The Hooer and the Psychologist

A psychologist is forced to re-evaluate his life after a chance meeting with a prostitute

Author's notes:

1. This is a work of fiction. The activities and practices described in this story are not necessarily either condoned or recommended. If you choose to do anything described in real life with real people you do so at your own risk.

2. All characters are fictional and any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the author's knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.

3. Notwithstanding the above, the wilderness situations and first aid treatments described lie within the author's realm of expertise and, in many respects, are based on personal experiences from several trips into the wilderness.

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Jim drove into the small car park at the end of the gravel road and was pleased to see it was empty. He was looking forward to a weekend in the wilderness area, away from city life, from people, from his work as a behavioral psychology researcher and, yes he admitted to himself, away from his wife and children. He felt guilty when he realized this latter fact, knowing he had what to others appeared to be the idyllic marriage to Raelene, his wife of seven years. Together they had produced two wonderful children, David, aged four and Jessica, aged two, who was giving a new meaning to the concept of the 'terrible twos'. He and Rae had become an item at college and had slowly and naturally become lovers and drifted into marriage. He realized now, belatedly, that they had just gone with the flow, never questioning whether or not marriage and a lifelong commitment was what they really wanted. Rae had resigned her job as a clinical psychotherapist just before the birth of David and was now a full time devoted wife and mother. Now he felt it was all turning to custard and he was striving to resist labelling it as the seven year itch.

Although from the outside his life appeared to be wonderful, inside, in his time away from researching the lives of psychopaths, many of whom were serial killers and all of whom had destroyed the lives of many people, with a view to finding some common factor in their genetics or upbringing, he had a gradually dawning feeling that he was missing out on life. It had all been too easy; he had no challenge, nothing to strive for, no goal to attain. He was part way through writing a book, needless to say on the psyche of psychopaths, had published numerous papers and was a sought after speaker for psychological conferences worldwide. He had the world on a plate, but spent much of his time disconsolate and depressed, while trying to hide these from fellow psychologists including Rae. Not an easy task. So he was looking forward to a rare free weekend hiking through the forests and into the rugged mountain areas a short drive from his palatial home in an attempt to 'find himself', as the current jargon would state it. He knew from experience there was something about the mountain air that cleared the mind and cleansed the soul, giving him time to make some decisions about his life with the clarity of thought necessary for such momentous contemplations.

He sorted his gear in the trunk, filling his rucksack with the necessities for staying overnight in an alpine cabin. The weather forecast was for a band of frontal rain overnight, but the day looked good and these fronts usually passed quickly. Packing completed, he eased himself into the harness, feeling the old familiar pressure on shoulders and hips, locked his car and set off jauntily up the ridge trail. He knew from experience that steeper trails may be more tiring going uphill but were certainly easier than going downhill, so he was taking the shorter, steeper trail today, leaving the more gentle trail down for tomorrow to complete the loop. As he entered the forest the old familiar smells came to him, the pine scented foliage, the rotting vegetation underfoot, and here and there signs of animals , the gnawed tree branch and the flattened grass where some animal had spent the night in shelter.

He climbed rapidly, breaking out of the forest after nearly two hours, hiking through a belt of low scrubby vegetation before the trail began wending its way through jagged rocks and boulders. Jim stopped to take in the view, rest his shoulders and have a bite or two of his nutritious food bars, washing it down with some crystal clear cold water from the tinkling stream that crossed the trail. It was perfection; the sun shone down warmly, evaporating the sweat from his back, a few wisps of hazy cloud all that disturbed the perfect blue of the early spring sky. The horizon disappeared into the distance in a blur of city smog, which did nothing to pollute the pristine mountain air. What a great day, thought Jim, forgetting for a while his despondency and the looming problems of his life and relationship.

