Sex Practice Page 2

  "She's a common strumpet!"

  "What's that smell?"

  "Smell?"

  "Don't you have some filing to do, Monica?"

  "No, I don't!"

  "Well, some other office duties, then? We must keep busy. Look at the mess on the floor. Idle hands make light work."

  "No, they don't!"

  "Don't they? Oh, no of course they don't! Many hands... we must keep ourselves busy."

  "I'm always busy!"

  "Ah, but busy doing what, Monica - fighting with the clients?"

  "Working!"

  "Good! Members of staff such as you keep this place running efficiently."

  "I'm the only member of staff who keeps this place running efficiently!"

  "There we are, then! What's that saying about the Devil and idle hands?"

  "I have no idea. Doctor Lickman, I'm not one to tell tales, but I feel it my duty to inform you that I caught Brigit bending over earlier."

  "Forward or backwards?"

  "Forward."

  "Heavenly! Er... what's wrong with that? She was probably picking something up. I wonder what it was?"

  "She wasn't wearing any knickers! And her buttocks had pink lines across them! I think someone must have whipped..."

  "Christ, I must take a look! I mean, take a word... have a word. Er... yes, I'll have a word with her about it, Monica. She probably had cause to slip her panties off and rinse them under the tap."

  "Disgusting!"

  "Were they? Perhaps she'd soiled them?" Creamed them with cunny juice.

  "Don't you find it disgusting?"

  "I didn't see them, so it's impossible for me to comment. And I'm not prepared to hazard a guess as to the state of Brigit's panties."

  "No! I mean, it's disgusting going around without knickers!"

  "It's wonderful! Well, not wonderful, exactly. Er... what's the word I'm looking for?"

  "Disgusting!"

  "Oi, Larry!" Her head peering round the waiting room door, Miss Peabody appeared agitated. "Are you going to come and talk about our fuckin' kid or what?"

  "Please, Miss Peabody! I'll be right with you."

  "Our kid?" Monica echoed, her piercing eyes glaring at Larry accusingly. "What have you done?"

  "Done? I've done nothing! You shouldn't have impure thoughts, Monica - it doesn't become you."

  "She said our kid."

  "She means their kid, her and her boyfriend. One would say our kid when referring to one's child. As in one's and one's partner's child, one would say our child, would one not?"

  "No, one would not."

  "Yes one would. If one had two children, when referring to them one would say one's and one's partner's two children, would two not... one would not... I mean, would one not?"

  "What?"

  "One's sorry - one seems to have confused one's brain!"

  "You're behaving like a child!"

  "I'm thirty-five."

  "That's as maybe... I know what you get up to, Doctor Lickman! And I'm not going to stand by and watch you..."

  "The phone's ringing!" Saved by the bell! "As you're an extremely efficient receptionist, an indispensable asset to the practice, I think you'd better answer it, don't you?"

  "I'm going to expose you, Doctor Lickman!"

  "Expose me?" I'd like to expose your cunt... on second thoughts.

  "I know far more than you realize! I've been offered a job at Gina Cology's clinic. Unless things change here, I might be tempted to take it."

  "Why don't you take the job, Monica? You might be happier working for that inorgasmic slag of a bitch."

  "She's a very nice woman. She runs her practice in a professional manner, unlike you."

  "Yes, and she's losing money because I'm taking all her clients! Telephone, Monica!" Bloody woman!

  Slipping into the waiting room, Larry closed the door to confront his wayward client. His dark eyes frowned as he scrutinised Sally Peabody's dishevelled peroxide tresses, her smudged lipstick. Standing with her long legs apart, her stockinged thighs revealed by her almost nonexistent skirt, Larry imagined her panties, bulging with her labia. The ultimate tart, he surmised, watching her take a packet of cigarettes from her red plastic handbag.

  "Now, Sally, what's all this nonsense about you being..."

  "It ain't fuckin' nonsense! I'm fuckin' pregnant!" she hissed, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke high into the air.

  "Well, don't look at me!" Larry returned, nervously straightening his tie and clearing his throat. "Is it still raining? We're not having a very good summer, are we? I blame the Chinese, they shouldn't be allowed to pollute the air with steam from their laundries."

