. "Patty being the way she is...." he corrected himself. "The way we have made her, it was impossible to expect there would be some rational discussion of how she was going to handle things from hereon in. Just impossible to register anything serious on her, the only thing that would register on her is a good spanking, and she's too old for that." After her childish temper tantrum earlier perhaps she wasn't all that old for a spanking. The father's lips twitched in anger. "By God, if she doesn't smarten up, I'm just going to take her across my i knee. I'll pull that little mini-skirt of hers up to her elbows and then I'll wallop that ass of hers until it looks like boiled lobster. Oh sure, she can scream and squirm and wriggle around all she wants to, but it's not going to stop me. That kid is going to get the spanking of her life if she doesn't stop this nonsense." He rubbed his hands together almost gleefully at the thought of what he would do to his daughter.
"You're a bit late for that," Gloria said bitterly. "Might just as well try spanking me. Anyway, I think I've found that damned lake. Have you been following the map?"
Gloria cut the engine and with the turn of the key in the ignition she switched off the air-conditioning unit at the same time. The humidity of the hot July night seemed to take over immediately in the car as she lowered her window. There didn't appear to be too many bugs around. The night sounds of crickets and other insects surrounded and enveloped the car. Gloria turned off the car's headlights and switched on the interior lights so John wouldn't have to peer at the map with the aid only of a flashlight. She got out of the car and walked a few paces toward the expanse of water in front. A full moon just appearing above the tree tops on the far side of the lake shed a shimmering silvery highway across the water's peaceful surface. It was the first resemblance of peace she had felt since the morning of that long, long day. But the feeling was feeble and fleeting, for she sensed they weren't going to find Patty here.
"This has to be the lake Sims told us to try," John called out as he too quite the car.
Nearly an hour before, when their anxiety for Patty's safety demanded some action, they had telephoned Peter Sims, apologizing for waking him in the middle of the night. The camp director had been completely understanding about their worry but said the only organized activity that Saturday night at the camp-a campfire singsong-had ended at 10:30. He hadn't seen Patty there. John asked him if he had any ideas where the girl might have gone and Sims left the phone briefly, requesting the concerned father to hang on. Sims returned to say one of the other counselors thought a certain location on Lake Cheboycokee was a favorite with some of the-Sims hesitated for a moment-wilder elements of the summer resort area for skinny-dippers, and other activities. He didn't spell these out. John got some rough directions from the now thoroughly-awakened camp director on how to reach this particular beach on Lake Cheboycokee, apologized again and then said he'd let Sims get back to bed. Before saying goodnight, Sims reminded Patty's father that he and Gloria had agreed to postpone returning to the city on Monday until the camp guidance counselor, a Mrs. Mellor, could see them. Mrs. Mellor was the staff member best able to advise them where they should seek psychiatric treatment for Patty. John confirmed they would both drive over to the camp again Monday morning.
The beach in the moonlight showed many signs of previous use but as the distraught parents scanned it as far as they could see nothing moved or gave any indication of life at the moment. John walked over to the debris of one beach campfire and kicked it just to make sure it was cold, then said: "I think we should just take in a little more of the beach either way."
"You're right," Gloria agreed. "If we separate we'll get it done faster. You check that way."
John went farther than he had intended to, found nothing, then for one crazy moment on the way back thought he had. Gloria was already back and standing stock-still, pensively gazing out over the water. When he had first seen her from a distance John had experienced this crazy jolting turnover in the pit of his stomach as for a moment his mistook the tall well-rounded figure for his daughter. God, they were alike! Patty had even got the red hair from Gloria. His wife was just as voluptuous as when he married her; her breasts round and firm and high, her waist so small he could almost span it with his two hands. Her hips were full, her legs long and slender. It was no wonder that men turned to stare as she passed by. And that was the way men were now turning to stare at Patty. And she knew it-and reveled in it. That's where the difference lay between mother and daughter. Gloria ignored the whistlers and starers, had always ignored them. She'd seemed so beautifully innocent, she hardly knew what a sensation she created every time she walked down the street. Not Patty though-she'd sometimes put on an act that would shame a goddamned tart. She was very well aware that her thighs were rich and full, her breasts young and plump and ripe. She picked her clothes to show off her voluptuousness. 'See-through blouses, no brassiere at all, the tightest possible pants. And then she walked along in the most provocative way she could, the firm half-melons of her buttocks swaying sensuously, an open invitation to every man who passed. John wondered how many times that invitation had been accepted, and once again the name of Doug Lawson came into his mind. This name had been mentioned by Peter Sims as a warning to the parents of the kind of company Patty was mixing with. An eighteen year old long-haired wastrel from the local resort community of Triton Rapids, the Lawson reputation was well known to the Richard's. If it was Lawson who'd mesmerized Patty ... John smacked one fist into the palm of his other with a flat slap as an indication of what he would do to Lawson.
The sound, loud in the night, made Gloria jump, startling her out of her reverie.
"There's nothing, is there?" she demanded, not really needing any reply.
"It's a wild goose chase, honey," dully intoned her husband as he reached her side.
Gloria scanned the beach and bush quickly, one more time.
"Okay! Let's make it back to the house, fast, and check there." She slipped her hand under his arm before moving off.
"Yeah, you're right. We've been away too long."
John now moved swiftly with her back to the car and this time took the driver's position as they .were merely retracing their route and there was some fast driving to be done. As fast as he drove, however, Gloria still kept her full attention on checking for any telltale signs of her daughter's car being parked just off the road in the bush. The older woman sat forward on the edge of the passenger seat, chin held high and breasts tautly pressed against the tight flimsy material of her blouse. This dim outline of his wife seen out of the corner of his eye excited John as he hurled the powerful car as fast as he dared over the road's almost non-existent surface. The thought of his daughter's loveliness passed fleetingly through his mind. God, he couldn't blame the Lawson kid for trying. He could remember how he had felt about Gloria when they were dating, when she wasn't much older than Patty. Christ, there were some nights he thought he would go out of his mind, he had wanted her so much. His virile young cock had lurched and grown hard beneath his pants, and he'd been embarrassed at the bulge there between his legs. There was even one night when he damn near lost control-and so had she-and he'd slid his hand under her tight little blouse and then under the flimsy lace and nylon of her brassiere, and his fingers had closed around the firm and upright mounds of her full young breasts, kneading and squeezing them. He'd taken the tiny buds of her nipples between her thumbs and fingers, teasing them into little erections. He'd even trailed one hand down over the flat plane of her belly, toward the little triangle of down that nestled between her legs.
Jesus, there had been raging fires shooting flames through him while his whole body tingled and ached and burned in turn. He had slipped his other hand under her skirt then and had begun caressing her between her creamy white thighs. Gloria had gasped, as though out of breath, and then her voice all low and choked had begged, "No, John! No!"
But he'd gone on stroking her, his hands roving over her flat white stomach and then going down to the little "vee" shaped patch of pubic hair modestly covered by her soft nylon panties. He'd even slipped his middle finger under their elastic legband, insinuating it slowly into the moist virginal slit of her pussy.
He didn't know what would have happened if Gloria hadn't uttered a little scream of horror and twisted away from him, squirming and pushing at his hands. She'd been crying, he remembered, and had made him take her home at once. For a while, it looked as if things were all over between them. She refused to see him for days. Even when she relented, and they started dating again, she made him promise that he would never attempt under any circumstances to try and "take advantage of her" as she put it, again.
And what a genuine bastard he had felt over the whole thing! Gloria, a trusting, beautiful person, had been treated by him as if she were a whore! There was nothing false about the promise he'd made to get her to date him again. When they later were formally engaged there were times when that promise came pretty close to being broken but even then he forced his hands to stay away from any explorations that could be called lewd. With a mother who had been as puritan as that how could they have raised a daughter with the reputation Patty had?
"How, Gloria? How have we managed to raise a little wildcat like Patty?" John put his thoughts into words as he expertly swung the big car in at the entrance of the driveway to rambling log-built lodge.
"We spoiled her," replied Gloria flatly. "Maybe we didn't intend to, but it happened. We gave her everything she ever wanted...."
Her words trailed off as the lodge standing on a slight rise came into sight. It shared the cleared acres around it with two log cabins, one of which Patty had made her own domain.
"No car and no lights," muttered Gloria.
Lights showed from practically every room of the lodge but Patty's cabin was in pitch darkness and the space alongside where she usually parked her car was empty.
John steered the Mercedes to its resting place behind the lodge, cut the engine and looked at his watch.
"Two-thirty! What a hell of an hour!"
"I need a drink, then some sleep," yawned Gloria. "But let's just give that cabin the once-over first."
The hot, moist night air hit them again as they left the comfort of the automobile and made their way wearily over to Patty's cabin. Nothing had changed since their earlier checks. The one single big room of the cabin was in total disorder, as was the custom with any place Patty stayed in for more than three or four hours. Clothes made up most of the mess, but mingled with the panties, blue jeans, swimsuits and bikinis, shirts, skirts, sneakers, socks and pantyhose, were phonograph records, in and out of their covers, magazines, and various odd-shaped bits of driftwood culled from the nearby lake beaches. But no Patty. The bed was a mess like the rest of the room but it was the same disorder the sixteen year old had left the previous morning; it hadn't been slept in since.
"I can't stand the sight of this," John said quickly. "Let's get some sleep." He moved to switch out the light.
"I'm just going to make up that bed," said his wife, filled with sudden determination. "I'm not touching the rest, but the bed is the least I can do."
"Can I get you that drink then? I'm taking a hefty scotch up to bed with me."
"I want one just as big, believe me-yes, scotch, and with lots of ice, please, John."
Gloria finished the bed and then despite her tiredness compulsively worked on for a while cleaning up some of the more stark disorder and litter that made even walking around the bed difficult. She gave the room one more glance from the cabin doorway, sighed, turned out the light and quietly closed the screen door. All lights in the lodge had been doused except a faint gleam from a low-powered bedside lamp in their bedroom. It took her thirty seconds to reach the lodge verandah and the full moon, now high in the sky, gave her plenty of light to see her way through inside and upstairs to their bedroom. John was in bed, asleep and snoring gently, his drink that he'd wanted so badly practically untouched, the highball glass standing on a bedside table. Her drink, with all the ice, rested on the vanity table, but with the ice almost melted. Gloria took a sip, made a face, decided it was just too watery to drink. She shrugged her shoulders. To get a replacement meant returning downstairs. Was it worth it? She looked at the bed. John's sleep deepened with every snore. No joy there! She decided it was worth the trip downstairs and stopping only to pick up John's straight scotch-she could, after all, use that for her drink Gloria headed for the kitchen.
John had forgotten to put away the tray of cubes when he'd heard the call of his bed and could postpone sleep no longer. With a little smile Gloria took the watery mess off the top of the refrigerator and emptied the tray into the kitchen sink, turning on the cold tap at the same time. She opened the refrigerator for another tray of ice cubes and looked in the cupboard over the sink for the biggest glass she could find. Half-filling it with cubes, Gloria picked up her husband's almost untouched scotch and measured the amount dubiously with her eyes. It would be a good stiff drink, but what the hell! It was what she needed to help unwind. She quickly up-ended the scotch over her waiting pile of ice cubes in the bigger glass and immediately put the drink to her lips to try it. God, it was good! She leaned back against the kitchen counter and flicked off the cold tap with her left hand. She took another long sip of her scotch and enjoyed the cold from the ice cubes hitting her face from the large glass. That cool she'd like to be all over, she thought.
The only tidying up to do in the kitchen before returning upstairs was to put back the refilled ice trays in the fridge and generally wipe up a little spilled water. Her drink was only half finished and she thought of the noise she might create in the bedroom, undressing. I mustn't wake John, she told herself. Why shouldn't she get undressed downstairs, finish her drink, then go immediately to bed? As she switched off the kitchen light and returned to the immense lounge of the lodge the idea appealed to her even more-especially the thought of getting her clothes off and cooling off some more with her drink. This had to be the stickiest night they'd had so far this summer.
There was no need of turning on lamps in the lounge to undress by-the moonglow coming in through the picture windows was ample. Gloria took another long swallow of scotch to finish the drink off except for the remains of the cubes. She felt so much better now she debated whether she should mix herself a second drink right away, but decided the idea of discarding her sticky clothes was more tempting.
She undressed slowly, undoing every button on the shirt-type front of her blouse before shrugging it from her shoulders to let it fall where it may. Her brassiere was very flimsy, and she freed the rounded peaks of her firm breasts roughly by tugging it over her head without bothering to undo the clasp at the back. It felt cooler already with only her top naked. Her short, denim skirt unzipped over one hip and dropping it to the floor she quickly stepped out of it and pushed it with one foot in the direction of brassiere and blouse. Gloria stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms as high above her head as she could, trying to get coolness to every inch of her body. When she needed air, she slumped down and gasped in a lungful, slipping her fingers under the elastic waistband of her nylon panties. Her creamy-white breasts heaved gently as she took more deep breaths and began to ease off her flimsy white panties down over her firmly curved hips and long, full-rounded thighs, letting them too fall to the floor when they were loose enough between her legs to do so. She stepped out of the panties and into range of the full-length mirror on the wall by the door leading directly on to the lodge's verandah. Watching her ghostly reflection in the mirror Gloria gently massaged away a few tension spots in her hips and upper thighs. A slight breeze through the opened screened windows of the room made her think how much cooler it would be outside. At first her mind rejected the idea of going outside naked but when she thought about it, why shouldn't she? They had perfect privacy, and she needn't go any farther than the verandah. God, it would be great to feel a breeze, she decided as she moved to the verandah door and peered cautiously out. The landscape, bathed in moonlight, was still and empty to where the trees and bush began. She opened the screen door and stepped out onto the verandah. An immediate sense of freedom coursed through her veins. She wanted to stretch on tiptoe again but with the angle of the moon illuminating most of this section of verandah she needed to find a place less exposed. The wide verandah surrounded the lodge on three sides and Gloria decided to move around to the most heavily-shadowed deck. Then she remembered they had the swing-couch up on that deck-she couldn't wait to stretch out on the coolness of that! She needed no more convincing once she thought of the couch.
The garden swing-couch-the target of the silently creeping naked woman-was exactly where she thought John and the daily handyman they employed had last carried it but any idea of stretching out sensually along its length disappeared from her mind. A glowing spot in the bush caught her attention as soon as she reached the turn in the verandah and the lodge wall. She was so startled she crouched back and down and lost sight of the glow behind the verandah railing. It was only when she stood at a certain angle the bright spot reappeared and she realized it was caused by the moonlight reflecting on something metallic. Now she saw that it wasn't just one spot reflecting all the light-there were duller metallic gleams coming from between the trees and undergrowth. Then she saw the wheels, and those thin wire spokes could only belong to one car-her daughter's Alfa! Gloria stood up straight with a small gasp and her right hand went apprehensively to her mouth. The second cabin, the cabin on this side of the lodge that was supposed to be unoccupied and beside which, almost hidden in the bush, stood Patty's car; of course.
She is here!
The conviction surged through Gloria's whole being with a strength that carried her without thinking along the rest of the verandah, down the steps at the back and sent her racing across the open space to the second cabin. Her bare feet were silent on the grass and she paused briefly in shadow of one cabin wall to regain her breath. The small log building was in total darkness but she heard voices through the open screen window. Voices! They were only murmurs she heard, but there were two speakers, and one was unmistakably male. Gloria groaned softly and bit her clenched knuckles. What was happening? She thought of the security of her bed and John's presence and wanted desperately to hide away against his side, but she had to know what was going on! Who was in there with her daughter? What were they doing in the middle of the night? She had to find out.
Gloria crept around in the shadowed screen door of the cabin. By the light of the moon streaming through the windows on the other side of the one-roomed cabin the older woman could make out the naked form of her daughter stretched out on the bed. A long-haired boy, his quivering buttocks white in the moonlight, knelt above her and as Gloria watched, the girl tangled her hands in his thick curly locks and pulled his head forward. "Oooooooh," she moaned. "Do it, Doug. Do it! Like that! Like you did before. DO IT!"
Patty had actually said "Doug! Oh, no! Gloria could never-would never-permit this evil thing to happen under her roof. She opened her mouth to scream, to order the boy to leave, to insist that Patty dress immediately. But no sound, no words came. She stood, her mouth slack with shock, unable to move a muscle.
Patty moaned again, pulling Doug's head down toward the snowy mound of one full young breast. As Gloria watched he fastened his mouth over the rosy nipple and began to suck on it as though it were a sweet ripe cherry.
The young girl squirmed against him, mewling with pleasure as she ran her hands through his tangled hair. Then she took his hand in hers and guided it to the other milk-white mound. He continued to suck at the tender taut nipple, his tongue flicking out from time to time to swirl around the tiny quivering button while he cupped and massaged her breast in a teasing circular motion.
"Oh, my God! It feels so good! So good!" Patty moaned. And then she uttered a sharp gasp as Doug nipped cruelly at her soft sensitive flesh. Once again an answering cry rose in Gloria's throat, to remain strangled there. She had to stop this obscenity somehow! And yet the shock of seeing the lewd ravishment of her own daughter left her paralyzed. For the life of her she could not lift a finger, could not utter a sound, could step neither forward nor backward.
Instead she stood glued to the spot as if mesmerized, watching in horror as Doug's lips began crawling down Patty's writhing body spread before him on the coverlet of the bed. Slowly they worked their way along the girl's smooth resilient flesh, pausing now and then as he flicked his tongue out rapidly to run it across a particularly sensitive spot.
He licked tantalizingly at the small indentation of her navel while Patty gasped and groaned, then threw her own arms around his lithe naked body, pulling him closer to her aching loins. Her nails clawed across his buttocks, leaving red welts in their wake. He cried out with the momentary pain that further roused his lust, then trailed his lips along her flat white belly until they hovered above the sparse little patch of hair at its base.
Once again Patty moaned, once again she tangled her hands in his hair, pulling the boy's searching lips back up her recumbent body, now soaked with sweat. Once again he fastened them over a tiny throbbing nipple while his fingers circled and stroked and cupped her lovely rounded breasts. And then his hands left her trembling mounds to trace the soft curves of her naked body, to slip down the narrow crevice between the two-pink-capped peaks and then across her soft, unresisting belly. As his fingers slipped to the little "vee" between her creamy thighs, Patty sucked in her breath.
He teased thrillingly at the hidden treasure there and then his fingers began to play with the moist narrow pussy-slit, searching out and finding the tiny bud of her clitoris. They caressed it gently until it sprang into quivering life, then slipped down to part the excitedly moistening lips of her vagina. His middle finger snaked enticingly between them, twisting and turning inside the warm clasping cuntal walls. He plunged his finger farther into her widespread cunt as a sweet moisture seeped from it, the viscous juices drenching his hand.
Gloria, still watching through the screen door, felt a chill of horror sweep through her once more. And then her head began to whirl, her body to sway. I'm going to faint, she thought, and reached out to steady herself while another low moan escaped her lips. The sound of her voice shocked and frightened her. What if the lewdly copulating young couple heard her, turned to find her standing there and spying on them? What would they do? And what would she do if she were discovered?
Once again she willed herself to flee from the spot, to close her eyes and blot out this obscene exhibition; once again she found herself incapable of moving.
Her heart flailed against her ribs, thumping out a wild savage rhythm as Doug's finger continued to fuck deep into her daughter's narrow velvety vaginal channel, impaling the girl on the tip of it. Patty writhed ecstatically now, her head rolling from side to side, her long red hair thrashing about on the coverlet. And then, as he withdrew his finger with a sudden twist of his wrist, she gasped and reached for his hand.
"Oh, God! Don't stop! Don't stop!" Patty pleaded, struggling fruitlessly to pull his fingers down back to the fleshy lips of her throbbing cunt.
"Like that?" Doug leered above her, his eyes roving lewdly up and down her slim trembling body.
"Oh, my God! Yes. Yes, I do!"
"What else do you want me to do to you?" he asked, a cruel sneer twisting his lips.
"That's all," Patty moaned. "Just what you're doing. That's all."
"Like hell it is," he said brusquely. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to ... to put your ... your...."
"What do you want me to do?"
With a little moan that signaled her complete submission to him Patty said, "Oh my God, Doug. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before."
"That's more like it," Doug gloated triumphantly. "What do you want me to fuck you with?"
"Your cock," she begged. "Your lovely big cock!"
"Okay, baby! What you ask for, you get!" He turned suddenly and from the cabin doorway Gloria saw his thick young penis jutting out from his loins, stiff and straight as a pole.
Her hands flew to her face and she covered her eyes at the sight. Oh dear God! It was so big ... so big! She had never imagined that anyone could have a member so enormous. And now he was going to force this huge ... huge ... weapon-yes, that's what it was, a weapon-into the tiny moist passage there between Patty's legs. Oh dear God! He mustn't! He mustn't! He would kill the girl, he would split her in two. She could never take such a mass of flesh into her quivering little belly.
No, she pleaded silently. No, don't. For God's sake, don't. But when she opened her eyes she saw that Doug had grasped his rock-hard cock between finger and thumb and was already guiding it straight toward the glistening, half-hidden hole in Patty's pink little pussy. It grazed the softly curling pubic hair and parted the long narrow slit. As he pressed the rubbery scarlet head insistently against the elastic opening, her pussy popped open and seemed to swallow the rigidly throbbing penis.
Patty thrashed beneath him, taking the thick pulsing length deep up between her wetly sucking walls until it had almost disappeared. As her young lover thrust deep into her, she moved back and forth on his impaling cock, rotating her hips and grinding her buttocks into the mattress while she whimpered with pleasure.
He fucked in and out while Patty mewled and purred, crushing her lips against his, writhing her belly to his belly until the two smacked against one another. Slowly but implacably, Doug worked his hands beneath the girl's undulating buttocks, encompassing them in his palms, lifting them to press her loins against his own. She began a more and more frantic rotation of her ass-cheeks as he sent his long aching cock pounding and driving into her warm tight cunt, until finally the bloated head brushed against her cervix while his balls slapped hard against the smooth rounded half-moons of her buttocks.
The young redhead strained against him, throwing her legs around his hips, tightening and then releasing them, as his heavy cock continued its rampage into the very depths of her soft clutching belly. Her low moans of passionate abandon sent now an even more exciting wave of lust crashing through him. Suddenly his middle finger reached into the widespread furrow between her buttocks, searching along the smooth wet crevice for the tiny puckered hole of her anus. He poked and probed at it, then pressed hard until, like her little vagina, the hairless nether ring popped open and his finger slid into the tight rubbery opening up to the first knuckle joint.
Patty screamed at the pain, and then relaxed as it ebbed, turning to a new and ecstatic joy. Now she screwed her buttocks back down onto his finger as he twisted and turned it insanely inside the soft fleshy depths of her rectum. She began a low and soft moaning as Doug continued this double ravishment of her defenseless loins, his iron-like penis moving in and out of her clasping vagina like some motorized piston gone wild.
She opened her legs to the fullest as Doug thrust into her with longer, harder strokes. Her daughter's teeth, Gloria now saw, were clenched, her eyes shut tight, her whole face contorted with lust as she suddenly cried, "Oh my God!
I'm cumming....I'm cumming ... Oh, my God!"
Her eyes were glazed as she writhed and twisted beneath the boy. At almost the same moment he arched back, then thrust forward in a final desperate lunge, gasping out his own climax. "Ooooooooh! Oh, my God! I'm cumming too! I'm cumming!"
Their moans seemed to mingle as Doug shot his white-hot sperm deep into her belly, as her own orgasmic juice gushed forth to seep down between her creamy-white thighs, running in tiny rivulets over her supple young skin. The hot wet walls of her vagina clasped and unclasped desperately, milking at the jerking organ until the girl was drained of all strength, her legs collapsing on the bed to splay out obscenely over the sides. Doug groaned one more time, then rolled over, withdrawing his now deflating penis, to lie quietly beside her, eyes closed.
There was no sound anywhere except the choked groan of utter horror from the dry throat of the stunned mother, before she turned and raced back to the lodge.
But the benumbed minds of Patty and Doug registered nothing!
CHAPTER TWO
"One thing I know, we just can't sit still with this going on."