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Skye drove into the carpark noting that there was one other car there. Oh well, she thought, I could probably do with some company. She felt tired and stale; tired from the hours she was keeping, from the need to dance all night and entertain her male clients all day just so she had enough to make rent and to eat. Stale because it was the same old same old, every day the same, different people, same problems, guys who wives didn't understand them, who had problems with work, with everything. She was tired of being the listening post for everyone, for having others' problems lumped onto her, of living a lie, being one person to herself while lying about her work to others. Legal secretary indeed! Her mother must have realized by now she couldn't possibly be a legal secretary without years of training, which they both knew she didn't have. However, her mother had enough problems of her own with her second alcoholic husband so tended to stay out of her life.

She'd had several boyfriends but each had left once she had been forced to confess her real job: a stripper and hooker specializing in tantric sex therapy. She was unemotional about this work as it was, after all, providing what had become a necessary service for many men; it just seemed that men in particular judged her harshly and didn't want her to share her body with others. Hypocrites! They were quite happy to watch a girl strip or to spend a night and many dollars for her company in bed, yet if his girlfriend did that, he would want nothing more to do with her. Talk about a double standard!

But the day was far too beautiful for these thoughts to stick around for long. It was one of those rare weekends she'd given herself where she could lose the tawdry seediness of clubs and bedrooms and rejoice in the fresh mountain air, birds soaring overhead, the fresh clean pine scent and the rocky peaks rising above the surrounding plains. While she'd done a few day hikes, she'd never been away on an overnight trip before so she was really looking forward to the experience. The weather was perfect, as far as she could see, just a bit of hazy cloud but that was no problem. The early spring was also a wonderful time of renewal, sprouting grasses after the snows of winter, birds courting partners in the trees, soon to bring forth the next year's progeny. No discouragement or harsh judgements when they had sex, she thought.

She threw a few things into her borrowed rucksack, locked her car and felt the unfamiliar weight and pressure on her shoulders as she set off along the valley. The friend who had told her about the cabin in hills had mentioned there was a loop trail so she decided the best way was to go the slightly longer but less steep way so she could come back down the steep grade instead of having to climb it first off. At least by then I should be a bit fitter, she reasoned.

She meandered her way through the valley, following the clearly marked trail, stopping frequently to rearrange her rucksack on her back and to look at places of beauty; a small waterfall, birds flitting amongst the trees, water tinkling over boulders in the stream. Such a marked contrast with her everyday life. I wish I could live out here forever, she thought wistfully. Gradually the trail steepened and she began the inevitable climb beside the cascading stream, stopping frequently to catch her breath and gaze at the beauty. After a couple of hours she rested and had a few bites of cake to eat, left over from some party last week. She also tentatively sampled the stream water, hoping it was fit to drink. It certainly tasted good, far better than the chemically treated city stuff from the taps in her flat. She was in the shade of the trees and was beginning to get cold. Maybe she should have taken a woollen top, she thought with a shiver. No problem, I'll get moving and that will soon warm me up again.

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Jim saw the cabin in the early afternoon, perched high on a ridge, and he followed the trail markers, winding up the last steep climb until he sat on the small porch. He rested, taking in the superb view, nibbling on some more nutritious bars, at peace with the world. It seemed very difficult to even think about his troubles or any work problems up here; it was as though he was in a different world, just him and nature; maybe if he ignored his problems they would just vanish, he thought, but he knew in his heart this rarely occurred. He noticed small things; the chirp of a bird on the ground seeking food, the increasing sigh of the wind as it moved across the rocks and around the cabin, the thickening layer of cloud forming a circular rainbow around the sun. This latter, he knew from experience, was the precursor to the storm due tonight. He was pleased he had reached the cabin.

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As Skye left the shelter of the trees she felt the bite of the cold wind. The sun was no longer warm and appeared to have a ring around it. This led her to notice that the clouds were thicker as well. However, she must be nearly to the cabin; she'd been hiking for what seemed like weeks. Her legs and shoulders ached and she felt hungry. I'll eat when I get to the cabin, she thought, but right now I need to push on as fast as possible. I certainly don't want to be caught in the open if a storm's coming. She walked slowly, desultorily, plodding one step after the other. She no longer felt light and free but rather tired, sore, heavy, dull and wanting nothing more than to find the cabin and rest. She stopped again and pulled on her windproof jacket, a light nylon anorak that barely reached her waist. Still, it would have to do, she thought as the wind seemed to whip away her body heat. She wished she'd brought some gloves and a hat.

