Chapter 5

One week later a pissed off looking Betty barged in to my "office" dragging a frightened looking Pamela by the hand. This could be trouble. I threw on some sweats and dragged a comb through my hair and tried to look as professional as possible while shaking in my slippers.

Betty Burns had been captain of the Lincoln High lacrosse team and all state in track and field. She was tall and strong and lean and mean. I am no 98 pound weakling, at 5' 9" 160 lbs., but this blonde man hating bitch looked like she wanted to rip off my balls and feed them to me for lunch. I'd have to play it cool with this pumped up dyke.

"Hello", extending my hand, "You must be Miss Ferguson's roommate, she speaks very highly of you, and seeing you in person I can understand her attraction. Why don't you two lovely ladies step into my office and make yourselves comfortable. I'll get Pamela's file and some refreshments and we'll get started". She squeezed my hand like a linebacker clutches a football and stared down into my eyes. "Make it quick buster, I want to know what the fuck you did to my girl and you better have some good answers!".

After a painful minute she released my aching hand and pulled her petite plaything into my parlor.

With a silent sigh of relief I retrieved my notes then poured some stale potato chips into my plastic Tupperware along with the two pint bottles of doctored Poland Springs water. Lucky for me butch Betty didn't remember me from high school. I was merely another pesky boy in the crowd of male misfits. She was a man hating bully, and I would use her hatred against her. All bullies are tough on the outside to cover up their inner insecurities. Unchecked anger is an unhealthy emotional neuroses that blinds the subject from rational thought. I was the spider and Betty was the fly.

They were sitting stiffly on my Freudian leather couch as I set the refreshments on the coffee table. My swivel chair behind the imposing desk placed me slightly above my "clients" putting me in the dominant position. I spent some time ignoring them while clicking a silver ball point pen while pretending to peruse my notes. They shifted around uneasily and just as the top dyke was about to open her yap I started my spiel in a calm flat tempo.

" Thank you for coming Miss Burns, you can play a vital part in your partners recovery. You look well Pamela, have you been following your regimen? I feel these sessions are proving to be beneficial towards your overall psychological and physical well being and supplement additional positive reinforcement for the neural reuptake inhibitor medication. Help yourselves to the water, fluids are vital for cellular hydration you know, sorry there's no dip for those chips". I droned on without giving either of them a chance to talk. Eventually they began nibbling the salty appetizer and sipping the sedative laced liquid. They continued looking up into my baby blue eyes as I rambled on with competent confidence. Eventually I began a motivational interview with Betty using empathy and praise to elicit truthful responses. Simple background information at first (family, education, employment), then psych/social stuff (sexual history, substance abuse, emotional issues), and finally the juicy bits. I used a more confrontational approach when the questions became more embarrassing, and more incriminating. "Did you introduce Pamela to drugs?... Do you love her?. Are you planning on marrying her?". The dyke hemmed and hawed but she avoided looking at Pammy and with bowed head she admitted, "Yeah, I saw her down the cape looking so pretty and lonely I had to have her. The dope made it easy, just a couple of hits and she was hooked... Love? Shit no, she's fun to play with, and she gives good tongue, but she's just a toy... Nah, I told her that so she'd have something to dream about while she's out on the street making me money". Pammy may have been dumb, but she was off the dope and stared at her lover with shock, then betrayal, and finally seething anger. I like a good catfight, but Betty would win with one hand tied behind her back. But both hands? Later maybe, this was a counseling session and I had a lot more work to do healing this relationship.