Gloria sat in an alcove seat by the huge stone hearth of the lodge lounge and looked at her husband in despair. John stared at her unbelievingly from the edge of the leather sofa dominating the center of the room. He looked like a man struggling to wake from a nightmare.
"You're sure, honey?" he asked. "Absolutely sure?"
Gloria jumped to her feet with a little gesture of impatience. "Of course I'm sure! My God, John, you don't think I could make up a story like that, do you?"
John got up too and clumsily reached out a hand towards her. "No, no, I don't doubt you, that's not it. Only ... it's just I can't ... I can't take it in, that's all, it doesn't seem possible. In the cabin too!"
Right under their noses! Every detail of what his wife had told him went round like a tape-recording in his head. Patty, he knew, was well along the path to womanhood and her slender, well-developed young woman's figure must appear like honey to most men but he still thought of her as his personal treasure. Innocent Patty lying there on the cabin bed, her legs obscenely splayed out over the bed's sides, the tiny slit of her young pussy lewdly put on full view for the benefit of that local long-haired do-nothing hippie. What was his name? Lawson, Doug Lawson. And then the way the young bastard had exhibited himself proudly, exposing his erect cock, before fucking the child almost silly according to Gloria. What an ordeal for Gloria, too shocked, too horrified to say a word! It wasn't any wonder her nerves were stretched to the limit today, with a sleepless night behind her and no solution in sight. Christ, he was' wound up enough himself, and he'd only just started to live with the story! Where was the answer to it all? What could they do?
"God, I'd like a drink," he burst out. Gloria laughed mirthlessly.
"That's just about the earliest you've ever asked for one," she said. "I'll get it. I need one too. Scotch?"
"Yeah. Straight!"
His mind flew back to Patty as his wife left the room, back to the tape-recorder in his mind...."Feeling and sucking on her breasts ... both naked ... wrapped her legs around him ... climaxed together. " What to do? Talk to Patty? That was a joke! There never had been any time she'd listened to him. Not since she was old enough to have any mind of her own, anyway. Maybe that's when he should have gone out of his way to make sure she stayed toeing to the line. The kid had never been spanked. And now it was too late. Even so, he longed to haul her across his knees, flip that little skirt of hers up and bring his hand down on her quivering white ass until it glowed like a red neon light beneath those flimsy nylon panties she wore. He wouldn't have cared how she kicked or screamed as he rained blow after blow'on her defenseless buttocks. Hell, no! her cries would have been music to his ears. He clenched his fists angrily. He would do it yet one of these days, he would give her the spanking she deserved, the spanking of her life. Only, he thought sadly, it wouldn't do a damn bit of good. Patty would run away or something. Where was she now? Gloria had said she heard her come into the kitchen first thing in the morning and make some breakfast. Then she'd left. The noise she'd made revving up her sports car had been the thing that had awakened him. At first he'd taken this as a good sign and then he'd seen his wife's swollen, red-rimmed eyes, and Gloria had poured out the whole sordid story for him. Unbelievable!
He was still in his reverie when Gloria placed the generous measure of straight Scotch in front of him.
"Any ideas materialized?" she asked, taking a sip of her own drink and then sitting beside him on the couch.
He smiled his thanks at her as he tried the Scotch but shook his head in reply to her question.
"We need help, honey," he said after taking a couple of gulps from his glass. "We need professional help and the one ray of sunshine is that we have that appointment tomorrow with that camp guidance counselor-what's her name?"
"Mrs. Mellor."
"Right. Now there's no guarantee she can do anything but at least it's her business to give people advice in these situations. Can you sit tight till then?" He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"What about Patty?"
"We handle her with kid gloves. We've got to tell her sometime today they don't want her ... that she's been expelled from the camp. We don't have to mention anything else and that will be quite enough to insist on her staying at home this evening and sleeping in one of the bedrooms in the lodge."
John finished his Scotch in one final gulp and stared vacantly at the cold hearth grate as he replaced the glass on the coffee table.
"At least, I sure hope to God it's enough."
* * *
Some people maintained Mrs. Florence Mellor kept the most comfortable office of any of the summer camp's staff and certainly she herself was one of the easiest of people to get along with. A former high school principal, she'd taken an early retirement "to get out of a rut" as she herself put it, and she had got great joy out of the two summers she'd worked at the camp as guidance counselor. She was the first to admit that she had absolutely no qualifications in psychiatry. What she lacked in degrees and diplomas, however, she more than made up for through the personal wisdom she'd gained over her fifty-six years of life.
"I'm very glad to meet you," she told John and Gloria on Monday morning, giving each a brief but firm handshake. "Sit down-if you can find a seat!"
Most of the small office was taken up with battered chairs and a couple of horsehair sofas with the stuffing protruding. Much of this furniture was occupied by papers and books, however, and Mrs. Mellor made room for the Richards on one of the sofas by clearing away a stack of folders and dumping them on the floor. She indicated with a smile and a slight gesture of the hand that the space was all theirs and returned to her small desk pushed up against the wall under the one window, swiveling her chair around so that she could face them. She became serious.
"Peter Sims has told me his decision regarding Patty and I know there're no words to lessen the blow of that news for you," she started off. "What we have to think about now is where we go from here, and you're quite right to think in terms of psychiatric help." She turned to check an entry in a file on her desk. "Your home's in New Bristol, is it not?"
The two parents looked quickly at one another and then John cleared his throat and agreed New Bristol was indeed their hometown. "But there's been something else happening ... regarding Patty ... we thought it might be ... be important." And with an encouraging nod of acquiescence from Mrs. Mellor, John poured out the whole story of what Gloria had seen through the cabin screen door.
"Well, there's no question you two people are being put through the wringer with this development," commented Mrs. Mellor forcefully when John had finished his recital. "And there's no question now it's doubly imperative to find help quickly." The gray-haired former principal briefly explained the limitations of her own qualifications to offer the kind of professional assistance that they would need for Patty, but reassured them she could give them leads to the right people.
"I'll write down the names and addresses of. the three New Bristol psychiatrists I know of," she finished up.
To this point Gloria had remained silent, except to confirm with a nod of the head some of the details her husband had recounted to Mrs. Mellor, but she had spent the time studying the guidance counselor closely, and had decided the woman had a warmth about her, conveyed a feeling of motherliness that made Gloria trust her. If she asked a straight question perhaps Mrs. Mellor would be straight with her in return.
"Mrs. Mellor? You don't have to answer this but maybe you can help me. Are many girls Patty's age this way?"
The older woman looked up from her writing and stared hard at Gloria for a moment before replying.
"Yes, as a matter-of-fact there is a lot of wildness, including sexual intercourse. With many young girls there's promiscuity and worse, but with Patty you're lucky."
Gloria sat bolt upright. "Lucky," she exclaimed. "Lucky! A daughter who has no compunction about going all the way at sixteen and you say I'm lucky?"
"It could be worse, you know."
"Oh, sure!" Gloria snapped.
"Patty could be on drugs."
"What d'you mean, 'be on drugs'?" cut in John.
"I mean it could have been that your daughter by now could be a confirmed drug addict," Mrs. Mellor told them softly. "Mr. Sims would probably fire me if he heard me reveal it but we have uncovered pushers no more than sixteen and seventeen right here in this camp. As far as we can tell-and we get pretty expert, believe me," the counselor added bitterly, "-as far as we can tell Patty is not into drugs. And that, bluntly, is what I meant when I said it could be worse."
Gloria had only half-heard the last part of Mrs. Mellor's explanation, her mind growing dizzy with what it was expected to understand. First there was the memory of the other night when she had watched the young couple in all their lewd revolting acts. She couldn't banish the image of the young girl's naked body stretched out on the bed beneath Doug, offered up to him for sacrifice as though he were some pagan god. She remembered that terrible moment when his thick rigid cock had entered the girl's tiny vaginal passage, pushing aside the pink fleshy folds of her cuntal lips to disappear as if it had been swallowed. She remembered ... and couldn't stop remembering-and now this woman was asking her to digest the possibility that by now Patty could have been hooked on dope, that maybe there were confirmed drug takers among her friends. It was too much to take in. The room began to whirl and feeling herself close to fainting heard herself asking, "Please, could I have a glass of water?"
She wasn't sure of what happened then except that John held her until Mrs. Mellor had returned with the water. She sipped at it, feeling a little stronger, but her mind had been dazed, her brain sent spinning, and she had difficulty concentrating.
The fog in her mind cleared suddenly when in. the course of a remark to John Mrs. Mellor made another reference to "psychiatric help".
"What do you mean, 'psychiatric help'?" demanded Gloria, struggling up out of the nest of John's arms. "The girl isn't mad!"
"I know, of course not," soothed Mrs. Mellor. "But she's very troubled, and really it's the only hope for the child."
"She isn't really a child," Gloria protested, half to herself, thinking again of Patty lying beneath Doug Lawson as he had fucked lewdly into her.
"She's an adolescent, a troubled adolescent," cut in John quickly, trying to nip in the bud a needless rift between the two concerned women.
"Yes, you're perfectly right, Mr. Richards," the guidance counselor graciously agreed. "Adolescent is much more the correct term. But child or adolescent, Mrs. Richards, she is headed for disaster if she doesn't get professional advice."
Gloria leaned back wearily against John's arm and nodded her head, feeling the effort of speech beyond her. There was some more talk between Mrs. Mellor and John but it all passed over her head as all she could think of was getting home to New Bristol. It was about an hour's drive. Patty had left first thing that morning, getting back the keys to her car on the condition that she drove straight home. They had told her they had to go to the camp but explained it was to pick up her things. They did have to do that also. Suddenly she could stand the small office, the clutter and the buzzing talk, no longer. Concentrating all her strength, she stood up.
"John, I want to go home. You'll have to take me now, I need to get home." Aware, now, of how rude and abrupt she must sound to the older woman, Gloria turned to Mrs. Mellor and explained, "Please try to excuse this, I know it must seem terribly rude but there's just no place I...." Mrs. Mellor cut her off with a silencing gesture.
"No apologies necessary, Mrs. Richards, it's completely understandable you'd want to get home as soon as possible. I tend to drag these talks on too long, it's a fault I'm always fighting to remember not to do." She smiled and picked up the list of addresses she'd left lying on her desk.
"New Bristol isn't exactly well-endowed with psychiatrists, Mr. Richards, but I think you'll find something to help you there."
John took the list and thanked her and with a few more words at the door of the office they took their leave of the camp guidance counselor, picked up Patty's already-packed things from the reception area of the administration building and headed to where their car was parked.
Gloria wouldn't even agree to take the time to search out camp director Peter Sims to say farewell.
* * *
Although he drove swiftly once he got on to the highway, it was lunchtime by the time they reached the outskirts of New Bristol and the turn off for Green Edinburgh, the well-treed suburb where they had lived for the last six years.
Patty's car was parked, after a fashion, slewed askew so it blocked the entrances of two of the three garages. John didn't bother to garage the Mercedes as he intended driving downtown that afternoon to his retail home furnishings store on New Bristol Main Street.
"You go in and rest, honey. I can get these things," John told his wife as he moved around to the car trunk where Patty's bags were locked away. Gloria had with her a small weekend bag of personal items she had brought from the lodge before closing it up. John had duplicates of all his personal stuff at the lodge.
Gloria had been through the house by the time he'd finished bringing in Patty's bits and pieces.
"She's not here, John. I can't find her anywhere."
"There, honey, hold on," sighed John as he dumped the last tennis racket, the last hold-all and the last pair of sneakers on the pile at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm not surprised she's not here. She took off before we got home and I'm just glad she's not somewhere in that car of hers-at least she's likely in the neighborhood."
Gloria turned and walked into the kitchen where she had a view across the back lot of the house of their nearest neighbors, who happened to have two sons about Patty's age.
"Now, she's not necessarily with the Peters' boys either, Gloria," said John, following her into the kitchen. The tall redhead went on standing by the double-sink, staring out at nothing. "Look, Gloria, if you'd rather I stayed home this afternoon I can phone the office and postpone this auditing meeting. It's no life or death thing. I don't feel like anything to eat myself but I can fix you some lunch and start phoning some of those doctors...."
Gloria turned and faced him, putting her hands in his and smiling as far as he could remember for the first time that day. "No, I'll fix us some lunch-we both need to eat after skipping breakfast this morning-and then I'll start in on the calls while you're at the store. You more than did your share of carrying the load for both of us this morning. It's time I got a grip on myself. Now, where's that list Mellor gave you, let's decide who looks the best to try first."
While Gloria got some ham and eggs ready, John read out the list of names, addresses and qualifications written down by Mrs. Mellor and discussed the apparent merits of each of the two men and one woman. They decided to try the woman first and then move on to one of the men if she wasn't available or turned out after all not to be suitable. After eating, John got up to pour them a second cup of coffee.
"How do you really feel about it," he asked suddenly, putting the coffee-maker back on the counter. "Sending Patty to a shrink?"
Gloria considered the question carefully. "Is there any alternative?" she said at last.
"Not that I know of," John said.
"But what if she won't go? I mean-it could be a problem."
"We'll face that when the time comes. The first thing to do is get an appointment with one of these characters. Then we'll figure out how we get dear Patty into his-or her-office." He pushed his coffee cup away and leaned back. "But are you sure you're going to be able to handle these phone calls? I can still call off that meeting...."
"Now I've eaten there's no problem," Gloria reassured him. "I feel fine now." She paused. "Well, as fine as I'm likely to feel in the circumstances. So you take off, and I'll let you know, I'll leave a message with your secretary if I get into any trouble. Otherwise, just assume I got something fixed up."
Still with a great many doubts in his mind about exactly to what extent his wife was really recovered from her breakdown of that morning, John collected a few papers together in his study and left in the Mercedes for the Richards' store, Twentieth Century Home and Recreation Furnishings. It was a hop, skip and a jump by the new downtown freeway, and he was in plenty of time for his two-thirty meeting.
Meanwhile, Gloria stacked the few dishes involved in their simple meal and decided to start work on obtaining a psychiatrist's appointment right away. She immediately got off to a bad beginning. All the woman doctor's number gave back was a recorded message.
"Dr. Alison Forester's office. This is a recorded announcement. Dr. Forester is with a patient at this time but expects to be free at five minutes to the hour. Please call again at that time."
Gloria checked her watch and found it was a quarter of three. Okay, she had time to make at least one other call, but they had decided that there might be an edge in having a woman treat Patty, so Gloria considered she would stick with how they originally had seen things and wait on the stroke of five minutes of three to come around, getting herself another cup of coffee in the meantime.
It was right on the stroke of five of three when the redhead finished dialing again but nevertheless someone who had been this route before, probably, had beaten her to the punch and all Gloria got was the busy signal. She couldn't help slamming the phone down. God, it was frustrating! Then she collected herself and became a little calmer. Ridiculous to get upset over a busy signal-why, it might be Dr. Forester herself phoning out. Then, Gloria couldn't help but get an immediate reaction of resentment against the psychiatrist for herself using uppart of the precious five minutes that she apparently allowed each hour for calls from the outside.
Gloria went back to dialing the Forester number monotonously for the next five minutes but got nowhere, only a repeat of the busy signal, until at three o'clock precisely the recorded voice chimed in again with, "Dr. Alison Forester's office. This is a...."
The frustrated housewife slammed down the telephone receiver again, only this time didn't cool off. She was so angry she misdialed the second psychiatrist's number and got some mindless idiot in a record store. When she did get through, it was another recorded announcement.
"Dr. Gregory's office. Dr. Gregory cannot accept telephone calls during consulting hours. After the three blips, would you please record your name and telephone number, and Dr. Gregory will return your call?"
Holding herself back from again slamming the receiver down on its cradle, Gloria dutifully waited for the three rapid blips and as calmly as she could spoke off her name and telephone number. She even managed a rather plaintive "Thank you" at the end.
With the third telephone number Mrs. Mellor had given them-a Dr. Pearson, Rodney Pearson-Gloria didn't get a recorded announcement but did find herself connected to a message service.
"Dr. Pearson isn't in at the present time," was the harsh, toneless response to Gloria's request to speak with him. And as if anticipating Gloria's next question, the impersonal voice went on: "He didn't say when he'd return."
Not bothering to hide the exasperation in her own voice, the anguished mother asked how she was expected to make an appointment with Dr. Pearson.
"Oh, are you a new patient? There's something from the office on that but please hold for a moment...." At least there was now a vestige of something human in the voice on the other end of the phone but Gloria seethed while she waited for the telephonist to handle the other call or calls that had come in.
"Please continue holding," the voice came back on the line. "Yes, there is a message from Dr. Pearson's office for new patients. Would you please state on paper, in typewritten form preferably, the reason for your wishing to become a patient of the doctor, restricting the description of symptoms to twenty-five words or less. Do not forget name, address and telephone." The voice paused for an instant, then added brusquely: "Got that?"
Gloria didn't wait to reply, but put the phone down, this time with deliberate calm. She wanted to yell and scream. That was a luxury she couldn't allow herself, however. It was three-thirty and she felt exhausted. She'd tried, she really had tried, but she would have to hand it over to John after all. There was no way Gloria could face going over that ground again.
John was still tied up in his meeting and while she waited for him to call her back Gloria mixed herself something stronger than coffee to see her through the rest of the afternoon. The scotch-on-the-rocks took the edge off her nervousness, though she found herself getting hyper again as four came and went and the expected call didn't materialize. At ten after four she could stand it no longer and called Ramona, John's secretary.
"God dammit, Ramona, is that meeting still on?"
"Why yes, Mrs. Richards. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was urgent. They're meeting in the board room, but I can put you through on the extension if you...." Gloria was on the point of backing off, the exercise of merely talking to someone having taken the steam out of her frustration, when Ramona broke in to say Mr. Richards was in the passage outside. "The meeting must have broken off, Mrs. Richards. I'll get him right away." Ramona came back once more to say Mr. Richards was going into his office to take the call and then John was on the line.
"Gloria? What happened? Did you get anybody?"
"No," said Gloria bitterly. "No, no, there weren't even any replies, except one." She related her experience with the answering service and then added the details concerning the other calls she had tried to make. John listened with growing relief, thinking the situation less bad than her mood had originally given him to understand, for he well knew as a day-by-day practitioner in the business world just how frustrating trying to make contact with someone by telephone could so often be.
"Okay, Gloria," he said as soothingly as he could once she had spilled out her tale of woe. "Now listen to me; it's a good thing you decided to call me when you did, it was a good try, but often you can get calls through from a business office that seem to be impossible when reaching the same connection as a private individual. I'll get Ramona to pull out all the tricks she knows ... No, no, no, I won't give her any details of what it's about ... Now you get to sleep if you can, lie down at any rate, and I'll be on my way home just as soon as I've done as much as I can from this end. So hang up now and try and rest."
Resting was the least thing Gloria felt like doing at that point and it was some time before she stopped pacing the length of the broadloomed lounge and even sat on one of the two sofas ranged in front of the fireplace. Once immobile, however, the weariness in her arms and legs did take over and she fell into a fitful sleep.
The sun was still high in the sky when John got home to find Gloria asleep on the sofa in the lounge despite the blare of music from Patty's phonograph in her bedroom, indicating that his daughter was home. John sat alongside his wife on the sofa and kissed her awake gently. "Well?" she asked immediately as her eyes opened.
"No luck." His lips lost the slight smile they had at her awakening.
"I did get through to Dr. Forester. She's just plain full up, says she just can't take on any more patients. She did give me the name of a lay analyst, not a fully-qualified psychiatrist at all, but I haven't bothered with her yet. The other one, the one who wanted written submissions, the reason for that I found out, or Ramona found out, is because he has a very narrow specialty. Something to do with mental upset due to pregnancy. God, I could do with a drink, is there any Scotch in the cabinet?"
"I'll get it!" A much-refreshed Gloria jumped to her feet. "I need one myself. What about the other one, the Gregory doctor?"
"Dr. Gregory, dear old Dr. Gregory, Ramona did her best work there. After getting the 'Leave your name and number' routine, she traced his home telephone number and got his housekeeper, who after a while suggested he just might be at one of three clubs. Ramona got him at the second and it took all my tact to calm him down when he found I was calling him professionally. But he is more than fifty percent retired and definitely wasn't about to take on any teenage girls. Thanks."
Gloria gave him his straight Scotch. "I can hardly hear you with that music rocking the house," she told him. "I don't know how to deal with her now, can you get Patty to turn it down?"
She left for the kitchen to get herself ice cubes and John went to the bottom of the stairs in the hall. Gloria heard some shouts and then the music quietened, almost went off altogether. John was back in the lounge when she took in her drink.
"It's just as well, probably," he said pensively. "Gregory I mean, not wanting Patty. She'd only see him as an old fuddy-duddy."
Gloria decided it best not to tell her husband that 'fuddy-duddy' was how Patty had described her father only a week before. "What do you intend to do?" she asked, taking a cigarette and lighting it.
"Keep trying," John told her.
John sipped his Scotch, cleared his throat and looked sidelong at Gloria. He knew his wife sometimes got a little uptight about how much Ramona tended to get involved in their private affairs.
"After I bombed out with Gregory," he said at last, "Ramona got into the act a little bit. She wasn't being pushy or anything, just concerned."
Gloria gave him a hard, unblinking look, then exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke.
"Oh, and just what did your secretary have to contribute?" she asked tonelessly.
"Well, she said it wasn't that she wanted to pry but she could see I was worried and not having much luck among the people I was calling and that if it were a wig-picker I needed there was somebody her brother highly recommended over in Caledonia."
"Do we really have to go that far away? Who is he?"
John took a scrap of paper from an inside pocket. "A Dr. J. Jonathan Smith. Apparently has the two top floors of that office tower built south of the river last year. You're right, it's better if we can get somebody closer to home. Besides, we've got this other woman to check out tomorrow, the lay analyst...."
"Tomorrow, tomorrow," muttered Gloria into the remains of ice cubes she was jiggling in her glass.
"Now look, Gloria...." There was a note of anger in John's voice. And then it softened. "Honey," he said, "I'm doing all I can."
Gloria sighed. "I know," she said softly, eternally grateful that he was beside her. "Don't mind me, I don't mean to get bitchy at you! There's nothing more we can do today, let me fix you an early supper, you must be starving."
For a while in the kitchen, starting to plan the evening meal, she felt quite elated. But the high evaporated when she went to check with Patty if she would be in to supper. Patty said she had better things to do and pausing only to grab up a shoulder-strap purse, ran headlong down the stairs from her room and out through the front door to her car. Probably guessing her mother would be watching from some window with her heart in her mouth, Patty raced the car down the driveway, braking madly to make the corner into the narrow laneway of the subdivision, before taking off in a cloud of dust in the direction of the highway.
* * *
The following morning, Patty spent hardly any time in eating breakfast before she was out of the house again, so John decided to stay home and do his phoning, intending to concentrate on contacting Miss Elizabeth Thompson, the lay analyst recommended by Dr. Alison Forester, the moment she set foot in her place of business.
"Don't call before nine," said Gloria, as John settled in at the telephone shortly after eight-thirty. "You're wasting your time now, most of these people don't start operating till nine-thirty, ten o'clock!"
"I've got to start sometime, honey, there's no way I can sit still on my butt for twenty-thirty minutes reading the paper."
Gloria shrugged. "Well, if you want to waste your time calling an empty office, go ahead. I'll go and get on with some work upstairs."
John was luckier than he knew. Miss Thompson operated out of her home and she answered the phone on his first ring. But there his luck ran out again-there was a two or three month backlog of people wanting to see her, she said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, it's impossible for me to take anybody else on."
"Miss Thompson," said John in desperation. "Do you know any doctor who's got any time? Do you know A Dr. Smith, Jonathon Smith, over in Caledonia, or anybody else in Caledonia?"
Miss Thompson was silent for a moment. "Dr. Smith I've heard of, but he's quite new, apparently, and he's not a doctor, he's a lay practitioner, like me. One thing I do know, there isn't a lay analyst in New Bristol who hasn't got a full caseload. There's no one here I could send you to with any chance of acceptance. And I can't really help you with Caledonia. Sorry."
Gloria, hearing voices, had stampeded downstairs. Now she slumped into a chair as John put the telephone receiver down, crestfallen.
