[Sign Behind the Crime 01.0] Gemini

by Ronnie Allen

  “Impressive. And now that you let her go, what are you going to do?”

  “With what?”

  “You said sex is a very important part of your life. So how are you going to release your tensions now?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve had so many women, looking for the right one, but there was always something missing, and I didn’t see them again.”

  “You just described yourself as a sex addict.”

  “Excuse me? I’ve never thought of myself as a sex addict. I’ve been monogamous with Vicki since we met. No! I am absolutely not a sex addict.”

  “How often do you need sex?”

  “Uh, Vicki and I made love almost every night.” Landers did a double take. “Look, I have a frustrating job, tense and dangerous at times. Sex and the gym are my release.”

  “That’s not what I asked you. Sex for release is not the same thing as making love. You said completely satiated, so sex every night? You, more than anyone, should know that. Orgone Therapy is all about the full orgasm.”

  “Primarily. But it’s a lot more than that. It’s about freeing up the blockages in the body so one can feel the flow of energy, be more fulfilled and sexually satiated, and deal with buried traumas from childhood. All of that which inhibits a productive life. And I said almost every night. But we always had some physical contact before we went to sleep, even if it was just talking and holding each other close. Perhaps I need sex more than most, but I’ve never had a woman say ‘No.’”

  “You’re drawn to women who say ‘yes.’”

  “I’m not a sex addict. I was raised in a home where my parents were always demonstrative. Do you even know what behaviors describe a sex addict?”

  “How long were they married?”

  “Forty-six years. Answer my question.”

  “That’s different from you.”

  John became more irate with this doctor by the moment. “I was single until I was forty-two. I wasn’t going to lead a celibate life. You still didn’t answer my question.”

  “Okay, then. You tell me what describes a sex addict,” Landers demanded.

  “Multiple affairs, one night stands.” Landers hiked his eyebrows. John glared right back. “Don’t look at me like that. The list is far from complete. Consistent use of porn, unsafe sex, cybersex, use of prostitutes, exhibitionism, obsessive dating through personal ads, voyeurism, sexual harassment, molestation, failure to resist sexual impulses, public sex, mood swings, irritability, headaches when the need is there and it’s not satisfied, and history of sexual abuse. These people are armored, emotionally blocked. Shall I continue?”

  “And you can’t pick a few out of that list that pertain to you?”

  “Absolutely not! It isn’t like a Chinese menu. It’s not just one item. It’s a composite. I told you I’ve been monogamous with Vicki since our first night together. Even when I came back to New York and she stayed in Florida, I didn’t go with another woman. Even now the past two weeks, I haven’t sought out another woman,” John shouted. “I don’t have to justify myself to you!”

  He caught himself and shook his head. He hadn’t raised his voice this much in years.

  “You’re very angry.”

  “You’re damn straight, I’m angry. I’m livid! You’re accusing me of something I’m not. So this is going nowhere. And you’re wasting my time. I left a new patient to come here and she could have benefited from more time with me.”

  Landers ignored John’s outburst. “And you never had a long-term relationship before Vicki?”

  “On and off. Why do you only want to talk about sex?”

  “That’s my specialty.”

  “Are you serious? So that’s why Carlson sent me to you?” John was still louder than usual but a tad more subdued.

  “Guess so. Why did you think?”

  “The age difference. You’re older than me so he knew I’d respect you more.” Now John spoke in a normal tone.

  “So a young therapist couldn’t be effective?”

  “I’d turn them into mincemeat.”

  “That’s angry. You seem to be full of anger today. Is that the way you treat women?”

  John knew damn well he was angry. He didn’t need Landers to tell him that. “No. Not at all. Where did that come from?”

  “Well, the main problem you’re having is with a woman. In your professional life, you’re on top of your game. No need to talk about that.”

  John hesitated a moment before speaking. “Look I thoroughly enjoy sex and making women happy. And being made happy as well.”

