A Sticky Wicket Ch. 02

Wendy was slightly early for her appointment. She walked up the stairs in what had started life as a Georgian Townhouse and was now home to a collection of offices and surgeries for a dentist, a single practice private doctor (UK NHS single doctor practices had been abolished after Dr Harold Shipman had murdered in excess of 250 of his older patients before he was caught) two podiatrists and a counsellor who had his office on the third floor. It was the counsellor whom Wendy had come to see.

The old fashioned brass plaque said 'Paul Walton, Phd, MA, Counsellor.'

She opened the door and walked through. The room was a small lobby office with a tiny desk and a chair behind it. There were a couple of hard backed chairs squashed against the wall facing the desk.

The room was decorated in muted and calming pastel shades and there were a couple of large paintings on the wall. One was a jokey cartoon in the manner of a Rorschach test, the other a scene of a Norwegian Fiord.

She noticed a button on the desk with a notice stating "please press." She pressed the button and before she could sit down on one of the chairs, an inner door opened and a man came out.

He wasn't classically handsome but, had she been looking for love, she supposed he would do. Though she wasn't looking for love and probably never would, again, she realised in a flash of insight.

"Hello! My name is Paul Walton." he spoke in a powerful, yet soothing voice.

"I'm Wendy Boston."

"Ah! My two o'clock appointment! Come on through to the inner sanctum!"

She followed him through into a room that followed the decor scheme in the waiting room, though there was something that spoke to the obvious sense of humour of Paul, there was a large "Peanuts" cartoon, featuring Lucy at her booth with the sign changed to: "The Psychologist Is In." Even in her somewhat depresed frame of mind, it made Wendy grin, briefly.

"I see you like my cartoon? A friend who is a talented artist did it for me. I suppose strictly speaking it breaks the copyright laws, but as everything said or seen in these consulting rooms is in confidence, how would they ever know?"

He settled her down in a deep and very comfortable leather armchair which was in front of his large, uncluttered desk.

He sat down and looked at her. "Well, Wendy, why don't you tell me what you need help with? And please address me as Paul. I am only doctor when I am at conferences!"

She swallowed and began: "My husband divorced me. It was my entirely fault. I did something very, very bad, unforgivable, really."

He looked at her. "And you want him back? For him to somehow get over it and to get back with you?"

She shook her head, sadly. "I'm afraid that ship's already sailed. Ideally, yes, I'd like that very much. But I know that's not even a pipe dream, now."

"OK," said Paul. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

And so she did.

"It started with a bit of flirting at the Cricket Club. I mean, it was nothing too serious. It never got out of hand. We all knew the limits to which we could go before it became too silly and a danger to our marriages. I could put the more persistent ones off with a well chosen quip or a clever put down.

"Until one day, something was said between Steve Markham, my husband's best friend and me and it suddenly all started to get very serious, between the two of us.

"We arrange to meet for coffee at our house. I work from home, Steve had flexible hours, his wife works in a town a few miles away, Jack works in London and if anyone saw Steve going to our house, well, what of it?

"We were all friends and neighbours and as I was on the Ladies Committee of the Cricket Club and Steve was on the club committee, what of the fact we were having coffee? And I honestly thought that was all that was on my mind. A cup of coffee with Steve."

"And was it?" asked Paul, gently, but firmly.

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't. I am afraid to say that one thing lead to another and we ended up in bed together. Steve took the lead. He was a kind, considerate lover but he shouldn't have been my lover, should he? I'd cheated on my husband! I'd never cheated on my husband before! Never!

"And yet there I was, lying in bed with my husband's best friend. And what made it worse was that we were in our marital bed, where Jack and I made love! And I had spoilt our marital bed by having unprotected sex with another man in it!

"I'd let him pump his seed in me! And it was his best friend! I began to sob bitterly over my betrayal of my husband and Steve took me in his arms and comforted me.

"He told me that what I was feeling was guilt and that, although perfectly natural, it was a destructive force in the mind. He told me that there would be no harm done as we had had an hour or so of pleasure, but that so long as Jack never found out that the whole thing would be perfectly alright.