  "You fuckin' well stuffed me up the duff!"

  "Shush, don't shout! And I wish you'd stop swearing, it's unladylike."

  "Are you sayin' I ain't no lady?"

  "Yes, no! Let's be sensible about this, Sally. I mean, it could have been one of a hundred men - a thousand men, even! A million!"

  "I ain't no fuckin' tart!"

  You're the epitome of tarts. "I'm not saying that you're a tart, Sally. All I'm saying is... hang on a minute, we've never copulated."

  "Eh? We ain't never done what?"

  "You have a wonderful way with words, Sally - did you attend the Sorbonne? Have you considered elocution classes?"

  "What? What ain't we never done?"

  "We ain't never done... God, you've got me at it now! We've never done it, we've never had intercourse."

  "We fuckin' 'ave!"

  "Sally, I've only ever come in your mouth, so how on earth could I be to blame?"

  "I know you spunked in me mouth, but you done it up me bum-hole a couple of weeks back!"

  "Shush! Don't you know anything? To make you pregnant, I'd have to spunk up me pussy... I mean, up your pussy. And you know I would never do that because I don't know where your pussy's been." I dread to think.

  "Me cunt ain't been nowhere! It's always been between me fuckin' legs!"

  "No, what I mean is... oh, never mind. You really should stop swearing, Sally."

  "Why the fuck should I?"

  "Well, because... look, why don't you go and tell your boyfriend the unhappy... the happy news?"

  "Oh, yeah, I 'adn't thought about that drunken fuckin' bastard! I wonder if 'e's the fuckin' father?"

  "Christ only knows who the fucking... of course he's the father, Sally."

  "Yeah, it could be 'im - 'e's been givin' me a lot of shags lately."

  "There you are, then. Right, off you go!"

  "I don't suppose you've got time to give me one up me arse?" the girl asked, provocatively licking her smiling lips. "I like your cock spunking up me bum!"

  "Shush! Monica will hear you, for goodness sake! As it is, she knows far too much of my escapades. I have a lot of work to do so... Thursday, I'll see you on Thursday, as usual."

  "Oh, right. I'll go and tell me boyfriend about the fuckin' brat. Shall I bring the fuckin' milk bottle and the fuckin' Vaseline with me?"

  "Yes, bring the fucking... I mean... good grief! I'll see you on Thursday, Sally."

  Breathing a sigh of relief as the tart left the building, Larry walked across the foyer to reception. "Everything in order, Monica?" he humoured the grumpy woman.

  "As well as can be expected for a place like this!"

  "Good, good! It's makes me so happy to see you enjoying your work."

  "I'm not enjoying my work! I'm not a skivvy! I wasn't employed to clear up smashed pot plants!"

  "No, you weren't, but it just goes to show what an adept all-rounder you are."

  "Dog's body, more like!"

  "Have you always been of such a happy and joyous disposition, Monica, or was it an attribute you picked up during your long and tedious journey through life?"

  "What?"

  "Have you always been so cheerful?"

  "I'm not cheerful!"

  "Oh! And there was me thinking how happy you were! Hormones, I would imagine. Terrible weather fo
r the time of year, don't you agree? Right, I'd better see how Lily's getting on. You know what these trainee sex therapists are like."

  "What are they like?"

  "Er... ah, telephone, Monica."

  "What about it?"

  "It's ringing."

  "No, it's not!"

  "Oh, my mistake. Any luck with the schoolgirls?"

  "Schoolgirls?"

  "Yes, the sixth-formers. Has the headmistress phoned about...?"

  "Oh, yes, she did phone. She didn't seem to think your idea acceptable."

  "Really? You do surprise me."

  "She said that eighteen-year-old schoolgirls shouldn't need to see a sex therapist."

  "That's as maybe, but I need to see eighteen-year-old schoolgirls! Er... I explained in my letter that..."

  "She's giving it some thought; she said she'd phone back."

  "Excellent! I can't wait to get my hands on... to talk to the little... I mean, young ladies."

  "You don't plan to touch them, do you?"

  Of course I do. Hot, tight, wet, juicy... "Monica! What are you suggesting?"

  "You know very well what I'm suggesting."

  "My ghast is flabbered! How can you have such immoral thoughts? I always thought you to be virtuous, wholesome, upright."

