Chapter 7

After the traumatic visit from Julie and Glen, there was no way the Menconi household could return to anything resembling normalcy. The humiliation of her naked exposure still hung over Theresa like a pall, but it was not her worst problem; she was overwhelmed by the loss of her children. In fact, she teetered on the knife edge of rationality.

It had been months since her son Terry had been arrested for drug possession, supposedly giving her time to get used to his absence. Julie had not lived in the house for almost three months, either. Thus, her empty nest was nothing new. It was just the finality that Julie's visit had signaled that knocked the supports from under her.

Before the visit, she had taken comfort in the illusion that Julie was just being rebellious, and that they would eventually bring her to heel as they always had. Even her moving out of the house must have been just a phase - a typical power play. Vince, of course, helped to fuel her illusion with his absolute confidence that what they were doing was right.

Exposing herself to Glen in the utterly humiliating way Julie had insisted on had affected her more than she even realized. Until that moment, she was eager to dismiss anything Julie did or said as just a fighting tactic, not to be taken seriously. Half of her mind was not even convinced Julie was really pregnant.

As she bent over the back of that chair with her daughter lewdly spreading her open for Glen to view her most intimate parts, illusion could not survive. At that moment, she knew that everything Julie vowed, she would do.

For two days after the visit, Theresa walked around as if in a trance, forgetting to dress or groom herself, and not even thinking about meals for herself or Vince. By the third day, she had become largely unresponsive, and when Vince returned from work, she did not seem to realize that he was there.

Vince was completely knocked off kilter by the encounter with Julie and Glen. He had, of course, been very upset by her leaving home, and even more so by the announcement that she was pregnant. The lewd, careless scene in the kitchen weighed heavily on his conscience. But he had been secure in the knowledge that he would put things right and the problems would be resolved.

When Julie left, he was no longer able to delude himself. The problems were not fixable. He could not put things back the way they were supposed to be. Most distressing of all was the possibility that he, along with Theresa, might be the direct cause of all the problems. That possibility, however, his ego would not allow him to accept. Maybe Theresa might be partially to blame, but certainly not him. Julie was just willful and rebellious, and Terry was just weak. It was a cross he had to bear, but nothing that could be blamed on him.

Then, Theresa started to fall apart. At first, he tried to correct things the usual way, by verbal assault. When she just looked at him with an expression of disgust and some fear, he was completely lost. If she would not engage him, how was he to communicate? How could he ever get her out of her senseless funk?

When he came home Wednesday evening and found her totally withdrawn into her own world, he finally became alarmed. He loved his wife. But much of that love was based on the kind of partner she was: strong, resolute, passionate, even fierce; a sparring partner, in many respects. Who was this pathetic creature wandering around the house unkempt and unresponsive?

For once, Vince seemed to realize that he was up against something he had no chance of fixing. He got her looking relatively presentable, called their family physician's emergency line, and took her to the hospital.

Even before their doctor arrived, the staff Psychologist was interviewing Vince, since Theresa could tell her nothing. When the doctor arrived, they quickly booked Theresa into the psyche ward, another severe blow to Vince's tightly controlled world.

When Theresa was completely sedated so there was no chance of communication, Vince wandered from the hospital in a daze. If the psychologist had been a little less focused on Theresa, she might have decided that Vince was not fit for the real world, either.

Alcohol as an escape did not fit with Vince's personality. Alcohol led to loss of control, and that was something he avoided at all costs. There was a small amount of hard liquor in the house, and he was hardly in the door when he set about to demolish it. Loss of control was no longer an issue - it was all gone. Escape became the primary need for that night.

It was a little after 11:00pm and Glen was getting ready to go to work when the phone rang. He hurried to pick it up so no one would be awakened. After his quiet 'Hello', a slurred voice came back at him.

"Lemme talk 'a Jooool."

"Mr. Menconi?" Glen asked in disbelief. "Julie's sleeping."

"Waal ge' 'r ub!"

"No, I don't think so," Glen replied sternly. "It's too late, and I don't think she would want to talk to you in your condition. Why are you calling?"

"Wife in hop'l. B... brayyy (hic) down. Hope sheee s... sa'fied."

