Chapter 1

I sat staring at the card in my hand. On it was printed.

Dr. Janice Johnson

Johnson Institute

Treatment and Study of Sexual Dysfunction

At the bottom was today's date and 4:00 pm. The card lay flat on the palm of my hand as I tried to curl my fingers as far back as possible to keep from coming in contact with the feminine hand which was still hovering over my palm. One of Ms Whitfield's long slender fingers held the card in place using just the tip of her coral colored fingernail.

My mind was trying to keep from gibbering, as I looked at that hand almost touching my own. This all started a few minutes ago when my boss of six weeks, Ms. Jacqueline Whitfield, walked into my office and asked me if I had a few minutes.

Producing the business card, she said: "George, either you keep this appointment with Doctor Johnson, or you're fired."

Still staring at the card, I finally found my voice. "I'm fired?"

Then I tried to break all contact with Ms Whitfield.

"No, George, if you don't show up at your appointment with Doctor Johnson, you are fired.'

Cold chills crawled down my spine, as a band tightened around my chest. Slowly, I felt all the blood drain from my face. The oh so familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach started. I felt like someone ripped my insides out and replaced them with a block of ice. This wasn't the first time I was fired; in fact this wasn't even the first time I was fired this year.

Cringing, I looked at my desk as I said. "I'll take my things out of the office as soon as I can find a box."

"George, you are not listening. If you go to the doctor's appointment this afternoon, you can keep your job."

My brain had already frozen and was only hearing the word "Fired". None of the rest of what she said made any sense.

In a daze, I rose from my chair and started around the desk, heading for the copier room to pick up a box. As I walked, I stared at the floor so I wouldn't antagonize her. If I did, she might attack me. The though of being beaten made me shiver.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

As Ms Whitfield paused, I just sank to my knees. Slowly, I settled back so my butt rested on my heels. As I assumed the position, I bowed my head, lowered my eyes, and placed my arms behind my back with my wrists together. In the background, I heard beeping as someone dialed my desk phone.

"Dan, please come into George Morris' office right away. I have a problem and need your help."

A hand under my chin raised my head until I was forced to look into Ms. Whitfield's eyes. Slowly, she shook her head saying. "You're not packing anything from your desk."

The tears began to flow from my eyes. Not only was I fired, but she was not even letting me take my few meager personal possessions with me. The look on Ms Whitfield's face confused me. It wasn't stern or angry. In fact I was not sure what the look meant. If I didn't know better, I would swear it was pity. Oh God, please don't let it be pity.

"George, your résumé shows eight jobs in the last ten years. It's really more like fifteen isn't it?"

Tears running down my cheeks, I nodded my head. "Actually, it was nineteen. I didn't mean to lie on my application, but you wouldn't have hired me if you knew."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. Morgan, the manager of the other accounting team. Without releasing my chin, Ms Whitfield said: "Dan, I need your help. George has completely misunderstood what I was trying to do. Can you help me get him to the Institute?"

"Can't I just take my things and go? I won't even ask for my last check if you'll just let me have my things. I didn't mean to bother anyone, please just let me leave. Mr. Morgan, please don't let her hurt me. I'll go, just don't leave me alone with her."

With one of them on each side of me, they pulled me to my feet and guided me to the door of my office. In my right ear I could hear Mr. Morgan say. "George, Ms Whitfield won't hurt you. We are just trying to help you."

Like a condemned man walking to the gallows, I allowed them to lead me outside, farther and farther from the few personal possessions I had in the office. The thing I would miss the most was my heavy duty stapler with my initials on it, "GVM" for George Victor Morris. I purchased it for myself two years ago as a Christmas present. That and the long sleeve white dress shirt were the only two gifts under my tree that year. The shirt was also a gift from me to me. That year I wasn't fired until the week before Christmas, so I decided to splurge. That year I managed to work forty-six weeks.

Now it was August, this would be my third job this year. The worst thing was the other two jobs only lasted two weeks total. Without my last check, I would lose my furnished one room apartment and end up living in my twelve year old Honda.

Somehow I was going to need to find an accounting job where there were no women working in the accounting department. Like that was really going to happen. Just catching sight of a woman made my blood run cold. Worst of all was the fact that I found many of them sexual attractive. Not that I ever did anything about it except look longingly at them from across the room.

As we moved toward the door, Melissa Sager suddenly stood in front of me. Looking at Ms Whitfield, she said: "What happened? Ms Whitfield, what exactly did you say to George?'

"I just told him that if he didn't get some help we were going to fire him. Then I gave him the Doctor's card."

"Where is the card you gave him?"

Both Ms Whitfield and Mr. Morgan turned my hands to see if I was holding the card. Turning back to Melissa, Ms Whitfield responded. "He must have laid it on the desk before he started to fall apart."

Out of the corner of my eye, I observed Melissa moving quickly toward my office. Time was moving so slowly for me that it seemed like it was hours later when she returned running and waving the card.

"Please, please tell me this is not the card you gave him." Looking directly at Ms Whitfield she continued. "Do you have any idea what you did? Do you know how much damage you caused?"

During this whole exchange, I contemplated the pattern in the rug. Why wouldn't they just leave me alone and let me take my things home. Couldn't they wait to walk me out until after I packed up?

Suddenly, I felt Ms Whitfield letting go of my left elbow and moving away. She and Melissa carried on a whispered conversation that I only caught bits and pieces of. The phrases, "scare him to death" and "more damage than good" were about all I could make out.

Melissa Sager is five foot two inches tall. She is even shorter than my five foot five inch height. So even contemplating the carpet, I noticed her breasts in front of me. Mustn't let her know or she'll have Ms Whitfield hurt me.

Suddenly, I felt a steady pressure on the bottom of my chin. Melissa was using the palm of her hand to push my head up enough to look her in her eyes. When our eyes locked, I tried to look away.

"No George, don't look away. Look directly in my eyes.

"George, you are mine now. I will not allow anyone to hurt you, because you're mine. Do you understand?"

I tried to nod my head, but her hand held me in place. "Say it George, tell me you understand."

"I understand.'

"What do you understand?'

"I'm yours now and you won't let anyone hurt me. Does that include Ms Whitfield?"

"Yes George, that includes Ms Whitfield."

My doubt must have been in my voice, as she turned toward Ms Whitfield.

"Ms Whitfield, you won't hurt George. Isn't that right?"

Ms Whitfield looked confused and said: "No I will not hurt George."

"And Ms Whitfield, you won't let any of the other women in the office hurt George. Will you?"

Ms Whitfield looked even more confused. After hesitating for a moment, she responded. "None of the women in the office will hurt George."