Chapter 17

Marcie Seeks Help

The following afternoon Marcie found herself doing serious soul searching. The most prevalent question she kept returning to was: Where am I and where am I going?

Why did I bring André to Ingrid’s party? Was it because I wanted to share him with the others, or was it because I wanted the others to see me having great sex and then inviting them to join in? Does it matter? If I’m honest with myself, and why wouldn’t I be? There’s something wrong with me.

My sexual appetite is abnormal. No one wants sex this much. Normal sex is a teenager humping and sucking cock in the backseat of the guy’s car. I went out bar hopping to find my first guy and wound up jerking him off. I found Laura instead. We were okay, but she pushed me out there past normal limits, if I’ve got it right. She set me up with the professor who took me anally first and treated me like shit. I bet she even knew I fucked her father, he did her I’m sure of it.

Yeah, I did plenty of experimenting on my own, like the five guys I picked up and had service me one at a time. And now I have this ‘need.’ Now I crave filth and pain and risk. The other night I went from masturbating in the car to demanding that cop fuck me. He basically raped me, and even then I wasn’t satisfied and kept looking until finding those two guys who could have easily killed me, but just roughed me up as they fucked me. I have to do something or I will end up dying young.

And so Marcie set out to find a sex therapist who would work with her. Dr. James Fredrickson was his name and she liked him right off --- sexually.

“Marcie, you tell me you’re preoccupied with sexual fantasies...”

“Um, excuse me doctor, but I’m not bothered by fantasies per se. I’m, um, compelled to seek out sexual partners and this puts me in dangerous situations at times that normally I’d avoid. But my sexual craving overcomes my knowledge that what I’m doing is certain taking an unnecessary risk.”

“Erm yes, well...” Dr. Fredrickson said, “I was about to add that for sex addicts, sex becomes the primary focus in their lives and one can’t stop despite a variety of negative life consequences, including:

· Trouble at work, including reprimands or even dismissals

Declining physical and/or emotional health Loss of interest in hobbies and other healthy and previously enjoyable activities Financial woes Legal problems, including arrest

To Marcie it sounded like he was reciting from a memorized list, which in all probability, he was.

The doctor continued: “Like other addicts, sex addicts often feel great shame about what they’re doing...”

Marcie thought: But I don’t.

“ ... and in moments of remorse, they tell themselves, “This is the last time I’m going to do X, Y and/or Z.” But then, before they even realize it, they’re back at it, in the same or a very similar sexual situation; this is their “loss of control.” They want to quit and they try to quit, but they just can’t seem to manage it...”

Well, you got me there. Marcie conceded

“ ... Sometimes their acting out escalates to the point where their fantasies and behaviors go against their core values and beliefs such as safe sex, marital fidelity and not hurting others. Because of this, sex addicts find themselves leading double lives, putting a great deal of effort into separating and compartmentalizing their sex life and their work and home lives.

Again Marcie reasoned to herself: I haven’t reached that point. Then again, I haven’t had too, so he has a point.”

But what came next left her reeling with doubt.

“You must understand Marcie; sex addiction is not driven by a desire for sexual enjoyment. No, you are using your addiction to escape from stress and most likely emotional discomfort, including the pain of underlying psychological stress like depression, anxiety, social inhibition and unresolved early-life trauma. I would add that alcoholics drink and drug addicts use for exactly the same reasons. So, as with other addictions, sex addicts are not looking to feel good, they’re looking to feel less. Whereas people who are not addicted reach out to supportive friends and family members when they’re having a bad day or going through a tough period, sex addicts consistently turn to sex as a means of self-soothing and/or controlling what they feel.

“As with drugs of abuse, addictive sexual fantasies and behaviors trigger a neurochemical reaction in the brain that feels pleasurable to the addict. This response is fueled mostly by the release of the neurotransmitter dopamine, but also by other biochemical’s, such as oxytocin, adrenaline, serotonin and various endorphins. Over time, sex addicts learn to abuse this pleasurable neurochemical response in the same way that alcoholics and drug addicts abuse alcohol and drugs, intentionally triggering it with sexual fantasies, pornography or online flirtations. In other words, sex addicts create and use a neurochemical high as a way to avoid experiencing depression, anxiety and other stressors.

As with alcoholics and drug addicts, sex addicts like to stay high for prolonged periods. For that reason, they’re typically much more interested in sustained sexual fantasies than actual sex and orgasm. In fact, orgasm ends the acting-out experience and returns the addict to real life, which is exactly what he or she is trying so hard to escape. As such, sex addicts often spend hours, sometimes even days, in a trance-like, zoned-out neurochemical bubble, thinking about and fantasizing about sexual activity without actually engaging in that activity.”

Bullshit! Marcie thought, but revealed nothing outwardly to the doctor.

When the session ended, Marcie thanked the doctor and made an appointment with his receptionist for the following week, with no intention of keeping it.

I need to get laid, she told herself as she got into her car and started driving. She ended up at the lounge where she worked as the piano player at night. It was two-fifteen in the afternoon when she walked in and said hello to the bartender, a thirtyish gay guy named Robby.