"What is it?" Gloria whispered. "She doesn't have time, either."
"Could she recommend anybody else?"
"Nobody."
"Not even this Dr. Smith, the Caledonia man?"
"She's heard of him. He's not a doctor."
"Does she know anybody in Caledonia?"
"No." John suddenly twisted round in his chair at the telephone table. "Look. I'm going to get this address of Dr. Smith or whatever he is firmed up and then I'm going to drive over to Caledonia. If he'll see me. Want to come?"
Gloria nodded her head without enthusiasm and went back upstairs to her housework. John dialed his office.
"Ramona? Hi. Yes, it is. Would be a great day for golf. If I felt like golf. No, things aren't any better with Patty and we're striking out all over trying to get help. You mentioned yesterday your brother or brother-in-law had seen a shrink, er, a psychiatrist over in Caledonia. D'you know anything about him? Okay, well, you call your brother and let me know. Thanks. Goodbye."
John kept the receiver to his ear and pressed the button on the phone for the master bedroom, guessing from the muted sounds he heard that that's where Gloria was busy.
"I have that detailed map of downtown Caledonia in the car," he told Gloria. "Ramona's going to call me back-can you take it and buzz me in the garage?"
John took time to get himself another cup of coffee to take out with him while he looked for the Caledonia map but he was hardly heading out to the Mercedes before the inter-com phone in the garage started buzzing. He turned on his heel back into the house figuring the lounge phone was closer. "Hello, Ramona."
"Hello, Mr. Richards. Look, it turns out my brother didn't see Dr. Smith himself, it was a friend of his, I'm sorry. I should have checked before I opened my big mouth."
"Does he know anything about Smith?"
"Only that his friend thought him unusual, but effective. It seems he has a pretty plush set-up in that tower on the Place Caledonia complex. I got the number if you want me to phone him."
"Is he a psychiatrist," cut in Gloria on the upstairs phone, "or a lay analyst?"
"Derek just called him 'Doctor' Smith-I don't know." The secretary's usually crisp voice became hesitant. "Do you want me to check that?"
Gloria didn't answer. "No, don't bother," replied John. "I think we have to go with what we've got. Unless I could talk to your brother? What does he do, can I reach him right now?"
"Surely, Mr. Richards. You know Bellamy's Food-a-teria? He's chief cashier there. Another John-John Flanders. Three-eight-seven, five-zero, local six. But he might be on coffee break right now."
John Flanders must have had his coffee, he was eager to please.
"Sure, Mr. Richards, no trouble at all. He's not somebody I know personally, mind you heard of him through a friend."
"But is he a psychiatrist or a lay analyst?"
"If you ask me, they're all lay analysts," laughed Flanders. "Isn't that what the couch is for?"
John smiled grimly into the phone. "Yes, Mr. Flanders, could well be, could well be, but we do have to get an idea of what his qualifications are, I don't want to send my daughter to a quack."
The chief cashier on the other end of the line hurriedly agreed and tried to think of something to reassure the worried father. "I do know my friend told me Dr. Smith had been engaged in some very interesting experiments lately."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" John asked.
"Well, he's not Freudian, of course," went on Flanders. "Apparently he really doesn't belong to any of the other schools that you must have certainly heard of."
"Such as...?"
"He's not a Jungian, either...."
Good God Almighty! Now the man was going highbrow-technical, even-on him. John impatiently cut off the flow of names-Horney, Adler, Sullivan-being shot at him.
"Does he get results?"
"He seems to," the man said.
"All right, that's good enough for me, Mr. Flanders. I'll call him right now. And thank you very much."
* * *
Dr. J. Jonathan Smith was reached through not one but two soft-spoken secretaries. They took some minutes to locate him and seemed to spend more time returning to the line to reassure John they were certain the doctor would be imminently available on the job looking for him. John couldn't have cared less about the delay, however, when Smith had heard him out and then replied: "But of course, Mr. Richards. I would be glad to try to help your daughter."
"When can we see you?"
"Whenever you like."
"Are you ... could you make it today?"
"But of course."
John breathed a sigh of relief. "What time?" he asked.
"Whatever time is best for you, Mr. Richards."
"We're in New Bristol, as I said. But we could be over to Caledonia by noon...?"
"In that case, Mr. Richards, may I suggest that you and your wife spend a pleasant hour or two taking luncheon at one of our excellent restaurants-there are two right in the building if you prefer-and then come to see me at two-thirty?"
John was taken in completely by the clipped Central European accent Smith used to impress his clients. "We'll be there," he replied. "You can bet on that."
He cradled the telephone and called out to Gloria. "Where are you? I've got great news, honey." He quickly found her in the garden. "I've got great news for you." Then he told her.
"Oh, John!" she said. "Oh, John! That's wonderful. It just goes to show what happens when you keep trying!"
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Smith returned to his office from his own lunch just before two o'clock and turning to the file folder already prepared by Rosetta Box, his private secretary, with Patty Richards' name on it, refreshed his memory from the brief notes he had made while talking with Patty's father. This, thought Dr. Smith, could be very interesting. Of course, he hadn't learned too much about Patty over the telephone, there had been a certain amount of incoherence on the part of her father. That was understandable, however-the man was distraught, most fathers in Richard's position would be, he reflected. He could hardly blame him. He would have felt the same way if he'd had a daughter of sixteen.
He licked his lips in lascivious anticipation. Christ! Sixteen! and from what Richards had said, the kid was worth waiting for. He had a picture in his mind of a slim little thing with a voluptuous body. A regular miniature-sized Aphrodite, beautifully-proportioned. Full hips and thighs and breasts that were plump little mounds of soft sensuous flesh, tipped with tiny budding nipples that quivered an invitation. Dear God! Here he was, drooling over them already. Literally drooling! He could hardly wait to take one of those rose-tinted tips between his own lips and suck it, swirling his tongue around the tender mound. And run his hands over the snowy flesh and along the narrow furrow of the youthful cleavage. Jesus! Wait 'til she got his treatment! She'd never forget it! And neither would he!
He wiped his brow, surprised to find it was wet with cold sweat. He must get a grip on himself, he thought. At least until this little charmer was in his tender care!
Firmly closing Patty's file and replacing it in front of him on the desk with another containing a whole pile of papers, he looked around for notepad and pen. He really should finish this talk he had been invited to present on an avant-garde television program dealing with science. He had time to do a little more before the Richards arrived. He refreshed his memory on what he'd already written. "Absolute freedom," said the last sentence, "is the 'sine qua non' of therapy." He remembered he'd felt a trifle uncomfortable immediately after he wrote that, wondering if he was using the phrase in quite the correct way. Latin, he thought with some justification, had never been one of his outstanding subjects at school. He smiled a little to himself as he thought of the large amounts of Latin that adorned his "diplomas" and other credentials hanging on the walls of his reception room. Oh, well, if he ran it off the tongue quickly, none of his viewers on the afternoon women's program would be any the wiser....
"Absolute freedom, especially sexual freedom," he wrote, is essential if the individual is to develop normally. We have all seen those uptight, pathetic neurotics who have been denied the right to the greatest of all freedoms, that of sexual freedom.
"The repressed man or woman is a sick man or woman. Their lives are miserable. Yet such suffering is unneeded and unnecessary. Even those whose lives have been warped irreparably, it would seem-by an unfortunate and moralistic upbringing, can lift their heads and turn, like flowers to the sun, to joy and happiness. The secret for such restoration to the full life Nature intended for each of her children is a full, vital and varied sex life.
"Away with guilty feelings. I say to you bluntly, what could be more pure, more natural, more normal than a man and woman reaching climax together? What could be more charming, more enchanting than two small children playing together-playing with each other, as the world would describe their innocent actions-running their hands over each others' naked bodies, the small girl exploring her young friend's penis, stroking it, perhaps bringing it to an erection, the little boy discovering the marvels of the other's vagina, caressing the warm flesh there, between her legs, going so far, even, as to insert a tiny finger deep up inside it?"
He paused in his writing, wondering if he'd not gone too far, if he could get away with that, even on a self-proclaimed "liberated" TV show. "Away with guilty feelings!" he read over.
Christ! That was good! He continued reading his scrawled paragraphs and began to feel himself getting excited. He wondered if there was a patient around, waiting and ready for his own special brand of therapy.
Therapy! That was as good a name for it as any. One thing about it, nobody ever forgot it. And damn few fought it, after he got them over their initial inhibitions. Once they were, they just never could get enough of it.
Once again he read over what he had written. "Full, vital and varied sex life," he said aloud. He liked that phrase. And by Jesus, he meant it. Especially the part about variety. There wasn't anything that the patients around here didn't try. "How you want it, every time you want it!" That was the motto of the Clinique Place Caledonia.
Unable to stay still in his chair any longer, he rose and walked over to a small cupboard in the shelves of one office wall. Quickly removing a pair of high-powered binoculars, he twisted around to the window looking down from the skyscraper. Yes, there they were again, the beauties! Only one of the two girls on the rooftop of a nearby apartment block was sunbathing, but the sight of her long slim legs, her fully rounded breasts, her tiny waist sent little bolts of lightning flashing through his loins, making his cock jerk up into semi-hardness beneath his pants. The other girl, dressed in the uniform of an airline stewardess, suddenly bent down to do something to the strap of the bikini bra of the sunbather, but got her fingers flicked away. Smith now focused in on the taut mini-skirt stretched up and tight over the rounded ass-cheeks of the stewardess. God, but she was gorgeous! He wouldn't mind sampling that right now, he thought. The outfit she was wearing didn't do a damn thing to cool the fire that now raged in his balls. When she stood up again she took off her uniform jacket and loosened the frilly blouse underneath by undoing every button down to her waist. And her mini-skirt was so short it just managed to cover her hips, swinging back and forth over the tops of her thighs as she walked back to the rooftop elevator entrance and out of sight.
The doctor swung the glasses back to focus in on the almost-naked sunbather recumbent on one of the fold-away garden lounging chairs that littered the rooftop sun-trap. Eyes closed, she was totally relaxed with one leg slightly raised and leaning out and one hand lightly resting on the tiny triangle of cloth protecting her crotch. No doubt about it, he really went for the young ones. Then he burst into a lecherous laugh. And for the older ones, he reminded himself practically anything in skirts, or in hot pants for that matter.
Smith licked his lips, remembering with lascivious pleasure the particular joy that all-too-brief fad of hot pants had given him. It really was too bad so few women anymore were wearing those tight-fitting shorts that out-lined the undulating curves of their ass-cheeks and clung to the narrow crevice between them.
His eyes roamed around his office, taking in the huge two-way mirror allowing untrammeled viewing into the therapy room next door, and then he gave a quiet smile as his glance rested on the tried-and-true couch standing beneath the mirror. A great idea in its time, he thought. A sign of Dr. Freud's genius, making his patients lie down on a couch.
Of course, Freud had stopped there. As with every other analyst Smith had ever heard of, the great Viennese man of medicine had merely sat behind the couch while the patient relaxed, stretched out before him, and waffled and babbled on ... on ... on ... and on. But he, Smith, had gone way beyond that. Everybody knew these days that what made people who went to shrinks uptight was sex. So instead of letting them talk about it-a long and sometimes useless practice-he preferred to let his patients "act" out their problems. Let them worry less by "doing" more, was his little slogan. Or the other half of his private credo, which he wouldn't want to have had published under any circumstances, that expressed his sentiments entirely: "You're gaining control when you're filling the hole."
Smith raised the binoculars to his eyes again and returned to his intimate study of the girl in the bikini on the nearby rooftop. I'd like to be helping your self-control by filling your hole, he thought as he fiddled with the fine adjustment of the lenses to compensate for a slow and lazy rearrangement of her long slim legs by the dozing girl. There was no telling what he couldn't do for the mental equilibrium of that lithesome young blonde exposed before him if he could but get her in for an extra-special session of his own brand of therapy here on his own couch. The trouble was, he'd been leaving too many cases like this, as evocative as this, in the hands of his assistants. A sudden thought jolted him-could his staff be pulling the wool over his eyes?
Whatever line of speculation his mind might have taken on this thought was interrupted as his eyes and attention were sharply concentrated by a lazy roll the blonde had started on the somewhat rickety garden chaise-longue. Inside his air-conditioned office, Smith had no idea what the temperature was under the broiling sun, but it looked pretty sticky as the barely-covered hips of the girl jigglingly made their turn while she rested the weight of her upper body on one elbow and then finally slithered down flat again, this time on her belly.
The watcher with the binoculars drew in his breath audibly as he immediately saw that the tiny crotch-piece of her bikini panties had narrowed-up in the turn-over and now was tightly pulled up in the crevice between her ass-cheeks, pushing them apart slightly but also at the same time almost disappearing from sight. She lay supine like that for a moment, as though exhausted by the heat, while Smith frantically worked on the binoculars' fine focus, then she slowly and with an effort reached behind her and with her left hand began trying to slacken off the tightness she had inadvertently caused to her bikini bottom in her efforts to turn over. To hook a finger under the almost-vanishing crotch-piece of the bikini panties she had to raise her hips and lower body slightly from the bed of the lounger, pushing her rounded quivering half-melons of ass-cheeks up into the sun's glare. Two fingers were now locked under the edge of the flimsy bikini material but some tightness or stickiness was still preventing her from pulling the narrow band out of the shadowed valley created by the mounds of white flesh exposed to the sun. Making a supreme effort, the girl opened her legs more by wriggling each leg out to rest them on either side of the lounger. Then she could run her fingers back down under the material of the panties until the crotch-piece was free and comfortable again. Smith gasped out the breath he had been holding, and she, too, seemed to have been holding her breath during her hot and strenuous performance because her shoulders heaved violently for a couple seconds and she flung back her head as though gasping for air. Smith rested his glasses on the window sill and did a mental re-play of the tiny strip of fabric popping up between the girl's tightening thighs, then slipping enticingly into the crevice of her rounded buttocks, even outlining the little puckered opening of her anus. Hell, there might be more to come! He wanted to rip her frail garments right off her, strip her naked and run his hands over her trembling bronzed flesh....
Before he could get the binoculars zeroed in on the curvaceous blonde again, the office inter-com buzzed. "Goddamn it to hell!" he blasted out between his teeth. "Why can't they leave me alone?"
On the fourth buzz he swore another string of oaths and stormed over to his desk, flipping the inter-com switch. "I don't want to be disturbed!" he yelled. Then, native caution superimposed itself on animal lust. "What is it, Rosetta?" he added lamely.
Rosetta, well-compensated for remaining the butt of her strange boss's erratic behavior, was left unperturbed by the emotional outburst that had erupted in her ear.
"Sylvia has two people in reception, the two people you were expecting-Mr. and Mrs. Richards. Shall I send them in?"
Good God, was it that time already? "Yes, no!" He checked his watch. It said twenty-nine minutes after two. There was no way out. Remembering the slight accent he adopted, he told Rosetta: "Send them in, in about ten minutes, would you, my dear?"
Chuckling at the last-minute resumption of the accent, Rosetta switched the inter-com to reception. "Okay, Sylv, show the birds into the waiting room. Thanks." Flipping the "off" button and leaning back on her chair, Rosetta wondered not for the first time whether the money was worth it, working in a mad-house.
* * *
In the waiting room, although it was sumptuously furnished and amply supplied with up-to-date magazines, neither Gloria nor John were at ease. Unable to sit patiently, Gloria got out of a black leather armchair and wandered over to the window. She'd seen the city from roughly the same vantage point about eighteen months before when she and John had been invited to attend a cocktail party in the tower to celebrate the opening of the Place Caledonia complex. A tour had been an optional part of the ceremonies, though most of the stores and offices then were nothing more than bare concrete and glass. She glanced at her watch twenty-seven minutes of three. God! where was the man!
Her casual surveillance of the city scene was arrested by a flash of movement and color on the roof of a nearby building. A girl-blonde sunbathing in a bikini was twisting her arm awkwardly behind her trying to scratch her back. No, she was trying to unfasten her bra strap and eventually the two halves of the clasp sprang apart as the elasticated back-band contracted. The expanse of the girl's now-totally bared back was vaguely exciting. Gloria remembered how hot it was out there. In that heat, she must be glad to get rid even of that bit of cloth, thought the waiting woman. The nearly-nude blonde lifted her breasts from the bra cups for a brief moment, then as she settled back on the lounger more comfortably another girl in blouse and skirt appeared in the shade of the rooftop elevator entrance. She called from the coolness, but the city hum must have drowned her out. She walked over slowly to the sunbathing blonde and, laying a hand on the naked shoulder, bent to put her mouth close to the ear of the recumbent girl. The blonde lifted her head sufficiently to shake it vigorously, her shining mane of hair for a split-second seeming to entwine itself in the cascading jet-black locks of the girl in the skirt. Again the second girl said something and again the blonde shook her head, but at some third comment she merely lay her head back on the lounger. The skirted girl stood up and, pulling her short skirt up even higher on her hips, suddenly straddled the sunbathing girl and the narrow lounger and bent to fish at the edge of the breasts of the nearly-nude blonde for the two halves of the bikini back-band. Two golden rivulets scampered over and down the girl's buttocks and inner thighs as the shine of her panty-hose reflected the glare of the sun. The clasp of the bikini top fastened, the raven-haired girl gently bumped up and down a couple of times on the blonde's buttocks, then stood and deftly swung a tapering leg back over' the lounger. She picked up a robe from another nearby lounge chair and draped it around the blonde's shoulders as the sunbather reluctantly shucked on flip-flops and stood. They walked slowly towards and into the entrance of the elevator tower, the taller, black-haired girl curling her right arm around the other's shoulders.
* * *
Rosetta watching the same scene from her office window felt a delicious quiver of longing run through her loins as the backs of the two girls disappeared from view. Another jolt shook her being, this time a guilty start, as she remembered the Richards put in cold storage in the waiting room. She checked the time-the office clock said twenty-four minutes of three. The old goat.' Still playing with himself, I suppose. She wondered who the hell he thought he was kidding with his "I'm so busy" routine. It was time for a secretarial-type, reassuring remark to the poor ducks waiting to be plucked. Besides, she was curious who these people were that the magical reputation of her boss had attracted from New Bristol.
She flung open her door to the waiting room with all the confidence of someone in complete charge of things and gave a broad smile of friendliness to the first person her eyes lighted upon, a well-stacked woman in her late thirties who was in the act of turning from the window. Yes, indeed, this is a pigeon who will get the boss's eye, thought Rosetta, as she herself eyed Gloria's firm curving breasts and hips with slender waist to set them off. She walked three steps into the room and now smiling broadly at John said: "I'm most terribly sorry, but Dr. Smith is still in the last stages of examining a patient." She turned briefly to Gloria. "If I might prevail upon you to be patient for a further few minutes I'm sure the doctor will be ready to see you. Thank you." And with a gracious inclination of the head and another dazzling smile for both parents the perfect secretary sailed serenely from the room.
"John, I'm scared," said Gloria in the silence Rosetta left behind her.
"Why, honey?" asked John, startled.
"I just am, that's all."
"Of that woman?"
"No, no! Well, partly, I suppose."
"Do you know her?"
"I can't put it into words."
"But she's only a secretary."
"It started before her. I can't explain it. It's a feeling, that's all."
"Do you-do you want to go home? Try another day?"
"Well, what do we tell this man?" Gloria waved her arms in exasperation. "He doesn't know Patty."
"That's what we're here to background him on."
"Do we have to-is it necessary to spell out everything?" Was she expected to go into every detail of that night?
John sighed. "I know the worst burden is going to fall on you, honey, but we should tell him everything."
"Even the drugs part?" asked Gloria quickly.
"What 'drugs part'?" demanded John, now perturbed himself.
"The friends of Patty. What Mrs. Mellor told us."
"But there's nothing confirmed about that." He paused as a thought hit him. "Is there?" he looked at her sharply. "Is there something . confirmed? What have you found out? What has she told you?"
"Nothing, nothing like that!" Gloria sat on the edge of a chair close by John and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Oh, John, this man isn't even a psychiatrist, an M.D. What makes him anymore different than us? Are we expected to confide in this, this total stranger the first time we set eyes on him...?"
"Yes, Mrs. Richards," Smith said from the doorway. "And I'll tell you the reason why one of the reasons why. It's because nothing you could tell me would shock me. I've been the listener of, and the viewer of, some weird and perverted things-what the world at large calls 'perverted'-and I'm willing to wager"-he concentrated on and succeeded in bringing out the "w" of "wager" with slightly "vee-ish" overtones-"I am villing to vager, Mrs. Richards, that there is nothing you could tell me that I haven't heard already, a hundred times maybe." Dr. Smith deadpanned in mock seriousness for two or three seconds as Gloria's blush of embarrassment intensified and she squirmed uneasily in her chair. Then the "doctor" unleashed a broad, forgiving smile, graciously letting them off the hook he himself had created and skewered them on.
"But let us not continue talking of your daughter's future happiness in the semi-public domain of the waiting room," he said, stepping back from the doorway and ushering them through with a light gesture of the hand. "The privacy of my own quarters is the most appropriate place for that."
* * *
Once Dr. Smith had the Richards behind the closed door of his office he cut down drastically on the oozing charm, partly because he judged it better to appear to be getting down to business but mainly because keeping up the formal mannerisms was so tiring. He motioned Gloria and John to easy chairs, then sat behind his desk, now all seriousness.
"Mr. and Mrs. John Richards, yes?" He looked once at John and then at Gloria, as though challenging them to deny the statement. "Yes, you were sent to me by...?"
"It was a Mr. Flanders," said John. "Mr. John Flanders, of New Bristol."
"Really!" Dr. Smith exclaimed mildly. He hadn't the faintest notion who Mr. Flanders was and didn't care, as he went through the motions of jotting down the name. "And which members of your family have been in analysis previously, if any?"
"None," John said. "None at all. Not in the immediate family, anyway."
"You see, doctor, we have only one child our daughter Patty."
"Ah, yes, Patty. One daughter. And with Patty lies the trouble, is that not so, Mrs. Richards?" Gloria nodded and from behind his desk Smith ran his eyes up and down her voluptuous figure. He wouldn't be giving her some of his special therapy, he thought. Not in the least.
"It was our daughter we came to see you about," John said. "She's become like a wild thing, as if she'd got some spring coiled up tight inside her."
"How old?"
"Sixteen."
"In general good health?"
"Oh, yes, she's a well-developed girl for her age." John thought just for a moment he caught a lecherous grin playing around Dr. Smith's lips, but when he turned to stare at him, the man was busy writing impassively on a pad on his desk. Smith was merely hoping the kid took after her mother.
"Well now," he said, finishing his note taking. "What precisely seems to be the trouble?"
John looked at Gloria, but she had her eyes cast down, hands clasped tight in front of her.
"We had a really terrible night with her last weekend," John said at last. "In the country. We have a summer place up in the lake country and she has her own car now and we thought she'd taken off for the night...."
"And vat vass the young wild thing doing?" prompted Smith, remembering his accent. "Drinking, dancing up a storm, perhaps?"
John shook his head. "No, all the time she was in one of the cabins. With a boy. Gloria, Mrs. Richards caught her, them, in the...."
"Ah! Flagrante delicto!" the doctor uttered with a flourish, bending forward to make copious notes. "Izz zat so?"
Gloria shot her husband a glance. The man was a foreigner, she was positive now. Probably from Vienna. Or he could even be Russian, or German. She wondered if he had had his training in Vienna or over here. Probably here because he was so young. And he's attractive, she admitted to herself. Terribly attractive. And then she blushed a little and put thought of that nature out of her mind.
"And so, then vat happened?" Dr. Smith looked from one to the other. "Mrs. Richards, as it happened you were the one to, er, catch, as your husband put it, these two young people, perhaps you would be so kind to give me all the details. All the details, Mrs. Richards." The analyst gloated inwardly at the thought of how he would make this cock-teasing redhead squirm by dwelling on every detail. This interview was going to be fun!
She looked at John with desperation in her eyes and saw that he was staring at the floor. There wasn't a damn thing for her to do, she thought despairingly, except plunge into the story and try to get through all the details with as much composure as possible. She looked directly into the "doctor's" eyes, and thought she detected there a sympathetic interest and kindliness. Oh God! she thought. I'm being so unfair to this man. Here he is trying to help us more importantly, trying to help Patty-and here I am making his job more difficult.