  "I am! It's you who's..."

  "Do you honestly think that I'd soil and defile..."

  "I don't think, I know! What's in that room at the end of the hall?"

  "Which room?"

  "The one you keep locked."

  "Oh, this and that - nothing of interest to you, or the police. Well, I'd better go and check up on Lily. I'll leave you to carry on with the good work, Monica."

  Entering his consulting room, Larry closed the door and smiled at Lily. "Everything all right?" he asked the appetising young blonde.

  "No, not really," she whimpered, her expression mirroring her anxiety, her blue eyes tearful.

  "What's the problem, Tina?" he asked, turning to his bemused client. "What's happened?"

  "I was telling her about hanging upside down from chains with my legs open, and she burst out crying!" the young woman gasped, perplexed by Lily's incessant wailing.

  "There's no need to cry, Lily!" Larry consoled the girl, patting her shoulder. "We're here to help our clients with their problems, not cry over them."

  "I'm sorry, Doctor Lickman. It wasn't the chains, it was her breasts."

  "Tina's breasts? What about them?"

  "Her husband sucks them!" Lily sobbed uncontrollably.

  "That's what they're for. There's nothing wrong with that, Lily. Mouthing breasts and sucking nipples is all part and parcel of a disgusting... of a healthy sex life. You must get rid of this phobia concerning female breasts, you really must!"

  "I live in perpetual dread of my breasts!"

  "Er... Tina, I think that had better be enough for today," Larry smiled. "Ask Monica to make you an appointment for next week. And remember to repeat the words during... and don't forget to place a mirror on the floor."

  "What about a vibrator?"

  "Oh, yes. See Brigit on your way out, she'll fix you up. Ask her for a King Dick - they're expensive, but most effective. Until next week, Tina."

  "Yes, doctor," Tina smiled, rising to her feet. "I hope Lily will be all right."

  "She'll be fine!"

  "And I thought I had problems!" Tina sighed as she breezed from the room.

  Perching himself on the edge of the desk, Larry passed Lily a handkerchief. "What is it about breasts that distresses you so?" he asked the tormented girl as she wiped her eyes.

  "They're evil!" she wailed, her bottom lip quivering. "They're like evil one-eyed monsters! They lurk beneath my quilt in the dark of the night, peering out at me! When I'm in the bath they surface like monsters from the deep and stare at me! They're waiting to get me, I know it!"

  "Lily, Lily! They're not waiting to get you!"

  "Yes, they are! The other evening I was sitting on the sofa in my dressing gown watching television and the left one popped out. Its horrendous brown eye leered at me! They despise me! They're in league! They're working together, planning to get me!"

  "Good grief, Lily! When did this peculiar phobia first arise?"

  "When they arose from the depths of my chest. I was twelve when they sneaked up in the night and clung like leeches to me. They grew and grew, feeding on my fear until they were big and strong! Now I'm eighteen, they're big enough and strong enough to get me!"

  "I'll have to give you regular therapy sessions, Lily. I think we'll start the sessions this afternoon. How's your phobia of penises, still bad?"

  "Terrible! Like long slippery snakes, ugly pink slugs, they lie in wait! They have purple heads with one eye! They retract their pink helmets and stare at me!"

  "From where did this incredible phobia originate?"

  "I don't know."

  "Lily, I'm going to show you my penis. It's a fine specimen and..."

  "No!"

  "Yes. You must get over this ridiculous phobia. How can you have a normal sex life if you're afraid of your breasts and men's penises? I want you to hold my penis, get to know it intimately, fondle it, kiss it and..."

  "No, I don't want to see it!" the distressed girl cried, fleeing the room. "Argh! A disgusting, horrible, slug-like one-eyed monster!" she wailed, dashing down the hall.

  "Lily! Lily, come back!"

  Shaking his head in despair as the phone rang, Larry grabbed the receiver. "Ah, Monica, everything all right on the western front?" he enquired jovially.

  "Lily Dyke has just run out of the building screaming about one-eyed monsters!"

  "Yes, I know. It's nothing to concern yourself with, she has a natural tendency to run out of buildings screaming about one-eyed monsters. Her peculiar psychological disturbance stems from an atrocious childhood experience."

