Chapter 10

“No!” Cal wailed, a long drawn out cry of anguish,” No, don’t, you mustn’t, I can’t.”

“Cal,” I said softly, “what’s wrong? What is it?”

“No, you mustn’t,” she repeated, “my boyfriend wouldn’t like it. I don’t want to. David, David, why aren’t you here.”

“Cal,” I said gently, “Cal, what is it, It’s me David I’m here.”

I sat up on the bed and gathered her into my arms, rocking, trying to soothe her.

“Cal, it’s all right,” I said, soothingly, “it’s me, David, tell me what’s upset you, please.”

She opened her eyes and whimpered.

“David,” she breathed.

“Yes, love?”

“It was horrible, there were four of them. They,” she broke off and began sobbing.

All I could do was gather her in my arms and cuddle her to me.

Eventually she calmed down.

“Sorry,” she said, “for a moment there I felt I was back in that room in Munich and they were.”

She broke off again.

“Cal, if you can remember anything about that, it’s important, you need to tell me,” I said, “then maybe we can finally end your nightmare.”

“I’ll try,” she muttered, “but I don’t know if I can.”

“Just tell me what you can, and we’ll see where that takes us,” I told her.

“There,” she began, “there were four of them. Wolfgang was one, but the ringleader, was somebody else his name began with a J, but they said it with a Y sound. I think the others were just hangers on. One of them had a video camera, and they were videoing the party earlier.”

“You’re doing well,” I told her, “can you remember anything else?”

Her eyebrows knit, as they always did when she concentrates.

“We had to get the Strassenbahn, the tram to get to the flat. Some place like Gassing, Glassing, something like that,” she said.

“Were the others all students at the summer school?” I asked.

“Wolfgang was, and the guy whose flat it was, and I think one of the others,” she replied, “I don’t remember about the fourth one.”

She paused, biting her lower lip.

“Cal, what is it?” I asked, concerned.

“I don’t know David,” she replied, “this. Is it me telling you about my dream, or am I remembering what went on in Munich?”

“I don’t know Cal,” I answered, “but I read somewhere that dreams are your mind’s way of sorting out things that have happened. Maybe it’s both.”

“Then what should we do?” she asked.

“I think you need to tell this to someone, a professional,” I suggested.

“But who? By the time we get to see someone, I may have forgotten it, I probably will have,” she answered.

“Then write it down,” I said, “everything you can.”

She didn’t answer, just nodded her head.

“Come on,” I went on, “get dressed. I’ve got paper and a pen in my backpack, you can make a start. Just write down what you remember as you remember it. While you get started I’ll ring the woman in Chicago and arrange to go and see her.”

I walked through to the other room, opened my backpack and pulled out a pad of A4 paper and a couple of pens. When I got back, Cal had begun to get dressed, and I dropped the writing materials onto the desk by the window, then walked back to the other room, which was nominally my room and took out my phone. Once I found the contact for Dr. Bethany Krajick, I pressed the connect button and waited for an answer.

After two rings the answerphone cut in.

“You’ve reached Doctor Bethany Krajick. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 9-1-1. If you need to speak to someone immediately press 0#. Otherwise, please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as possible.”

There was a two second pause followed by a ‘beep’.

“Hello, my name is David Barker and my friend Cal Warner has been recommended by Dr. Sarah Green in London to contact Dr. Krajick,” I read out my number, “I would appreciate you taking the time to call back whenever possible. Thank you.”

I ended the call.

It was late afternoon before my phone rang, with an unknown number on the caller ID.

“David Barker,” I announced as I answered it.

“Mr Barker?” a soft mid-west American accented voice replied. “this is Doctor Bethany Krajick, returning your call. How can I help you?”

I gave her a quick rundown of the situation that we were in, while she listened, and gave me verbal cues whenever I ran out of steam.

“Thanks, Mr. Barker,” she said as I finished.

“David, please,” I replied.

“OK, David,” she answered, “if she’s up to it, do you think Cal would speak with me? And if so, could you please give her some privacy?”

“Of course,” I replied, “you need to speak to her without me earwigging.”

“Exactly! From what you said, she may resist, but please encourage her.”

“Then would it be all right if she calls you back in a few seconds?” I asked, “that way she can use her phone, and I can take mine with me, so she can ring me when you’re finished.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed, “I’ll wait for her call.”

