‘This is Dr Mick Galloway,’ she told the group, a little breathlessly. ‘He works mostly with the drug addiction group but has extensive experience in sexual matters.’
‘You flatter me, Dr Parrish,’ Dr Galloway said, in a smooth Western Irish accent. Shelley could see why Verity was a-flutter and began to warm to the counsellor. Going to pieces in front of attractive men was something Shelley and she had in common.
‘Pay attention to this fine lady,’ the dishy medic continued. ‘There’s nothing you can teach her regarding sexual excess.’
‘Sounds like a challenge,’ Cliff said, grinning at Shelley.
After dinner was coffee in the lounge. Alcohol was forbidden of course. Though none of the patients had many inhibitions left, it was better to err on the side of caution. Shelley was gagging for a glass of wine – one of those enormous glasses the Government says you shouldn’t have. She couldn’t understand that one, and had written an article about it. What difference did it make how big the glass was? A smaller glass just meant you’d fill it up more often.
Shelley waited until everyone else had sat before she positioned herself next to Rose. Cian looked a little disappointed. About her, or Rose, she couldn’t tell.
Everyone was tired, and conversation ran mostly to discussions about the programme over the next few days. Each day varied. There were gym sessions, more confessionals, lectures and seminars on various subjects, with the occasional bit of free time. In addition, there were to be one-on-ones with Dr Galloway. Great, Shelley thought, another thing to be nervous about.
She tried to put it out of her mind and sank back into the luxurious sofa, letting the hubbub of the conversations wash over her. Again she found her first romantic attachment swimming back into focus.
It was a month after Shelley’s first kiss, and she was at a party with Rhianna, Rod and Tom, who now seemed to think he was Shelley’s boyfriend though she wasn’t entirely sure how he’d got that idea. Still she was curious about what would happen next, and she didn’t hate him, per se.
Having a boyfriend helped get you invited to parties, especially someone like Tom who was popular in the school on account of how his parents owned a record shop to which he owned a key, and which was curiously prone to stock control problems.
They were in someone’s bedroom sitting in a circle on the carpet, a bottle in the middle. Someone spun it and it pointed at Tom. Someone spun it again and it pointed at the wall between Shelley and Rhianna.
‘Shelley!’ everyone cried out. Shelley squinted doubtfully. It was really pointing more to Rhianna than to her, but she guessed that wasn’t the way the game was played. She shrugged inwardly and stood up. Tom looked like he was about to faint, he was so pale. God alone knew what he was expecting, but Shelley was pretty sure her intentions weren’t a mirror image of his. Nonetheless, she stepped into the wardrobe and helped Tom into the narrow space after her. Rod closed the door behind them, leering. ‘Sixty seconds,’ he said, almost drooling over the implausible fantasy running in his head.
Then he shut the door. It was pitch black.
Shelley sat stock still. Tom didn’t move either. He just said, ‘Er.’
‘Ten seconds!’ Rod called out.
Shelley realised she was going to have to kick this off and leaned forward. Unfortunately, Tom did the same. Crack! She sat back, rubbing her head and giggling. Tom grunted in annoyance. Then she felt him lunge towards her, his slobbery lips colliding with her cheek. He shifted until his lips were on hers and began trying to eat her.
‘Twenty seconds!’ Rod called out gleefully.
Is that all? Shelley thought.
Then she felt one of Tom’s hands on her right boob. She stiffened in surprise. She’d never been touched intimately before. Before she could decide whether she liked it or not, he suddenly squeezed it, hard, and she yelped in pain.
‘Sorry!’ he said.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Shelley asked. It’s not a fucking avocado!
‘Sorry,’ he repeated desperately.
‘Thirty seconds!’
Shelley was beginning to realise Tom was no more experienced than she was. She fumbled about until she had his hand, and then took hold of it.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered, warming to the boy. ‘I’m nervous too.’
She held his hand until Rod opened the door again. They emerged, blinking into the light, transformed from innocent wannabes to tentative allies, together against the world. A world of confusing, contradictory messages of sex and relationships.
