If you want something 'hot' from the outset this is probably not for you. This is essentially a 'romance'. The basis of this story is the notion that we can be redeemed through love. I was motivated to use a shorter form after reading the story 'Home is Where the Heart Is' by lovecraft68, which I'd recommend. My use of 'Jamie' as the protagonist is a nod in that direction – although my Jamie isn't nearly so nice.
'Love; it is as a chain to a felon or as water to a seed. Some it binds, to remain only what they are. Others it frees, to become only what they are.'
My name's Jamie. Jamie Jensen. Not James, JJ or anything else...just Jamie. This is my story.
I was born with a bit missing. No, not that you dumbasses! Empathy - the ability to really relate to others. That's supposed to make me a psychopath. You know, a Jonathon Lecter - Silence of the Lambs, Dexter kind of person.
Well it didn't. Not completely anyway. According to the literature, especially DSM – IV TR, the diagnostic bible of mental disorders, I have an antisocial personality disorder but not too bad. I'm a socialised psychopath. That's good, I suppose. I was always precocious – or so I was told, physically, mentally, socially but certainly not emotionally. I always felt different; that's the way it's seemed to me. People always puzzled me and seemed a bit like big, incomprehensible insects but I could play their games.
If you want to experience for a while what I've felt about other people all my life, you can do this. Get on a bus or a train, preferably with only a few people on it, on a warm afternoon. Relax and close your eyes for a while and let the movement lull you for ten minutes or more. Then slowly open your eyes and look at the people around you. Seem unreal, like aliens do they? Does the world seem remote somehow? Do you feel oddly calm, emotionless, like an automaton? Derealisation and depersonalisation – my constant companions.
And no, no history of trauma or abuse. No terrible soul scarring experiences. I am an only child from an upper-middle class family with two normal parents, both of whom still seem to love each other and me. Pretty much I was a happy sociopath if there is such a thing.
As background, I'm 188cm tall, (6 foot 2 in the old money) and relatively slim and fit without having to do a lot of exercise, thanks Dad. Women have told me that my best features are my dark brown, (sometimes black), eyes and my body. Oh - I so yearn to be appreciated for my fine mind and the sensibility of my soul!
I was twenty four years old doing my half-time final placement to register as a clinical psychologist. Yeah, I know - the irony. And yet, it really suited me. I couldn't understand humans at a natural, experiential level so I was doing it academically and clinically and it seemed to be working. I was good at it and it gave me a bit of camouflage. After all, psychologists are right up there with psychiatrists; regarded as a bit strange.
Here's the weird thing. My clinical supervisor, Madeleine, who operated a private service for abused and traumatised people, was just like me. We'd had long professional and not so professional discussions and gradually discovered this about each other. Originally we just went out for drinks after work which became dinners and even the odd dinner with my family where she impressed my parents mightily. Finally it became bed. Although she was twelve years older than me we'd become 'lovers' – or whatever it should have been called since neither of us believed we could love.
Madeleine had taught and coached me in some things that weren't part of any academic curriculum. She had also arranged for me to seduce some of her friends for her own purposes – always with strict instructions for me about how, where, when and what but never 'why'. She always had her agenda and her own way of deciding who deserved what. She seemed to revel in manipulating and controlling those things known as people around her without them being aware of it. I suppose, to an extent, I was one of those things, although a willing one. A frequent comment from her was, "No punishments or rewards in life, only behaviour and consequences."
***
FRIDAY
We were having dinner at Madeleine's place, which I'd cooked of course since she refused to do anything so mundane, when she raised the topic over dessert.
"I've got a friend you should meet. Maybe take her out to dinner. I've told her about you – a bit anyway. Her name's Grace. She's a librarian at the university. She's about my age."
"What, another real old bitch to seduce then? Owww!" I gasped as she punched me hard in the chest. "Why do you always hit me?"
"I don't 'always' hit you, only when you deserve it," was her retort.
I pursed my lips and furrowed my brow as I tried to think of an appropriate response. Eventually, "As a psychologist I thought you'd be intellectually evolved enough not to be violent."
She had her often smug look as she said, "Violence works. Study your history. People bang on a lot about achieving things through non-violent means but research clearly demonstrates that in recorded history, groups using violence achieved their goals more often."
I shook my head. "You awe me. You can rationalise anything. Anyway, a librarian needing my special charms – how clichéd. I suppose she wears horn-rimmed glasses, tweed, thick stockings, clunky shoes and always has her hair up?"
Madeleine snorted and indicated with an inclination of her head. "That's a photo of her there, from when we were at university."
I walked over to the sideboard and picked it up. I'd never really paid attention to it before. It was quite large with an obviously expensive, solid silver frame. The black and white photo it contained showed two women, a younger Madeleine looking at the camera with her trademark seductive smile and a slightly taller, slimmer young woman seeming to gaze off into the distance distractedly. She was dressed in pants and a blouse, unlike Maddie's more casual jeans and t-shirt and she had an altogether more 'formal' look. She was certainly not unattractive with a handsome, rather than beautiful face, high cheekbones, sharp features and an unsmiling mouth a trifle too wide for complete symmetry but suggesting a passionate bent. Her hair was cut relatively short in a bob which didn't really seem to suit her somehow.
I could imagine her fifteen years older, especially as a librarian and my joking comment when I'd said 'tweed...clunky shoes...always has her hair up,' could well prove to be true now.
Madeleine came up behind me, took the photo and placed it carefully back on the sideboard. "Listen to me. You're not to get her enamoured of you and then split, okay? Grace is a good friend and I'd like her to feel a little more confident about herself, that's all. Just dinner and dancing somewhere – she was always a great dancer, I envied her that. And she's smart, genuinely smart, so no condescension, she'll detect it." Maddie stroked my cheek – very unusual. "Here's her work and mobile number," she said, looking very serious and handing me a slip of paper. "She's expecting your call. I think she'll impress you actually."
"Don't call me Ashley," I said, trying to lighten the mood. This wasn't how Madeleine usually gave me my 'missions' and I wondered just how many ulterior motives she had. It made me apprehensive.
* * *
Later that afternoon I was feeling a little nervous as I dialled the number, probably because Madeleine had acted differently about this woman. The call was answered immediately by a pleasant but professional sounding female voice, "Good morning, Art History Collection, Grace Duffield. How may I help you?"
I put on my most affable tone, "Hi Grace. It's Jamie. Madeleine gave me your number. I was hoping we could meet for coffee or better yet, a meal."
There was an extended pause. "Oh...yes...Madeleine said something about ...Jamie...yes..." Then another long interlude of silence. God! This was painful!
I continued undaunted, (well, truly a little daunted), "Is there somewhere you could suggest Grace?" (Seduction Rule 3 - let her choose the initial meeting place so she'll feel more comfortable).
Again, silence on the line for what seemed like ages. I struggled not to fill it and held myself back. "Well I went to a nice place for a staff thing with the women from work a while back – near the University. It's called the 'Dinner Club'. The food was good...and they have a dance floor."
