corridor failed to betray the pleasant sterility of the room we were now in. While the corridor was a crass attempt to evoke sex, with the exception of the painted woman, this room was devoid of such vulgar gimmicks. I felt as though we were now within the walls of a scientific research institute.
“Before we get into it, Mr. Worthington, I’d like for us to sit down and have a brief chat. This will give us an idea of how to proceed.”
“Proceed with what?” I asked, making a show my irritation.
“That really depends on you.” She opened a door and gestured toward it. “Please take a seat, Mr. Worthington. I’ll be right with you.”
I was ushered into a small office and left to my own devices. The room was scarcely furnished, with just two chairs and a table between them – not that there was room for much else. I took a seat, and as had become my custom while sitting in chairs that weren’t Windsor, pined for our togetherness. On the wall behind the other chair was a large anatomical diagram with myriad lines pointing to so-called ‘sexual regions’. If this diagram was indicative of reality in any way, it suggested that we were rife with such regions. I shivered at the thought. Affixed to the wall on my right was a poster detailing a plethora of animal penises, starting with human and ending with the Aye-aye. I shuddered once more. Behind me was a similar poster, only this one was devoted to the vagina. I had never seen such a highly concentrated amount of filth. Perhaps coming here wasn’t a great idea. Who am I kidding? Of course it wasn’t!
The painted woman entered the office while I was studying the vaginas. I was ashamed and only hoped my face revealed an appropriate level of disgust. She made no mention of this and I at least admired her ability to let the shame of others rest.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Worthington. I had to attend to another patient. I’m all yours now.”
She flashed a smile that I didn’t return. Instead, I made a point of studying my sodden suit.
“What are you going to do about this?” I asked.
“We’ll have the suit taken care off. For now, shall we get into it?”
“Yes… I suppose. But I shan’t forget about the suit.”
I noticed her eyes roll back in frustration, which I considered something of a victory. Rather than continue discussing my suit, she opened a drawer and retrieved some papers. She squared them on the desk and placed them before me.
“I haven’t properly introduced myself. I am Perineum Applebaum. I am managing director and chief researcher at Sexualis Delirium. I am here to help you feel comfortable and respected during your awakening.”
The papers before me contained perverted questions such as:
Have you ever deliberately tasted pubic hair?
Do you examine your bowel movements before flushing?
Have you ever masturbated with a ‘sex duck’?
I threw the papers down in disgust.
“I’ll tell you right now, Miss Applebaum, the answer to each and every question is NO. And what do you mean by ‘awakening’?”
She flashed another smile – a smile that suggested she was enduring me rather than appreciating me. “You haven’t even read all the questions, Mr. Worthington. How can you honestly answer ‘no’ to each?”
“Because I am not a pervert. Now what’s all this palaver about my ‘awakening’?”
“The ‘awakening’ is merely a process of sexual understanding. People who come here are often afflicted with sexual frustrations, and our job is to remove those frustrations. Tell me, Mr. Worthington… what are your frustrations?”
I slammed my palm against the table. “I have a sole sexual frustration and that is that sex exists in the first place.”
Applebaum scribbled something into a notepad while repeating the word ‘interesting…’. “So it would be fair to say you don’t like sex?”
“Don’t like it? I loathe it with every fibre of my being. It is an infection slowly eating away at purity.”
A