Gloria smiled wanly at the man waiting behind the desk and he gave her an encouraging smile back. "There have been some incidents at summer camp before these ... these...."
"Yes?"...." These sexual relations of the other night."
Smith tapped his pencil on the desk in an impatient tattoo. "Sexual relations, Mrs. Richards. Would you care to be more precise about this occasion, please?"
Uncrossing and re-crossing her tapering legs, Gloria felt her face grow scarlet. "I'll try," she said helplessly. She cleared her throat, searching for words, but could find none. She spread her hands wide, shaking her head. "It's very difficult," she said.
"But Mrs. Richards," Smith said sternly, "how can I help you ... help you to help your daughter ... if you won't speak frankly to me?"
"I don't know," she said in a frightened voice. Her whole body trembled and tears sprang to her eyes. What on earth was the matter with her? She knew how important it was ... how terribly important it was ... for her to face reality. And she made up her mind that she would, she must.
"She was having sexual relations," she said, and then realized she was repeating nothing more than she'd said before.
Once again Smith tapped his pencil on the desk. "Yes?" he said. "But with a man? Or a woman?"
Gloria's mouth gaped open. Oh, dear God! Did the man know what he was saying? He was suggesting some sort of perversion. And what Patty had been doing ... God knows, it was bad enough ... but what she had been doing was nothing like that! Nothing at all! "Why," she said, "it was with a boy, of course!"
"Ah, yes, Mrs. Richards, of course. And can you tell me something more?" Once again the long legs uncrossed and re-crossed nervously, flicking Gloria's skirt up each time over her thighs. He tapped his pencil against his teeth to hide the enjoyment he was getting out of her embarrassment.
"Well...."
"Yes?"
"Well, they were...."
"Yes, I understand what you are trying to say but could you bleeze"-he fell back on the European accent-"bleeze be a little more brecise?"
"Yes, of course, Dr. Smith. I'll try." But again she sat, tongue unable to pronounce the words, her hands clasping and unclasping on her lap.
"Well?"
"Well, they were both naked...."
Smith bent over his pad, scribbling furiously. "Both naked," he repeated. He looked up. "And then?"
"And then ... well, they were both naked...."
"You said that, Mrs. Richards."
"And he was sort of ... sort of...."
"Yes?"
"Well, he was sort of on top of her."
"And then?"
She felt a wild urge to scream. She sat up straight and put one hand to her mouth to stifle the impulse. Smith's eyes continued to bore into hers. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"Vat I mean," he said, remembering his accent again, "is vat happens next? Does she ... Mrs. Richards, you must understand, we do have to be perfectly frank here. Izz zat not zo?"
She nodded miserably. "Yes," she said. "That's so."
"'very well. Vat happens then?"
Gloria shook her head. "I can't. I just can't," she said.
Smith rose in pretended anger. "How do you expect me to help you? he asked. "And your daughter-how can I help your daughter Patty, zat is her name, yes? If .you do not help me?"
"I'll try," she said. She opened her purse, took a tissue from it and wiped her eyes. "They were having intercourse."
Smith put down the pencil with a gesture of frustration. "Vat kind?" he asked in exasperation.
Gloria looked up in dismay. "Why, intercourse," she said. "You know...."
"Mrs. Richards, there are many kinds of intercourse. There is genital, which most of us tend to think of as normal. That's the kind in in which the penis of the man is inserted into the vagina of the woman...."
"Yes, that was it," Gloria said, blushing now, trying to stop his flow of words. "That was what I saw."
But Smith was enjoying himself too much to stop now. "Naturally," he continued, lecturing her as though she were a babe-in-the-wood attending her first class at school on basic sex education, "naturally there are other types of sexual intercourse."
"I know ... I know."
"For instance, there is that in which the male licks or sucks, if you wish, the woman's vagina. Or that in which the woman takes the penis into her own mouth, sucking on it until the man ejaculates. You understand the term, Mrs. Richards?" He wondered just how far he could go in his exposition, how obscene he could become. He would love to see the expression on Gloria's face when he threw in some of the more vulgar terms used to describe sex. A phrase, perhaps, like: "He rammed his cock deep into her cunt"-how would that affect her, he wondered. Or what would she say if he talked to her on the subject of sodomy? Faint immediately, he thought.
He glanced at John Richards and decided to drop the line of questioning. The husband's face was red too, either from embarrassment or in indication of the first flush of anger growing. Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to throw in some sort of half-apology at this point. He smiled disarmingly and made a slight deprecating gesture with his right hand. "I sincerely trust my questions are not offensive to you," he said. "It is so important...." again the flourish of the hand and the slight trace of a foreign accent, " ... so very important that I understand exactly. It is the proven method."
John nodded, placated. "Yes," he said. "I see."
"Now, as for Patty," Smith said. "What other things have you noticed? Her schoolwork, for example?"
"She's had problems the whole of the last school year," Richards said. "Impossible to keep up with the others, no motivation, that sort of thing. You know."
"Yes, I know. Now tell me. Is it that she can't keep up or that she won't?"
"She won't," John said. "She's bright enough. Isn't she, honey?" he asked Gloria. She nodded and he went on. "She's really very bright. But she refuses to work."
Smith duly noted the information. "Temper tantrums?" he asked. Both John and Gloria nodded. "Moody? Yes." After a few more questions along this line he looked up with a smile, put down the pencil and folded his hands. "Well, I think I have the picture now," he said.
Gloria looked at him anxiously. "Do you think you'll be able to help Patty, Dr. Smith?"
He nodded vigorously. "I'm sure I can," he said firmly. "Yes, I'm certain of it."
Gloria breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm so glad. You don't know what a load that takes off my mind."
John sat back. "You have no idea, doctor, how worried we've been these last few months," he said.
"There you are wrong, my friend. I have had zo many parents coming to me, just like you. You are not the first, believe me. Almost mad with vorry themselves, zese parents. But I help them, I help the children."
"I only hope you can help Patty," Gloria said.
"Now," Smith made his final pitch. "Of course, she will have to stay here at the clinique."
"How long, Doctor?"
"Three or four months, maybe. I do not know yet. I have not examined the patient yet. It always depends on the exact condition of the patient. You understand?"
"Oh yes, yes."
"And then, of course, we must discuss the other arrangements. Clinique Place Caledonia is, I'm afraid, very expensive.
"Doctor," said the father, leaning forward earnestly in his chair, "we'll pay anything ... anything ... to see Patty well and happy again...."
"A most commendable attitude, I'm sure," Smith intoned unctuously. "And I'm also sure that neither yourself nor Mrs. Richards will be disappointed in the transformation you will see take place in Patty while she is with us. Now, if you will just come with me, one of my secretaries will explain about the financial arrangements. This way, please."
Outside in Rosetta's office, Dr. Smith shook hands with each in turn and delivered them into the efficient care of his private secretary. She presented them with forms to fill out and when that was finished she handed them a couple of illustrated brochures and suggested they read them carefully. "The first describes how the clinique is a completely self-contained unit occupying the top two floors of the tower in one hundred per cent isolation from the rest of the office floors. The second brochure will indicate exactly what Patty is to bring with her, what she is forbidden to have here, visiting hours. Everything."
"And we're to bring her here on Thursday? Is that right?"
"That's right, Mr. Richards."
"Any particular time?"
"No, Mrs. Richards. Our reception desk is equipped to register new patients at any hour of the day or night. So we'll see you at your convenience." Rosetta saw them out past reception to the elevator, waiting politely until the elevator doors had closed behind them.
The rush of the non-stop journey to ground level accentuated the pang of doubt that assailed Gloria immediately on leaving the rarified atmosphere of Clinique Place Caledonia. "Oh, John," she said, gripping his arm, "are we doing the right thing?"
"I'm sure of it."
"How do you find him ... Dr. Smith?" John shrugged. "Peculiar," he admitted. "Yes, he was very ... very frank."
"As he said, there's not much he hasn't heard."
"There's a limit on how much I want to hear."
John grinned at her. "He's the doctor, not you."
"Y-yes. He needs all the facts."
"Well, Patty's now got plenty to give him," John said grimly.
"How frank will he be with her?" Then Gloria suddenly had another thought as the elevator began slowing to a stop. "You know, John, that's just where we might have gone wrong with Patty." He looked at her, puzzled.
"Maybe we just weren't frank enough."
CHAPTER FOUR
Patty Richards tried playing it cool at the thought of spending a few weeks in Caledonia but in reality it was a girl consumed with curiosity who followed her parents into the tower complex on Thursday. She'd been intrigued by the brochures on the clinic run by Dr. Smith, getting the idea, as she was meant to, that it was managed more on the lines of a luxury hotel than a place of healing. The alternative, she knew, was incarceration again in another of those dumb summer camps with all their dumb games and healthy outdoors living. And there was no guarantee with any other dump in the backwoods that she'd find anybody like Doug Lawson to entertain her. The hotel-clinic on the top of the Caledonia tower seemed a much more groovy proposition than a summer of fighting off mosquitoes and the heavy-handed, ham-fisted attempts of immature male adolescents to feel her breasts. Besides, if she didn't like it here she could always split, couldn't she?
She rode Dr. Smith's private elevator to the top of the tower with her parents and followed them over to reception, most impressed. After a few moments, Rosetta came out in response to the receptionist's call.
"This is our daughter Patty," said John, as the private secretary gave the now-subdued young woman a broad, friendly smile.
"Hello, Patty. I'm Miss Box, Rosetta Box, Dr. Smith's secretary. I'll show you to your room. Then I'll tell Dr. Smith you're here."
"Sure," said Patty, shrugging.
Rosetta picked up one of Patty's suitcases and said: "This way." She turned to see that John and Gloria were stepping forward too, as if to accompany their daughter. "No," she said, shaking her head. "It's better for you to say your good-byes here."
Gloria nodded, feeling a pang of deprivation already. Determined, however, not to break down, she smiled bravely and put her arm around Patty's shoulders, kissing her lightly. "Bye-bye, darling," she said. "We'll come to visit you next Thursday." She looked anxiously at Miss Box. "We can visit next week, can't we?"
"Yes, of course," Rosetta replied. "On Thursday, from two to four."
"We'll see you then, Patty," her father said, kissing her in turn. And then they moved off back to the elevator as Patty disappeared through a door with the private secretary.
Her room turned out to have as one whole wall a window looking south and west over the city with the other three walls painted in brilliant reds, yellows, purples and browns, all the colors following cleverly arranged geometric shapes to climax in a whorl like a planet's tail at the door of the small bathroom en suite.
"Like it?" asked Rosetta, putting down the suitcase.
Patty looked around at the TV and stereo against one wall. "Yeah," she said. "It's groovy."
Rosetta smiled. "Excellent. And now let's go back downstairs for your first session with Dr. Smith."
She led the redheaded schoolgirl to the office where Dr. Smith had received her parents the day before yesterday. He was seated behind his desk as she was shown in, wearing the heavy horn-rimmed spectacles that he'd been told improved his air of authority and pretending to write busily with felt pens of various colors. Patty's first reaction was not good.
"Zo," he said at last, "vee have a visitor. A very pretty visitor. 'veil, veil, zo you must be the little Patty Richards vee have heard zo much about. Izz zat not zo?"
"Yaaah," she said, trying to imitate his accent. "Dat is so." He flung back his head and laughed, taking off the phony glasses at the same time. He got up to come around to the front of the desk, deciding that he should throw out any ideas about impressing this girl with the accent. Patty took in the young face no longer hidden behind the glasses and the sharply-cut white jacket tailored tunic-style that he was wearing, with jeans-type white pants. Man, she concluded. This cookie is groovy! Why, he didn't look like a doctor at all, certainly not a wig-picker! More like a movie star. Or from some rock group. Boy, it was going to be fun if all the doctors around here looked like this one!
"Okay, Patty." He took her hand. "Let's start again. I'm glad you found your way here all right. Did they look after you out there?" he nodded in the general direction of Rosetta's office. "I hope the room I picked out for you is okay." He noticed the look of pleasure on the girl's face and decided he was on the right track. He pointed to the chair drawn up before the desk. "Why don't you just sit down, make yourself comfortable and tell me all about it?"
"About what?" Patty asked.
"About what's troubling you."
Patty shrugged. "Nothing's troubling me," she said. "It's mom and dad who are troubled."
"Oh?" Smith sat down across from her, staring at her in turn. He licked his lips with lascivious relish. Christ! Was this kid ever built! And she didn't do anything to hide the fact, either. Her tight little, see-through blouse showed off the sweet pink mounds of her firmly plump young breasts, outlining the twin buds of her nipples pressing hard against the sheer fabric. Her waist was tiny and her hips were marvelously curved. God! Just looking at her made his loins ache, his cock lurch beneath his pants. It wouldn't be long, he thought, before she was benefiting from his personal treatment, one that would do them both the world of good.
He took his eyes off her lovely body and glanced up at her face. It was charmingly heart-shaped, and framed by long silken red hair that caught the beams of sunlight slanting through the window to shine like burnished copper. She smiled at him, her full moist lips curling back slightly over her pearl-like teeth. Oh, Jesus! He hadn't had a patient like this in years! He licked his lips again at the thought of that lovely little mouth closing around his own stiff cock, the moist pink tongue swirling around it until it would nearly drive him out of his mind.
Suddenly he realized she was staring at him, waiting for some comment. He cleared his throat and drew his face into a solemn-even a stern expression, wiping away his lecherous smirk. "Tell me, Patty, my dear, do you know why they are troubled?"
She shrugged again. "Who cares? They're just a couple of squares, right from cubesville! You say or do anything and they get so uptight you wouldn't believe...."
Smith nodded sympathetically. "That I can well believe, my dear," he said. "This matter of non-communication between parents and children is a tragedy of our times."
Patty took a moment to let the words sink in. Man, he was talking sort of as if he were on her side! Well, that was a breakthrough! She gave him a puzzled look and then came out with a dubious, "Yeah?"
"The problem is a very prevalent one," Smith assured her. "A difficult problem. But not insoluble, you know."
"What can I do about it?" Patty asked. "They're on my back all the time. It's 'Patty, never see that Lawson boy again', or 'We expect you back at ten-thirty, Patty, don't forget!" She sighed, then pulled a face. "I suppose it'll be just the same here," she said. "I'll have to do whatever you say!"
The lively young face turned downcast and Smith moved to reassure the girl. "Not at all," he said. "That's the very opposite of how we heal here."
"For real?"
"For real. You see, Patty, we're interested in freeing you-freeing your psyche, your inner self, from all the false notions that inhibit you and stop you functioning to the best of your ability. And we feel the way to do that is to let you do ... in fact, encourage you ... to do whatever you want. And whenever you want, too, I might add."
"Yeah?" Patty's eyes opened wide in surprise. "I thought you were supposed to be a psychiatrist?"
"Have you ever been to a psychiatrist before?"
"No."
"Do you understand the principles of psychotherapy?"
"Sure," she said. "I know lots of people who go to shrinks, they tell me all about it. You lie on couches and talk and talk and talk."
"That's part of it," Smith agreed. "And when you do talk, it's very important for you to say exactly what comes into your head. Even if it seems a terribly shameful thing to repeat, that word or phrase that popped into your head is the one you have to say to your analyst. Does that make sense? You must say it in your own words. Some people try to ... to ... well, phrase things, you know, so they won't offend the analyst. An example is "sexual relations" or "intercourse" when the word the person really wants to use is "fuck"
"He gave her a sneaky glance to check whether he had rocked her by using that word. She appeared totally unshocked. A good sign she was uninhibited and much more amenable to therapy.
His thoughts hearkened back to some of his previous "patients"-including some who had been reluctant to submit to him at first. There had been some who had actually fought off his advances, scratching and kicking at him the moment he trailed his hand over their curvaceous flesh, slipping his fingers inside their dresses to caress and stroke their ripe breasts, or up under their dresses to crawl teasingly along the smooth skin of their inner thighs. He had fucked them all eventually, of course, screwed them silly as he remembered with pleasure. But he had been forced to give many of them drugs first. A quick but shrewd appraisal of Patty convinced him that there would be no necessity of that in her case.
"First reactions are all-important," he emphasized again. "You understand?"
"Oh yes."
"Right. Now, Patty, there are some tests I must make of your reactions to various scenes. This is a necessary preliminary to beginning your treatment."
Patty nodded. She had read articles from time to time that referred to the tests many psychologists performed, showing patients ink blobs on a piece of paper and then asking them to tell the doctor what they were reminded of.
"You mean a Rorschach test?"
"Not quite, Patty. But you're pretty close." He got up from his chair. "Now if you wouldn't mind sitting here while I prepare the tests ... You make yourself comfortable until I get back. It'll only be a few minutes."
He went out, closing the door behind him. She looked around the opulently furnished office and played with the heavy table lighter on the coffee table beside her, flicking it alight a couple of times. Then she got up to go to the window, but a smoggy mist billowed around the building today and there was nothing of interest to be seen. On her way back to the chair she passed the analyst's oaken desk again, but this time noticed the large book lying on it. She flipped open a page and then sucked in her breath! Oh, dear God! The book was filled with photographs-photographs of men and women making love! She had never seen such a thing before, and the very idea of a book apparently full of such pictures sent wild tremors of excitement coursing up and down her body. Fearfully she glanced at the door, afraid Dr. Smith would walk back in any minute. How long did she have? She ought to close it and return to her seat but her curiosity got the better of her and she twisted it around so as to open it up fully. On the page in front of her she saw a woman's face, her mouth strained in a tight circle around a man's hardened penis. She seemed to be sucking on it, and, as the idea registered on Patty's brain, she gasped. She had never really believed people did this, and yet she had heard some of the girls joking about it in the toilets at the camp. And now she was seeing it! Once again the thrills of excitement raced through her body as she took in how wide the woman's mouth was stretched and wondered how she kept from choking on the enormous shaft. It was huge, and her lips were locked on it as though they would never let go. A ripple of aroused pleasure coursed through the young girl as she pondered its size. It was much bigger than Doug's even, and Patty clasped her legs tight together as she wondered what it would be like to have something that big shoved up between her thighs.
She flipped guiltily to the next page and stared in shocked surprise as the picture proved to be the opposite of what she had just seen. The same woman was sitting on a couch with her feet flat on the floor and her legs spread wide apart. A man was kneeling between her thighs, and Patty could clearly see his tongue curling into the spread lips of her vagina.
The young redhead's mouth gaped at the obscene sight. She had also heard about men doing this to women but had never thought the sight of such depraved acts could arouse her against her will, as this photograph was doing. She could feel the slight moistness between her tightly pressed thighs and to try to stop the lascivious trembling of her legs she sat down hurriedly, grinding her buttocks into the leather seat.
Hearing a sound outside the door, she closed the book quickly and shoved it farther along the desk. She was terrified of being caught looking at it. Nobody appeared, however, and she pulled the book towards her again. This time she opened it to a photograph of a girl on a bed with her legs wide apart and a man between them, his enormous cock sunk all the way up between her uplifted legs. The camera angle snowed clearly his hard thick member disappearing into the soft, hair-fringed folds of her vagina. It was almost to the hilt; only a tiny stretch of it was left showing, wet and glistening. The girl's face was contorted into the most depraved ecstasy Patty had ever seen.
The excitable sixteen year old had never come across such a picture before and she wondered if this was the way she and Doug looked when they made love. The thought made her squirm slightly and press her thighs more firmly together to hold down the fire mounting deep in her loins.
The aching hunger inside her was beginning to grow and spread upward from her stomach to the tingling nipples of her hardening breasts. She could feel her breath coming in short labored gasps now and she twisted down again into the seat in an attempt to try to extinguish the fire that again grew mercilessly between her legs.
Once again a sudden noise distracted her and she closed the book, dropping it on the desk as she turned in the direction from" which the sound had come. At first she saw nothing except the almost wall-sized mirror. Gradually, though, it seemed to light up, becoming opaque and showing shadowy figures on the other side. Patty stared in disbelief at Dr. Smith's two-way mirror, and then got up and walked over to it to examine it more closely. Now she saw it was virtually a window, a window into another room, where people had entered and switched on lights.
The figures seemed to come closer and closer, and she could make out a couple stretched out on a large double bed. And ... oh, dear God! It was a man and a woman and the two of them were completely naked. Her heart skipped a beat! Why, she could almost reach out and touch the woman lying spread-eagled on the bed!
The man kneeling above her was running his lips and tongue moistly up and down her body. He had sucked her heaving breasts into quivering hardness, and then he traced a wet, hot path down the flat plane of her stomach and on to her inner thighs, while she writhed beneath his flicking caresses like a woman possessed.
He had worked her up to a fever pitch and her mouth hung wide open in ecstatic rapture while her glassy, lust-smoked eyes stared up into nothingness. Now the man placed himself in position over her rapidly rising and falling belly, his face hanging within inches of the hair-covered pubic mound below. His hands were pressing down on the smooth flat plane of her stomach and his thumbs lay pressed into the fleshy outer contours of her cunt-lips. Patty sucked in her breath with a loud gasp as his thumbs massaged for a moment then pulled slowly outward, parting the soft pubic hair and then exposing the moist red slit of her vagina. The dainty bud of her clitoris was clearly visible, throbbing into hardness just above the stretched elastic opening of her cuntal entrance.
The man's head dropped, his long wet tongue snaking out to flick teasingly at the quivering little nub of raw nerves at the top of the slit. The woman's body jerked as the electric contact was made and her legs clamped tightly together around his head, the soft inner thighs imprisoning his ears in a vise-like grip. Her hips began a slow up and down movement in rhythm to the probings of his slavering tongue. Soft mewls of animal pleasure came from between the woman's clenched teeth as she was caught up in a mindless fit of uncontrolled lust, her upper torso writhing spasmodically against the mattress.
Patty's body ached and tingled in response to the lewd scene she was witnessing. Moisture seeped slowly from her tensed cuntal passage, creeping down her firm young thighs. They were tightly clamped together, pressuring the soft tufted "vee" between her legs so that the tiny bud of her clitoris was rubbed up against the soft moist pillows of pussy flesh that surrounded it. The excited teenager felt the blood draining from her head and swirling downward as her own lewd desires built within her. Oh God! I can't stand much more of this, she thought wildly. Before she even realized it, her hand had slipped up beneath her skirt, and along her thighs, then under the elastic leg band of her white nylon panties. And then her fingers were touching her own moist cleft, parting the pale red-gold pubic hairs and grazing teasingly inside the quivering outer lips. An electric shock ran through her and she shook her head, "Oh no!" she thought. "What am I doing? What am I doing?" She felt a moment's panic once more at the sudden realization that Dr. Smith might come in' and catch her as she stroked and caressed her own pussy.
But she couldn't stop now. Her entire body was in the grip of the wild desire that had been awakened by the obscene coupling of the pair in the room beyond. Lewd sounds now reached her ears, and with each grunt of the man's voice, her hand moved swiftly among the hot palpitating folds of her burning cuntal lips. Oh God! It felt so good! It felt so good!
She rubbed slowly at the tormented little patch of her femaleness between her now widespread legs, while thrills raced up and down her body. Her breasts were tensed and aching, the nipples taut against the lacy fabric of the little brassiere she wore. The moisture of her secret flesh rolled beneath the fingers of her still rubbing hand-the tiny red bud of her clitoris was now enlarged beneath . her frantic manipulations and stuck up from the silky folds of her pale reddish triangle like a little stream of pure jOy nestled cosily there. And then she parted the pink, wetly glistening edges and an exploratory finger wormed slowly up into her throbbing cuntal passage. She slipped another finger into the hotly burning cavern, then a third, and the moist tender flesh up between her legs closed greedily around them, sucking and swallowing them eagerly up inside. She was totally lost, sunk in an abyss of delight.
And then she sensed someone standing behind her! At almost the same time she heard Dr. Smith asking, "Izz good, yah?"
