Dr. Fallow walked down the stairs after his preliminary examination of Mrs. Fessenden. When he reached the bottom the maid held his hat for him. George realized as he put his hat on that he had been whistling a tune. He wondered what sort of case awaited him back in his office -- what was critical enough to call him to return from the house-call on Mrs. Fessenden. More than that, though, he wondered about his next visit to continue with Emily Fessenden's examination. She seemed so genuine. As a busy doctor, he had not really made friends in the community. He had always felt it was difficult, or possibly even inappropriate to be a personal friend of one's patients.
He had led a very lonely life. After only 5 years of marriage, his wife had died miserably of consumption. He endured the intense frustration of not being able to save her. He had even felt embarrassed that he, the well-respected doctor, couldn't reverse his own wife's failing health. George had deeply mourned her passing, and threw himself all the more into his clinic, to keep his mind occupied. After the mourning subsided, George suppressed his personal needs. Dr. Fallow had devoted almost all his time to the practice of medicine, and reading medical texts and journals.
There were times, though, when the man within him struggled to the surface. His inner masculinity demanded to be expressed. Through the years, George had acquired a modest collection of erotic lithographs and prints. Rowlandson was a favorite erotic artist. And Caracci. They portrayed human sexuality very frankly. Copulation, and sucking, and fingering, and other forms of sexual acts. Leaving nothing to the imagination. They drew images of a wide variety of sexual relations between men and women. And between women and women. George had managed to obtain all the copies of The Pearl: A Magazine of Facetiae and Voluptuous Reading. A colleague in London had mailed each issue to George, beginning with the first number in 1879. It was exceptionally erotic, and he seriously fancied some of the serial stories, while merely skimming through those that did not appeal to his tastes. The public considered these things scandalous, shocking, and deviant. Profane and pornographic, they said they were. But George, eventually, understood human sexuality, and acknowledged his own erotic desires. Contrary to the general Victorian attitudes, including the views of the medical establishment of which he was part, George believed that sexuality is a normal part of a healthy life. Not perverse or wicked. Not intended only for procreation. And he most adamantly disagreed with the fanatics who claimed that masturbation was the cause of all manner of physical and mental illness. What tripe! The 'learned' churchmen intended to suppress this most natural part of life. What fools they were!
The whole medical profession seemed to be involved in the anti-sexuality lunacy! Most of his colleagues were convinced that masturbation -- self abuse as they called it -- led to everything from acne to complete madness. Poppycock!
George had studied this condition known as 'neurasthenia' with interest. There were many symptoms, and various causes. But it was obvious to him that, in some instances, it was caused by the lack of sexual release -- just the opposite of what many 'learned professors' were claiming. People needed the release of sex; he was convinced of it. The most learned scholars and physicians of ancient centuries, including Hippocrates and Galen, had written of the ill effects of sexual deprivation on one's physical and mental health. They had recognized the importance of sexual expression and release on they body and the mind. In fact, they had recommended intercourse and masturbation as therapies. They had proven their necessity and effectiveness in treating the very symptoms that were now being labeled 'neurasthenia'.
As he neared his office, George wondered. Might it be that Emily would become a friend with whom he could discuss such matters? There was no one, really, with whom he could talk about these things. He feared he would become an outcast and have his reputation ruined if he talked with the townsfolk. Surely he would be scorned and shunned if he mentioned these things to any of his medical colleagues. He had carefully kept the erotic prints and reading material locked in a small wooden chest, so that his cleaning woman would not discover them. It would ruin him, he felt certain, if people knew he held such thoughts, and that he viewed such images and literature. What made him even imagine that Emily might be different? What made him think that she might be someone with whom he could freely discuss his ideas? Was he being ridiculously foolish? Was he making too much of her curiosity? She had been uniquely comfortable with being unclothed in his presence. Was he interpreting that to be more than it really was? Would his own desires overshadow his good sense? He wondered.
The next afternoon, Herman Fessenden stopped by Dr. Fallow's office. He wanted to know what the doctor had discovered about Emily.