  “Even your friends know it’s a problem. Lieutenant Carlson sent you here.”

  “He conned me. Said it was for debriefing the hostage situation.”

  “Why should he have to con you? You’re a psychiatrist. You know the importance and impact therapy can have.”

  “Guess I didn’t want to talk about personal things.”

  “And you’re still resisting. Afraid to give up control?”

  John shot him an I’ve-got-to-get-out-of-here look. This mere psychologist not only hit the target, he hit the bull’s eye.

  “All right, the hour is up. You have two more mandatory hours. Shall I see you next week, same time?”

  John took a deep breath and let out a long deliberate sigh before answering. “Definitely. I don’t know why, but yes. Thank you.”

  They shook hands. Landers smiled. “Anything else you want to say?”

  John was irritated and couldn’t wait to leave. “Like what?”

  “An apology for your aggressive outburst would be appropriate.”

  John was angry at himself for misreading this guy. Still, he wanted to get even. “No way. You’re a therapist. Deal with it.” He snatched open the door, wanting to break off the knob.

  “Sit down, John. You’re not leaving yet.”

  John couldn’t believe he was being spoken to like this. “What?”

  “I never let patients leave in such an angry state. And I don’t have anyone after you today, so consider this session two.”

  “Oh, come on. I can’t take any more of this today,” John muttered as he slumped back down in the chair.

  The comment whizzed straight into Lander’s catcher’s mitt. “What’s going on with that?”

  John clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “I feel like I’m being disciplined, that’s what’s going on. And I had more than enough of that growing up.”

  “Tell me more about that.”

  Damn! Why did I let that slip out?

  Feelings began to surface that John had not had in years. “My parents were very strict. I never got my way with them. When my father was reprimanding me, shivers went through me.”

  “Is that happening now?”

  “Yes,” John admitted, although unwillingly.

  “How did they discipline you?”

  John shifted in the chair to a more prone position. “I was never spanked or hit. They believe hands are only meant to hug. So do I. I could never hit a child--or anyone for that matter. Theirs was mental. I was a very early talker and loved to be with them. They encouraged talking, so no pacifier for me. So the biggest punishment was being sent to my room, away from them. I’d be grounded, couldn’t go out. They’d take away Tae Kwon Do which is a passion of mine, and I couldn’t go to workouts. They gave me extra work assignments. That kind of stuff.”

  “What happened when you got out of control and raised your voice?”

  “Like I did before?”

  “Uh uh.”

  “That really didn’t happen. They didn’t blow up and they didn’t push my buttons so I’d blow. I didn’t see it in my family,” John reminisced. “But I was still getting punishments into my teens.”

  “Give me an example of one.”

  John inhaled deeply before he spoke. “Okay. I had three exams that day, eleventh grade. I was ahead a grade, and I knew I’d aced them. I got straight A’s all the time and I worked very hard for them. But I came ho
me tired and just wanted to vegetate in front of the TV. I’d been watching for about an hour, and my dad said, ‘Okay, enough relaxing. Start your homework before dinner.’ And I said, ‘No.’ I just wanted to relax. We went back and forth a few times. He just casually took the remote, shut off the TV, and ordered me to my room. I got up, sulking, but I went.”

  “And that was the end of it?”

  “No such luck. He came into my room, and I said, ‘Dad, I’m sorry.’ He responded--and this is verbatim, ‘In medical school, you’ll have no time to relax so you better get used to it.’ And, boy, was he ever right. He looked at the historical novel I had to read over the weekend. I had just the first hundred fifty pages to read, which was half, and then answer five essay questions in in the back of the book. It was for an AP English lit course. He told me that since I was grounded for the weekend--which took me by surprise, but punishments were always more than one--he wanted me to read the entire novel and answer the ten questions in the back of the book. I tried to get out of it by saying that it wouldn’t be following my teacher’s instructions, but that didn’t fly. I spent the entire weekend in my room doing that assignment. And I didn’t complain at all about it.”