The startled young redhead stopped her shameless abuse of her own body, and before she could whirl around, before she could think, she felt the supple firmness of the doctor's body pressed into her back. His arms slipped around her and he began to massage and cup her ripe young breasts in a teasing circular motion that caused her to squirm her buttocks back hard against his loins. She could feel a stiffness there under his pants and, when he pressed forward, she could feel the full thickness of it pressing against her dress into the crevice of her buttocks. The thin folds of the bunched material grated against her tiny sensitive anus, sending small warning spasms of pleasure rippling through her belly and up into the rising nipples of her breasts.
And then she felt a hand leave her breast and gently lower the zipper that ran down the back of her dress to her upper buttocks. His hands slipped into the opening between the parted material from behind, curling around her bare mid-section and rising to push the tight restricting brassiere up and away from her swollen ripe breasts. His hands cupped the youthfully resilient mounds greedily as they came free, trapping the hardened sensitive nipples between thumb and forefinger, squeezing until a tiny excruciating sensation brought a gasp of surprised pleasure from her open lips. He pushed forward with his pelvis, sinking his covered hardness deeper into the split of her involuntarily contracting buttocks.
She gasped, then jerked, as one of Smith's hands left her breast to trail a slow teasing path down her soft belly and insert itself into the elastic waistband of her panties, teasing thrillingly at the sparse patch of pubic hair. Patty jerked forward slightly as the hand curled farther down to snake its teasing way up inside the tight little opening of her cunt, sending wild shocks of pleasure stabbing hotly through her. The rigid thickness of his pants-covered cock was now pressed deeply in the perspiration-moistened crevice of her buttocks and the throbbing of it had a life of its own. She ground back against it, imprisoned licentiously between its pulsing hardness and the thrusting finger skewering deep inside her vagina. And then he began a gentle rocking motion to which her own body responded.
Through the glass she saw the man in the room beyond slither up along the woman's naked body until he was poised above her lips. The lewdly incited young redhead gasped as she saw his thick cock slide deep up into the woman's open mouth, while she felt Smith's cock jerking under his pants against her in uncontrolled excitement. He leaned forward slightly, pressing his moist lips against her ear, and whispered, "Bend downward-I want to fuck you from behind!"
"Oh, my God!" gasped Patty. Her body seemed to be consumed by fire now and she longed to take his hard grown-up penis deep inside her. But the suddenness of his approach, the surprise she had felt, held her back. "Oh, my God!" she said again. He couldn't, she thought. She couldn't let him!
"Yes," he soothed. "Yes, it's all right. This is good for you, Patty. Don't forget that. It's going to help you free yourself of all those inhibitions which make a slave of you."
"No!" she said again. "Oh, God, no!"
"I'm your doctor, Patty. You must do what I say. I know what is best for you. I, Dr. Jonathan Smith, know what you must do."
The scene in the next room, where the young man labored above the woman, his lust-bloated penis spearing up into her mouth, withdrawing, then spearing up in again, excited Patty beyond endurance, and she groaned in surrender as Smith lifted her dress above her hips to bunch it around her waist, and then drew her flimsy white panties down over the firmly rounded cheeks of buttocks. A cool rush of air hit her ripe half-moons and then she heard the metallic sound of a zipper, as her analyst opened his fly and liberated his rigidly thick cock. A moment later he had dropped to his knees to lick moistly down the entire length of the perspiring crevice of her buttocks, then stopped abruptly to flick the tip of his tongue into the tightly puckered ring of her anus.
She groaned again as the tantalizing licking roused new and more thrilling sensations, teasing insanely at her. She quivered back against the probing tongue, screwing her buttocks in helpless circles around and around in response to the incredibly exciting rape of her helpless loins. There was nothing in the world like this feeling that seemed to consume the whole of her being. As she reveled in wild abandon against the tongue obscenely lashing at her rectal orifice from behind, she thought that her entire body was going to explode from the lewd tingling joy.
Abruptly it stopped, and Dr. Smith stood to press the obscenely swollen head of his penis into the split between her widespread buttocks. And then Patty screamed. "Oh, God! Oh, dear God!" He was too big, she thought with sudden panic. He would split her open!
Her ass-cheeks involuntarily cringed forward, drawing away from the rubbery-tipped cock pressing into her from behind, but it followed, and she realized she was trapped between the mirror on the wall and the self-proclaimed doctor behind her. She felt his hands close around the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, his fingers digging harshly into her supple white flesh. "I'm going to put it in," he whispered evilly, and then she felt the blunt, throbbing head against the tight elastic opening of her vagina, felt it begin a slow prodding and working against the wet pouting lips, parting them and forcing its way inside the resisting ring of flesh that jealously guarded the entrance to her secret passage. Then she felt her thighs swept apart as Smith's thick pulsing cock slithered deep up into the hotly quivering cuntal passage.
Patty gasped as the rampaging penis penetrating her now burning vagina tunneled deep into her belly. She struggled in vain to escape the cruel impalement, but Smith had skewered into her all the way up to the hilt. Her cunt walls were afire now and she moaned incoherently, as he began to saw in and out.
He rocked rhythmically now, panting with his own excitement as he thrust back and forth in her moistly clasping vagina. The pain she had felt at first had gradually eased and she felt a strange and thrilling pleasure ripple through her as she began to move her buttocks lasciviously in circles in rhythm to the hard swollen cock fucking into her from behind.
Oh God! the helpless teenager thought. This was good ... it was great ... it was groovy!
Smith stood over her bent body now, gritting his teeth as he rammed in and out with long hard lunges. Jesus! The kid was great! She was taking it all, and screwing back against him, practically begging for more! And Jesus! He was ready to give it to her! His balls ached and burned and he was sure they would explode any minute, shooting his white-hot sperm deep into her velvety little vagina.
He stretched the quivering half-moons of her buttocks wide with his fingers, watching the pink folds of wetly glistening flesh clinging tightly around the pistoning rod.
A wave of wild and abandoned passion spread through Patty's lithe young body as Smith continued to vent his lust in her delightedly clasping cunt. Nothing mattered to her now except the obscene pleasure coursing through her like a fire out of control. Oh, my God! She wanted this . she wanted this! She felt like a slave, bending before him in humiliating shame, and yet she wanted it! She wanted to be subjected to every lewd demand he could make!
And then, briefly, the incredible excitement stopped as Smith eased his relentless thrusting into her narrow little passage and quickly and expertly ripped off her panties completely and then pulled her dress up and over her head, flinging it hastily to the floor. Her little brassiere came next and she half-stood, half-knelt naked before this lust-crazed creature who stood behind her with his thick cock buried deep up in her vagina.
Her young seething body twitched and writhed as she groaned in abandoned welcome to the thrillingly punishing instrument sinking deep into her cunt. Her face contorted with passion, and now cries of ecstasy escaped her tightly clenched teeth. Sweat was pouring from her body as she began to strive mightily for the end. And then Smith uttered a long low moan that swelled to a shout as he began spewing his hot sperm wildly up into her wet slippery vagina.
She moved frantically against him, grinding, her buttocks back desperately against his loins, and then she felt her own climax begin. "Oh, my God!" she screamed. "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming!" Small gushes of her orgiastic fluid seeped out hotly around the edges of his thrusting penis in spite of the tightness of her cunt's grip on it and ran in glistening streams down the wide-stretched crevice of her buttocks. The tiny puckered anus clenched and unclenched in the moistness of the crack in tempo with the groans of her expending passion. And then at last her firm young body was drained of everything, as Smith groaned and withdrew his now deflated penis, and she slipped forward to lie, spent and exhausted, half on the couch and half on the floor before him.
Dr. Smith groaned once more, watching the sixteen-year-old girl with complete approval through his half-closed eyelids. Oh, Jesus! What a ride, what a fuck! What a patient she'd turned out to be! This was the best one he had had since first conceiving the whole brilliant idea of Clinique Place Caledonia.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gloria Richards the following Thursday parked in the basement lot of the Caledonia tower complex some minutes before visiting hours were due to start. She sat anxiously behind the wheel compulsively checking her watch every half-minute or so. Oh, how she wished John had not been called away on that urgent business trip. She'd known how important it was, otherwise she would have taken him up on his much-repeated offer to cancel it. At the time, she thought she would be able to cope with the visit alone, but now she felt so nervous there was a great reluctance in her legs to actually move out of the car.
With an effort of will she told herself not to be so idiotic and opened the Mercedes' door. Although there had been no news from Patty, or of her, this had been expected in the first week and was nothing to worry about. The time had now come to make the elevator trip up to Dr. Smith's domain and visit with her daughter in a normal and serene way.
The receptionist looked up and smiled as Gloria stepped out of the elevator, greeting her pleasantly. "Your daughter, isn't it? Patty Richards? Will you take a seat, please, Mrs. Richards? I'll check if Patty is in her room."
Syliva, the receptionist, had to make three calls in all before she replaced the receiver and turned again to Gloria.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Richards. Patty's just finishing therapy and won't be free for another few minutes. Would you like to wait in the waiting room? I'm sure it won't be long."
Gloria hesitated. "Would it be possible...?"
"Yes?"
"I'd like to see Dr. Smith if it's possible?" asked Gloria. "While I'm waiting, I mean."
"Yes. Well, I don't know whether the doctor is with a patient. Let me check with Miss Box."
The girl avoided using the inter-com this time, getting up and walking into Rosetta's office to ask the question. She reappeared almost instantly.
"Yes," she said from the doorway. "Dr. Smith is free. Would you come this way, please."
Dr. Smith had come out into Rosetta's office to greet his visitor, and for the first time, with some disquiet, Gloria saw him dressed in his modish tunic-style white medical suit. He is incredibly handsome, she thought, as he came forward to take her hand in both of his, oozing charm.
Briefly exchanging smiles with his private secretary, Gloria was ushered into the ornate office of the flattering quack and directed to sit in one of the deepest and lowest armchairs in the room so that he might enjoy the best possible view of her tapering legs. You are a dish, there's no doubt about it!, Smith inwardly reaffirmed to himself as he gave her another reassuring smile from behind his desk.
"Well," he said, tapping with a pencil on the desktop to reinforce his words. "I have some very good news for you. Yes, very good indeed."
Gloria let out an involuntary sigh of relief and smiled in her turn. "Oh, I'm so glad," she said.
"Yes, I thought you would be. Is your husband going to be along later? Perhaps I should wait before giving the details?"
"No, I'm the only one who could make it today. My husband's away on business."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," replied the analyst, the exact opposite of what he was thinking. "Perhaps we shall have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Richards again next week." He vacated his desk chair, deciding in the circumstances he may as well move around to a position nearer the voluptuous redhead who in so many ways reminded him of a maturer version of her daughter. "Now, your daughter's treatment. Right at the start I must say Patty ... I think I can say that I've never had any patient respond to treatment quite so ... receptively as your daughter!"
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Gloria exclaimed.
"Absolutely marvelous!" She leaned forward eagerly. "And does that mean you can revise ... can you say at this time how long she has to stay here? I mean, if she's responding so well she might be able to come home much earlier than you expected, mightn't she?"
"Oh, well now, Mrs. Richards, it is a little early for us to make that kind of prognostication. It's true that Patty is responding really excellently to ongoing treatment, but-you must realize she is at bottom a profoundly disturbed little girl. That will take time to cure."
"And the treatment? That will continue, will it not?"
"Oh yes, indeed, yes. In fact, you find me at the moment in the throes of deciding whether it is possible to increase her treatment. I think you may safely assume that I shall. And I want you to know, Mrs. Richards, that I intend to treat her myself."
"It makes me happy to hear that."
"Well, one cannot but take a great interest in your daughter and I feel that I should be personally responsible for all her therapy."
"So very good of you, Dr. Smith...."
"Don't speak of it again, Mrs. Richards. The pleasure is mine," Smith said, an evil smile twitching at his lips as he airily waved away her thanks.
"Mr. Richards, too, will be so pleased when I...." the relieved mother began. But suddenly a slight noise behind distracted her and she turned toward the two-way mirror on the wall, the one through which Patty had watched the obscenely copulating couple several days before. Lights had been switched on in the room beyond, and, just as earlier, the mirror became opaque and then revealed dim shadows, slowly growing clearer.
Gloria at first refused to believe her eyes. The glass had become transparent and the shadows had turned into all-too recognizable human bodies! She gasped. Oh, dear God! The bodies were naked-there was a naked man in that room! And a naked woman, too!
"Wh ... what is that?" she stuttered in confusion.
Goddamn it to hell! Smith thought. What stupid oaf had decided on using the therapy room at this time? But he must appear calm and in control of the situation at all costs. "What is what, Mrs. Richards?" he coolly asked.
"That ... that ... there over on the wall," she said. "That mirror."
Again he cursed the person responsible for lighting up the "treatment" room. But there was nothing to do now but make the best of it. That meant brazenly admitting just what went on at Clinique Place Caledonia. Okay, he thought. Here goes!
"Oh, the mirror," he said. "'very clever, isn't it?"
"Clever!" Gloria half-choked, half-screamed.
"Clever! My God! It's ... it's diabolical, that's what it is!"
"Why not at all, Mrs. Richards. You're letting your imagination run away with you. It's merely a medical device providing a means for the therapist to measure the progress of certain therapeutic sessions."
Therapeutic sessions! Gloria wondered if her ears were playing tricks. She could have sworn this man was calmly defending that ... that room as necessary to his business. The blood drained from her face and she went dizzy. She struggled to regain control over her body, control over her trembling voice, to demand an explanation. No demand would come forth, however. Merely a plaintive statement. "But they're naked," she stated weakly.
Smith made an elaborate pretence of leaning over in his chair to get a clearer picture of the room next door. "So they are," he agreed quietly. "So they are."
Gloria turned from the mirror to see the doctor unconcernedly relax back into his armchair again. "But ... but ... but...." she spluttered helplessly. What was with this man? Why didn't he do something? Patients, casually stripping off their clothes before two-way mirrors. And doing terrible things to each other, too. Oh, my God! It's too much!
She turned again, and stared, speechless with horror, as the man's hands roamed lewdly over the woman's writhing naked form, trailing the length of her torso, stroking teasingly at her hips and thighs. A shudder ran through Gloria and she closed her eyes for a moment against the obscene spectacle. When she reopened them, she saw that the man had cupped the round full spheres of the woman's breasts in his hands and was massaging them, his fingertips nibbling vigorously at the small brown nipples, coaxing them into taut erection.
She shook her head, which seemed to be swimming now, and wondered how on earth Smith could let such a wicked act continue. "Doctor" Smith noted the disbelieving shake of her head with amusement. This could be more fun than he'd thought. In her discomfiture, Gloria's body was twisted round rigidly in her chair, the slope of the shoulders curving down through the small of her back and around the line of her buttocks to where her dress had rucked up over one thigh without her realizing it. A very fetching picture, thought Smith, feeling his semi-hardened cock lurch inside his pants. Suddenly aware of how much leg she was displaying, she quickly twisted back toward him. "Why don't you stop them?" she blurted out with terror-stricken eyes. "Why don't you stop them?"
"But why should I?" he replied calmly. "They're expressing themselves in a perfectly natural way, are they not?"
"No!" Gloria screeched between gritted teeth. "No! They are not! They're disgusting, that's what they are. Disgusting!"
"My dear," Smith said, reaching out and taking one of her hands. "I think you're over-reacting. Copulation ... or as we prefer to call it here ... fucking ... is the most normal of human acts." During his quick look earlier into the therapy room he'd recognized the male patient as Fred Harris, a young man with recurring sexual problems. Helping him was not a female "patient" but Jenny Jones, a compassionate Mother Earth-type who lent her services voluntarily to the clinic as a lay analyst "nurse", always ready to open her big heart to ease back any suffering, sexually hung-up member of humanity into the mainstream of normalcy. He wished Gloria could meet Jenny, but the moment was decidedly not now.
"And you mean you don't stop these people doing what you call ... call...." Gloria's tongue gagged at pronouncing the word Smith had used so easily just before. "You mean you let them do what they're doing?"
"Right on, Mrs. Richards! Now you're beginning to appreciate what we do here. It is the way for these unfortunate people to rid themselves of their inhibitions. We honestly name names here, Mrs. Richards, like having no compunction about naming breasts as tits, or talking about a man's cock or a woman's cunt. It's the therapy of truth!"
Gloria noticed with a shock Smith was holding her hand. She withdrew it brusquely.
Dear God! The man was in earnest! She had to get out of here. It was disgraceful, utterly disgraceful! Then for the first time since seeing the mirror light up she thought of Patty. Patty! Where was Patty? Surely he hadn't ... he wouldn't dare! But the image of the innocent teenager being violated in this way refused to leave her mind and she closed her eyes to try to stem the tears that involuntarily welled up in them. They b-rimmed over and spilled down her cheeks nevertheless, and she sobbed openly as she asked: "And Patty? Is this the treatment you've been giving her, too?"
"Patty has undergone our standard form of therapy," replied Smith coolly. "You understand the procedure, of course, when you...."
"Then the answer is 'Yes'?" cut in the distraught mother, sitting up rigidly.
Smith stared at her back, eyes unflinching. "The answer is 'Yes'."
Gloria recoiled as though physically hit. Her eyes stared vacantly as the word "Yes" echoed and re-echoed through her mind. Then she started to scream. "Oh God! Dear God! No! You can't do that! I don't believe it! You can't do it! I won't let you do it! No, and John won't either. Oh my God! He'll kill when he finds out. He'll kill you!"
Smith reached out to take both of her hands in his, brooking no resistance. "Please, Mrs. Richards, you're hysterical. You must stop this self-indulgent performance of yours and begin acting like a mature and sensible woman."
"Hysterical! You call me hysterical!" Gloria screamed, trying to wrench her hands free of his grasp. "Well, I'm not. I'm not. But you know what you are?" She suddenly sat stock-still again, her eyes blazing. "Do you know what you are, Dr. Smith? You are an animal, that's what you are. An animal!"
The door to his office burst open and Rosetta stood on the threshold. "Mrs. Richards," Smith said as she began again struggling to free her hands. "Mrs. Richards, I must ask you to try to control yourself. I simply cannot tolerate this sort of behavior in my office!"
"Oh, you can't, can't you?" she shrieked back. "Oh, you can't!"
"No, I can't, and if you don't get hold of yourself I shall be forced to give you a sedative."
"Oh yes?" Gloria spat out, struggling now to stand up. "You and who else?"
"Several of my colleagues." Gloria had half-risen, and over her head as she twisted around he looked at Rosetta and gave a nod. The efficient secretary went for help.
"You're not going to do a thing to me," Gloria screeched at the top of her voice. "Let me-go!"
Smith had only to hold her for a few seconds longer, however, before two burly young men in white coats entered the room. "Your secretary called us, Doctor," one asked. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"I'm afraid Mrs. Richards is hysterical," he said in cold, clipped, professional tones. "There will be a requirement of a sedative to be administered. Please be so good as to help Mrs. Richards over to the couch. I fear she'll require assistance from both of you."
Gloria screamed again as the two men seized her. She struggled desperately to escape as they half-carried, half-dragged her to the couch. As she was forced to lie face down on the couch she kicked furiously at one of her captors and the heel of her shoe seemed to connect with some part of his anatomy. "Goddamn you, lady!" he muttered menacingly, and her moment of satisfaction came to an end with her shoes being harshly wrenched off her feet and two powerful hands gripping with a steel-like bite at her ankles. The other man seemed to be sitting on her back, and she was unable to writhe even, and hardly able to breathe.
She could see, though, out of the corner of one eye, and the process of filling a hypodermic syringe from a vial that Smith was in the middle of turned her heart and belly cold. "Dr. Allen. If you would just lift up Mrs. Richards' dress, please."
She felt the weight on her back shift a little and then a coolness wafted across her upper thighs as "Dr. Allen" flicked up her dress to above her waist. She tried to writhe free again as the other "doctor" asked with sucked-in breath:
"Gee, are you going to give it to her in the ass?"
"You're damned right," Smith said, pressing down with all his weight on the small of her back, stilling her writhing hips. "It will work faster this way. Now, if you, Dr. Allen, can just hold down firmly where I've got my hand, I can pull down her panties."
Gasping for air, held fast and humiliated beyond tears already by the thought of what an appearance she must be presenting to the three monsters above, Gloria braced herself-every muscle in her body tensed-for Dr. Smith's next move. She felt his fingers curl under the elastic rim of her panties and then draw them down as much as he could with her lower torso pressed hard into the leather of the couch. He moved his fingers around to first one side of her hips and then the other to ease the tightly-held panties down as far as her upper thighs, exposing the two half-moons of her firmly rounded buttocks to the lust-filled eyes of the "medical" trio. But the muscles in her ass-cheeks were being held too rigidly, too tensely, for Smith to use the hypodermic he held in his other hand. Giving the flimsy panties one more sudden tug to fix them firmly in the crevice between Gloria's upper thighs, Smith raised his free hand as high as he could and then brought it down in a vicious hard spank across the unprotected buttocks. Gloria gasped out her pain at the totally unexpected assault and unconsciously allowed her muscles to relax throughout her body. Smith grasped one now-quivering and trembling half-moon of her buttocks and jabbed the hypodermic home before the shocked woman could collect herself or realize what had happened. She let out a tiny scream of pain as the stab of the needle registered on her numbed brain, but this trailed off into a pitiful whimper as she wished suddenly that she were dead. Even that would have been better than having been made to submit to this complete and utter degradation.
Through the fog that was quickly clouding her brain as the fast-acting sedative began its work, she thought she felt the cruel grip on her ankles and the heavy weight on her back disappear. She made a supreme effort of will and by exerting all her available energy on one elbow managed to half-turn her body over to the couch. But the dead-weight of her upper torso and leaden legs collapsed her back on the make-shift bed as though she were a sack of potatoes.
She felt an overwhelming peace sweep over her then, felt a lifting of the terrible cares that burdened her. Voices vaguely registered unintelligibly on her mind and she was aware of the door opening and closing and then, silence. This was the moment she should seize to escape, a startling moment of clarity told her. The sapping of will, the sapping of energy, however-all the continued work of the drug immediately took over control again, and her eyes closed exhaustedly while the world seemed to whirl around her, closing in gently to wrap her in a cocoon of blissful forgetfulness.
Gloria felt something soft against her skin, felt someone fumbling with her clothes. But she had no strength to ask, let alone protest. It dawned on her that the person-whoever it might be-was pulling down the zipper on her dress, was easing her out of it. She felt the soft, cool air again as it brushed across her bare back and knew somehow that her dress had been pulled down to her waist, bunching up beneath her. She remembered the humiliating moment when her skirt had been pulled up and now she twisted slightly, groping behind her, touching her buttocks with her own hands, and realizing-with another moment of terrible shame-that they were still bare.
The drugged housewife tried to pull her dress-skirt down over her quivering ass-cheeks, succeeded for a moment, and then felt it raised again. Once more she made the effort; once again she failed. And then she opened her eyes a little wider and strained her neck around to see that Dr. Smith was standing over her.
His hands slid down over her hips now, and then she knew he was pulling her dress right off, just as he had pulled the top down. "Lift up," he whispered hoarsely and she did as she was told, too dazed to do more than protest feebly and futilely.
She felt his hands against her sensitive flesh as he pulled her little white panties down over her slim legs, over her ankles, lifting her feet to slip them off. She twisted and turned, trying to protect herself, but in spite of her maneuvers, she could do nothing to stop him.
She felt a moment's anguish, a moment's deep shame and degradation at submitting to him this way, and then she felt a little thrill of excitement shoot through her. It was wrong, she knew. It was wicked and evil and there was something depraved about her if she could feel this way. But she couldn't help herself! She just couldn't help herself.
She felt Smith's hands on her again and somehow she knew that she was lying naked now while he stared at her. It bothered her enormously-it was wicked, she told herself again-and yet it pleased her. And in any case, she was too tired to resist. She lay stretched out on the couch, not moving. And then she felt herself lifted slightly again, but this time turned over on her back.
She opened her eyes and saw Dr. Smith bending down over her. "Ah, so now you are calm again?" he asked.
It seemed a foolish question, but Gloria tried to answer it. "Yes," she said. "I guess I am." She looked up into his face and a shudder went through her at the evil leer she saw contorting his features. Oh, dear God! How had she come to be trapped here like this, at the mercy of this fiend!