"And you think this is Julie's fault?" Glen barked, now thoroughly pissed - so angry he could not even consider his natural sympathy for someone ill.

"Let me tell you!" Glen spat out, "if it's anyone's fault, it yours. You abused Julie for years until she couldn't take it any more." With that he slammed down the phone.

Vince, either because of a flash of good sense or a total lack of coordination, did not call back. If he had, he most likely would have revealed the secret of Julie's treachery.

Glen was left with a tough decision, but he only deliberated for a moment. He woke Julie as gently as he could, and told her about the phone call. He urged her not to try to call her father, and she did not want to at any rate. He apologized that he had to hurry off to work, and promised to talk about it when he came home in the morning.

The next day, Julie would feel remorse about her reaction, but that night, her hatred was so strong that she felt a wave of satisfaction over her mother's condition and her father's reaction. They were getting a little taste of the emotional turmoil she had lived with for all those years. She fell back to sleep very quickly.

In the morning, when Glen came home from his shift, he spent an hour talking with Julie about her mother, then they both told Betty about the situation. Both Glen and Betty counseled Julie against the hatred she admitted to feeling against Theresa. She became a little tearful as they told her how unlike her it was to have those feelings. They both complimented her on her loving and considerate nature, and asked her to try to give her mother the benefit of the doubt. There was no way she could tell them that much of the hatred was because she was driven to betray the one she loved the most.

Vince did not try to call Julie again, nor did he hit the bottle heavily again. When he became functional, fairly late the next day, he went to the hospital to try to find out as much as he could about his wife's condition.

Their family M.D. considered Dr. Julia Waxman the best psychiatrist in town, and had managed to get Theresa into Dr. Waxman's extremely heavy schedule. She only needed Vince's approval for the first visit to take place. Since he had already agreed to let her see a counselor, it would have been hard to say 'no' at that point. Besides, he was honestly concerned about Theresa's health. Because it was referred treatment, it was covered under their health insurance.

A fairly strong anti-anxiety medicine had brought Theresa out of her near-catatonic state, and she was able to converse intelligibly. Still in her hospital gown, but with a robe and slippers that Vince had brought, she went with Julia to an interview room on the same floor.

Julia did not use the same introductory technique with all patients. In fact, she never planned out ahead how to start a session. With Theresa, she used an approach that had proven effective with hospital or institution patients. "Tell me why we're here talking."

The early objective was to fill in as much background information as possible as quickly as possible. Given proper encouragement, patients would generally talk first about the things that bothered them the most. This allowed Julia to hone the efficiency of her questions, rather than the 'saturation bombing' approach, which could take several sessions to get to the heart of the problem.

Theresa seemed almost desperate to tell someone what was on her heart. What was on her heart was the pain of rejection by both of her children, and the growing certainty that she and her husband had caused it by selfishness, inattention, brawling, and the excessive need to control.

She quickly told Julia the source of her despair, but then dove right into a recitation of the things she had done wrong. After letting her talk for about twenty minutes, Julia asked "If your actions were driving her away, why didn't you change?"

"I... we... thought it was just normal teenaged struggles. We... we... fight a lot, and it gets pretty heated."

"Why were you so insistent on your college?" Julia asked rather suddenly.

"Well, we had such a wonderful time there, and we wanted that for her, and..." Theresa's voice trailed off.

Taking a chance so early in their interaction, Julia demanded "What was the real reason?"

After a huge sigh and the appearance of some tears, Theresa admitted "It was payback for getting her way about sex after the Prom. She was convinced it was to break her up with Glen."

"Didn't you realize that's what she thought? Didn't she accuse you of that?"

"Well, yes. But... but we thought it was just fighting. And we... oh, God! We weren't going to give up for anything. We couldn't let her win another big one."

Saddened and a little sickened by the woman's admission, Julia was still impressed that Theresa was so honest. It was a stage that was rarely reached so quickly. It was clear that a massive change had already occurred in the broken mother.

"What do you think happened with your son Terry?" Julia asked after a lull in the conversation. They had been talking for nearly an hour, and Theresa had managed to avoid all-out crying, even when reciting the indignities they had heaped on Julie. But at the mention of Terry, she disintegrated, sobbing uncontrollably.