  “What did your teacher say?”

  “Ah, this one you’ll like.”

  “Why?”

  “My teacher was about twenty-three, on the petite side, and a knock out. Wow, Melody Smythe--every boy in the class had a crush on her. We all fantasized what it would be like to do it with her. And my imagination was really vivid. I handed in the paper, and she saw immediately that it was longer than she’d assigned. She said, ‘John, you didn’t follow my instructions.’ I told her I knew that, but my dad gave it to me as a punishment. And she was like, ‘What did you do?’ I told her that I mouthed off. And she told me to come to her office after school so I could delineate where her assignment left off, and then she said she’d count the rest for next week’s assignment.”

  “Don’t tell me you--”

  John nodded his head and smiled. “Yeah, we had an affair that lasted over eight months.”

  “Eight months? How did that evolve?”

  “At fifteen, I was already built. Not as tall as I am now, but big. I was already shaving. Very sexually mature. Not a virgin. When I went into her office, Melody told me to sit down and I saw that the buttons on her blouse were undone. She took out her ponytail band and her long blonde hair was so sensual. She seduced me and I was quite willing. This woman taught me everything on how to treat a woman. What a woman likes, erogenous zones, cunnilingus, fellatio, how to undress a woman to arouse them more, different kinds of foreplay, that a traditional bed can be boring, every position imaginable, and we were young and very flexible. Everything. She had a couch in the office, but after the first time I went to her apartment, two, sometimes three times a week.”

  Dr. Landers leaned back. “How did you get away with it for so long?”

  “I never bragged about it to my friends. Never told anyone. There was no texting or Facebook back then. We never called each other. We kept it completely to ourselves. I told my parents that I was going to the library after school to do research. I only came home an hour or two late. Then we started on Saturdays, after Tae Kwon Do. I told my mom I had to go to the library. The library worked for a long time. Then a neighbor of hers, a crabby senior, who Melody had told she was tutoring me, saw us. Melody opened the door and we kissed as I was entering the apartment. The neighbor called the police with an incident of child abuse. The cops came and arrested Melody, for child abuse by a person in position of trust, and brought us down to the precinct. It was the only time I was ever handcuffed, and I’ll tell you, it was scary.”

  “And then what?”

  “I tried to convince the cops I wasn’t abused. I actually told the cops in a real cocky tone, ‘Do I look abused?’ I went on to say we were close in age and we were simply enjoying each other. That didn’t go over too well. Melody pled guilty. They’d caught us in bed, naked, with me on top of her and her arms wrapped around me with us kissing. No argument there. She got her teaching license revoked and three years jail time, but she only did about a year. And I got a two-week, in-house suspension. That way, it wouldn’t go on my record. And it led to a of couple months of being grounded. I never went to see her. They told me I wouldn’t be allowed in and my parents forbade it. My parents couldn’t believe that I had gone along with it, and they were so embarrassed, but they met her, and they did realize she was the type I’d go for. And it still is. I only go for blondes. And about twelve years ago, during my psychiatric residency, Melody was institutionalized for schizophrenia, and she became one of my patients. She had moved around the country, teaching in private schools where she didn’t need the state certification, and she had been doing the same thing until she came back to New York where she had a breakdown.”

  “Did she recognize you?”

  “No she didn’t. And that actually hurt my feelings a bit. ‘We had so much fun, and you don’t remember me?’ But I got over it. Melody was so incoherent and non-functioning that she didn’t recognize herself when looking in a mirror. I did recuse myself as her physician because of our history, so I don’t know of her status now.”

  “Are you feeling any calmer now?”

  “Actually, yes. Going through painful memories does that, calms the anger when you let it come out into the open.”

  “Okay then, I’ll see you next week.

  “Thank you, and sorry about the outburst.”

  They shook hands and John left the office, letting out a sigh of relief.

