John & Argie

"There ain't no pussy alive that will not twitch when they is properly stoked."

~ Diamondmouth ~

Chapter 5

Confrontation

What the hell?" He blurted out on seeing Argie curled into a ball on the floor. Had she had a heart attack?

Argie!" he called out.

'He's home! The bastard's home, now where's that fuckin' knife?" She wondered, and then found it under her hip. Rising to her knees, Argie brandished the long-bladed knife at him, causing John to take a backward step.

"What the hell?" He stammered, confused by the angry woman before him.

"You son of a bitch!"

"What? What'd I do?"

"You know perfectly well!"

"No, I don't! What the hell's going on?"

"I heard the tape, you fuck! I listened to the sex tape, and don't deny it, I know your voice!"

"Jesus!" He gasped, and thought furiously. His instincts told him to go with the truth.

"If . . . if you just put the knife down, I'll try to tell you about the tapes."

"Tapes? You mean there's more than one?"

"Err, yeah, more than one," he said lamely.

Argie threatened him with the knife once again, and John took two steps back, keeping maximum distance from her.

"Will you listen, for Christ's sake?" He pleaded.

"I'm listening, you no-good bastard!" Argie huffed. She was finding it difficult to breathe, and decided to stab him before she lost consciousness.

John began to talk – stammering at first, then getting to the actual truth of the matter.

"I . . . I'm a sex addict. You should know that up front."

The shock on Argie's face was apparent, and he saw it as he continued.

"The tapes . . . my shrink, Dr. Gladstone, umm, thought that putting my . . . "

"Whores and sluts!" Argie finished for him.

"No, no! It wasn't like that . . . not always . . ."

"BASTARD!" She screamed, and waved the knife recklessly, almost cutting her own arm.

"Be careful with that thing!" he shouted.

"Don't yell at me, you . . . you fucking bastard!"

"Gladstone told me to put them down on tape. The idea being that listening to myself in the doctor's office might help me see the way to admitting that I'm sexually addicted."

"You're a sex addict?" she huffed, but began to calm down.

"Would you like to come to my next appointment? She'll be happy to see you. She's broached the possibility to me, but I . . ."

"A woman! Your shrink is a woman?"

"Yeah . . ."

Argie fought to compose herself. If John was truly ill she wanted to help him. But if this was some bullshit story he'd concocted to get her to put the knife down, she would cut his dick and balls off like that New Jersey woman did a few years back.

"Let me call her. You talk to her . . . " he finished weakly, not knowing which direction to take with her.

"Call!" Argie said.

"She may not be available," he added, and looked miserable.

Argie felt a twinge of pity for him; then summoned up all the righteousness she could muster for her plight. Married to a sex addict --- my God, what would her friends think?

'My friends,' she thought . . . 'how many of them has he screwed?'

"Do I know any of these . . . women?" she asked, hating herself for asking, yet feeling a great need to know the truth.

John was dialing Dr. Gladstone's office and the receptionist answered just as his wife asked the volatile question. He held up a hand as if to ward Argie off, then pointed to the phone.

Argie crossed her arms, and although fuming, remained quiet, preferring to speak to his so-called therapist.

"John Franck, calling," he said, "I have an emergency . . ."

"Damn right you've got an emergency," Argie muttered, not caring if the person on the other end heard her.

"Well tell her it's critical . . ." he said into the phone. Looking at Argie, he shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, "She's with a patient."

"As soon as possible . . . yes, she has my number . . . thanks . . . goodbye."

"Why don't we listen to the other tape while we wait?" Argie said sarcastically.

"I don't think that will help matters any," he said, and his shoulders sagged. He couldn't believe how tired he had become in the past few minutes. 'Stress,' he told himself.

"The tapes, Johnny-boy, play the Goddamn tapes!"

All right! All right!" he shouted, "I'll play the damn thing!"

"Get your rocks off today?" Argie asked with scathing bluntness.

"Huh, what?" he asked, the blood rushing through his brain at a dizzying speed. He felt his knees buckle, but caught himself and prevented himself from falling.

"Do I know any one of the dozens of whores you fuck when I'm not around!"

"You're not being fair!" he groaned, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm a sick man!"

"You're a liar and a cheating cocksucker! Argie screamed at him, as the phone rang.

John leaped to answer it. He would have welcomed anyone at the moment to relieve him of the tremendous burden of facing his irate wife.

"Oh, Dr. Gladstone . . . Thank you, thank you for calling back so quickly. I . . . we have a big problem, you see, my wife heard the tape . . . ."

"Yes, the first tape, and I need for you . . . ."

"No! You don't understand. My wife has heard the tape . . . she's going crazy. She's going crazy right now. This minute. Please, talk to her!"