Shelley was snapped out of her memories by Rose.
‘You look like you’re dropping off,’ the ex-porn star said with a smile. ‘It’s making me tired just watching you. Think I might head up.’
‘I’ll come too,’ Shelley said, yawning, though she was wondering if it was a good idea. She was trying not to think about the fact that Rose had earlier that day admitted to being unable to stop fucking even after a three-day orgy that nearly made her bleed. They were now to share a cramped bedroom.
They said their good nights and left the room, nearly bumping into Sandra as she headed for the door, coat on.
‘Goodnight, ladies,’ Sandra said, smirking. ‘Keep your hands to yourselves tonight, eh?’
‘As attractive as my friend Shelley is,’ Rose said coolly, ‘Some of us are capable of professional restraint.’
Sandra glowered, and then turned to Shelley. ‘Dr Parrish told me you were a nurse,’ she said, looking Shelley up and down with a dubious look that suggested she’d sooner have believed she was an astronaut.
‘That’s right,’ Shelley said, feeling herself flush slightly. ‘In Australia,’ she added to forestall the inevitable follow-up questions.
‘Oh yeah?’ Sandra said. ‘Whereabouts in Australia?’
‘Oh it was a pretty small place,’ Shelley said, floundering a little.
‘I lived there for a couple of years and worked in a few small hospitals,’ Sandra pressed. ‘What was the place called?’
‘Erm, Warrumbungle… burra Hospital, Infirmary,’ Shelley offered.
‘Warrumbungleburra?’ Sandra repeated. ‘Never heard of it.’
‘There you are,’ Shelley said in triumph. ‘Told you it was small.’
‘Leaving so soon, Sandra?’ a voice said from behind them. It was Cian, come to save the day. ‘I’d hoped you and I could share a quiet moment in one of the consultation rooms.’
Sandra glared at him. ‘I don’t care who you are outside, Lover Boy,’ she snapped. ‘In here I’m in charge and I’ll thank you to keep your perverted ideas to yourself. You’re supposed to be in a sex addiction group and you’re coming on to the nurse?’
‘I haven’t started the course properly yet,’ Cian protested. ‘Until I’ve done my story I’m still a sex pest and I’m determined to make the most of it.’ With that he stepped towards Sandra, who squealed and rushed off through the front doors, slamming them behind her.
The girls laughed, and Cian winked at them. ‘The charms are fading. Goodnight, ladies.’
Up in the room, Rose yawned and announced she was exhausted, to Shelley’s relief.
‘I’ll pop in the shower,’ Shelley said, ‘and get changed in there, so as not to disturb you.’
She took her bag into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her. She planned to take her time in the shower, have a good scrub and then, hopefully, Rose would be asleep and Shelley could write out her confessional and e-mail it to Aidan.
She slipped off her clothes and leant into the shower to turn the knob. As she waited for the water to warm, she inspected herself in the mirror. As ever she was neither particularly pleased nor dreadfully disappointed. She was happy being a brunette, and she could see she had a pretty, if unexceptional, face. Shivering slightly in the cool room, she ran her hands down over her waist, with just a trace of a tummy. Her boobs were small but firm; she cupped her hands under them and massaged them gently, wondering what it would be like
to have sex with a camera lens shoved into your nether regions.
Shelley looked down there. Her lady-garden needed a bit of pruning, she decided. Months of neglect were making themselves known through excess growth. Imagine a hot razor scraping at your most tender spots, she thought. The idea made her shiver, though with disgust or excitement she didn’t want to think about.
She slipped a hand down between her legs and felt wetness. Rose’s story had turned her on more than she’d admitted to herself. Shaking her head to clear it, she stepped under the powerful shower..
Shelley soaped herself up. She was trying to get sexy thoughts out of her head, but it was difficult while lathered and while thinking about the best way to write the cock-filled narrative she’d listened to earlier in the day.
