(1987) The Celestial Bed (14 page)

‘Doesn’t it?’ Demski said uncertainly. ‘Doesn’t a female -doesn’t she think something big inside her can be - can gratify her more than something small?’

‘Adam, the female vagina is built to accommodate almost any size, and get pleasure from it. You could put your little finger in my vagina, and my folds would close around your little finger, encompass it, and eventually lubricate it as I enjoy its movement. In the same way, the vagina can absorb and encompass four or five of your fingers. The vagina accommodates all sizes. After all, the vagina makes room for a nine-pound baby to emerge from it and be born. The vagina can handle any size penis and get equal pleasure from it. I speak from my own experiences.’

Demski stared at himself at the mirror. ‘You mean, if I could get

it up, it could make a woman happy.’ He blinked at her reflection in the mirror. ‘It could make you happy?’

She smiled. ‘We’ll prove it.’

He appeared to be somewhat soothed but not ready yet to leave the subject of his penis and go to the remaining parts of his anatomy.

He wanted to be reassured once more. Gayle was willing. They discussed his penis, his dysfunction, the possibilities of sexual pleasure, for almost ten more minutes.

Gayle wound up by summarising her thoughts about girlie magazines and their stories again. ‘Those sexy stories are great for erotic fantasy, but they give you a terrible sex education. In those stories, not only do the heroes have abnormally oversized penises, but once inside a woman they can keep going all night. An impressionable and uncertain young man reading that nonsense believes it’s the truth, and when he tries to emulate those heroes, he can’t. So he begins to develop anxiety. I’m sure that’s one of the negative things that happened to you.’

‘I guess maybe it did.’

Now, somewhat satisfied, Demski turned back to the full-length mirror and went on to discuss his hips and legs and feet.

After he had finished, he still gave his attention to his penis. She -thought that he was regarding it less as an abomination, more as a friendly part of himself.

Gayle came to her feet. ‘All right,’ she said. She walked towards him as he turned around to meet her. She knew that he was considering taking hold of her, but she kept her distance.

‘Do you want to get dressed now?’ she said nicely.

‘Not especially.’ He laughed. His first outright laugh. ‘Of course, I will,’ he said, to prove he had been joking.

My God, she thought, handing him his jock shorts, he sounds like a human being at last, not like a frightened rabbit.

My God.

She wanted to sing.

After Demski had left, somewhat jauntily, Gayle dressed carefully, and went outside to her Honda in the driveway.

A half hour later, she had parked in the area allotted them next to the Market Grill, walked cheerfully to the clinic, and was surprised to find the lights on downstairs and upstairs, and the front door still open.

Even though the reception desk was unoccupied, Gayle was sure that Freeberg and Suzy Edwards were still at work upstairs. But Gayle’s mind was on completing her evening’s assignment. She entered one of the recording rooms, removed her jacket, and sat down to prepare a tape for Freeberg on her second session with Adam Demski.

She dictated for twenty minutes, and had just finished when the soundproof padded door behind her was pushed open.

Her visitor was Suzy Edwards. ‘If you’re still working …’ she said apologetically.

‘All done,’ said Gayle.

‘Well, if you don’t mind, if you have time, Dr Freeberg wondered if you could come by and see him.’

‘Only too happy to. One sec, Suzy, let me reverse this tape and label it. You can transcribe it in the morning.’

After Gayle had given the tape cassette to Suzy, she preceded her up the staircase to Dr Freeberg’s office.

It was as if Freeberg had been eagerly awaiting her. He sat tapping the end of a pencil on his desk blotter, while he welcomed her with a cheerful hello, and gestured her to a chair.

‘Let me tell you what this is all about,’ Freeberg began. ‘It’s about the possibility of your taking on a second patient right now. I know you’re busy enough with Mr Demski, but I wonder if you could take on another patient simultaneously? I could turn this over to one of our new surrogates, but the new case I have in mind is a premature ejaculation one. The very kind of case you had such success with when we were in Arizona. If it’s not too much …’

Gayle had already made up her mind. She had great pride in her ability to retard premature ejaculation. It would be gratifying to get another lost soul on his feet. And the extra money would help toward her expenses if she were accepted by the psychology department at UCLA.

‘It’s not too much at all,’ she said briskly. ‘When do we start?’

‘Tomorrow, if possible. It’s to be an intensive programme. The patient has limited time.’