"Yes . . . yes . . . right." John said, and extended the phone to his wife, "Dr. Gladstone . . ." he managed to croak.

"Hello," Argie said, as coolly as possible.

"Mrs. Franck," Dr. Gladstone said rapidly, "Having heard the tapes . . . well . . . I know . . . it doesn't put your husband in the best possible light."

"That's for sure . . ." Argie responded coldly.

"But rest assured he has a very serious problem. I cannot discuss it with you . . . at least not over the phone. I would think John would want you to be aware of the extent of the problem he's facing. If he agrees, I can see the two of you, um, one second, let me check my appointments."

Approximately thirty seconds elapsed before Doctor Gladstone spoke again. My calendar is filled for today, but as this is very serious, I can see the two of you this evening . . . say seven?"

"Seven's good, Doctor. We'll both be there . . . and Doctor?"

"Yes, Mrs. Franck?"

"I won't tolerate any bullshit. He's been lying his rotten ass off for years, I've about had it with him."

Dr. Gladstone's eyebrow arched at Argie's use of the word "about." That augured well for John in that Argie had not quite given up on him. Gladstone followed with: "I hope that in learning the full extent of his problem you'll be more understanding."

Argie hung up without saying goodbye. John knew better than to criticize her behavior.

*****

"What's she look like?" Argie asked as they parked their car in Doctor Gladstone's parking lot.

"You'll see," he replied morosely, knowing her temper would flare on viewing the beauty of his therapist.

"I asked you a simple question, asshole . . . what's she look like?" Argie snapped, clearly in a foul mood as they approached the Doctor's office.

"She's . . . a good-looking woman, about 35 or 40. But," he hastened to add, "she's all business."

"Wouldn't fuck you, huh?" Argie spat out at him, knowing that he'd probably tried and failed.

If there had been a hole handy, he would have crawled into it. Instead, he knocked on the doctor's office and heard her call out for them to enter.

Doctor Gladstone had changed to a conservative business suit, dark blue with thin pin-stripes. A white blouse completed her outfit and she had resorted to using the barest amount of makeup possible. She was well aware that Mrs. Franck would consider her a rival to be reckoned with and wanted to dissuade her of the idea as soon as possible.

"Hello, John," Doctor Gladstone said, but made no attempt to rise in greeting. Argie pushed past her husband as if to confront the doctor. Doctor Gladstone rose up at that point, and came around her desk, hand extended in greeting.

"I'm terribly sorry to meet you under these circumstances. I warned John it might happen, and suggested that he discuss his problem with you. But obviously he didn't take my advice."

John bristled at this, for the doctor had never said as much. Sure there had been suggestions of his possibly joining Sex Addicts Anonymous; but he hadn't. Now the idea sounded great and he thought he'd bring it up at the earliest opportunity.

"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Franck?"

"You too, John. Now before we go any further, do I have your permission to reveal your 'secrets' to Mrs. Franck, John?"

Argie glared at him, daring him to refuse.

"Yeah, sure . . . of course, why not?"

"Good. Then, may I call you Argie?"

"Mrs. Franck is fine. Let's just stay with that." Argie said caustically.

The doctor sighed, and said, "Very well then. Mrs. Franck, some people have never in their lives talked to anyone about what they cherish and fear most. Keeping such a large part of yourself completely to yourself over the course of time becomes a breeding ground for shame, guilt and confusion."

"Therapy lets light in by engaging in a non-judgmental, empathic, safe process. The therapeutic relationship is a sort of laboratory that examines the unconscious belief systems that used to help the patient psychologically survive early-life dysfunctional attachments."

Doctor Gladstone realized Argie was not taking this well, but forced herself to continue.

"Once these patterns are uncovered and understood, the patient will have the opportunity, through a variety of therapeutic interventions, to seek freedom. Rather than feeling enslaved by their desires, now they are in the driver's seat. They are riding the horse – the horse is no longer riding them."

"Can we please can the crap Doctor? What the hell is going on with this . . . this sex freak?"

Gladstone frowned, she was not used to being challenged by a patient's spouse.

"Yes, well, although not a freak, John is addicted to sex. It's a little early to tell for certain, but it would appear that John began his addiction at a very early age."

"Is he a faggot as well?" Argie barked. "Does he fuck men too?"

"Mrs. Franck, please, name calling will serve no useful purpose."

"It makes me feel a lot better," Argie snapped in response.

Doctor Gladstone fought hard to keep her tone neutral, but failed.

"You're not the patient, Mrs. Franck, John is. And I respectfully ask that you listen before saying something you may later regret."

"Goddamn you!" Argie shouted, and jumped up as if to strike the doctor. Dr. Gladstone rose quickly, prepared to defend herself; while John remained seated, looking on in horror.