  "You shouldn't employ her; you know she's a lesbian - and mentally unstable."

  "She's bisexual. Are you bisexual, Monica?"

  "Certainly not!"

  "That accounts for it, then."

  "Accounts for what?"

  "Nothing."

  "Anyway, I'm not calling to discuss Lily Dyke. There's a man at reception to see you."

  "Oh, right. What does he want, do you know?"

  "He wouldn't say."

  "Would you say he looks like a civil servant?"

  "Why would I say that?"

  "In your considered opinion, would you say he looks like a civil servant?"

  "How would I know?"

  "By considering your opinion, Monica."

  "Stop trying to confuse me!"

  "You don't need my help to confuse yourself! Is he carrying a briefcase?"

  "No, he's not."

  "Thank God for small mercies. OK, send him along."

  Bidding his visitor enter as a loud knock sounded on the door, Larry smiled benevolently. "Good morning, I'm Doctor Larry Lickman. What can I do for you?"

  "You told my wife to masturbate with two vibrators!" the bristling, balding man yelled.

  "Er... Mr..."

  "Schmidtbag."

  "Ah, yes, Mr Schmidtbag. What an unfortunate name. Are you of German descent?"

  "Certainly not! I'm British through and through."

  "Have you ever considered deed poll? I have it from a reliable source that it's inexpensive."

  "I have not come here to discuss my name! You sexually assaulted my wife!"

  "That's quite an accusation, Mr Schmidtbag! I find your effrontery most displeasing!"

  "Well, I'm waiting!"

  "You're not asking me to sexually assault you, are you?"

  "Don't be ridiculous! I'm waiting for an explanation."

  "Aren't we all, Mr Schmidtbag - aren't we all? An explanation as to why we're here. We're just grains of sand in a vast desert..."

  "My wife told me that you..."

  "Er... your beautiful wife, Gale, has deep-seated sexual problems. She's suffering from a rare condition
known as inactivus clitoris. Using vibrators will..."

  "You interfered with her anal canal!"

  "Interfered with her anal canal?"

  "You took her into a room, locked the door, and forced her to remove her clothes!"

  "I might well have had reason to examine her, yes. I probably checked her for rectus crampus, as I do with most clients. Haven't I seen you on television?"

  "Of course you haven't!"

  "I could have sworn I've seen a photograph of you on Crimewatch."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Or was it a building society video?"

  "A building society..."

  "Are you in possession of a balaclava and a sawn-off shotgun?"

  "What? I want an explanation! You rubbed my wife's clitoris and put your fingers into her private orifices!"

  "Only in the line of duty, Mr Schmidtbag - only in the line of duty. After all, I am a qualified doctor. Doctor Larry Lickman D.M. D.sc. F.P.S. F.R.C.P. S.H.I.T."

  "S.H.I.T?"

  "Society of Hormone Implant Techniques. I am also a highly qualified C.U.N.T."

  "You're a cunt?"

  "Yes, a Cervical and Uterine Neuroma Technician."

  "I don't care what you are, it's disgusting! You tied my wife down to an examination couch with lengths of rope!"

  "Did I? Good grief, I don't remember doing that. Are you sure your wife's not having delusions?"

  "Of course she's not having delusions!"

  "Hallucinations?"

  "You're mad! What's the idea?"

  "Which idea?"

  "You should be struck off!"

  I was never struck on! "Er... Gale is unable to achieve orgasm, so..."

  "Women shouldn't have orgasms, it's not their place to enjoy sex!"

  "Why ever not? Are you a misogynist?"

  "Devout! Once they begin to enjoy sex, they'll be running off getting it anywhere and everywhere!"

  "Well, I wouldn't say that."

  "I'll have her fanny sewn up, that's what I'll do!"

  "You can't do that, Mr Schmidtbag - you'll affect her toilet."

  "She's never coming back here! You're a sad pervert!"

  That's true.

  "A vile, disgusting, filthy sexual deviant!"

  "Excuse me, but I am not a Catholic priest."

  "A Catholic priest? You're mentally insane! You'll be hearing from my solicitor!" the enraged spouse stormed, charging from the room. "I'll see to it that you're struck off!"