‘I’m clear tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Good. We can have a preliminary meeting with him at nine in the morning. How’s that?’

‘I’ll be here. Can you tell me anything now?’

Freeberg took a sheaf of papers from his desk and shoved it across to Gayle. ‘There’s the case history. You can review it tonight.’ As she folded the papers and stuffed them into her bag, Freeberg went on, ‘He’s a young writer, a magazine freelancer named Chet Hunter.’

‘I don’t recognise the name.’

‘He’s still struggling. His dysfunction may be an obstruction to his work.’

‘I hope I can help. Is he a good writer?’

Freeberg shrugged. ‘I’d say this one needs some rewriting.’ More seriously, Freeberg said, ‘He’s a little too fast and anxious. He even wants to hurry through our programme, which is not unexpected. While you might move him along at a steady pace, still it wouldn’t hurt to slow him down.’

‘If I can, I’ll do it,’ said Gayle.

‘I’m confident,’ said Freeberg. ‘At nine o’clock in the morning, Chet Hunter and I will be waiting.’

Passing the Market Grill on her way to the parking lot, Gayle decided that she wanted a cup of coffee.

Inside, the restaurant was almost empty. She was about to sit at the counter, when she saw someone waving from a booth. Then she recognised that the man signalling her was Paul Brandon. He looked as attractive as he had the last time she had seen him here, in fact better in his sports jacket and turtleneck sweater, and she made up her mind to join him.

After calling out her coffee order, she strode over to Brandon’s booth and slid in across from him.

‘How are you, Gayle?’ he asked.

‘Never better. Busy. Hey, I hear tell that you’re busy, too. Freeberg got you a patient. Is that so?’

‘Oh yes. A local lady. Very interesting.’

The waitress delivered Gayle’s coffee, and Gayle busied herself sweetening it.

Without looking up, Gayle said, ‘So she’s interesting? Well, that’s lucky.’ Gayle paused. ‘Is she pretty?’

‘Not Miss America, but attractive in a plain way. She’s rather shy, which lends her a certain charm.’

T see. Have you helped her overcome her shyness?’

‘A little, I think.’ He appeared reluctant to discuss his case.

‘What about you, Gayle? How’s it going with you? I know you have a case.’

‘Two, in fact.’ She sipped her coffee.

‘Two?’ He grimaced. ‘Isn’t that a bit of a load?’

‘No, not at all. I can manage. The first one, as you know, is impotency, the tougher of the pair but we’re well on our way. The new one is premature ejaculation. I’m rather good at curing that, if I do say so.’

‘Two of them?’ Brandon repeated. ‘But how — ?’

She laughed. ‘Not together, silly. I’m going to do them alternately, if possible. There is some pressure, but it’s a challenge.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re something. I’m barely able to make it with one. But two … I don’t think I could …’

‘You’re a man,’ she said. ‘Ultimately, you have to get it up. So more than one would be asking a lot of you. With women, with me, it’s not the same problem.’

Brandon had become uncommunicative. Gayle sipped her drink and tried to guess what was on his mind. Her mention of two male patients had upset him. Was he disapproving? Was he a competitive male before he was a trained surrogate? Could he be regarding her as some kind of easy lay? No, that was impossible. Still, men were incredible in their expectations of a woman.

Another thought occurred to her. Could he be jealous?

That was impossible. He hardly knew her. He could not be remotely possessive.

Still, who could tell?

Taking him in once more, Gayle reaffirmed that he was attractive and that she was drawn to him. She wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms. To be embraced by him when both of them were naked.

This was ridiculous, she decided, and too quickly she changed the subject, launching into an account of her application to UCLA for a scholarship. Then, she asked him how he was doing subbing as a science teacher.

‘Well enough to keep my head above water,’ he replied.

‘You may drown, if most of your teaching has to do with sex education classes in the secondary schools. Does it?’

‘It does. What do you mean by saying I may go under?’

‘There’s an evangelist here in Hillsdale - I think his name is

Scrafield - who’s been on television weekly ranting about sex education in the schools. I caught a bit of his show twice. To me, he was revolting. But maybe, to others, persuasive. He wants to give sex education back to the family.’

‘Which is like giving evolution back to the Bible,’ said Brandon. ‘That guy - Scrafield, you say? — is obviously a nut. I’m not worried about him. Sex education is in the schools to stay. So don’t worry about my drowning.’