We said goodbye and ended the call, and I texted the number to Cal.

“You need to ring her and talk to her,” I explained, “she’s asked me to leave while the two of you talk.”

“What?” she exclaimed, “no, don’t leave me.”

“I’ll just be downstairs in the coffee shop. I think she just wants to make sure that I’m not forcing you to be here,” I explained, “once you’ve finished, ring me and I’ll come straight back.”

“All right, but don’t leave the hotel, please,” she agreed.

She punched in the number for the Doctor and once she got an answer I started for the door. The last words I heard as I left the room were “Yes, he’s just gone out of the door.”

I was down in the coffee shop for over two hours, to the point that if I had to drink another coffee I’d probably drown, when my phone chirped to tell me I had an incoming message.

It was from Cal, telling me it was clear to go back.

Gratefully, I took my cup back to the counter, signed the bill and hit the lift button to go back up to the room.

I let myself back inside and found Cal curled up on the sofa.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“She’s nice,” she said, “she was raped when she was in High school, and a friend helped her over it, and that’s why she decided to spend her life doing what she does. She’d like to see us in Chicago if we can get there. What she wants us to do, is find out when we can go, then she’ll make some time to see us the next day. Can we go?”

“Of course we can,” I replied, “I’ll ask James to make the arrangements. Where do we have to go?”

“University of Chicago Hospital,” she replied.

“I’ll ask James to make travel and Hotel arrangements,” I said, “at the same time I can check to see if there’s any news from home.”

I made the call and James agreed to do our bookings, I offered him my Visa card number, but he said he’d put it on his corporate account and bill Dad for it. He had no real news from home, except that Andy our family lawyer was continuing to press the hospital and was considering finally starting legal action. He asked how Cal was doing, I told him, then we said goodbye.

Obviously after that, what we were planning on before wasn’t going to happen, so I started to get dressed.

“I’m sorry David,” Cal said from the bed.

“Don’t be,” I said, smiling at her, “what we were doing brought back bad memories, but maybe in the long run that’s a good thing.”

“How can that be a good thing?” she asked incredulously.

“Because it’s difficult to move on past something, if you don’t know what that something is,” I explained.

“But I wanted to, David,” she moaned, “I wanted to make love with you.”

“And I you,” I reassured her, “but not at the risk of you having another meltdown.”

“And Charlie will be here soon, and I’ll have missed my chance,” she said, sadly.

“Was that why you wanted to?” I asked, “Because you thought you wouldn’t get another chance?”

“No,” she answered, “well, yes but not entirely. I was afraid that when Charlie arrives, that will end it, but I wanted one last time to remember.”

“Cal, it’s not just about sex, you know,” I said, “it’s not even about sex, it’s about love. It’s about putting other people before yourself.”

We slept apart that night, and as I drifted into a fitful sleep, I wondered whether we’d ever occupy the same bed again. Unusually, Cal was up, showered and dressed when I came out of the shower, and sat cross-legged on my bed, dressed like a California girl, shorts and a crop top. I have to admit she looked appealing.

“Can we do something today?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, “you seem in a better mood today.”

“My period started,” she said, “so no more PMS.”

“Well, for this month at least,” I said.

She smiled, and it was a genuine smile.

“Sorry I was such a bitch yesterday,” she said.

Then she climbed off the bed, walked across the room and hugged me. Unfortunately this caused the towel wrapped around my waist to fall off.

She looked down and giggled. I followed her eyes down and saw what she saw.

“Oh”,” she exclaimed, “all dressed up and nowhere to go.”

“Story of my life,” I said, as I turned to start getting dressed.

“Wait,” she commanded.

She broke the hug and dropped to her knees.

“I know the cure for that,” she said, and licked slowly up the shaft of my very hard penis. As her tongue reached the top, she popped her lips round it and began to suck gently, massaging it with her tongue.

I let out a moan.

“You don’t have to do this,” I managed to gasp, between bouts of intense pleasure.

She pulled her mouth off me.

“I know I don’t HAVE to,” she said, “I WANT to.”

Then she went back to her task, with enthusiasm.

So much enthusiasm, that after only a couple of minutes I was getting ready to erupt.

“Cal,” I gasped, “I’m close.”

The only sound that escaped her seemed to be a long drawn out MMMMMM sound, which stopped as I reached the point of no return and she had to start swallowing fast to cope with the thick stream gushing from me into her throat.