Fortunately, Argie had fully vented by cursing the doctor. Both women glared at each other, and then gradually eased back into their chairs.

Argie turned to John, saying sarcastically, "She really turns you on, doesn't she?"

Blindsided, he had no answer save, "Who? What are you talking about?"

"This bimbo behind the fucking desk . . . with the medical degree! Admit it, you're hot for her, aren't you?"

Aghast, for at that moment, having forgotten his words on the tape, he wondered how Argie could have known his desire for the doctor's body. He stammered, but managed to say, "What are you talking about?"

Bursting into tears, Argie for the first time, revealed her own angst to him. "We hardly make love anymore! All those other women . . . you've abandoned me! What's wrong with me? I take good care of myself. My tits don't sag, my ass is firm and I love to fuck . . . I don't understand why you prefer all these other women?"

"Mrs. Franck," Gladstone said, interrupting. "He's sick! He needs treatment. You can help him get back to normal!"

"But do I want him?" Argie wailed through her tears. "Christ, I feel so dirty . . . so betrayed."

"I think you do," the doctor said quietly. "You came here prepared to fight me for him. Now that you understand the only thing between your husband and me is doctor-patient oriented, that threat is gone."

"And what about all the others?" Argie muttered, still crying.

"The others are the problem. I think your hearing the tapes . . ."

Argie cut her off. "I only heard the one."

"I asked John to make a tape of all those women . . ."

"Yeah . . . let's discuss all the sluts he's fucked. What about them?"

"We're back to the nature of his illness, Mrs. Franck. As I've told you, John is sick. He requires treatment. I think it will be very helpful, if, after calming down and thinking about the situation, you become a participant in helping him recover."

"Am I supposed to find more whores for him?"

"No, his compulsiveness and obsessive pre-occupation will gradually diminish as we discover, and rework the irrational belief systems that have held him back from experiencing a life filled with choice, adventure, passion and joy."

"So what are you suggesting I do?" Argie said, more calmly this time.

"Let's get him into Sex Addicts Anonymous. He'll go to the first few meetings alone. I believe you'll be allowed to attend certain meetings but not all. That's to preserve the anonyminity of the other members. Of course, you'll come to our sessions as well, at least until John is back on track."

"He can be cured then?"

"Very possibly."

"No certainty of it?"

"We can't be certain of most things in life, Mrs. Franck."

"Argie, for Christ's sake!" John blurted out, having grown impatient with what was transpiring.

"Shut the hell up, no one's asked you to say anything," Argie warned him. But she appeared mollified to some extent that he was fighting a disease which contributed to his seeing all those other women.

The meeting went on for another thirty-four minutes, but nothing new was added.

Enroute home, Argie relented somewhat in her conviction that he was an adulterer of the worst sort. "We'll listen to the rest of the tapes when we get home," she said, meaning every word.

*****

Halfway through the second tape, Argie burst into tears.

"You don't love me!"

"Honey! That's crazy! I do love you!"

"I must be a lump in bed the way you chase them!"

"No, no! You got me all wrong. I love having sex with you . . ."

Taking her hands from her tear-stained cheeks, Argie began to strike at him, hitting him again and again with her fists. He absorbed the first few blows; then gradually subdued her. Holding her wrists so that she couldn't hit him again, he asked, "Argie, are you finished?"

As she relaxed, he released his hold on her hands. Almost immediately, Argie spat out, "How do you find them? Do you go to some sleazy titty bar? Do they just fall in your lap?"

He couldn't believe it. The uncanny senses of a woman! No sense lying, but also no sense in telling the whole truth.

"Argie, you're right," he said soberly, "Absolutely right."

"You hit a strip club and pick them up?"

"I have. But I find women . . . everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

John, do you think I'm desirable?" she asked changing tactics.

"Of course I do. You're beautiful."

Argie curled up on the sofa, dug her toes into the cloth cushions and gave him a smoldering glance.

"You find me beautiful?"

"I do."

"And desirable?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Do you want me now?"

He felt himself grow hard. He had a fleeting thought that the events of the afternoon had never occurred. Then brought himself back to reality. 'What the hell was she up to?' He wondered.

"Yes," he replied, "I want you. I always want you."

Argie had come to terms with his situation. He would go to a series of meetings at sex addicts anonymous and she would have an affair or two of her own. If he was cured, fine, but in any event, Argie would have her revenge.

"Well then, listen to me you son-of-a-bitch!" Argie roared out at him, "From now on you come home for your sex. You see something cute on the street, take a look, but don't you dare touch it. Come home and I'll cool you off. Understand me?"

He nodded. "Yes, I . . . I don't want to jeopardize our marriage."

"You stupid bastard, you've already done that!"

"I . . . I understand . . . . I'm so sorry!"