The International Writers Magazine: Continuing
adventures of Guy Block
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 Ive 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 doesnt 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? Theres 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 Ive made up for
it since you might say" Snort, snort, but the therapist didnt
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. Theres a certain
shopping spree mentality to homosexuality; you like the look of it,
you take it. That was Guys 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 couldnt 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 havent 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?
Its where you take your good lady from behind and hanging on to
her breast and waist area, you proceed to shout out anyone elses
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 wasnt
supposed to be partaking in rodeo sex that time, his utterance of a
young students 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.
Thats 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 weeks 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, Im a real petrol head!"
She said and leaned a little further over the counter, here eyes staring
at Guys 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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