Chapter Two: Sexual Healing
Time to see the shrink. I have to wonder just what it is I’m suppose to get out of these sessions. Usually I get a headache, and if that’s what I’m paying for I want my money back. AJ and Kevin give me those for free.
JC was a proponent of the “couch” technique. I discovered there was no use fighting JC, so I got comfortable and waited for her. Apparently she was involved with Max as this was the only thing that could make her late for a session. Howie had a bloody nose the day before and she couldn’t have cared less. I think this was tacky, seeing as it was Max’s exuberance for Howie, shown by throwing his large head back and thereby whacking Howie on the nose, that had caused the blood-letting.
Just as I was about to drift off (I guess I wasn’t getting enough sleep) JC joined me in deep doctor mode. This was communicated nonverbally through the use of a notebook, glasses, and a large bun in her hair. I guess she thought it made her look professional. I thought she looked like a model pretending to be a doctor, and one that wasn’t pulling it off very well.
“OK Nick! Let’s talk stress.”
“Fine.” I have a few things to say.
“What’s on your mind?” Your breast, but let’s not go there.
“J....Dr. Prade,” She also felt we should have a “strictly professional” relationship while in session. At all other times anything goes. “ I would like to discuss your tendency to come into the bathroom when I’m using it.” This should start some interesting discourse.
“Hummm...interesting, Nick. Now, why do you use the word “come”?” Well, I was right.
“NOT c..u..m..., c..o...m...e!” This woman is too Freudian.
“I see. Interesting, Nick.” I am coming...excuse the pun, to hate that phrase. “You seem to be relating this in a sexual context.”
“I am NOT! You are!”
“Now Nick, you seem very stressed. Let’s go on to something else.” Please. “Yesterday you had words with Brain, and I noticed you seemed upset after.”
“I don’t see how that relates to this.” Ambiguity is my friend.
“Now Nick, no games, remember.” Yes, Dr. Come.
“Fine. We had a small spat.” So there.
“Concerning?”
“It was nothing, really.”
“Nick.”
“It’s not important.”
“NICK.”
“His feet.” That stopped her cold. I’m rather proud of myself.
“Brian’s feet? You fought about Brian’s feet?” She was stunned. “Really?” Then ecstatic. She probably felt she had stumbled on some weird sexual fantasy of mine. I really hated to disappoint her. Not that I wanted this rumor, that’s all I need, but this could keep her busy - and therefore out of my bathroom - for days.
“They smell.”
“I see. Do they smell....good?” Oh yea. She was going for it. I’d better put her out of my misery. I can’t stand to watch people drool.
“BAD. They smell like spoiled milk. It’s skanky.” JC’s face fell a mile. “We played B-ball and went back to my room (Leigh Anne was out shopping) and he took his shoes off! In my room! I had to have housekeeping come up and spray.” Good ole housekeeping. They are some of my favorite people.
“I see.” And she did. She was also disappointed. Well, hell.
“I did have this dream...” Not really. I just hate to see people unhappy. Well, beautiful blond women with large breast.
“Hummmm...” She really wasn’t interested.
“I was walking Max,” Her ears pricked up. “And Justin Timberlake was coming towards me walking a duck-billed platypus.” This should heat things up.
“Go on.” She was on the edge of her seat, right on top of me. I could see down her blouse. These sessions might not be so bad after all.
“And the platypus had a bow attached to its head.” JC’s eyes were bugging out. “And as he walked by he waved, and the platypus opened its mouth and said..”
“YES?”
“Hit me baby one more time.” JC could barely breath. “SO, Justin reached down and whacked it on the butt, which I found to be strange. I couldn’t even tell where its butt was...”
“Yes, Yes. Back to the story. Justin hit the platypus on its butt...”
“Yea. So the platypus rolled over on its back and spread its legs...” JC clutched her notebook to her chest. I could see stars in her eyes, the reflection of the Nobel Prize for medicine she would surely win for discovering this new sexual disorder. “...and....”
“AND?” She leaned in closer, which now meant her nipples where brushing my arm. I tell you my arm has all the luck. “AND?”
“And...I woke up.” There are some places even I won’t go.
“You...woke up?”
“Are you OK? You sound a bit ....”
“I’m fine. I swallowed wrong.” JC muttered under her breath. “Perhaps hypnosis.”
“We only have 20 minutes. Shouldn’t we work on stress reducing techniques now?” Actually my stress level was much lower than it had been fifteen minutes ago. JC’s, on the other hand, was about to accompany her into orbit.
“Perhaps for today...”
“No, I really need some work. I HAVE been stressed today.” I gave her my big-eyed innocent look. I had already learned that it worked.
“Oh. Well, let’s work on the breathing.” So we did.
In, out. In, out. In, out. For twenty minutes. I guess it helped, it didn’t hurt. Frankly I feel that taping pictures of the people that stress you on watermelons and launching them from tall building works better.