She found herself rubbing herself between her legs a little longer than was strictly necessary and she stopped suddenly. Shelley grabbed the shower head and directed it down there to remove the soap. She opened herself up with a couple of fingers. ‘I’m just washing,’ she told herself and continued rubbing.
Just then the door swung open with a bang and Rose marched in. Shelley, who had been crouching a little, stood straight up and dropped the shower head with a clang.
‘Don’t mind me,’ said Rose through the steam. ‘Just needed to brush my teeth.’
Shelley felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how much Rose could have seen though the foggy glass but dropping the shower head in surprise probably gave the game away. She also couldn’t help but notice that Rose was wearing a see-through negligee. Not the sort of thing first on the list of things to pack when attending a sex-addiction class, but maybe it was all she had. For her part, Shelley had brought a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a selection of baggy old t-shirts.
She turned her back on the other woman and began washing her face instead.
‘Night, night,’ Rose said eventually and closed the door behind her.
Shelley decided that not only had she better keep her hands to herself, as Sandra had suggested, she’d better keep them away from herself too, especially when there were others about.
The thing was that she was horny as hell. She tried to think of something else as she dried herself. After taking her time getting dressed and brushing her teeth, she peeked out through the door and saw Rose curled up in bed, sleeping soundly. Shelley took out her BlackBerry. Noticing a power point, she went back into her bag for her charger. She rummaged for a good five minutes before she finally admitted to herself she hadn’t brought the damn thing. The battery on the device would give her a good few hours, but there was a lot of copy to write, she would probably need to charge it up at least once.
She rolled her eyes, sat on the loo and turned it on. There were e-mails from Aidan and Briony.
Shelley, still working on your cover story, apologies for the delay. We’ve had the auditors in looking through last year’s accounts. But if pressed, say you were at the Queen Adelaide Hospital in Cairns. If they ask who your supervisor was, tell them Jane Masson, she’s an old friend who’ll confirm your story if anyone calls.
More soon, currently working on your character’s early sexual exploits. Good luck. Aidan Carter
Well, that didn’t help, she thought. The idea of Aidan sitting in his flat writing about Shelley having sex with ambulance crews on deserted Australian beaches wasn’t doing anything to dampen her flames.
She read the e-mail from Briony
Hey girlie, still haven’t found that dildo, seem to remember inserting it into someone on that Friday night before you left. Maybe it’s still where I put it. Oh well, must pop down to Ann Summers for areplacement, I’ve heard good things about the Berserk Bunny; apparently it has three extra prongs. Can’t think what the third is for but looking forward to finding out.
Miss you,
Brie
Shelley smiled. ‘I miss you too,’ she whispered. Rose would know what to do with the third prong, she thought.
Then Shelley opened a new e-mail and started to write Rose’s story.
Two hours later, thumbs sore, Shelley crawled into bed. Her mind still racing, she glanced over at the sleeping form in the bed next to her. Rose’s shoulder raised and lowered gently as she breathed. Shelley slipped into a doze.
When she awoke, she was lying on a hospital gurney. Through a window to her left she saw a glorious blue sky and heard the haunting sound of didgeridoos. A boomerang whistled past the window, only to return a few seconds later pursued by a bouncing kangaroo.
How did I get to Australia? Shelley thought, and made to sit up. But she couldn’t. She was strapped to the gurney. As she looked down at herself she realised in horror that she was totally naked. Then, to make matters worse, the door swung open and in walked Aidan Carter and the staff of Vixen magazine. Shelley desperately tried to close her legs but found these strapped to the side of the gurney.
‘Good morning, Ms Matthews,’ Aidan said cheerfully in a dreadful Australian accent. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought some students in to have a look at you today.’
Freya leaned forward and had a good old stare. The post-room boys were taking pictures on their mobiles. Briony gave her the thumbs up.
‘Actually,’ Shelley said, ‘I bloody well do mind! And can I have a gown?’
But Dr Carter, as he was, ignored her and reached over to a tray, picking up a sleek black truncheon that was over a foot long.
‘What the hell is that?’ Shelley asked. Despite her position, or maybe because of it, she felt a tingling in her loins.