Julia wondered at Theresa's reaction, but decided to say nothing and let Theresa work through her upset. After a few minutes, Theresa spoke. "Terry was not a fighter. He was a super-bright, gentle boy. Vince used to mock him because he wouldn't fight. Julie tried to stand up for him, but he couldn't take it."

"You speak of him in the past tense. Why?"

"I doubt we will see him again, at least not for long. He vowed to get arrested right away if they sent him back to us. Can you imagine how that makes a mother feel?" Theresa's sobs began anew.

Julia and her husband Frank were childless, and she often thought that was a good thing for her practice. If she related too closely to the torrid emotions such as were bombarding the poor mother in front of her, she might be far less effective as a therapist. In her years of study and treatment, she had found the emotions surrounding mother-child relationships to be the strongest and most treacherous of all.

Not that Julia was an unemotional person - far from it. As Frank would readily attest, her voluptuous body, luxuriant auburn mane, and flashing eyes were not false advertising in any sense. In her mid forties, Julia's marriage to Frank, twelve years older, was emotionally and intellectually solid, and was fueled by a sexual intensity few newlyweds could match.

After spending a double session with Theresa at the end of her normal office day, Julia was thankful that Frank would be at home to meet her. The head of a modest-sized but highly-regarded fashion company, Frank spent huge amounts of time traveling.

Contrary to popular belief, Julia was never able to deal with the emotions of her patients in a completely detached, clinical fashion. Her natural empathy helped make her the exceptional healer that she was, but at the same time, it extracted an emotional toll.

Her extended session with Theresa Menconi had been almost more than Julia could take at the end of a full day of patients. When her G.P. friend had begged her to take the case, she was reluctant, but Theresa's need was obvious. It was hard for a therapist to say that one patient's situation was worse than another's, but Theresa had dumped an emotional load that left Julia totally drained.

It took Frank no more than a glance to go into his own therapist mode. Forsaking Julia's usual white wine, he went straight to the liquor cabinet and returned with a martini, her favorite on the rare occasions when she indulged in something hard. She made no protest when he handed it to her.

"You get undressed. I'll start the tub," he told her.

"But I'm starved, and something smells great," she objected.

"Got that covered," he assured her, and she knew she was in for a treat. Frank liked to cook, though he had infrequent chances to exercise his skill. As had happened a number of times before, he would feed her as she luxuriated in the Jacuzzi tub and they chatted about their days.

Frank had learned from experience the value of some sincere pampering. In truth, he never had to force himself. From their first meeting, he had worshipped Julia, and that feeling had stayed alive through the sixteen years of their marriage. Now, when they were separated so much, his determination to make their time together memorable kept their bond strong.

In his work environment, Frank was surrounded by some of the world's most beautiful young women. He had never lacked for female company in his younger years, but never found one woman worth marrying. He found the emaciated models to be vapid, narcissistic, grasping, and more often than not, neurotic. It colored his whole attitude toward women.

When Frank met Julia through a friend, his attitude changed instantly. Here was a real woman! She had all the right parts in luscious abundance. She had a mind that fairly crackled with intelligence and poise that left her unruffled in any situation. Since that day, it had delighted him the way Julia made world-class models seem like scrawny teeny-boppers when they mingled.

That night, Julia had obviously absorbed some heavy-duty emotional baggage, and it was his privilege to free her from it. He had a tray with a covered dish sitting on the bathroom counter and was waiting when she walked naked into the bathroom.

Julia knew very well Frank's fascination with her naked body, and willingly provided him every opportunity to enjoy it. His undisguisable reaction at every viewing was as arousing for her as for him. The last few years, she had let the press of her schedule intrude on her usually careful exercise and eating plan, and the pounds were starting to accumulate. So far Frank's ardor seemed unaffected, but she kept promising herself she would get back on track.

Tonight was not the night she would reform her ways, though. The steak dish Frank had whipped up was rich with a sauce and tasted heavenly. As she laid her head back on the special cushion installed for that purpose, her generous breasts floated enticingly in the deep water. Struggling to keep his focus in the face of such distraction, Frank began feeding her.