She realized suddenly that Smith, standing by the couch, was stripping off his own clothes. His white tunic-style jacket came first ... that symbol of his profession of medicine ... and she noticed that he carried it across the room and hung it on a hook in the wall there. She thought for a moment of trying to escape-and it ought to be easy with him several yards away-but once again she found that she had no energy even to lift herself from the couch. And then the terrible thought struck that she really did not want to escape! She wanted him to ... to ... fuck her ... Oh, dear God! She couldn't even admit to herself what she wanted him to do. But the almost hidden thought of having him run his hands over her naked body again, over her proudly upthrust breasts, over her flat white belly, excited her insanely. What on earth had happened? She had never, never felt the insatiable desire that now suffused her entire being. And then the truth struck her! He had said it was to calm her, and it had actually done that. But it had excited her too, in a way that she had never been excited before. She felt that her body was alive for the first time in her life, alive and burning with a fire that could only be extinguished by her own lewd and wanton submission to this man now approaching her.
She gasped at the sight of him. He was as naked as she was, and his iron-hard cock stood out in front of him like a steel javelin. Oh dear God! In a moment now, he would be slithering it deep up into her hotly waiting vaginal passage. And there was nothing whatsoever that she could or wanted to do to prevent it.
He leaned down over her naked body, one hand moving from her throat down slowly to her creamy-white breasts, tweaking the nipples rapidly between his fingers until he felt them harden. The blood began to stir in Gloria's body. She was helpless now, so weakened by the drug that Smith had administered that she was powerless to resist him. But she was aroused by it too, so that now she welcomed every lewd advance he might make, while her body ached to be touched gently, so that it quivered with the need for fulfillment he could give her.
The gorgeous redhead opened her eyes wider to see her daughter's analyst steadily stroking his rigidly throbbing penis. God, It was huge! At the same time, he let his other hand roam down from her white trembling breast to trail across her belly until it reached at last the soft fleshy folds of her now-inflamed cunt. As his hand stroked her body into a flaming sheet of desire, she began to writhe wantonly beneath him. "Oh, God!" she moaned. "Oh, dear God!"
Smith moved over her now, positioning himself above her lovely body, kneeling while he pushed her unresisting thighs apart. He lowered his head slowly, and then his hot lips closed over the soft mound at the base of her belly. His face disappeared as he planted wet tickling kisses on the tiny aperture there, his tongue flicking lizard-like at the quivering opening.
She groaned now, groaned huskily from deep in her throat as Smith's tongue continued its maddening licking against her straining pink bud of a clitoris. And then he pulled himself forward and slithered up her gently writhing body until his face was over hers. His head leaned forward, and his tongue edged its way between her two trembling, half-parted lips, sinking deeper and deeper into the warm oral cavern.
And then Gloria felt the lips around her throbbing vagina pushed open as Smith thrust forward, forcing his lust-inflated cock up into the narrow velvety passage. He watched her now with a lascivious grin on his face as her face contorted with the pain of his first vicious stab and her lips curled back while she whimpered helplessly. His fleshy rod was buried deep in the pink throbbing furrow that his tongue had licked to a moist receptiveness a moment ago, and now the tight cuntal lips were stretched almost to bursting point, their rubbery pink outer rim clasped securely around the base of his impaling cock.
Gloria squirmed helplessly beneath him as he plowed deeper and deeper into her vainly resisting vaginal passage. The walls of her cringing cunt clasped around the skewering cock-shaft like a glove until she felt every fleshy ridge. As he began a slow rhythmic probing, her head rolled from side to side and her hips began a seductive involuntary grinding motion beneath his impaling rod.
Her body seemed to come to life now, as an electric tingle that began deep within her womb seeped relentlessly through the raw nerve ends of her flesh. She rotated her hips from side to side, her flesh one quaking mass of incredibly exciting sensation. She strained against him, her motions becoming faster by the second, the tempo of her thrusts more urgent.
The incredibly aroused redhead groaned as Smith withdrew his thick throbbing cock with a lewd sucking noise, and then-as suddenly as he had withdrawn it-he thrust deep up inside her with all his strength. The full length of his rigid cock-shaft sank cruelly into her helpless, defiled vagina, a wet flat smack sounding as his belly thudded against her own soft flesh.
The handsome analyst's body dropped down heavily on hers now, mashing her full, ripe breasts against his chest. He locked his mouth over hers, sending his tongue deep down into her throat while she groaned in unwilling ecstasy. He reached beneath her then to the round full cheeks of her buttocks, spreading his fingers to knead the warmly yielding flesh and pull the taut half-moons apart.
He stared down at her lust-contorted face and a feeling of overwhelming triumph swept through him. She was his, by God! He'd fucked the young girl and now he was fucking her mother too! Jesus! He'd never had it so good!
He threw his head back and a leering grin spread across his face. And then he began making long hard strokes into Gloria's now wet and slippery passage, spearing in, then withdrawing the swollen relentless shaft of his penis until just the tip was inside her hotly clinging cunt. He thrust forward hard again, with his hips until his balls were once more screwed tightly up into the wide-split crevice of her buttocks.
Gloria groaned as her helplessly exposed cunt was plundered almost beyond endurance. Her body was pinned down and there was no way she could resist in the trapped position in which she found herself.
The drugged mother felt the bloated cock-shaft slide up and down inside, her warm viscous passage like a tireless piston, while his soft, hair-covered balls slapped hotly against her anus with each forward jerk of the downstroke. Her womb flared and the quivering lips of her hair-lined cuntal furrow flowered open to receive his iron-hard pummeling cock. She stretched her fingers out and her lust-guided nails clawed a red streak across his flexing buttocks. She pulled him deep up into her now, thrusting her fleece-bordered belly up hard to skewer herself thrillingly on his driving flesh.
She began to writhe and twist ecstatically beneath him. The drug had left her void of all sense of right and wrong; she knew only that she had to have the maddening fucking sensation that coursed through her body. Nothing on earth could make her stop now. And oh, dear God! She was certain she would die unless Smith could fuck her crazy and satisfy her desperate need.
He arched his back, withdrawing slightly, then plunging his cock deep up into her throbbing cunt with long cruel jabs. He could feel the hot sperm ready to explode now, and with harsh hands he gripped the wide-spread cheeks of her buttocks, lifting them up to push her loins insistently against his driving pelvis, then rammed his cock all the way up to the hilt inside her unresisting vagina.
The lust-driven housewife could feel her insides splitting painfully as the head of his deep-sunk cock seemed to flare into a hugeness that threatened to tear her womb asunder. And then she felt the white-hot liquid that spurted into her burning fire, filling her dilated stomach like wild hot streams of molten lava. She felt her own cunt juices seep forth as if in answer and she screamed out her delirious joy: "I'm cumming ... oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming...!"
Her body tensed and arched in the spasm of ecstasy sweeping through her, and there was a long moment when all was still, all was silent as their orgiastic juices pooled and mixed within her. And then the desperately clasping walls of her hotly jerking cunt sucked hungrily one last time at Smith's hotly ejaculating cock, until it gave one final spasmodic lurch-and stopped.
Smith collapsed across her body, feeling his seemingly endless sperm-load still gushing forth around his now-deflating penis, and then he withdrew his cock slowly from Gloria's battered cunt and smiled down at her.
He rolled over, sliding from her sweat-soaked body, and began to pull on his clothes. When he had finished dressing and had slipped his white jacket over his shoulders, he went out to the office of his private secretary. "Miss Box," he said.
"Yes, Dr. Smith?"
"I'm afraid that Mrs. Richards is very disturbed. She was hysterical not long ago, and I think it will be necessary to keep her here for a while. Will you see that a room is made ready for her?"
"Yes, Dr. Smith."
"Good. I'll help her upstairs myself."
"Help her?" Miss Box asked.
"Yes," Smith said, staring coolly into the eyes of his secretary. "I will help her." He walked across the room to the calendar on Rosetta's desk. "Mrs. Richards was very disturbed," he repeated. "It was necessary to give her a very strong sedative in order to calm her. She is still under the influence of it." He turned and smiled disarmingly at his secretary. "I'm sure she will be all right. It's nothing serious. But it's imperative she be kept at the clinic for a while." He smiled evilly. "She must have treatment, you know."
CHAPTER SIX
Gloria looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall of her room and fingered the material of the gown that the clinic provided its women patients. The gown was attractive, she thought, someone had had the good taste to think of getting good-quality fabric, and it seemed ironical to her that here she was in a sanatorium where the doctors were the mad people and she was calmly admiring her prison robe. There seemed no escape!
A tap on the door was followed immediately by the entry of two nurses, a burly one and another carrying a luncheon-tray, which the young woman put on the bedside table.
"I don't want anything," Gloria said.
"You have to eat, Mrs. Richards," the matronly one said, standing by the doorway. "You need to keep your strength up."
"What for?" Gloria asked wearily, and then she noticed the tray also held a little paper cup with a red pill and a yellow pill inside. Oh, God, no! she thought. Oh, God, no! These were more of the drugs they had fed her with constantly since her arrival here-the "sedatives" that made her a willing tool of Smith's desire, made her accept anything he cared to do to her without a murmur. She wouldn't take them, she decided. She wouldn't take them!
But she looked up to see the younger nurse approaching her with the pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Time for your pills, Mrs. Richards," she said with a smile.
Gloria shook her head with fear-crazed eyes.
"Now come, Mrs. Richards," said the nurse at the door, beginning to move in. "Let's not have any trouble!"
"No, you're keeping me here drugged. I won't take them!"
"We're not keeping you drugged, Mrs. Richards," the older nurse now said soothingly. "It's just the necessary medication Dr. Smith thinks advisable for you."
"Dr. Smith!" Gloria shrieked, backing away. "He's no doctor." The truth of this statement suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt. He wasn't an M. D. and as such had no right to prescribe medication! None at all! And here he was, practically forcing her to take every drug under the sun. She stood up and threw her shoulders back, erect and proud. "I refuse to accept Dr. Smith's qualifications," she said. "He has no right to prescribe drugs for me. And I am not going to take those pills!"
Her surge of stamina seemed to keep the nurses at bay for a moment. Then her courage drained from her as the matronly one said; "'very well, Mrs. Richards. If that is to be your attitude, there's nothing for it but we must administer the medication by injection. Would you rather have it that way?"
A spasm of near-panic shook Gloria as she remembered with horror her experience with Dr. Smith's hypodermic two days earlier-how the two "doctors" had thrown her down on the couch, how her dress had been pulled up and her panties down, and the injection of the drugs into her naked buttocks. She couldn't stand the pain and humiliation a second time! With a half-snarl she lurched forward at the nurse holding out the pills and scooped them out of her hand and into mouth and throat in one action, grabbing the water afterwards to wash down the ghastly concoction. She fell forward on the bed with a sob, letting the empty glass fall to the carpeted floor. The younger nurse bent to retrieve the glass and exchanged a look of satisfaction with her companion before both of them exited, closing the door softly behind them.
Gloria didn't know how long she remained sobbing on the bed, waiting for the effect of the drugs to begin. At least they will blot out reality, she thought, and make this sexual nightmare bearable. She was grateful for that. It must be some sort of aphrodisiac Smith was forcing on her-Spanish fly, perhaps, or something similar, Oh, yes, that was it, she thought with a shudder. Her mind raced back to her husband, John. Oh, dear God! What if he found out how she'd been fucked by Smith? Would he ever forgive her? And had they convinced him she was crazy? He wasn't expected home from his out-of-town trip for several days, but all the same, he'd probably called the house, or his office, by now. Why didn't he come to rescue her from all this? Tears welled up again in her eyes and she wiped them away. But they refused to be stemmed, and she buried her head in her pillow, sobbing as if her heart would break.
The salty warm tears were still streaming unstoppable down her reddened cheeks when the door opened again and a white-coated orderly poked his head into the room and made a tut-tutting sound. "Such tears!" he exclaimed in mock alarm. "This will never do. You've got an appointment in the therapy room in ten minutes."
Gloria sat up quickly and wiped her eyes, wondering what appointment he meant. Then she heard a quick intake of breath, and turned to see him staring at her untouched luncheon-tray.
The broad-shouldered young man's face turned towards her in a cold fury. Gloria knew the staff regarded it as a serious offence for any patient to refuse to eat the various meals provided and her skin crawled at the thought of what kind of retribution this sullen creature would exact from her. "I did mean to," she whimpered, "but I forgot it was there."
"You know I'm supposed to report all infringements of our regulations, Mrs. Richards. By rights, I should get on the phone to Dr. Smith right away."
"Please don't do that!" Gloria implored, fearful of what new games Smith might think of to subject her to. "I'll eat it now!"
"All right, Mrs. Richards, this time I'll forget it. But you only have a few minutes to eat and get dressed, so hurry."
Gloria gobbled the semi-cold food down and in spite of herself began to feel better as her plate emptied. Also she could feel her body beginning to react to Dr. Smith's drugs, the now-familiar little chill of excitement chasing itself up and down her spine. She gave the young orderly a sidelong glance, wondering if he guessed at the tiny tingle of pleasure starting to quiver up between her tightly closed thighs. When her lunch was finished and she went to put on her clothes, she thought of taking them into the adjoining bathroom to dress. But by then her lackadaisical mood was in the driving seat and she couldn't care less about hiding. Why bother? she thought. I'm in their hands! And she felt the tingling again course through her body as she stripped off the pale-yellow gown over her head and quickly began donning her clothes.
The young man stood watching with lust-filled eyes. Jesus! The boss sure could pick
'em! He continued to stare with the same lewd expression on his face as she shamelessly displayed her voluptuously rounded hips, her flat smooth belly and firm thighs and the long swiftly-scissoring legs. He licked his lips lasciviously at the fluid motion of her limbs.
He's like all the rest, Gloria thought languidly as she briefly put a brush through her hair and smoothed her dress down over her hips, checking her reflection in the mirror. "What do you want?" she asked, talking to the man's reflection in the mirror. "As if I didn't know!"
"What I want doesn't have anything to do with it, Mrs. Richards," said the young man, moving out of her range of sight toward the door. "Come on. Let's go!"
The therapy room he led her to was the one adjoining Dr. Smith's office and she looked around for the handsome young analyst, expecting to see him. But instead she saw several of the other patients sitting on chairs or wandering around the room. She recognized Fred Harris and instinctively moved away to the farther end of the room, where a blond Nordic-looking young man was watching her curiously. She realized this was the teacher of basket-weaving she'd met in one of the occupational therapy classes she'd attended. His name was Tren Miller.
She waved and moved closer. "Hello, Tren," she said.
He smiled and nodded. "Hello, Mrs.
Richards."
"Gloria," she said. "Call me Gloria."
"I'd be happy to-Gloria," he said. The piercingly blue eyes that accompanied the golden hair also seemed to be smiling at her now and for some strange reason she felt deeply stirred. The drugs were working and in spite of herself she experienced a sudden blaze of fire within her body. Her loins suddenly seemed to burn, and she longed to press them tightly up against Tren's pelvis.
She stepped forward, her quivering body further inflamed by his nearness. II was incredible, she thought. An hour before, he had been nothing to her. And now ... now ... !' Now his body was the most desirable possession she could think of!
Her acquiescing eyes met an answering flash in Tren's and abruptly he grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers digging brutally into her milk-white flesh and sending new ripples of excitement coursing through her body. He pulled her close, grinding his pelvis up against her loins. She felt his bulging penis lurch in his excitement, growing bigger as it pressed hard against her throbbing flesh, causing an excruciating pleasure-pain sensation.
Oblivious to the other patients around her, she closed her eyes, overcome by the joy of the moment. And then he slid his fingers into the cleavage of her dress, eliciting a thrilled gasp from her throat. She held her breath as he teasingly caressed first one whitely upthrust breast and then the other, cupping and kneading them, rolling the twin buds of her little nipples between his fingertips until they hardened into taut erection.
"Take this off," he whispered hoarsely, pulling at her dress now. His arms snaked around her to undo her zipper. A cool breath of air passed over her back as he pulled it down. "Take the dress off!"
At the back of her mind under its shroud of lust Gloria knew very well that she was the focus-point of half-a-dozen staring pairs of eyes. There was still a vestige of her conscience left to tell her to run now, escape now, flee from the coming obscene ravishment of her body. And yet she was powerless to obey. She wanted to be fucked-and publicly fucked-in the lewdest and most humiliating way possible. In front of all these people she wanted to feel Tren's now rigid cock deep up inside her moist slippery cunt.
The drug-crazed redheaded housewife sucked in her breath as arrows of burning joy shot through her. For the third time Tren commanded: "Take it off!" and Gloria obeyed him like an automaton, slipping her arms out of the sleeves, letting the dress slide down to her full ripe hips. With a tiny wriggling motion she eased it down over her thighs until it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, clad now only in the fragile lace brassiere and thin nylon panties she'd put on. She felt Tren fumbling at the brassiere hooks behind her back, felt the wisp of fabric fall open while her lustfully swelling breasts sprang free of the tight restricting garment. A moment later he was pulling at her panties, inserting his feverishly working fingers beneath the elastic waistband. With a sudden twist of his wrist he jerked them down until they, too, fell to the floor with Gloria standing nakedly before him.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, her body a roaring funnel of fire by now. "Oh, my God!" She was aware of the other patients staring at her, their eyes boring lecherously into her nakedness, and, yet she was helpless to protect herself. All shame, all modesty was gone as her passion overwhelmed her.
She waited for what seemed an eternity, her very flesh crawling with the anticipation of the pleasure yet to come, and then she felt herself being pushed to the floor. She sank to her knees as Tren sat heavily in the chair before her.
Oh, no! This wasn't what she wanted. Not this! She wanted to feel his hands running over her hotly quivering flesh, wanted to feel his fingers probing at her warm moist cunt, stroking the tiny bud of her clitoris into intense arousal. She wanted to take him deep inside her, to clasp his throbbing cock-flesh there in her velvety vaginal channel.
She groaned, looking up expectantly into Tren's face, and then she heard the metallic rasp of a zipper as he opened his fly and his thick, rock-like penis burst forth. She stared in wonder at the stiff swollen rod, its purple head throbbing obscenely. At the same time, she felt Tren tangle his hands in her hair, pulling her forward until her face was directly above the blunt, bloated tip of his penis.
Excited almost beyond endurance now, Gloria scratched her fingernails lightly over the pulsating cock-shaft and began to stroke and massage it, rubbing the skin back and forth, then slipping her hands down to cup Tren's balls lasciviously, cradling their softness in her palms. He groaned and thrust his loins forward until his thickly rigid penis grazed teasingly at her moistly parted lips.
With a little gasp of delight Gloria puckered her lips into" a hungry oval, while Tren lunged forward, plunging his cock into the warm cavern of her mouth. She almost choked, but continued to stroke the thick heavy shaft until finally the warm moistness of her open lips slid succulently down over the firmly resilient sensitive head. And then she began to suck tantalizingly on it, her face contorted with pure lust as he sawed rhythmically in and out.
His loins tensed and jerked as he realized that the lovely redhead at his knees was absorbing almost the full length of his aching cock into her throat. The bulbous head throbbed and jumped with the nerve-tingling licking of her tongue on every outstroke, and the pink flesh of her lips clung to his thick cock as she sucked voraciously, her mind feverish with the salacious delight of the act. And then the pressure began to grow in his balls. It wouldn't be long now before he shot his hotly seething sperm into her mouth-right down into her beautiful little belly!
His rigidly pulsing cock was about to burst and he shoved his loins up hard against her face as she hummed and sucked maddeningly. Once again she cupped his balls into her two hands, squeezing and massaging their sperm-laden heaviness as if to pump their vital hot moisture down into her open throat.
Suddenly Tren felt the white-hot fluid begin to churn inside the bloated sac of his testicles and then surge forth along the full length of his impaling cock-shaft in a burning jet-like stream. He gasped as it spurted wildly in long streams from the jerking tip, making Gloria's cheeks bloat and hollow as she rapidly swallowed the thick deluging gushes in a frantic effort to keep from choking.
Tren wound his hands in Gloria's hair as she continued to suck madly, clutching at her head as he shot his hot semen far into her throat. Finally, he locked his hands behind her neck and thrusted his squirting penis even farther into her receptive mouth. And then he was empty-he let her head free and fall back against the chair as her lips fondled his cock gently now, until it fell, limp and deflating, from her mouth.
There was silence as Gloria sank to the floor, exhausted. She curled up in a little heap and closed her eyes. She was dimly aware that Tren had stood up and crossed the room. When she became fully conscious again she saw the chair had been taken away.
A terrible feeling of guilt overwhelmed her. Oh, dear God! What had she done! She scurried around the floor to collect her clothes. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to cover her nakedness as quickly as possible. This perverted act-this obscenity! How could she have done it? It was insane. Perhaps she was insane, she suddenly thought. Surely no woman in her right mind willingly degraded herself before all these people as she had done!
As the thought continued to throb in her brain she turned her head and her eyes searched the room. Then her body stiffened and she blinked away her tears. Yes! There was Patty, her own daughter, Patty, sitting on a chair at the far end of the room. And Tren Miller was now kneeling at her feet. And ... oh, dear God! Both of them had stripped their clothes off! Both were naked!
Looking again, Gloria saw that Patty's slim young legs were spread wide, exposing the soft pink lips of her thinly hair-lined little pussy. Just then, Tren slipped his hands beneath her thighs, drawing the little reddish-gold patch of hair that nestled at the base of her belly close to his face. Patty smiled down at him, her body trembling with the excitement that pulsed through her. She ran her tongue around her lips, wetting them until they glistened as she waited expectantly, her smile growing more and more provocative.
Tren gazed hungrily at the moist tight vaginal slit as she rotated it sensuously only a few inches from his lips. He placed his palms flat against the inside of her thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy flanges of her cunt. Then, with a slow, torturing outward movement they drew the delicate pink lips apart, exposing the moist coral slit more fully to him.
Patty moaned, then dug her hands into his hair trying to pull his face into her. With a guttural sound like that of an animal, Tren moved forward to bury his face between her thighs and the full length of his slippery tongue up into the hotly throbbing passage of the girl's expectant pussy.
She gasped, her buttocks jerking forward involuntarily as his warm spiralling tongue rotated wildly in the soft palpitating depths of her already red-hot vagina. "Aaaaarrrrgh!" she moaned as he withdrew the impaling oral spear to send his tongue licking upward, its soft tip flicking and circling her quivering erect clitoris. And then his lips enclosed it to suck at its bud-like hardness, drawing the warm surrounding pussy folds into the cavern of his hot mouth, his tongue continuing its maddening licking against the straining pink nub.
The lewdly excited sixteen-year old groaned in mounting sensual enchantment as the insanely probing tongue-tip worked its way up and down the length of her narrow wet pussy slit. He lifted her slightly, cupping his hands beneath her flexing buttocks so that his searching tongue could slide passed the elastic-rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and on into the narrow valley between her creamy-white ass-cheeks. Patty mewled with pleasure at the unbelievably thrilling sensation, purring and whimpering like a kitten.
Her soft wet pubic hair grazed Tren's cheeks as he sent his tongue swirling once again into the widespread tightness of her hotly dilating cunt. She clenched her teeth with passion now, moaning through them as her hands clawed at his hair, trying to guide him closer to the hungrily clasping opening of her vagina. And then he slithered his tongue into the pink velvety cuntal flesh, flicking at it tantalizingly before withdrawing to taunt the coral-colored edges again.
As her mother unbelievingly registered the scene on her drug-befogged brain, Patty shifted and raised her body, pushing forward and clamping her hands behind his head to force his mouth directly over the tight little hole of her cunt. He glued his ovaled sucking lips to the viscous aperture and thrust his tongue deep into it. With a sudden shriek of pure ecstasy, Patty closed her youthfully supple thighs about his bobbing head, and now Tren too felt the lewd sucking performance of her inflamed vaginal passage as his tongue flicked deep, deep up into it. Then a tremendous convulsing shudder racked her hot young body and she wailed in wanton abandon as the walls of her wildly climaxing cunt poured forth their orgiastic fluids, to seep down over Tren's still rhythmically flicking tongue.