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Jim looked in amazement at the approaching cloud. It stretched from horizon to horizon, from well above him to the plains below, a complete wall of dark gray, ominous looking, impenetrable murk. It appeared to be stationary but a closer look showed it was racing across the landscape. He turned back inside to find his camera for a photo of this weather phenomenon but too late; before he could return it had arrived. The wind rose to a howling gale, rain, sleet and hail lashed the cabin. Jim went around the windows, ensuring everything was fastened shut. He felt the temperature drop rapidly and amidst the deafening din of the hail on the tin roof, set about lighting a fire in the old pot belly stove. Fortunately there was plenty of wood and twigs in a corner of the main room.

The fire was soon burning brightly and the room was warming up, as was Jim since he'd put on his mountain jacket and pants. He put a pot of water on the stove to heat. He pitied anyone who was out in this weather. He listened to the storm beating away at the cabin, noticing that it was no longer a steady roar but seemed to come in waves. There would be a wave of torrential rain and hail, then a break for a short time, maybe about 15 to 20 seconds, then another wave of sound. He was puzzling over this phenomenon when a break in the sound came and very faintly he thought he heard a cry in the distance, sounding like a cry for help. He quickly stood and went to the window on the lee side of the cabin and threw it open, listening intently. Nothing. He thought he must have imagined it but then he realized that for the sound to reach him it would have had to come from the windward side. He went to the other side of the cabin and waited for the next lull in the weather. Once it came he opened the window and again listened.

"Help. Help me."

The cry was faint but definite. Somebody was out there and that somebody needed help -- now. He quickly pulled on his outerwear, reasoning that the person out there would be hypothermic and he was useless if he also was hypothermic. He waited for the next lull then opened the door and walked into the gale. He was only a few paces from the cabin when he heard the cry again.

"Help me. Please someone help me."

He followed the sound, bracing himself as the next icy blast hit him, waited for the next lull then walked towards the sounds, now fainter than before. Either the person was walking away from shelter or was failing rapidly. He hurried onwards into the teeth of the gale, ignoring the next blast as he plodded determinedly towards where the sound came from. It was fortunate that it hadn't happened a bit later because it was already nearly dark due to both the lateness in the day and the grayness of the murk enveloping the mountain. The cry for help came again during the next lull, closer now, but fainter. He adjusted his course slightly, kept walking during the next blast, then found a person lying across the trail during the lull.

At first he didn't know whether the body in front of him was alive or dead. He assumed alive as it had been calling for help a short time earlier. It seemed he was just in time and the body did not stir when he shook the shoulder. He eased the rucksack off the shoulders and put it on his own back, then picked up the body in his arms and began making his way back to the cabin. The body appeared lifeless, draping over his arms without movement. Fortunately he now had the wind at his back so despite the rucksack and body, and because of adrenaline no doubt, he made it back to the cabin in rapid time.

He placed the body on the floor of the main room and removed the rucksack. What to do now? He knew all the theory of treating hypothermia, the theories about rapid compared with slow rewarming, but had never had a real live situation like this. He felt for a carotid pulse, present but weak and slow. He noticed she was a female, slight build, wearing pitifully inadequate clothing for these conditions. He opened her rucksack and found little of any use, no woollen clothing, not even any dry socks. Her clothing was completely saturated and was rapidly sucking what was left of her body heat away from her. He went to a bunkroom and grabbed a mattress, placing it beside his unconscious patient, then lifted her onto the mattress and proceeded to strip her naked, removing all her cold wet clothing before using his towel to dry her gently. He searched for his spare warm clothing, pulling it onto her easily as it was much larger than necessary, fitting his warm woollen hat on her head. He resisted the urge to try to rewarm her hands and feet, knowing that this would seriously decrease her core temperature, and he ignored the thin summer sleeping bag in her rucksack, instead unrolling his own bag. He unzipped it and wrapped it around her as she lay unconscious on the mattress in front of the fire.