  Damn! What made me hash up all that now? Man, my parents still have a hold on me. I’m forty-five, and they still have the same hold on me as when I was fifteen. How in hell do I change that? I’m the most important person in the world to them.

  CHAPTER 19

  Three Years Earlier:

  John propelled himself across the luxury outdoor seventy-five-foot-by forty-foot kidney-shaped pool in Bueno Terrace without missing a breath. The sun was shining and not a cloud was in sight.

  He enjoyed the elegance and high-end construction of the surroundings. The ninety lounge chairs with strong and supportive cushions, lining the perimeter of the pool on the hexagon shaped tiles, interspersed with tables and umbrellas, presented the utmost in relaxation. Palm trees and red sisters alternated in sections with huge, flat leaf philodendrons in oversized dark green pots, surrounding the perimeter of the gated area. It was truly a tropical resort paradise, dressed up to the max.

  In the lap lane, he was not at all concerned with his hard kicks splashing anyone else in the pool, especially the three sixty-something women in the middle, holding on to their three foot long, Styrofoam noodles which allowed them to float effortlessly. He didn’t care if he made them scatter like pins in a bowling alley. He was in his own little world as he swam lap after lap in perfect swimmer’s-body formation.

  After about ten laps, John stood up and faced the stares of the women. He sauntered out of the pool with a snide smile on his face, knowing everyone ogled him from all directions.

  He had heard the women, but he did what he did best, ignored them. After he moseyed over to his lounge and grabbed a towel, he made himself comfortable and prepared to relish the sun.

  A few moments later, his cell phone rang.

  “Dr. Trenton.”

  “Hi, it’s Vicki. How are ya, darlin’?”

  I didn’t even know her first name. Vicki, that’s cute.

  “I’m doing just fine. I’m at the pool in Bueno. Do you come here?”

  “Yes, actually I do, darlin’. I can be there in twenty.”

  Oh man! That southern voice. She could melt me with that voice.

  “Great, looking forward to it. See you soon.” He hung up, grinning.

  She called. Now let the games begin.

  Right on schedule, he felt Vicki’s presence in front of him as he savored the rays. “You’re blocking my sun.”

&n
bsp; “You better be careful, darlin’. Florida sun is strong.” Taking the lounge next to him, she tossed down her bag and removed her top and shorts, revealing a conservative two-piece girly pink bathing suit showing very little cleavage.

  He turned on his side and looked at her, quite impressed that she didn’t throw herself at him in a skimpy G-string. He appreciated the modesty for a change. He had to respect this one. “How’s the little guy?”

  “I won’t see him till Monday. But I can assure you he’s going to have a lot of problems.”

  “I bet. And your father?”

  “He’s good, too. It was indigestion, not his heart.”

  “That’s great.” He motioned for her to sit on the lounge and moved his legs over to accommodate her. “Come here.”

  She sat on the edge of the lounge, leaning in toward him. Her long, sensuous, sweet-smelling hair fell onto his chest.

  “So where are you taking me to show me the sights?”

  “How about I take you to a country restaurant to show you how the natives have dinner, and then we can go back to my house for dessert.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “I make a great apple pie,” she said.

  He pulled her down on him and whispered in her ear. “I was thinking of something sweeter, that’s simpler with a lot less calories.”

  She giggled like a shy little girl. He sensed her innocence, and again she turned a shade of pink. “Don’t start now, darlin’. My goodness. You are a dangerous man.”

  Blushing again? He contemplated what they’d be doing later. “Acknowledged and agreed. But every woman needs at least one dangerous man in her life. So give me a good reason not to start.”

  “My father is watching us.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. He’s probably walking over here right now.”

  “There is a guy, about sixty-five, medium build, shorts, and T shirt, coming our way.” What? She is an adult, isn’t she?

  “That’s him.” She turned around in the nick of time. “Hi, Daddy.”

  He extended his hand to shake. “Sheriff Marin.”