It seemed a long time before the girl's uncontrollably quivering body had spent all its passion, a long time before her excited trembling had ceased.-Her mother had half-crawled, half-ran over to her as she slipped from the chair to lie curled in a ball on the floor. With an anguished cry, Gloria sat on the floor and lifted her daughter's head and upper body as gently as she knew how and rested them between her cradling arm and breast. Her other hand she used to gently brush away the girl's damp red hair from her closed eyes.
Patty felt the soft touch and lifted her face a fraction in a plea for more strokes, opening her eyes at the same time. A frown creased her young brow for a moment, then she smiled in recognition of her mother. "Hello, mother," Patty murmured, nestling more comfortably into Gloria's shoulder. "Are you finding this place a groovy trip, too?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
John Richards stared vacantly at the milling throng of people on the ground floor of the Place Caledonia tower as he waited for the elevator of Clinique Place Caledonia to arrive. It was unbelievable that Gloria could have become sick-especially mentally sick-in the short space of time his trip had taken. Yet that was the message his office got.
He had immediately called Dr. Smith from New Bristol and then had decided there was no alternative but to drive at once to Caledonia when Smith's explanations proved far from satisfactory. "I shouldn't do that, if I were you," Smith told him brusquely on the phone when he heard John's intention. "Our visiting days are Thursdays, Mr. Richards, you know that. Believe me, your wife needs every chance to recuperate before you see her then. In the meantime, she'll be in the best possible hands, I assure you!"
The elevator doors opened and John was the car's single occupant to the first floor of Dr. Smith's menagerie. All was soft muzak and cool air-conditioning, plus welcoming smiles from the receptionist, Sylvia.
He ignored her, her face becoming horror-stricken as she realized he intended to stride right passed her into Miss Box's office. "Mr. Richards, you can't ... ," she got as far as saying before he was out of sight in Rosetta's room.
"Please get Dr. Smith for me," he demanded of the startled private secretary. "And while you're about it, you may as well start whatever's necessary for the discharge of my wife and daughter from this place."
"I ... I'm afraid there's some mistake, Mr. Richards. There is no discharge authorized for either your wife or your daughter." Rosetta stood up and smiled sweetly at him. "Possibly a misconception you're laboring under-didn't Dr. Smith explain the circumstances?"
John slammed his fist down on her desk. "Understand this, Miss Box, I am not here to answer questions. Now get me that man, your boss, Smith. And I mean now!"
Inside his office, "Doctor" Smith shoved back the desk chair in annoyance, rose, then strode rapidly toward the door. This was intolerable, this shouting in the outer office. He thrust the door open to reveal his secretary gazing fearfully at the menacing form of John Richards.
"What the hell's going on here?" he demanded.
"Mr. Richards...." began the for-once agitated Miss Box; John cut her off.
"Yes, what is the hell going on here?" he directed at Smith. "That's exactly what I want to know, Dr. Smith!"
Smith glanced at Rosetta, then back at John Richards. "You'd better come in. But you'd be well-advised to drop your apparent animus toward me, Mr. Richards. I assure you, I can summon ample assistance within seconds, and if I have the slightest reason to feel threatened, I shall have no compunction about doing so."
John uttered a mirthless laugh at this little speech and stalked past the doctor into the large airy inner office, Smith following him and closing the door, but not before exchanging a significant look and nod of the head with his private secretary.
"Look, Smith...."
"Just a minute, Mr. Richards," half-snarled the analyst as he made his way back behind his desk. "Just a minute!" He play-acted the role of the injured party as he went through an elaborate performance of sitting down again at his desk. "Now, Mr. Richards, won't you please sit down?"
Smith shook his head resignedly and sighed. "Mr. Richards! I have explained exhaustively on the telephone that your wife is not to be disturbed, that there may even be some doubt of her being well enough by Thursday for anyone to visit her." Smith thought he discerned the first trace of indecision in the husband's manner.
He decided to keep up the firm line of resistance. "I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, but if you don't believe what I tell you, there's hardly much point in talking any further, is there?"
"Only if you tell the truth, Smith," John said, subsiding into a chair.
"I have told you the truth, Mr. Richards," Smith replied with raised eyebrows and widespread hands. "I can only go on repeating that fact."
"The truth? The truth?" John jumped up from his chair and leaned forward on the desk. "You told me my wife was 'disturbed'. You told me she became hysterical and now has to be kept under constant guard-a nut case! Crackers ... bananas...."
"Those terms are not used at this establishment," broke in Smith witheringly. "Your imagination is running away with you, Mr. Richards."
"Maybe you didn't use those words," John admitted. "But that is sure as hell what you meant."
"It's quite true that your wife is emotionally ill. I'm sorry to have to tell you that but denying the fact won't make it go away."
Oh, Christ, John thought bitterly, how he'd like to punch this smug bastard in the nose! But he had to talk to him, he had to find out what was the matter with Gloria. Not that he believed she was truly sick. But he had to learn more. And the only one who could help him right now was this son-of-a-bitch sitting opposite.
He sank back into the chair again, burying his face in his hands. Oh Lord! How did he ever get into this mess? And his wife? And his child?
With effort he pulled himself together. "Right," he said in a near-whisper. "I'll play it your way, Dr. Smith. Suppose you just tell me what's the matter with Gloria?"
Smith smiled to himself, knowing he'd won. He leaned ingratiatingly across the desk. "It's not a pleasant task," he said confidingly. "I'm afraid, Mr. Richards, that your wife is a nymphomaniac."
"You're a liar!"
The handsome young poseur behind the desk again sighed in mock-reproof. "Mr. Richards, if you want me to discuss your wife's condition you'll have to control yourself." He pretended to busy himself with files and papers to one side of his desk. John sighed in his turn. He felt hopelessly defeated now. Gloria? Gloria, a nymphomaniac? She was a a sensual woman he knew from personal experience, but a nympho? God, no!
"What makes you so sure of your diagnosis, Doctor?" John asked levelly.
Smith waited a moment, choosing his words carefully. "The first time your wife arrived at this office ostensibly to visit with her daughter she attempted to seduce me." He paused again. "From what we've observed of her actions since then...." He shrugged. "I've told you before we cannot afford to relax our guard on her for one moment," he went on. "Because neither man nor woman is safe."
"There's not a word of truth in that!" John shouted, springing to his feet and advancing menacingly on Smith's desk again. "Not a word. And I'll break your goddamned neck if I hear another...."
Smith silenced him with an imperious uplifting of his right hand. "Would you prefer witnessing her shocking behavior rather than accept my professional report? 'very well, perhaps the sight will convince you." He flicked the switch of the two-way mirror. "Remember, Mrs. Richards' mania has been lessened by our treatment since her arrival last Thursday." And as he spoke, the figures of Gloria and Patty appeared in the room beyond.
* * *
About the time John Richards was stalking through the reception area, his wife Gloria was being fetched from her room for her "therapeutic" session. She had sat despondently in her room the entire morning, feeling too degraded to care what happened to her any more, until the pills she was forced to take each day with her lunch began working their diabolical magic on her. Yesterday, she'd been dragged away from her daughter before they'd had a chance to exchange more than half-a-dozen words, though they had been enough to indicate an attitude on Patty's part that blew her mind.
The door of her room opened and the orderly who'd so lecherously watched her dress entered. Today she was dressed already, and he was obviously disappointed the same performance wasn't about to be repeated. Sullenly he said: "It's that time again, Mrs. Richards. Better get down to the therapy room." And he turned on his heel to lead the way.
This time the big room alongside Dr. Smith's office was empty-at least at first she thought it was, and then she saw the slim girl standing at the end of it-her daughter! Patty saw her about the same time, and as Gloria started over toward her called out, "Hi, Mom!"
Gloria put a hand on each of Patty's shoulders and from arm's length studied the girl's face. Her eyes were glazed and the mother shuddered with revulsion, knowing instinctively that her daughter, too, was drugged. Oh, dear God! What were they doing to this child in this evil and wretched place? Feeling as if her heart would break, she put a hand to her forehead in despair. She had witnessed the degradation the daughter had been forced to. Her daughter had seen her! In a great surge of maternal love she pulled the slight figure of the girl to her and wrapped Patty in her arms. "Oh, Patty," she whispered fearfully. "What shall we do, what shall we do?"
The distraught mother heard the door open and others come into the room but paid no attention as she hugged and kissed and comforted her sixteen year old daughter. She would cradle her against her breasts, protect the child against the terrible ordeal that was probably planned for her. Even though she might have to suffer in the child's stead, she would sacrifice herself gladly.
The room held quite a crowd now, but she ignored everyone, her mind consumed with Patty. And then she heard Dr. Allen, one of the young doctors who had held her down the first day in Dr. Smith's office. "Why, Mrs. Richards," he was saying. "We didn't realize that you had lesbian tendencies!"
The anguished mother rounded on the man as though she had been flogged across the back with a cat o'nine tails. Her right hand came up to slap his face and he caught her wrist in a grip of steel. "What do you mean?" she demanded between gritted teeth.
"There, there," Allen said soothingly. "There's no reason to get upset about it. It's just as normal as heterosexuality, you know."
Gloria's face blanched. "You're lying!" she hissed. "Another of your filthy lies! You can't believe ... that ... There's no way I would ever touch another woman!"
"You're doing it now!" Allen exclaimed, laughing.
"That's my daughter," Gloria said in astonishment. "My own flesh and blood."
"A female, nonetheless. A young example of her sex but unmistakably a woman. We have seen it demonstrated time and time again here at Caledonia the proclivity mothers have for the love-sexual love-of their daughters."
"You at Caledonia!" Gloria said sarcastically.
Dr. Allen ignored her remark and went on: "Here at the clinic we encourage everyone to do whatever he or she may feel like doing. And so we believe it is in your best interest, Mrs. Richards-also your daughter's-for you to seduce her."
"What? Oh, my God! What?" Gloria shrieked.
"Seduce, Mrs. Richards. Seduce your daughter. Or, as we prefer to state it in plain language here, fuck your daughter."
Gloria shook her head, steeling herself to disobey the perverted command. But in spite of herself the depravity of the idea sent a wave of lascivious excitement rippling through her. She couldn't help her mind dwelling on what it would be like, and from the way the other patients were crowding around the two women with leering and gloating faces her lusting curiosity was widely shared. Once again came Dr. Allen's command: "Fuck her! And fuck her good!"
"Oh, no!" she wailed out, but even as she refused she was impelled by impulses stronger than her own will to slip her hand into the cleavage of Patty's blouse and beneath the flimsy nylon of her white brassiere. She felt the round smooth mounds of her daughter's tender breasts and another thrill of wicked pleasure swept through her. She had never known that such a forbidden act could be so exciting!
She trailed her finger over one snowy mound, finding the tiny bud of the pink nipple, teasing and taunting it into quivering hardness. She had a sudden urge to take the tiny throbbing nub into her mouth and swirl her tongue over it. She wanted to fasten her lips on the proudly erect knob and suck the sweetness from it as though it were some small succulent cherry.
In the grip of a sudden passion, she grasped at Patty's blouse and tore it from her body, then unhooked the little white brassiere and pulled that off too. The girl now stood before her mother with naked breasts quivering in the cool air while Gloria trembled with involuntary pleasure at the sight. Her head seemed to spin and she felt weak and faint, yet at the same time an animal-like lust possessed her.
She tugged at Patty's skirt now, sliding it down over her firm young thighs and hips, and letting it too drop on the floor. And then she insinuated her fingers beneath the elastic waistband of the girl's skimpy white panties and drew them off. She sucked in her breath as she stared at the voluptuously naked young figure, at the full rounded spheres of her daughter's throbbing breasts, at the little wasp-waist, at the firmly swelling flare of her hips and the soft curves of her buttocks. With a sudden impulse, she ran her hand over the smooth white skin, trailing it down over the girl's belly to the triangle of reddish-silken hairs nestling up between her thighs. And then she pulled her close to touch and fondle her with ever-growing delight.
From Dr. Smith's office, John Richards watched with increasing horror the whole obscene act through the two-way mirror. It wasn't possible! he told himself. It-was-not-possible! This was some visual trick that Smith had dreamed up. But as Gloria began to take off her own clothes he gasped in agony. He turned to stare at Smith who returned his look impassively. How ... how ... had this fiend managed to corrupt his wife and daughter in this shockingly lewd way?
When he turned back to the two-way mirror he saw that Gloria now had her clothes off and, naked, stared adoringly at the naked girl. The lustfully aroused mother trailed her fingers the length of her daughter's slim young body, pausing to rotate the middle one in a circle over the pinkish flesh tones of her flat white belly, while her own nipples hardened spontaneously at the electric contact. Her finger traced the flesh farther down, then paused again at the patch of sparse pubic hair up between her legs, slowly and deftly parting it. And then it dipped between the hair-lined lips of Patty's wetly throbbing pussy to search for the tiny knob of her clitoris. Her probing middle finger touched it at last, then circled the quivering erect nub lightly, while Patty jerked in maddened excitement. And then, as the small bit of flesh grew more and more tautly erect, the girl groaned in ecstasy.
The horror of the scene sent waves of disgust shooting through John's shuddering body. He tried to order his legs to walk away-run away-but he was rooted, mesmerized by the lewd sight of his wife's finger probing his daughter's pussy. He would kill Smith for this, he vowed. Kill him! He whirled around. "You son-of-a-bitch!" he screamed. "You son-of-a-bitch!"
"Come now, Mr. Richards. This is no time for anger," the analyst said pleasantly. "We want to help your wife-help her to overcome these overpowering impulses she has...." He stepped adroitly backward as John swung at him, getting in a glancing blow on his chin. He rubbed his jaw. "I wouldn't try any rough-guy tactics, if I were you," the younger man warned.
John swung again, missing this time. Then he found his wrists imprisoned in Smith's steel-like grip. "I'm beginning to fear you are as strongly disturbed as your wife, Mr. Richards," he said menacingly. "I think you'd better control yourself." And he pushed the older man away from him, nodding at the same time to two doctors in the therapy room. There was no mistaking his meaning; John in reality was just as much a prisoner as Patty and Gloria.
The trapped father groaned, then riveted his gaze one more time on the scene in the next room. Gloria was still stroking the smooth white flesh of her daughter's quivering thighs. Then once more her obscenely searching fingers probed at the pink folds of flesh up between her legs. Abruptly she slid to her knees and flicked her head forward. Just then, one of the figures standing behind her stepped forth, stooping down to slide his strong hands beneath her arms, pulling her to her feet.
He whirled her around and Gloria, in spite of her daze, realized that she was facing Fred Harris. His eyes were heavy with lust, and his lips curled lasciviously.
Suddenly the excitement within her body that had built up from the tiny spark earlier into a burning flame seemed to envelop her. She needed Fred! She needed a man to bring her to fulfillment just as she had been about to bring her own daughter to her trembling climax.
She pressed her naked body up against him, grinding her loins deep into his pelvis and feeling the hardening cock-flesh beneath his pants. Oh, dear God! It was almost a miracle, as if an unspoken prayer had been answered. With a little whimper of pleasure she let Harris lead her across the room to the bed. He nodded at it and Gloria, understanding, slipped quickly onto it, spreading her slim long legs wide, exposing her own moist pussy to his lewd gaze as her daughter watched excitedly.
Almost at once he stripped off his clothes, causing Gloria to gasp at the sight of his virile cock, already thickly swollen and hard. In a quick movement, he flung himself on the bed, his legs sinuously straddling her voluptuous body. With another quick movement he positioned himself above her, kneeling, and then shot his hand out to brutally seize one full snowy breast. He began to knead it, squeezing the swelling tender flesh between his wiry fingers, making it stand out in little ridges. Gloria recoiled at the pain and bit her lips as Fred tweaked mercilessly at the tautly erect nipple, then closed his strong teeth over the now upright little bud, nipping cruelly at it.
His other hand trailed the length of her body, down to the hair-covered "vee" up between her legs until his middle finger wriggled between the moist fleshy folds of pink skin, seeking the tiny opening that glistened there. He felt its spongy wetness beneath his fingertip at last and sucked in his breath as Gloria twisted into a provocatively obscene position. Her lips were wet and parted, and her magnificent breasts began to rise and fall in tormented pleasure, her dark red nipples erect and throbbing. She squirmed beneath him now, writhing in passion as his finger plowed forward deep into her warm velvety cuntal passage.
In the next room John witnessed the process of his wife's fucking with incredulous horror. Here ... Oh, Christ! Here was his modest ... his demure glorious wife showing an obsession with sheer sensual need that he had never seen duplicated in any other woman. She ... she welcomed this stranger's finger-fucking!
Gloria's hand shot out suddenly to seize Fred's thick hard cock and guide it to the quivering little entrance of her cunt. With a sucking sound, he withdrew his twisting finger and a moment later sent his iron-stiff penis plunging deep up into her soft moist channel, the blunt rubbery head plowing everything before it until it battered against the cervix.
Suddenly, Fred slipped his hands beneath the quivering half-moons of her buttocks, lifting the two rounded spheres up from the mattress. His middle finger explored the long smooth furrow between them until it touched lightly on the tiny puckered hole of her anus. Cruelly, he forced the tip of his finger inside the stretching warm flesh, while Gloria screamed at the sudden pain, which gradually ebbed away, fading into a pleasure she had never known before as she whimpered ecstatically. Then she skewered her buttocks down on his impaling finger until it was buried in her rubbery flesh all the way up to his palm.
Gloria murmured happily at this new double ravishment of her wildly throbbing loins. Fred speared deep inside her now, quickening his rhythm and lengthening his strokes. The hotly swelling penis fucked in and out of her wet clasping vagina and sent maddening thrills exploding through her blood, and she moved her loins ecstatically up and down beneath the thick pounding cock-shaft.
She knew nothing now but the wonderful joy of surrendering completely to the lure of the flesh. In her daze, all else was forgotten-her husband, her child, the humiliating degradation of being fucked almost senseless here before this watching group. Her mounting excitement seemed to flow outward from her moist cuntal channel, to spread like spilling water to every cell of her body, to set on fire every inch of her quivering skin.
For the passion-soaked woman there was nothing at all but this moment of ecstasy as she gave herself in wild abandon to the all-pervading pleasure. It seemed that she had reached heights that had never been scaled before, and yet the bliss and joy went on mounting until she was sure she would explode from it.
Crazed with her approaching orgasm, she finally let out a wild, earthy groan. "I'm cumming...." she gasped. "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming ...!" And then, as she writhed and groaned and twisted insanely, her warm cuntal fluids seeped forth from her ravished passage and her body contracted in a convulsive spasm.
At almost the same time, the thick milk-white semen gushed from Fred's bloated balls to spurt deep up into her belly and mingle there with her own wetly hot secretions. And then with a shudder so intense that it shook her violently from head to toe, her legs played out over the side of the bed and she collapsed, while the exhausted Fred slowly withdrew his now deflated penis. Then, equally satiated, he rolled over to lie beside her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Satisfied now?" Smith quietly inquired of John, flicking off the switch to the two-way mirror in his office. "You did more or less say 'show me!'."
At first John was too anguished to say anything. Was there no end to the indecency, the utter and complete evil of this man who called himself a doctor, He would kill him, he vowed again. Kill him with his bare hands!
He took a step toward the still smiling man, then stopped. Oh, God! What good would it do to beat this man? How would that get Gloria and Patty out of this place? He had to try to play it cool. Realizing the hopelessness of his situation made him reel back as if from a blow. He shook his head, trying to retain a grip on reality.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Richards?" Smith mocked. "You bastard!"
"You simpleton!" Smith rejoindered contemputuously.
"You've done everything possible to that poor woman, haven't you? That beautiful woman! Every degrading and obscene thing possible!"
Smith's lips twisted into a malicious smile. "There's one thing nobody's yet done to her," he said.
"Impossible!"
"No. I thought we'd save this to the last."
"What the hell do you mean?"
Smith lit a cigarette, puffing on it a couple of times before replying. "How do you feel about sodomy?"
"Sodomy? Oh, my God!"
"Well, what's your opinion?"
"You're out of your mind!"
"I didn't ask for your opinion of my mental state."
"Well, I'm giving it to you, gratis." John slumped down in a chair and gazed blankly at the now normal-looking wall mirror. "You mean you're going to make someone ... someone ... do that to my wife?"
"Why not? It's a perfectly normal form of intercourse."
"Normal!" yelled the distraught husband, springing to his feet. "You call that normal?"
Oh, God! The image came to his mind of Gloria spread-eagled face down on the bed next door with her quivering buttocks exposed to the view of God knows how many others as some depraved animal stuck his thick rigid cock against the tiny puckered hole of her anus.
Jesus! He could almost see it disappearing deep up inside while his wife screamed in agony at the perverted invasion. "I won't let you do it to her," he screamed at Smith. "I won't let you do it to her!"
Smith puffed calmly on his cigarette. "I'm not going to," he said.
"You're damn right you're not!" John exploded.
Smith nodded his head. "No. You are." he said quietly.
Smith's remark at first made no sense to John, and then its import sank in. "You-mean-what?" he asked unbelievingly.
"Just that. You're going to do it to her."
John shook his head. "No, Dr. Smith, I'm not." His face contorted in hatred for the analyst. "I'll see you in hell first!"
Smith smiled blandly. "You'll do what you're told," he said.
"No!"
"Mr. Richards, do you want your wife to leave here?" Smith asked dramatically. "Do you want her released-not now, of course, she's far too disturbed still-but eventually? Do you want her back?"
John grasped the idea in all its despicable cunning. "That's blackmail," he said. "The only word for it, blackmail!"
Smith shrugged. "Call it what you will, Mr. Richards." He stubbed out his cigarette in a silver desk ashtray. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Will you cooperate, Mr. Richards? Or will you be happy to leave your very lovely wife in our tender care indefinitely?"
John stared into the impassive eyes of the madman opposite. God! What a choice! How could he get his wife out of here without that fiend's cooperation? He looked over at the door, as if estimating distances. Even if he managed to make it out of here, what could he do? The only exit he knew, the elevator, could probably be locked immobile from Smith's desk. And that left only one course. He looked round at Smith again, knowing the decision was made for him. Facing the inevitable that there was no other choice open to him he managed to mumble, "I'll do it."
"Excellent," Smith said, rising from his chair. "I knew you'd see sense."
"But you'll release Gloria."
"As soon as possible."
John knew the answer was evasive but had no alternative but to rest content with it. The future of Gloria and Patty-and probably his depended on it. Swallowing with the greatest difficulty and speaking almost inaudibly he muttered: "All right, all right. I'll do anything to help my wife."
* * *
Gloria was still lying drowsily on the bed when Smith opened the door to the therapy room and ushered John through. The stunned husband was only dimly aware of the many other people in the room but he did catch sight of Patty, partially dressed now, and his heart skipped a beat. How could he do this thing to Gloria and hurt both her and his daughter? Oh God! He couldn't humiliate his family this way. He whirled around to face Smith. "I can't do it," he said, his lips trembling. "I just can't!"
Smith gave him a contemptuous smile, then fumbled through pockets in his jacket. Almost sympathetically he said: "Perhaps these will help?"
John looked down at the two pills in Smith's hand. He grabbed at them gratefully, looking around for something to pop them with. Smith also gave him a paper cup after filling it to the brim from the water fountain near the door. John swallowed the pills quickly and drained the cup. "Thanks, Smith."
"You're quite welcome," the man said sardonically. "Quite welcome, I'm sure."
The euphoria that almost instantly seemed to take over control of John's body as a result of Dr. Smith's pills relaxed his taut nerves and spread a feeling of joyous well being through every part of his brain. Things didn't seem at all as bad as they had been! A little thrill of excitement jolted him at the thought of what lay in store. After all, he never had done anything like this before, and he was being forced. At least, he thought he was being forced, but now he was aware of another feeling. Now he actually wanted to do it!
Gloria was waking up as he approached her, but, dazed by drugs, she had trouble recognizing him. It was his touch as he deftly flipped her over onto her stomach that seemed to clinch it for her and she smiled languidly, murmuring: "It's you, John." She felt her husband's strong hands around her ankles as he spread her slim curvaceous legs apart and her belly ground into the mattress as she writhed against it. He flung himself onto the bed between her wide-open legs and sank to his knees.
