The International Writers Magazine: Continuing adventures of Guy Block

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Sexual Block • Mark Cunliffe Half past one on a Monday afternoon. Guy Block felt uneasy.

The waiting room was so clinical. Well it would be, it was after all a clinic.
The only sound he could hear was the ticking of the imposing clock above him on the stark white wall and the rain gently dribbling down the window behind him.
Oh and the receptionist occasionally typing.

But Guy was trying to forget the receptionist. Simply because she was adorable and angelic and damn it, arousing. And that was something Guy was trying to avoid. But how can you avoid such a beauty? She looked like a young Jodie Kidd, simply enticing and occasionally she would look up from over the counter and smile at him. Smile at him? Has she no shame? I mean, he was waiting to see a sex therapist after all!
Finally, a short diminutive and heavy spectacled wearing man entered and called out for Guy. Thank God its not a woman, was the first thing a relieved Guy thought! This was no Jodie Kidd, no this guy had a full goatee beard for a start.

They entered the room and the session was about to commence. The therapist, sat back and locked his fingers in a steeple, Guy, used to doing this also during tutorials immediately followed suit, before throwing his hands back to his knees and tapping them.
Damn it, what do you do with hands at places like this?!
"So, tell me what makes you think you are a sex addict Mr Block?" asked the therapist with a vague Dutch accent.
Which was surprising as Guy was certain he was English.
"Um, well, ah, phew, three students, two of my fellow lecturers, one member of the canteen staff, ah, a barmaid…and even, my wife…phew" Guy blew out his lips and shrugged his head apologetically before hastening to add, "In the last fortnight…"
"Really, in the last fortnight these people have suggested that you are addicted to sex?"
"Um, no these are the people I’ve had sex with in the last fortnight" Guy snorted apologetically.
"I see" said the therapist, and hastily began to make notes. Guy realised how his students must feel when he does this to them, well, those he doesn’t have sex with. It reminded him of his own form tutor at Cambridge who would put the fear of God into him by scribbling away at everything the tongue tied young Guy would say.

But then you never really leave school do you? There’s always someone with authority over you, who makes you feel nervous and small and uncomfortable.
Relax Block, this man is supposed to help you.
"When did you first experience sex?"
Sometimes help is tough.
"Phew, well I was a late developer…but I’ve made up for it since you might say" Snort, snort, but the therapist didn’t see the joke
"Pleez, to try and understand your problem we must explore your sexual history yah?"
Tough crowd.

Well Guy Block discovered at an early age, masturbation. There it has to be said. Masturbation and all that jizz. And Guy thoroughly enjoyed it as he told the therapist, it taught him an awful lot, but however it took him a little longer to pass any entrance exams into the real sexual arena.
"I never had much luck with girls at Cambridge, I suppose being a public schoolboy I was nervous of women"
"Did you ever try homosexuality?"
"No I was buggered if I was going to try that…ah, sorry no pun intended. I mean there were an awful lot of boys who did at my school but I avoided it, quite successfully."

Guy never really understood gay sex. Though he sometimes wished he were gay, it would surely be easier he often thought. There’s a certain shopping spree mentality to homosexuality; you like the look of it, you take it. That was Guy’s opinion on it. But he could never cope with what he supposed was the lack of hygiene and love of musicals.
Still, some of his best friends were gay, a lot of chaps he schooled with came out as gay. A lot of them had gay encounters at school and then were straighter than a dye in later life. Some were resolutely straight and went on to be as camper than a row of tents… At Christmas… Pink tents too…in a field for a Lizi Minnelli concert. And then there was one chap Guy went to school with who is now senior lecturer in English at Dartwater, who swears he is half bisexual.

"So you were a late starter to sex?" the therapist droned on
"Oh yes, I was never premature"
Really tough crowd.
"I suppose erm it was the late 60's when I did get into the err swinging swing of it. I was out with an old friend of mine Marley and he pulled, he always did, but he couldn’t handle all the girls so he erm let me have one"
Gawd this was embarrassing
"And did you satisfy her? Do you indeed, satisfy all your women?"
Blimey. What a question. The thing is back in the 1970's sex in Britain was very much like the motor cars of the time, and Block had many a leg over in the back of his motor cars. But the female orgasm back then, well it was an optional extra. Like a sunshine roof,
Or power steering,
Or Radio 4.
"Your sex drive is abnormally high? Can you perform all the time?"
"Honestly Doctor you have no idea. Even rabbits stop to munch a carrot, but not I"
"No failing of the libido?"
"Occasionally, with the wife, not so occasionally"
"You satisfy your wife at all times?"
"No, that is the times I cannot perform"
"Why do you think that is?"
"You haven’t met my children have you?" Guy shuddered at the thought of the terrible twins, a finer example of safe sex you could not find.
"Surely you should think of others?"
"I do!" Guy said angered, "I think of anyone but my wife when we have sex together!"
"I meant think of the hurt you are causing her by having other partners?"

Ah
Guy recalled the last time his wife, Francine hurt him. It was a rather vivid bout of rodeo sex.
Have you ever tried it?
It’s where you take your good lady from behind and hanging on to her breast and waist area, you proceed to shout out anyone else’s name. The aim of which is to see how long you remain mounted for.
Guy was a fallen champion that night. The unlucky thing was he wasn’t supposed to be partaking in rodeo sex that time, his utterance of a young student’s name rather than the more appropriate "Francine!"
Or even "God!" Was entirely a mistake.
"Do you love your wife?"
Ah, the 64,000-dollar question.

If Guy thought about it, and he often did, Guy really did love Francine, he was in love with her the moment he met her back in the 70's. He loved her vibrancy, her strengths and her weaknesses, her ability to make him laugh and her ability to make him cry and despite the general God defying creepiness of his twins, Jeremy and Jemima, he did indeed feel proud that he brought them into this disaster we call the world, that they were a token of his love for his wife.
But this was a relationship founded in the 70's and academia and drugs and a Mott The Hoople concert. This was a relationship deemed to be open. Enabling Guy to have his cake and eat it.
And he had a good run at that over the years.
That’s why he is here today. Today he must make a change.

Finally after a torturous hour that put Guy in mind of a rather bruising evening in Soho in 1981, the therapist became sympathetic and told Guy to try various herbal medications, to commit himself fully to his intellectual endeavours, to take sleeping pills and regular exercise and to see him in a week’s time.
Guy snorting a deep breath in and out of his lungs got up to leave.
He would begin afresh.
Today it will all change.
"Thank you Doctor, thank you so much"
And he strode (new) manfully out of the room and into the waiting area to the doors of the clinic.
Even the rain had stopped.
"Excuse me?"
Guy turned to see the Kiddish receptionist, a pencil clampoed between her smirking teeth. "Is that your MG?"
"Ah, yes, yes it is" Guy said and shifted a little from foot to foot
"I simply LOVE classic cars, I’m a real petrol head!" She said and leaned a little further over the counter, here eyes staring at Guy’s frame. Guy noticed a few freckles across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheeks.
Oh well
"Would you care for a spin sometime?" Guy smiled
Tomorrow it will all change, he said to himself, as he returned to the desk for her mobile number.
© Mark Cunliffe December 2006
markbc@hotmail.com

Until next time:
More adventures with Guy Block here
Block Head
Writer's Block
Memory Block
Soviet Block

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