Aidan looked at her in surprise. ‘This is for your treatment, Ms Matthews. Don’t you remember? This is what you need. To get better.’ And with that he strode forward and stroked the tip of the truncheon across Shelley’s naked belly. She shivered involuntarily.
Aidan leaned over and kissed her on the lips as she felt the truncheon slide down towards her open legs. She closed her eyes and imagined she was Rose, being penetrated by three men and drinking a glass of champagne. Think about it, Rose had said.
When it happened she came quickly and hard, thrusting up against the pressure of the rigid, black instrument.
The orgasm woke Shelley up and she lay there for a few moments wondering how that had happened before she realised she had a hand down in her trackie bums. Her dream self had decided she needed a little treat after all.
Chapter Eight
Next morning after breakfast, Shelley felt surprisingly good.
They’d been woken by Sandra, which had been a bit of an unpleasant surprise.
‘There you are,’ she said, setting down to steaming mugs. ‘Two cups of medicine.’ Then guffawed at her own ‘joke’ before leaving them to it.
Rose glanced over at Shelley, puzzled. ‘Is she serious? Is there something in the tea?’
Shelley sniffed it. ‘What was it they used to put in schoolboys’ tea to stop them playing the wrong sort of games with each other? Bromide?’
‘I think so, does it smell funny?’
They decided not to drink the tea. Shelley poured it down the sink and they went down to breakfast in the canteen. Abigail, Cliff and Cheryl were already there. The swingers smiled and gave her a cheery welcome. Abigail just nodded. Shelley realised she’d barely spoken a word beyond her introduction since the course started.
Sandra wasn’t around so the breakfast was mercifully free of phallic objects, not even sausages. Shelley was ravenous and chose bacon and scrambled eggs with toast after she’d failed to satisfy her hunger with a bowl of muesli. In fact, she thought, looking around, the centre was almost entirely free of anything even remotely sexual. There were no red-tops available, only the Guardian and Independent were allowed, and even they had the arts sections removed so no errant tits could sneak through. Cure by broadsheet, Shelley thought. The magazines were all Horse and Hounds, or Provincial Kitchens.
Shelley’s admittedly hurried research on the centre had informed her it didn’t just cater for sex addi
cts; there were other addictions catered to as well, drugs and alcohol being the most extensive programme. Also the sexual health clinic dealt with a huge variety of other sex-related psychological problems. All in all, it was clear the interior designers had been given a brief to keep everything as neutral and flat as possible. The most erotic thing in the room was an uncovered, though admittedly rather shapely, table leg.
Will popped up behind her as she reached the end of the queue for the hot food. ‘Carry your tray, Shelley?’ he said, but he was interrupted by Dr Parrish who wanted to ensure he wasn’t pestering Shelley.
‘Save your strength for your confessional today, Mr Trewin,’ she said primly, and led him away by an elbow. Hmph, thought Shelley. Carry your tray indeed. Did he think this was the 1950s?
‘I’ll take that for you, Madam,’ Cian said, grabbing Shelley’s tray and motioning for her to lead the way. Shelley tittered like a schoolgirl, instantly charmed by the offer. The difference between a gallant offer and a sexist one has a great deal to do with how much you fancy the bloke making it.
Shelley couldn’t help but notice that Cian looked a little rough, like he hadn’t had much sleep. Then Larry entered and Shelley realised he too looked awful, unshaven, with bags under his eyes and a pale, puffy look. Were the boys ill? Had they smuggled a girl into the room, or some magazines?
‘Great,’ Verity said, once they were all there, munching away, ‘We didn’t lose anyone in the night, then? Don’t laugh, it’s happened before. One course we lost three in the first week.’
After breakfast, Shelley spent a couple of hours in the gym and pool trying not to think about anything in particular. Then there was a brief session in the River Room, at the front of the building, where there was a projector. Verity closed the blinds and Cian clapped at the back. ‘A film,’ he squeaked happily, ‘starring Rose Saintly, perhaps?’
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