His hands snaked out to caress the quivering cheeks of her buttocks, and then he spread them apart until the tight little anal aperture nestled in the crevice was clearly visible. It seemed to throb in excited expectancy as he ran his hand up inside her thighs, to her wet, gaping cunt. And then his head dropped to kiss her smooth rounded ass-cheeks while his tongue trailed down to lick up into the crack between them.
His fingers probed at the puckered little hole while Gloria groaned. Suddenly he barked: "Spread your legs wider." His beautiful wife struggled to comply with the command but he wasn't satisfied, seizing her by the thighs and pulling until she was afraid she would be split wide open.
She groaned again, as her legs were splayed achingly wide until her toes were hanging over the edges of the bed at what felt like right angles to her body. Once again John probed at the tight little anal hole and then he plunged his middle finger abruptly up into it, while she winced with the unexpected pain.
He moved his finger around, digging it in up to the first knuckle, sawing to expand the tiny anus while Gloria strained back against him. She had a sudden surge of passion for her own husband in spite of the pain he was causing her and began to rotate her hips lewdly. Spurred on by her wanton abandon, he dug a second finger up into the rubbery opening to join the first, while each merciless twist of his hand brought a squeal of pain from her, which tapered off eventually into a gasp of delight.
He continued to skewer his fingers up into her obscenely stretched rectum and then, as she became accustomed to the probing deep up into her impaled anus, the squeals died out completely, to be replaced by little cat-like mewls of pleasure.
John plunged his fingers in and out of his wife's rectal passage, possessed by the demons that seemed to have taken hold of his drug-saturated body. And when, with a sucking noise that both surprised and excited him, he pulled his fingers out, the pink, clasping skin clung to them lewdly.
For a moment he stared wordlessly down at her prone form while within himself he felt a terrible need grow and take over that demanded he humiliate his wife in the most obscene fashion imaginable. Yes, he would do what Smith had decreed, but he would get his own particular kind of revenge on the doctor by enjoying the moment to the full. He shot a triumphant glance over at the wall holding the doctor's diabolical mirror-window and then ordered his wife to "kneel up!".
Gloria lay still, uncomprehending. She turned her head back over her shoulder, disappointed at the cessation of the delightful thrills that had been arcing through her loins. Her John-her own, dear John-had for some reason withdrawn the plunging fingers that had been carrying her to such a pinnacle of ecstasy, but he was speaking to her, telling her to do something. "Kneel," she heard him say, "Kneel up." She felt him stroking her buttocks again, awakening a new and different joy in her that she had never known before.
"Kneel up!" John ordered once more, and this time she struggled to her knees and presented the rounded half-moons of her buttocks to him, wriggling them lasciviously in the air. "Take my cock!" John said suddenly. "Take it and put it in." Gloria hesitated a moment and then groped for the rock-hard length of cock-flesh that now rested against her split crevice. She stroked it, curling her fingers around it. It seemed huge to her, too huge ever to penetrate the small hole of her anus. Oh, dear God! How could she ever take it, take it deep up inside her rectum as she longed to! "Put it in!"
"Oh, no," she wailed. "I can't!"
She felt John's harsh fingers digging fiercely into the tender flesh of her thighs. Urged on by the sharp pain, she placed the blood-engorged tip of his cock against the puckered little anal orifice. Behind her, her husband strained forward, trying to worm his thickly pulsing shaft into the hairless opening. Suddenly the brown nether ring gave way before the relentless prodding and the bloated tip popped inside, while Gloria groaned at the sudden surge of pain. "Oh, God, no! No! It hurts! It's too big! It hurts!" But John continued to ram forward with all his strength while he pulled her waving hips back tightly against his own pelvis.
As the hard fleshy rod sank deep up into her quaking rubbery rectum, he began to saw back and forth until his pistoning cock was totally buried in the pink inflamed passage. And now his wife moved backward to meet his forward thrusts, turning her head from side to side while her long red hair flailed out around her.
John's hugely distended penis sank in up to the hilt now, buried almost to the balls in Gloria's tight restricting passage. In spite of the pain that still caused her to gasp from time to time, she began to moan with growing pleasure. The lewdly submissive sound incited him to make further assaults upon her voluptuous naked body, and he trailed his hands over her buttocks and back, kneading and squeezing her smooth resilient flesh. His nails raised cruel red welts, and yet Gloria continued to moan, finding pleasure and ecstasy in the purposely inflicted pain.
John puffed and gasped now, almost out of breath with his exertions. Then he began to thrust home with an almost super-human force that drove his pelvis into her excitedly yielding buttocks with hard vicious smacks. His sperm-inflated balls hung down heavily as if the load of boiling semen they carried would explode at any moment.
Gloria felt the sweat dripping from her husband's face as it fell in huge wet drops onto her strenuously working back. She shivered a mite with pleasure at the measured tingles as she ground back against his pounding hips. She felt him filling her in a way he never had before, and it gave her a pleasure completely new to her. She wanted only one thing now, and that was for John to cum, to spurt his warm thick semen deep up into her forever expanded rectum.
Almost as if she'd willed it, John's body jerked convulsively and he began to utter strange, lust-crazed sounds. With a final shriek that was a half-scream, half-wail, he surged forward one more time as his pounding body sent shattering waves of white hot cum spurting into her anal depths. It ran through her, filling her even more completely, and then she felt her own climax as it mounted to its soul-wrenching explosion. She screamed as she felt John's thick white cum trickle out along the length of his deflating cock-shaft to run down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks, drenching them just as her own fluids seeped forth from her open cunt.
As the spasms and convulsions of the two bodies subsided, the others in the room pressed forward. Someone pulled John's spent body off his wife's, while another flipped Gloria over onto her back as easily as she had been turned over onto her stomach.
As Gloria turned her head, her mouth gone slack, she felt a thick fleshy object' against her lips. She whirled her tongue around it and at last, recognized it as the hardened cock of yet another of the men in the room. As he pushed forward she ovaled her lips in a wide round circle and took the pulsing rod deep up into her throat, choking a little at first, but then accepting it with pleasure. Her cheeks hollowed and filled as she sucked crazily at the blunt and swollen head.
She closed her eyes, letting her tongue rove at will over the rigidly hardened penis that filled her mouth. And then she felt someone else's hands sliding down her smooth body, stopping to caress her softly throbbing breasts. The finger circled one little budding nipple, until it swelled into a quivering knob of hardness. She sighed ecstatically as her body seemed to take fire once more. Oh God! She had never been so aroused, so thrilled in all her life! She stretched out to grasp the head of the man stroking her body, tangling her hands in his hair and trying to pull his face down, his lips to her tingling skin.
He arched back, breaking away from her, but continued to trail his fingers down her nakedly quivering flesh until they finally reached the sparsely curling pubic hair at the base of her belly. He paused to tease the tiny clitoris hidden there while Gloria sucked in her breath. Oh, dear God! It was wicked but she wanted it. She wanted to be fucked to death by all the men here. She wanted to give herself completely, wanted to be filled and filled again by all the cum in their balls.
As the man hovering over her slid his hands down the firm creamy-white flesh of her inner thighs she let her legs fall open obscenely, displaying the trembling folds of her pussy to his lurid gaze even as she continued to suck hungrily at the thick penis in her mouth. She felt his finger trace the long slit there, felt it pause then and slide forward to sink deep up into the hungrily devouring passage.
He twisted and turned his finger tip, bringing little mewls of contentment from deep in Gloria's throat. And then he withdrew his finger with a sudden sucking sound and positioned himself above her. Gloria waited anxiously, her nether lips trembling in renewed excitement. And then she felt the blunt head of his thickly prodding cock teasing at the entrance to her moist pink vagina. She reached out one hand to let it fall on the arched and tensing man positioned between her legs. Then, as she dragged her nails across the skin of his shoulders he suddenly pressed forward and his rock-hard relentless cock swept deep up into the narrow cuntal channel while a shocked cry of pleasure escaped her lips.
Still sucking avidly at the penis screwing hotly into her mouth, she let the hand fall from the back of the man now ravishing her cunt and felt it land on a firm fleshy object-another cock! Her fingers curled lovingly around the resilient hardness, cradling the rigidly throbbing length in her palm. She massaged it now, pushing the soft, unresisting foreskin back and forth, as the desire ran deep within her belly like a torrent once more. She began to writhe and grind her cunt wildly up beneath the pummeling cock deep up inside her shuddering cunt, grinding her buttocks lewdly into the bed beneath her in a circling movement, constricting her cunt muscles to clasp the hot impaling pole more securely. She wanted to exploit her situation to the limit, to grovel in the hotly seething sticky cum that would saturate her insides when it gushed forth.
She ground her buttocks more and more furiously against the mattress, lifting her loins to press forward as he sawed in and out of her wetly throbbing pussy, at the same time sucking insatiably at the stiff shaft of penile flesh in her mouth, swirling her tongue-tip to taunt the blood-fattened head that stabbed hotly into her greedy oral aperture. She wanted it to shoot into her mouth, wanted to swallow it and feel it pouring down her throat until her stomach was as filled as her cunt. She wanted it to drench her body both inside and out. As she pumped the jerking cock in her hand, she wondered vaguely if perhaps one of the three demanding rods she was acting as a receptable for belonged to her husband. But what did it matter? All she wanted was cock, cock, and more cock!
And then the cock fucking deep into her ravished vagina bulged and jerked, spurting its creamy hot charge far up into her quaking cunt. As her own climax crescendoed, the surging semen splashed violently against her contracting vaginal walls and dribbled back out of her, dripping from her saturated, hair-covered cunt lips down her thighs. The spasm of his jerking pelvis massaged her erect clitoris, making her convulse uncontrollably, taking the cock in her wildly sucking mouth to the very hilt. It too burst forth with sudden violence, flooding her mouth and throat with its pungent orgasmic liquid. Her cheeks bloated and hollowed as she swallowed the hotly spewing gushes excitedly and she clasped her lips like a tight-fitting ring about the spurting cock so as not to lose a single drop of the life-giving sperm which dribbled from the corners of her mouth down her chin. Then, as he withdrew his deflating penis, she lashed out her tongue in a sweeping motion to swipe the stringy viscous fluid trailing from his satiated cock-head back into her mouth.
She felt the cock in her hand begin its insistent jerking, but the man abruptly pulled it out of her grasp and a moment later shoved it deep up into her sperm-covered mouth. Again the violent sawing in and out, with a choking thrust that lunged far back into her throat and then as quickly withdrew, as she quickly caught her breath. And then she felt yet another wild explosion, felt the burgeoning shaft between her tightly ovaled lips shoot forth its cream-like jets of churning white-hot sperm, as her own body seemed to fragment in a great burst of showering stars, racking her entire being with an ecstasy that set her brain whirling madly. She moaned out her joy, and then lay motionless on the bed, enveloped at last in oblivion, mercifully unaware of her husband, who was staring in stark, lust-distorted horror at her still quivering body.
John felt his own brain whirl, felt all his strength flow from his body. His stomach churned and his knees buckled. He fought off the attack of dizziness as long as he could, but it overcame him at last and he sank to the floor, unseeing and unknowing.
CHAPTER NINE
To John Richards' reeling and throbbing head it seemed as if he were trapped in a box when he first woke up but as he struggled in panic to free himself he realized he was actually in the familiar surroundings of his own car, the Lincoln he'd taken on his out-of-town trip and parked the day before in the basement lot of the Place Caledonia. He extricated himself from where he had been dumped on the floor between the back seat and the front seat and felt his head ruefully. God! What a mess he'd made of things!
He painfully hoisted himself up into a sitting position and buried his head in both hands now as he tried to relieve the buzzing and sawing within his brain that made all rational thought impossible. Oh Jesus! Gloria and Patty were still that man's prisoners! His feeling of panic returned, intensified, and he brought his anguished face up out of his hands to stare out blankly at the garage's concrete pillars as though the way he must go was written there. What could he do?
He immediately spurned the obvious answer of going to the police as the one course that would automatically guarantee page-one publicity for all the degradation that his family had been put through. On top of everything else, he didn't want his wife to have to live with a public record of her ordeal for the rest of her life. That's why that smug bastard had felt safe in dumping him in the outside world again Smith knew the police would move cautiously against an ostensibly-respectable "medical" practice, with any "investigation" immediately opening up the entire Richards' family's shame and humiliation to the new media.
But there was a way, there had to be a way! And while he thought about it, it'd probably be better to kiss goodbye the Place Caledonia parking lot too, before Smith perhaps changed his mind about the safety of letting him go. He eased over into the car's front seat and started the motor. His watch said eight-thirty and the car clock showed the same thing-but eight-thirty at night or in the morning? Only one way to find out, he thought, and ignoring his aching head, took off in a squeal of burning rubber.
It was morning, Caledonia's streets filled with commuters hurrying to work. John wondered where you got a drink in Caledonia at eight-thirty in the morning-he could sure do with one!-but he was willing to settle for strong coffee at a lunch counter with a telephone.
He parked in a shopping center and located the small restaurant serving the complex. It was open, about the only thing that was. He took grateful gulps of the hot, black coffee some angel in human form served him from behind the counter and then moved over to the pay phone. He suddenly realized he still didn't know what he was going to do with the apparatus now he'd found it, he still hadn't decided on the best course of action. But he did know one call he could make right away-he should check with his office.
He had to make the call collect, and between sips of coffee his mind went over all the alternatives while he waited for the connection to go through. Friends? He had friends, influential friends, but what could some overweight businessman in New Bristol do to help, except offer the obvious sympathy and recommend the police. And at once become another potential fountainhead of gossip about "the Richards' troubles".
His thoughts were cut off by Miss Flangers' voice. Thank God his secretary was an early bird! "Thanks very much, Ramona," John replied to his secretary's greeting. "And the same to you. Look, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday...."
"I hope everything was all right?" Ramona asked politely. "At the clinic...."
"Oh, yes. Yes," John said quickly. "No problem at all. Well," he added, as an idea grew in his mind. "It's ... it's not entirely the most satisfactory arrangement. That's why I probably won't be into the office at all today. Tell me, Ramona, is the stockroom foreman in today Tom Lemmon?"
"Yes. I saw him parking his car."
"Well, would you please tell him to stand by for a call from me? I may need his help and about four or five of his men. Some of the younger men. Now, are there any messages for me?"
"Well, the switchboard said Dr. Smith left a message about eight this morning. It's very cryptic but the operator on duty said he insisted that was the whole thing...."
"What, what?" John demanded impatiently.
"'Mrs. Richards' recovery and release will depend on perfect quiet.' That's all."
"That's fine, I understand. Anything else?"
"Nothing I can think of, Mr. Richards. Except that the bill came in the mail yesterday from Patty's summer camp and the director-a Mr. Sims?-enclosed a note, asking after Patty."
"Oh, what did he say?" John asked.
"He hoped she was settling in back at home satisfactorily and said that if there was anything he could do to help to get in touch."
"He did, did he?"
"Yes, he sounds like a nice man. But apart from that personal note the only correspondence dealt with routine business which I could pass on to department heads."
John's racing brain made a sudden decision. "Look, Ramona, will you do something for me? Call Sims-the number's in my ... oh, you've got it, okay!-call Sims and ask if he will see me urgently. In fact, tell him I'm driving out there right now, will arrive, oh, about ten. I'm taking him up on his offer to help. Got that? About ten, ten-thirty. I'm leaving now."
* * *
Peter Sims had heard out the desperate father in almost total silence, listening to the story impassively and asking merely a couple of questions where John had tried to gloss over some of the grosser details of his nightmare visit with Dr. Smith. At the end, the camp director had made two phone calls, apparently tracking down all he could about the Caledonia quack. He hung up on the last call and turned with a sigh to John again.
"You know, I'm by way of being partly qualified in psycho-analysis myself." He shook his head. "I sometimes think there're more charlatans in our line of work than ... anything!" Sims shrugged and smiled at John regretfully, then suddenly became sternly businesslike.
"Everything you've said is confirmed. Or at least it bears up with what I found out about this man. And I think your idea is right that the only way to get your family back without publicity is to make your own personal assault on the devil's citadel." The shirt-sleeved man smiled again. "Only if you don't mind me saying it, I don't think you should lead your own troops into the attack. I would be more than happy to bust this fraud's racket wide open, and I've more than enough young men among the counselors here who'll be only too glad to be in on the operation."
"There may be a risk," John warned. "Supposing he's armed?"
"Phooey!" Sims said, rising from behind his desk and walking to the office, door. "We'll hit so fast he won't have a chance to try anything. And talking of risk-by giving us the opportunity to settle this bastard's hash there'll be less chance of someone closer to you, one of your people, leaking the whole thing out to some mutual friend later. Now, I'm going to call in some of my boys, and you'll see for yourself what they say."
The plan of action finally decided on called for John to again present himself to Dr. Smith, this time as a sort of undercover agent. His role was to locate Gloria, and if possible his daughter too, and protect them at the moment of open assault by Sims' "boys", timed for ten minutes later. "If what you say is true," Sims said finally, "and all outside calls must go through the receptionist's switchboard, then we can control that before there's any chance of him phoning for help. And by the time we've spelled out our message to him, he won't be inclined to call for help!"
The receptionist showed no surprise when John stepped out of the elevator on the penultimate floor of the tower of Place Caledonia. But Miss Box seemed a trifle taken aback as she came out of her office in response to Sylvia's call. She allowed as how the "Doctor" was in, but couldn't guarantee he would see John "without an appointment". John, as part of the plan, went to some lengths to stress that he'd gotten Dr. Smith's message that morning and agreed to all the terms implied, therefore it was very urgent that he see the doctor.
After a longish wait, during which two burly young men in white coats happened to come by with apparently no other purpose except to scrutinize him heavily, Miss Box returned and conducted him into Dr. Smith's office.
"Well, come back for more?" Smith greeted him sardonically without disturbing his comfortably-settled slump as he relaxed in his chair. "Taking a chance, aren't you, Richards? Coming back here?"
Inwardly wishing to punch the man's face to a pulp, John tried to make his demeanor obsequious. "You've got nothing to fear from me, Smith. I agree to your terms to get my family back." He shrugged. "Why would you need to do me any further harm?"
"You're quite right there," Smith agreed.
"You local Babbits do have your limitations. A simpleton quickly becomes a bore. Have you said all you want to say?"
John swallowed hard. "I want to ask a favor?" he asked deferentially.
For the first time, Smith looked suspicious. "Okay," he said. "I'll perhaps entertain a favor-you've certainly got no rights around here, Mr. Richards."
"Okay. It's just that ... that, can I see my wife for a while ... a couple of minutes, before she's ... when she isn't under the influence of drugs? Please?"
The doctor looked at his watch. "You'll have to hurry; it's lunchtime, and she takes her pills at lunch." He looked quizzically at John. "But what do you want to say to her?"
John had prepared for this question. "It's just that I want to reassure her, about afterwards ... after she comes out ... I don't want her worrying about the future."
Smith slid his feet off his desk and stood up. "You sure are a glutton for punishment, Richards. But, if you want to wallow in it, that's your business, I suppose." He led the way to the door. "Follow me."
This was an unexpected development for John, the scenario as he had envisioned it calling for an aide or secretary to be the one who was directed to take him to his wife. But it seemed Smith was taking the chore on personally. Ah, well, it was only a slight deviation from his expectations.
Smith checked on Gloria's room number with the receptionist and John made a mental note of her answer-11C. He also surreptitiously glanced at his watch-the ten minutes were almost up.
There was no elevator to the second story of Dr. Smith's domain and the staircase lay beyond two glass swinging doors. They should help cut down any hullabaloo being heard upstairs, thought John, but one of the doors only partially closed-to behind Smith. At the top of the stairs, he again passed through first at Smith's bidding-and then the row started, scream upon scream from below. Even a duty nurse sifting at a desk along the corridor heard it.
Smith had just been on the point of letting go the swinging doors at the top of the stairs when the cries echoed up. He looked quickly at John, and his face contorted with hatred and fear. "This is your doing, Richards!" he hissed. "Come back with me."
Instead John started backing away from him fast, then scuttled sideways along the corridor wall, nearly bowling over the nurse as she left the desk to find out what the noise was all about. Smith at first made as if to follow the store president but changed his mind in mid-stride and instead disappeared down the stairs. John began frantically checking door numbers.
He burst through the door marked "11C" and vainly looked for signs of his wife. "Gloria," he shouted at the top of his voice. "Gloria!" As he headed into the room, his wife dressed in a pale-blue ankle-length gown and carrying two pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other appeared at the bathroom door.
"Gloria, thank God you're safe!" He advanced to embrace her. The pills and the glass fell from her hands and she fainted into his arms.
"Dad!" came a cry from behind him. Clumsily supporting his wife he turned around. His daughter in skirt and blue stood in the doorway.
"Dad, what's happening? I heard your shout, I was just down the hall. Was Mom in this room all the time?"
John had half-carried, half-dragged his wife over to the bed when he heard another voice at the doorway. "Excuse me, young lady. It's a good thing I recognized you from the camp."
He turned to find with amazement that Mrs. Mellor was trying to insinuate her bulk between the door-post and Patty. She grasped with menacing firmness a blackjack in her right hand.
"What in hell's name...!"
"Ah, there you are, Mr. Richards. And Mrs. Richards. Good. Just came along to help. Couldn't let Peter have all the fun. Wanted me to 'Look after the fort', of all things! I told him I'd be much more valuable here." She glanced again at Gloria. "And from the look of Mrs.
Richards I was right, too!"
John backed away from her as she came forward to minister to Gloria, tucking the blackjack in her coat pocket and opening the voluminous purse she'd been carrying on her left arm. "Never know what you might need when you get into one of these mad scrambles," she said, half to herself. "Best to bring everything." She noticed John was at the doorway, looking down the corridor. "Shouldn't bother going looking for Peter yet, Mr. Richards. He'll find you soon enough." She lifted Gloria's head gently and held a phial under her nose. "Moments like this, it's best you stay close to home. Meaning in this case, I suppose, your kinfolk."
Sims still hadn't shown up when a couple of the camp counselors appeared to say they'd been designated to look for Mr. Richards and help him down to his car if he'd found his wife and daughter. No, they didn't know where Pete Sims was now, but everything was quiet downstairs. Pete had gone around announcing to all the patients and staff that the bailiffs had been ordered in by Smith's creditors for non-payment of debts! Everybody was "requested" to remain at the clinic for a while until a fast inventory had been taken, then patients and staff would be free to go.
by the time bags had been quickly packed Gloria was almost able to walk unaided again, although her brain was still befogged by the speed of events and the drugs she's been given. The whole party easily got down the stairs to the elevator, where Mrs. Mellor suggested Mr. Richards alone look for Peter Sims while the rest of the group continue the journey non-stop to the parking-lot where Mrs. Richards and Patty could rest and wait for him in the car. John agreed, assuring his wife he would be only a moment, and by the time the elevator doors had shut on them, Sims himself was coming out of Rosetta's office.
"I broke my journey just to say 'Thanks' and also to say we hope to see you again soon," John said in answer to Sims' questioning raised eyebrows. "What happened to Smith?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Sims chuckled with great amusement. "He's agreed it's best he leave town-the state even. I reminded him of one or two things from his past. Things that if noised abroad wouldn't get him a license to sell candy." He chuckled again. "Especially candy!" He turned to point to one of his 'boy's' appearing to be engrossed in making elaborate notes about the state and type of the office furniture. "You heard about my little caper-being the bailiff?"
John threw his head back and laughed. "Yes," he said. "But why?"
Sims shrugged. "Just to cover tracks. This way everybody goes home happy. How Smith closes down shop is his business, as long as he disappears. But for patients and staff, innocent and guilty alike, it's a normal foreclosing-the place went 'bankrupt', period. Some of the 'analyst's' more intimate members of staff-the 'doctors' and orderlies-those I've had a little talk with, too, and now they're on their way, each honored with a two-man escort as far as some point on the state line. But as far as any local people are concerned, there won't be any more publicity warranted than whatever usually goes with a routine business failure."
John shook his hand. "That's the silver-lining!"
"Rest easy, my friend," said the camp director, accompanying John to the elevator. "You're all going to recover from this. When we meet again, I think I'll see a happy family." He winked, slowly, as John stepped back into the elevator car. "One where every member has gained considerably in maturity."
The automatic doors twanged-to, and John descended to join his wife and daughter.