When she’d drained her cup of coffee, she gathered up her bag and bill. He tried to take her bill from her. She held on to it. ‘No. This time we go Dutch.’ She started to rise. ‘I’d better be going.’

‘Me, too,’ he said, standing. ‘Do you happen to have a car?’

‘Next door. Need a lift?’

‘If you don’t mind,’ Brandon said. T should have my own car tomorrow. I bought a nice secondhand Chevy. They’re still tuning the motor.’

‘Well, tonight you can be my guest.’

After paying the cashier, they walked silently out to her Honda. She got behind the wheel, and he sat beside her.

‘Turn right,’ he said as they left the parking lot.

He directed her to a five-storey apartment building. He pointed at it. ‘My new digs,’ he said.

Gayle drew up at the kerb near the front door and let her engine idle as he got out, then came around the car to her side.

He opened her door. ‘Why don’t you park it, and come up and see my new apartment? It’s a nice one. Maybe you’d like to have a look?’

She sat unmoving, her hands on the wheel.

‘You’re inviting me to come to your place?’ she said.

‘Why, yes.’

‘Then what?’ she said.

He was taken aback. ‘Why, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We — ’

T know, Paul,’ she said. ‘You want to take me to bed.’

He stared down at her. ‘Now that you mention it, not exactly a bad idea. In fact, a very good idea.’

He held out his hand for her, but she ignored it.

‘Paul,’ she said, ‘let’s get off on the right foot. First, if I went to your apartment, I’d go to bed with you. I’d want to. But not tonight. Two reasons. One, I don’t want you to think I’m a pushover. Two, I don’t think I can handle three men in one week.’

She closed the door. He leaned towards her, but she said, ‘And no good-night kiss. That could ruin all my resolve. Let’s save something for next time.’

‘Next time,’ he said, cherishing the words as if they were pearls.

‘Definitely,’ she said, gunning the engine and then shifting into drive. ‘Don’t call me. I’ll call you.’

And she and her car were off, as he stood looking after her, heart beating harder and feeling utterly flabbergasted.

Five

It was during his interview and discussion with his latest patient, Chet Hunter, and the surrogate assigned to the case, Gayle Miller, that Dr Freeberg received the unexpected telephone call.

At nine twenty-one in the morning, Freeberg’s ICM button on his phone lit up, and his secretary’s voice came on. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Doctor,’ said Suzy Edwards, ‘but I have Mr Hoyt Lewis, the District Attorney of Hillsdale, on the line. He wants to speak to you.’

Annoyed by the interruption, Freeberg flipped off the tape recorder and replied, ‘The District Attorney, you say? I have no business I know of with him, and I’m tied up right now. Can’t it wait?’

‘I’m afraid not, Dr Freeberg. Mr Lewis insists on speaking to you. He says it’s important.’

Freeberg had been glaring at the phone, but then Suzy’s message gave him a pause of apprehension. ‘Well — ‘ he said, becoming less resistant. ‘Okay, Suzy, if it’s so important, you might as well put him through.’ He lifted the receiver, held a palm over the mouthpiece, and apologised to his patient and surrogate. ‘Excuse me, Mr Hunter … Gayle. You heard. The District Attorney.’

Hunter and Gayle both indicated their understanding as Freeberg brought his palm away from the mouthpiece and drew the receiver closer.

‘Hello,’ he said into the phone. ‘This is Dr Freeberg.’

‘Ah, Dr Freeberg, glad I could get hold of you,’ came the voice from the other end, at once hearty and jovial, ‘and sorry to butt in on your busy day. I’m Hoyt Lewis, the city’s District Attorney. We’ve never met, but I’ve heard of you.’

‘I’ve heard of you, too, Mr Lewis. What can I do for you?’

‘We need to meet personally, Doctor. It’s some local matter that’s come up. Nothing I can go into on the phone. Just something I want to discuss briefly. The sooner the better.’

‘How soon?’

‘Like today, if possible. Even later this morning, before lunch. Can you make it?’

Freeberg had bent over to examine his calendar and appointments. ‘I’m just looking to see - ‘ He nodded at the mouthpiece. ‘Yes, I could schedule a meeting this morning. I have a heavy work load in the afternoon. But this morning I’ll be clear from eleven o’clock on. Is that satisfactory?’

‘Perfect. Eleven is perfect.’

‘Where’s your office, Mr Lewis?’