"Your wife's case is very interesting, Mr. Fessenden. I spent a great deal of time consulting with her about her symptoms. And I began my examination of her. I am scheduled to consult with her further on Friday afternoon, and continue my examination."
"You were there nearly two hours, doctor. Can you tell me nothing of her condition other than that it is 'interesting'?"
"Mr. Fessenden, Emily's -- Mrs. Fessenden's case is complex. She has many symptoms. In cases like this it takes considerable time to determine exactly what the cause or causes are. It cannot be rushed. You do want the best possible outcome for your wife, do you not?"
Taking a breath, Herman replied. "Yes, of course. Forgive my haste. I definitely want the best possible care for Emily, regardless of the cost involved. Your reputation as an excellent physician is well known among my employees. Please take whatever time is necessary to evaluate my wife, and, if it is possible, to remedy her situation." He lowered his gaze. "I have not been a husband to her in every sense of the word, however I do want her to be comfortable. And I want her to be able to entertain my business associates. I am involved in many financial endeavors, and would hope she would be able to receive my colleagues and their wives on occasion, instead of being in her room, or retiring early each day."
"I understand, Herman. You want Emily to be available to help you entertain clients and prospects. You want her to look the part of a successful man's wife, correct?"
"Exactly," Herman replied.
"You have provided a lovely home for her, a very generous budget, serving staff, and in return you want her to be visible to your associates."
"Yes."
"And your schedule keeps you very busy, and you haven't time to devote personal attention to Emily, and she needs to understand that, correct?"
"Yes, precisely," Herman answered emphatically. "She can help me make a better showing to my associates and clients. I give her all the things she needs, and it is my expectation that she will be available to socialize with my guests. She is well cared for. I'm a busy man. What else should she expect from me? What more could any woman expect?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied George, stifling his indignation toward Herman. "I can see how her illness seems to have been interfering with your business plans, Mr. Fessenden."
"I'm glad you understand Dr. Fallows. I am very willing to pay for your best attentions and treatments of my wife -- whatever it takes for as long as it takes -- as long as she is able to entertain guests in our home at my side. This is most important to me. My whole purpose of getting married was so that I can fit in with the other businessmen. Frankly, I would not have thought of it myself, but thankfully my father pointed out the necessity of it."
"I pledge to be meticulously thorough in examining your wife, Mr. Fessenden. And if I can discover the reasons for her illness, I will treat her as extensively as necessary so that she will be able to appear at your side at social engagements and dinner parties. You have my word on it." George extended his hand to Herman, and shook his hand, and Herman rushed back to his mercantile.
What an ass, George thought! What a pompous, unfeeling ass was Herman Fessenden! Emily was nothing more than an object to him -- a piece of furniture -- a painting on the wall -- intended to impress his associates. What a gargantuan self-absorbed ass!
George recognized Emily as a lovely, bright, charming woman. A possible friend. Even a potential close friend with whom he could discuss topics that he had to keep inside. She was in need of sexual release, he was certain. Trusting, honest, and unashamed of her body. George wished Emily had married someone worthy of her -- not Herman Fessenden. In his role as physician, he would care for her. He would determine her needs, and meet as many of them as he could. He would do his best to improve Emily's condition -- not for Herman, but for Emily's sake. And because he liked her very, very much. He would address her sensuality. Surely the buffoon she had married would never treat her better than an Oriental rug or a French crystal chandelier! He would take care of her, and somehow give her the attentions and the sensual release she obviously needed. Friday afternoon would not come too soon!
Emily eagerly anticipated George's return on Friday. He seemed so distinguished, and learned, and she felt unusually comfortable with him. She had surprised herself by being so immodest in his presence. A smile spontaneously spread over her face as she recalled the events. She had enjoyed their time together very much. She had felt pleasure while he was examining her. He had touched her so tenderly. She shuddered when she remembered his touch. And his gaze. She was not ashamed to have him see her nude body. She had not been embarrassed as he touched the intimate areas of her body. She had felt herself blush several times, and her heart hasten, but it was not because she felt uncomfortable. To the contrary -- she had felt very comfortable. Very...alive.