"When I told him that I felt guilty for allowing him to have his orgasm in me, and on our marital bed, he explained to me that this was better than if we had snuck off and done it in the bed in the spare bedroom, or in a motel, somewhere.

"He said if we has snuck off and done it that way, that would have meant we would both have known we were doing something wrong, something underhand and dirty. He then said he knew I was on the pill, so that it hadn't been unprotected sex at all.

"That it would have been far, far worse if he had brought condoms with him, because that would have been a calculated act of pre-planning to cheat. That we'd not pre-planned to cheat, we'd only planned to have a cup of coffee and that things had progressed naturally to their beautiful and logical conclusion.

"When I said that I felt I should confess to Jack, he put me off the idea. He told me Jack would never understand that any sexual liaisons between the two of us would be of not possible threat to our marriage and that telling him would only upset him unnecessarily.

"So I agreed that we would keep it our secret. And we also agreed to meet for coffee again later that week."

Paul nodded and said: "Please continue."

Wendy swallowed and started speaking again: "So, we fell into a pattern of meeting up for coffee and then we would have sex in my marital bed. We always had coffee, beforehand. I don't know why. Perhaps it was a way of normalising what we were doing, of making it seem less like cheating, to me?

"After a couple of months of this affair, Steve asked me a question. He asked if I'd ever thought of having two lovers at one time. I told him the idea was disgusting, but he persisted and over about the period of an hour, with us both lying in our, well, my bed, he got me turned around so much that I agreed to at least give it a try. He explained that it would help me with my marriage, help me explore myself as a sensual, sexual being.

"We arranged to have a special three-way tryst, Steve, myself and someone else from the Cricket Club, Doug our family doctor. We decided that we would do it at the cricket club. In the lounge.

"And so that's what we did. To my shame I have to say it felt really very, very good. The sensation of the sperm of two men inside my vagina was, well, I had never felt so turned on, to be honest! I knew that this was something Jack must never know about, because it would break his heart!

"I told Steve and Doug how wonderful it had felt, and a certain look passed between the two of them. 'What are you two buggers plotting?' I asked, with a grin on my face.

"They smiled at me and said they would come up with a plan to help ensure I got my fantasy of a really good, big load of spunk. I felt so excited! But I hadn't realised it was my fantasy, until Steve arranged for me to be taken by him and Doug."

Paul nodded. He was, of course, as always, wearing his non-judgmental head, but he thought he had a pretty good idea of how this story was going to play out.

"What happened next, Wendy?"

They said they'd arrange a special treat for me. They had decided to ask all the blokes in the cricket club who they thought they could trust to a special session with me. I was so nervous that on the morning of my... ah... adventure, I was physically sick!

"Somehow I was able to act normally around Jack. Well, I suppose the truth was that I'd been cheating on him with Steve for so long that pretending to be his loving, faithful wife had become second nature to me. But in a warped way, that was still the truth, in part. I was still his loving wife, but I was no longer his faithful wife.

"I was a bit worried, because apparently Jack's father, Frank, was going to be a part of the session, too as one of my lovers. I thought this was wrong, me fucking my own father-in-law, but Steve patiently pointed out that he had overheard him and Doug talking about our session and, rather than risk Frank telling Jack, they decided to include him."

She asked for a drink and Paul gave her a clear plastic cup of water from a dispenser. She thanked him and continued her story. "We had decided that all eleven of the guys would get to fuck me bareback, that they would come off inside me and that, if they could, they'd then have another go at me, later. I was fucked on a large, padded coach that the physio used to treat the cricketers if they needed any treatment.

"I had a pillow under my arse to keep my cunt at an angle to stop any of the spunk from coming out of me.

"Eventually, it was Steve's turn. He was to be my last lover of that morning's session. I used a small face towel to keep the spunk in place, then I sat down on Steve's cock, facing away from him, in one of the big, plush leather armchairs. Steve was just coming off in me when, to my horror, Jack came into the room with that fucking little bitch Sarah! It was all her bloody fault!"

"I remember I screamed and shouted: 'Get your cock out of me, Steve! My husband's here!' It was horrible! I disengaged myself from Steve's cock and I stood up.