“Milt’s in back you need him,” he said.

Marcie nodded and made her way to Milt’s office. She knew for a fact that he was 52, but looked a young 40. He was not super handsome, but he was better than average. He was tall, a bit overweight, but in that way that semi-drunks didn’t want to fight him and usually left peaceably.

She liked his sense of humor, he was funny and most of the staff liked him, and more importantly, he left the ladies working there alone, keeping most conversations zeroed in on business with a joke here and there.

“What could you possibly want at this hour, Marcie,” Then before she could answer he added: “No I can’t give you a raise, and no I need you here this weekend, so you can’t take off to care for your poor, sick grandma. So what is it?”

She was laughing before she could speak and held a hand up to ward off any more of his pseudo excuses. “Quit making me laugh Milt. I’m here ... well because I’ve never been her in the afternoon, and I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to have you around. It’s slow, almost no customers now. They start coming in after four, but as long as you’re here you can spice things up you want.”

His words sent a tingle straight to her clit.

“Oh? How would we spice things up, Milt?”

“Whoa, don’t get crazy sexual harassment on me, Marcie. I only meant have a few laughs, maybe a couple drinks ... on the house, you know?”

They continued their conversation over cocktails and both enjoyed the talk and light flirtation developing between drinks.

“You’re not scheduled tonight, are you?”

“No I’m not up until tomorrow night, Milt,” as she uttered the words her knee touched his.

She followed the contact by asking: So what did you mean before when you said I could spice things up around here. You want me to play piano topless?”

That cracked Milt up, for he ran a sedate establishment that catered to couples, married and single, but not anything close to a topless bar.

“Are you kidding? I’d be out on my ass before the night was over and unemployable in this town for good.”

“So what did you mean?”

“Ah, you saunter in, what is it two-thirty? You tell me you’re bored.

“I am, but if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, you’re wrong,” Marcie said, knowing that she was just leading him on. She looked down at his hand, noticing the heavy gold band on his ring finger. Milt caught her look and smiled again.

“It’s okay,” he said. “She knows how lonely I get when she’s on the road.” He looked wistfully down at his ring, an unreadable look clouding his eyes. “Her name is Gerri and we’ve been married for eight years.”

Marcie felt a twinge deep inside and tried to visualize the woman he was talking about.

“She’s blond and young and very pretty,” he said, as if reading her mind. “We love each other of course, but we’re apart so much...” his voice trailed off.

“Doesn’t she, uhh, Gerri, mind that you see other women?” Marcie asked softly, absently twisting the straw in her drink.

Milt looked directly into her eyes and answered very slowly and distinctly. “Not anymore. As long as I’m discrete and don’t get emotionally involved.” He paused for a moment as if searching for just the right words. “I know it must sound like a line, but during the last year or so we’ve developed um, an understanding.”
{br}

His voice somehow rang true, and Marcie found herself hanging on every word.

They were quiet a long time. She sipped her drink pensively, thinking that if this meeting went south she’d be out of a job and probably a bad reference when she found another.

“Does she really understand or are you just telling yourself that?” she finally asked.

He took a deep breath and seemed almost to blush as he started talking again.

“No, I’m not,” he blurted, “actually, it was her idea.” He leaned even closer to her, his voice so soft she could barely hear him. “She wants me to tell her everything I do with the women I meet; absolutely everything.”

He paused to take another sip of his drink before continuing. “What they’re wearing, if they’re pretty, how they strip for me...” He swallowed nervously, “ ... what special things they like to do. She loves fantasizing about what it would be like if she was right there with us.”

Marcie uncrossed her legs slowly as he continued to talk, feeling both surprised and pleased at how similar her fantasies were to Gerri’s. She could smell the faint but familiar musky scent of her own heat as she involuntarily squirmed against the bar stool. She wondered if Milt was aware of it too. She remembered how erotic it had been when Laura related her sexual exploits to her. Laura was never at a loss when it came to regaling Marcie with the most sordid experiences she’d had with men or women, or both. And then of course, they’d devoured one another for the rest of the night and into the early morning hours.

Marcie realized he was asking her a question. “Sorry my mind sort of wandered away for a moment, what’d you just say?”

“I said I could call Gerri; see if she’s interested in a threesome.”

“What the fuck, Milt ... is that a fuckin’ dare?”

“It’s a question. We been talkin’, you and me. You told me some things, and I told you some things. I can call Gerri and see if she’s ready to entertain, you know?”

“A threesome?”

“Yeah,” His eyes were riveted on hers. “Hey, you can say no, and that’s it, no hard feelings. Although I would expect you to keep your trap shut about this conversation. You know, it never happened. Understand?”

“And if she ... Gerri, says no, then what?”

“Same thing, it never happened.”

“So you and me...”

“Nothing happens, now or ever,” he said with a finality Marcie grasped immediately.

Marcie finished off her drink then stared at Milt for a long second, then said, “Hmmm, so call Gerri, Milt. I’d like to meet her.”

He picked up the phone at the end of the bar and dialed a number.

“Hello, Gerri, I got someone’d like to meet you.”