What next? A cold body can't generate enough heat to warm even the warmest sleeping bag. He had to warm her from the inside, but for that she needed to be conscious so he could give her a hot drink. If he tried to give her anything while she was unconscious she could choke to death. He remembered a lecture he'd heard on alpine treatments for hypothermia and a suggestion had been made about getting the victim to breath steam off a pot of hot water. He already had his patient lying in the recovery position as she was unconscious, so he repositioned her head so her face was close to the edge of the mattress and placed the pot of hot water on the floor alongside. He racked his brains for something else to do but every other form of heating was going to reduce her core temperature, so he knew he had to be patient. He checked her position was stable and then filled another pot with water and placed it on the stove to heat.

It must have been about ten minutes, which to Jim seemed like ten weeks, before she showed any signs of life. During that time he checked her carotid pulse and breathing many times, each time finding her pulse present, though still slow, and her breathing also slow and shallow. Then she moved and let out a groan. Jim quickly checked the pot of water, making certain her face couldn't fall into it if she moved. It was still steaming a little and at least warming the air she breathed. She moved slightly and groaned again, then moved her head. Jim stroked her cheek gently, reassuring her that she was going to be fine. She seemed to settle a little after that and Jim exchanged the cooling water for the warmer water on the stove. After a short time she stirred again and tried to lift her head, also trying to speak but her speech was too slurred to be understood.

"You're warming up in the cabin," Jim told her, "You've got hypothermia. Just rest and you'll be fine. I'll give you a warm drink in a few minutes when you're able to drink it."

She relaxed once again, the effort of speaking and moving possibly taking the last of her strength at that time. Jim kept monitoring her, stoking the fire, checking the water on the stove and waiting for his patient to awaken once again. When she did he poured some water into a cup, stirred in some chocolate powder and sugar, then offered it to her. She wasn't able to hold the cup but Jim used a spoon and fed the warm sweet liquid to her a spoonful at a time. Once she had drunk about half of it, she was more alert and he held the cup to her lips and she drank the remainder. She lay down again, allowing the warm chocolate to revive her and warm her inside. Then she opened her eyes and looked at Jim.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jim. You've been hiking to a cabin in the hills and you were caught in a storm that is still raging outside. I rescued you and brought you here. You have hypothermia and you're slowly warming up, so just rest and everything will be fine. What's your name?"

"I'm Skye. Thank you for rescuing me, Jim."

This effort seemed to exhaust her for a few minutes and she lay down and closed her eyes again. She was obviously very far from stable and would require careful management for a while yet. Patience was the key. While she lay there, unmoving, Jim prepared some pasta and dehydrated meat for dinner from his food stock. He hadn't found anything suitable in Skye's rucksack so was very grateful that he always carried an emergency supply with him. He cooked it on the stove and dished some out for himself, eating it quietly while watching Skye.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties, he figured, about five years younger than himself he thought, and had a well-toned, trim body he remembered from when he'd stripped her earlier. He chewed his food ruminatively, wondering what her life was like. She had a pierced navel he remembered but wore no rings so probably was single. His thoughts were interrupted by Skye's eyes popping open and she looked around herself without attempting to move, just taking in the situation, looking at Jim, looking at the cabin. She suddenly realized she had been very close to death and how lucky she was, lucky that she'd got that close to the cabin, lucky Jim had decided to hike to the cabin today, lucky that he was experienced in the outdoors and knew how to treat hypothermia. She took a deep breath and sighed. She was quite fatalistic about life, believing that what happened, happened and when it was time to die, you died. Obviously it was all meant to be and it wasn't her time to die yet. She wondered why it all had to happen, what was the bigger plan? Why had they been brought together like this?