"But then I realised that all of the spunk that they'd put into me was gushing out of me! Jack looked... I... oh... God, it was awful! The look on his face! It broke my heart! I still see it in my nightmares! He stared at the mess that was erupting from me and he spewed up on the carpet! Some of it splashed on Steve and my legs.

"I felt so humiliated, but I realised it had to have been far, far worse for Jack. He looked at me and shouted: 'You were with everyone in the cricket club except me, you fucking whore! Even my own father! Oh, Wendy, you fucking bitch! Why did you do it?'

Paul looked at her. "Well, that's the question we need to address, isn't it Wendy? Exactly why did you do it? And can you learn how to never do anything like that again?"

She looked at him and shook her head. "Is that possible?"

"Yes," he replied. "With the right help and guidance, most things are possible."

He looked at his watch and said: "That's where our first session must end, Wendy. However, I'd like to see you on the same day next week, at the same time. Is that possible for you?"

She agreed. As she left, she realised that, for some reason, she was starting to feel a little better. She hadn't really looked forward to counselling. But she was starting to feel that perhaps this would be the best thing for her? Well, she could only hope!

At the beginning of the next session Paul got her relaxed with a simple exercise and then said: "Suppose you tell me all about Sarah?"

He was watching her, closely. He noticed that she immediately became agitated. "Why? What's it to do with Sarah?" She spat the name out, as if it tasted vile. And, to her, perhaps it did?

Paul hesitated and said: "During our first session you said something about her being with your husband? What was it? Oh, yes! You said: 'Jack came into the room with that fucking little bitch Sarah! It was all her bloody fault!'

"Why is she a fucking little bitch? And why was it all her bloody fault?"

Wendy tried to contain her rage, but it was evident to Paul that she had a lot of anger toward Sarah. He did not feel it was healthy and wanted to help Wendy explore it and to deal with it.

"She's hung around my husband like a bad smell for years. She came out with some bullshit about knowing I was a cheater! Knowing that, eventually, I would cheat on Jack! She planted some recording devices in my car and in my handbag.

"I could sue her, you know! Invasion of privacy! And she had the cricket club bugged with video cameras! It's all her bloody fault! She was plotting to take my man from me! And she bloody well did it, too, the fucking little cow!"

"Oh!" Said Jack. "So it was all her fault, was it? When did she do it? When did she take Steve's penis and help him insert it into your vagina? You never told me she was involved in your affair with Steve?"

Wendy looked at him and gaped for a couple of seconds before she spluttered out a reply. "That's absurd! That's not what I meant! What I meant was, if she'd not told my husband... if she'd not videoed the session at the cricket club, Jack and I would still be married! And she married Jack! And they have a baby! That should have been my baby! Mine! Not hers!" she was starting to rage, Paul noticed.

Paul sighed, inwardly. It was always a problem when people in therapy told themselves such stupid, facile lies. He addressed her sharply: "Wendy! Think! Think about what you are saying. Would you have wanted your marriage to have continued when 11 men who you were not married to had fucked you without condoms, come off in you multiple times, all in the space of less than a morning? Really? You'd want that fate for your husband? Making him the laughing stock cuckold of the village?"

Wendy gasped and stared at him, stricken with horror. "You... what do you mean?"

He said: "Well, it's like this, Wendy, if Sarah hadn't told him when she did, how long would it have been until he eventually found out?"

She looked horrified. "But who would have told him?"

Paul shook his head. "A drunken boast that he overheard, a tearful, guilty confession from one of the participants, one of the wives of your lovers finding out and telling Jack. There were dozens of different scenarios, different ways in which Jack could have found out. And I'll wager they had phones with cameras with them? Maybe the odd mini video camera, too?"

She started to sob. "My marriage never had a chance, did it? Not after I got together with Steve!"

Paul shook his head. "I am not her to judge you, I am here to help you. But I think you make a fair point, there."

He paused, gathering his thoughts before speaking again. "Why did Sarah think she has the ability to spot a cheater? Do you know?"

Wendy calmed herself down and told Paul the story of how her parents had cheated on each other and how this had affected her. "She seems to think it gave her a magic ability to spot cheaters!" she sneered.

Paul glanced at her. "Well, Wendy... the magic worked in your case. She did spot you as a cheater. And she wasn't wrong, was she?"