Marcie squeezed her thighs together but made sure she made no overt sound that his wife would hear.

Milt listened to his wife who was obviously questioning him.

She’s grilling him, Marcie thought for she could hear the woman’s voice but not make out what she was saying.

Milt turned to her and said, “I’m gonna hand you the phone. Describe yourself then give it back to me.”

Marcie felt giddy and a little flirty. She wasn’t afraid of this woman and began by saying, “I guess you want to know about me. I am 5’2 125. I have long brown hair to the middle of my back. I am told I am pretty. I don’t have that angular straight line face models have. Mine is more rounded girl next doorish.”

“What are you wearing right now?” The woman’s voice was higher than average, but cultured. College girl, maybe Vassar, Marcie thought. “Um, I’m wearing a dark blue pleated skirt and a cream blouse.”

Gerri sought more information on the subject—”Are you wearing stockings or pantyhose?”

Stockings and garter belt.”

“Anything else under that skirt?”

“Um, yeah, a matching thong and bra, white with pink lace.”

Gerri responded appreciatively. “Nice, I want you to pull your skirt up so you’re not sitting on the back. So’s you can feel your ass against the leather stool seat. Let the front fall where it may.”

Marcie glanced around saw no one paying any attention to her and did as she had been asked; still sitting she pulled the skirt up as far as it would go. Then scootched up just enough to pull the skirt out from under her.

She would have been the first to admit that this little game had gotten her hotter than usual when playing sexual games. The skirt front was about 2” from her crotch and Milt was watching her every move.

“Okay, your husband’s ogling my crotch. What now?”

“Don’t fuck with me, bitch! What’s now is you scratch your upper thigh almost all the way to the edge of that thong you’re wearing. It must be nice and wet about now, is it?”

“I think so, I’d have to touch myself to be certain, but I am hotter than a Saturday night pistol.”

She slid a hand under the skirt and between her thighs, making sure her wrist and hand showed movement under the skirt so Milt could confirm her actions. Of course as the hand moved upward more and more of her leg was exposed. Since she wasn’t sitting on her skirt Marcie was also exposing the side of her ass. Milt was leering at her as she got to the thong. She pretended she was alone and tried not to pay any attention to him, concentrating on his wife, Gerri.

She handed the phone to Milt, who listened and confirmed that she’d done as asked, and then gave the phone back to Marcie.

Gerri’s voice had a lower pitch to it now, probably her arousal, Marcie thought as Gerri sounding friendlier as well said, “Milt’s gonna bring you over; one of the things we’re gonna do is fuck every which way while you sit in a chair and masturbate. When I’m ready I’ll go down on you while Milt watches, and then maybe he’ll fuck you. If he can’t get it up I’ve got a nice strap-on that’ll do the job for you. I double guarantee it.”

Marcie handed the phone back to Milt who nodded twice then hung up.

“So how ya feeling now?” he inquired.

She licked her lips and responded, “Fuckin’ turned on, Milt.”

“You can make all three of us very happy, Marcie,” Milt cooed. “You, me, and Gerri.” He put his hand on her leg, just above her knee, and squeezed lightly. She felt the pleasant warmth of his fingers through her thin nylons and resisted the involuntary impulse to pull away. She glanced at his lap and grinned inwardly, pleased to notice a new fullness in his slacks and feeling a rush of ownership of his visceral reaction to her. He saw her eyes on him and made no attempt to hide his erection. Standing directly in front of her and obviously aware that his crotch was exactly at her eye level he smiled and reached for his wallet, the motion causing his slacks to emphasize his condition even more. He pulled a twenty out and tossed it on the bar. “I’m a big tipper.”

“You should be,” she said, I mean, you do own the place.”

It appeared as if Gerri wasn’t at home when they arrived. Milt suggested that Marci take a shower to freshen up and he would follow suit when she’d finished. She agreed.

After showering she carefully combed her hair, enjoying the warm feelings surging through her body. She put fresh shadow on her eyelids and carefully applied a tiny trace of lipstick. As she dropped the makeup into her purse, snapped it closed and walked out of the bathroom and saw Gerri for the first time facing her lying on the couch.

Marcie thought her beautiful. She was all curvy and cuddly; she had a really large set of round, nicely-shaped boobs, and a gorgeous mop of curly dark brown hair. She had neat lips that formed a sweet smile, and big brown eyes that twinkled with intelligence and mischief. She seemed to be a couple years older than Marcie, but might have been in better shape.

She works out a lot, a lot, Marcie thought a split second before she saw Milt sitting shyly in an arm chair behind the couch, which she found odd. His slacks and underwear were all twisted around his ankles, and his cock stood straight up from his hairy crotch, wetly erect, red and proud. He wore a tight white t-shirt and a shit-eating grin.

Gerri modestly tucked her breasts back inside her black bra. Her dress was all crumpled up and piled in her lap, and a pair of purple panties lay nearby on the floor. Her cheeks flushed deep red. Marcie smiled; even disheveled they looked cute together.

“Sorry, um, Marcie,” Gerri said so sarcastically that her words hadn’t a shred of truth to them until she added, “We had a lovely fuck while you showered.”