Because it had happened so many times, and because she believed that Frank truly enjoyed pampering her, Julia reveled in his attentions without a shred of guilt or shame. It also helped to know that she would get a chance for more than ample repayment a little later. From dealing with many troubled patients, she knew that the inability to take joyfully from one's partner had undermined many marriages. It was not going to happen to hers.

As he fed her, they chatted lightly about their day. Julia did not tell him any details about her appointments, and she would never say anything that would connect her comments with specific people: that would have been unethical. She would at some point, though, describe the situation that had worn her out that night. It was an essential way to borrow strength from her lover.

Frank had admired Julia from their first meeting, and the pride and admiration had only increased over the years. Actually, there was some guilt that went with the admiration. The more he found out about what she did and the people she helped, the more embarrassed he felt about his own venal business. Years earlier, he had made a personal vow to leave the fashion business at some point and get into something with more substantive impact.

After the last bite of food and the last sip of wine, Julia made it clear that she needed to talk about her last session. She also made it clear that she needed touching as she talked, bringing Frank's hand right to her breast. From there on he knew just what to do. Gentle, almost absent-minded fondling was a key feature of their marital communication. Whenever they talked, they tried to keep contact, usually sexual.

Thus, Frank played with the delightful floating masses of Julia's breasts as she described the anguish she had picked up from Theresa and what she had learned of the reasons. For over a half hour she talked, head back, eyes closed, nipples swollen from his gentle ministrations. His position on the floor beside the tub could have been more comfortable. On other occasions, he had joined her in the tub, but tonight it just didn't seem to fit.

The opulent master bathroom had a massage table set up under a heat lamp, and when Julia's skin began to seriously shrivel, Frank helped her out of the tub and onto it. She had developed an innovation to the usual massage technique. Once she had been oiled all over, she wanted Frank to do the massage work with just one hand. The other she wanted lodged firmly between her legs, preferably as active as the hand working the muscles. Whether lying on her back or on her stomach, she was more than satisfied with only half the attention on her muscles, as long as her genitals got their share.

After her long soak, Julia was almost limp. Because of the stimulation that accompanied the relaxing massage, after about twenty minutes, she was ready to come, rather than ready for sleep. He was more than happy to oblige, and locked his lips to hers as he focused his attention on her clit with his hand. With the long build-up and the overall sensual atmosphere, she was shaking the table with her orgasm within a very few minutes.

As Julia lay on her back on the massage table, gasping for breath and still experiencing an occasional jerk, Frank hurried to prepare for the next step. Long ago, they had become addicted to the feel of her oiled skin as they made love, so they did not even think of showering first. He spread a large towel over the ultra-thick bathroom carpet, lit a couple of candles, turned off the heat lamp, and shed his clothes.

Almost carrying her, he helped her onto the towel and knelt over her. There was no need for any foreplay for either of them - there had already been over an hour's worth. He entered her and began thrusting, making sure to slide his torso over the luxuriant slickness of her oily front.

Everything up until now had been for her. Now it was his turn. She wrapped her arms around him to get more slippery contact. She tried to raise her legs, but the energy just wasn't there. It did not matter to him, as he had been hard since starting the massage, and he just kept plunging toward his own release.

Sex for Julia and Frank was a lot of different things. One of their greatest joys was a large block of time set aside to enjoy every kind of carnal contact they could think of. When they had the time and energy, there was no better way to spend a couple of hours. That night was not one of those times. Instead, it was a time for sharing, comfort, affirmation, and release.

Frank still could not believe his great fortune in sharing the love of his gorgeous, brilliant, sophisticated wife. Their sexual bouts were the kind that spawned letters to men's magazines. Yet, he never felt more fortunate than at the times when she was like a sleepy little girl, barely able to take care of herself.

Once again almost carrying her, Frank helped Julia to the toilet, used it himself, then turned on the shower and washed the oil from both of them. When he handed her the toothbrush, she was able to do her own teeth, but only just. It was only 9:30, but he helped her into bed and joined her.

In the few seconds before she sank into sleep, Julia took his penis in her hand in their long-time sign of union. Both fell asleep that way.

When Frank was awakened sometime in the wee hours by the wet heat of Julia's mouth around his swollen cock, he was not surprised, but was definitely elated. After breaking away for some essential relief of his distended bladder, he returned to bed and the veritable attack of his extremely horny wife.