"But how? How could she just know?"

Paul nodded, thoughtfully. "It's perfectly possible, you know. Sometimes when people go through a certain situation it leaves them with a heightened sense of awareness. Some people call it hyper-vigilance. So it is perfectly possible that, once you and Steve got into your relationship that you were showing signs of cheating that she recognised from her own parents.

"You know, Wendy, you'll never get recovered enough to move on whilst you are holding this unjustified grudge against Sarah."

"But she... she... could have warned me!"

Would you have believed her, Wendy?"

Wendy did not speak, but she shook her head, vigorously. She realised she would not have believed Sarah for a moment.

"Wendy, I am going to give you some special treatment to help you get over your irrational antipathy toward Sarah. Yes, maybe she was an opportunist to sneak in and get to your husband, but if you leave the door open, people will sneak in, you know?"

The treatment was a combination of several techniques including Cognitive Therapy a bit of NLP re-programming and some relaxation sessions.

Eventually after a couple of months, Wendy was in the frame of mind to know what she had to do. "I really will need to put right the damage I caused in the village with the horrible things I said about Sarah. How can I handle this without sounding like a weirdo?"

Paul thought for a moment and said: "Just simply say: 'I was so wrong about Sarah. She's a good girl. She is so right for Jack. What happened was all my fault.' How about that?"

And so it was that, just before the first birthday of Harry, Jack and Sarah received a phone call from Wendy. Could she please come to see them?

They knew she had been up to something as, for the past week she had been approaching people in the village, trying to make amends for what she had said about Sarah.

They agreed to let Wendy visit them at 3pm the next afternoon.

She walked in to the living room at the cottage and looked at Jack. She lost it. She burst into tears and ran to him, burying her face in his chest. He glanced at Sarah with a worried expression, but Sarah merely shrugged her shoulders.

"I am so, so sorry, Jack! It was my fault! I ruined our marriage!"

He shushed her, and tentatively hugged her. When he had calmed her down, he got her to sit down.

Wendy turned her tear-streaked face to Sarah: "And Sarah, I am so sorry. You knew I was a cheat. And I understand why, now. Paul, my therapist explained it all. I realise I was blaming you unfairly. 'Blame transfer,' he said it was!"

Sarah nodded, unsure of what to say.

Wendy continued to talk to them, the words almost tumbling over each other. "He tricked me! He thought I might have a latent submissive personality and he found this out by suddenly in one session, shouting at me: 'Pick up that pen!' So I did, and then I wondered why I'd done it? He told me that it confirmed I was a latent submissive. That Steve had somehow picked up on it.

"When I asked him why Jack hadn't ever done anything to capitalise on my submissive streak, but Steve had, he said: 'The answer's simple. Jack loved you, Steve lusted for you. He didn't care about you, or what happened to you, just so long as you let him have you, sexually.'

Jack and Sarah asked her questions, listened intently to her answers and answered her questions.

They'd been chatting for an hour when young Harry woke for his feed. After he had been fed and calmed down, Sarah, on an impulse, invited Wendy to hold Harry. The look of pure wonder and of joy and acceptance on Wendy's face made Sarah realise that she had done the right thing in letting Wendy hold Harry.

Before Wendy eventually left, Sarah surprised Jack by saying: "Wendy, do you think you could come back please? I think we need to talk, again. Tomorrow at 3pm? Is that OK?"

With the agreement made, Wendy took her leave. She'd have a great deal to talk about at her session with Paul next morning, she realised.

When she arrived in his rooms, she realised he was agitated. "What's wrong?" She was immediately anxious. He was pacing up and down. "I realise that I can no longer be your therapist. I have spoken to my therapy mentor and the two of us agree that if you like, he can arrange for someone else to take over your therapy."

"Why?" She was distressed. "I thought we were doing so well?"

"Too well, Wendy! You see, a therapist cannot treat someone if they are having a relationship with them."

She shook her head, confused at this turn of events. "But... we aren't having a relationship? Are we?"

He grinned, brought a bottle of Champagne and two glasses from behind his desk and said: "Well... that's what I'd like to discuss with you!"

She gave a shriek of joy and jumped toward him. Careful not to break the bottle or the glasses, of course!