The Case Files of Dr. Randall Herringwick
The Case of the Guilty Witch
Chapter One - The Eyes Have It
CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENT 217 - DAY 1
Isn't it odd how, when we have lived with a habit or disability for a long time, they cease to have the hold on our thoughts and consciousness that they once did? So, it became with my "malady." In the day-to-day course of my life, I was just an average man going about his business in the eyes of those around me; and after a long while, I sort of thought that way about myself ... even though I knew better, deep down inside. I was capable of acts no ordinary person would even think about perpetrating.
Oh, I suppose others DID know, or at least a few of them did. Loretta knew, of course; but she didn't count. She was in love with me, and love invalidates all judgments. Rory Johnson, the carpenter and building supervisor who lived in the basement of our building, had seen me in action once; so, he knew, though he didn't seem to think it worth mentioning. I wasn't too sure about his live-in girlfriend, Lauren. Pretty bright girl, Lauren. Actually, there should have been a comma there. Pretty, bright. Very much so in both departments. Rory might have told her ... I mean, they WERE lovers, after all. But, once again, if she knew, she didn't seem to hold my sickness against me personally.
My clients knew, of course. Not my patients, but my clients ... the ones who were actually LOOKING for a mad evil doctor to do the things which they lacked the professional competence or backbone to do themselves. They, of course, didn't count either.
But, then along comes someone who puts it all in perspective. And so it was that day, when Daphne, the guilty, green-eyed witch came to me, leading her trusting, innocent sex slave, Simone.
She walked into my office unannounced and without knocking, which sort of pissed me off, though she was right on time for the appointment she had made. Loretta ALWAYS announced my patients, and it didn't make sense that she would fail to do so in this case; but Loretta herself was third in line in the procession that paraded in, even if she did so blushing furiously and with downcast eyes. The middle girl of the group was small, petite and cute. That's how I think most people would describe her. One guy might say: "Look at those girls over there. I really like one of them." And his buddy would ask: "Which one?" And the guy would reply: "The cute one." And the second guy would know which one he meant. Cute.
And that leads me to a description of the witch herself. Alright, I don't know why I thought that word when I first saw her ... or why the concept seemed to manifest itself as the first five seconds of our meeting progressed while she approached my desk with outstretched right hand. She was tall and rather stout, and she carried herself with authority ... the type of person who could demand attention when she called for it. The black and blue pants suit she wore was tailored perfectly, so as not to accentuate her bulk, but rather draw attention to her bust, which was perhaps the best physical feature she had below her nose. Her hair was so black that it seemed to reflect a faint purple, the lowest color in the visible spectrum, but she had a small shock of purest white just above her forelock. I would not have called her very pretty; but, now that I thought about it, she wouldn't have been referred to as unattractive, either. And yet, due to one attribute in particular (yes, the one above her nose), she was not to be ignored. Her eyes practically radiated a bright, deep green, and as she got closer, I saw that her irises had what I would call a starburst pattern that drew a person's attention toward their centers, which were black and fathomless.
I thought about sex. And, that was odd, because I wasn't thinking about sex with HER; I was just thinking about sex in general. Perhaps it was Loretta's submissive posture ... or Little Miss Cute in the middle of the group, who was also exuding sexually obedient behavior (or was that just my imagination?). As I stood to take her hand, I wanted desperately to adjust the overly-tight front of my trousers, but I steadfastly refused to either look down or shift my weight.
"Good afternoon, doctor," she said, shaking my hand the way a man would, firmly. "Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice. I am Daphne Ludwig."
I tried to return her smile without letting it reflect my confused feelings. "I would like to take credit for that, but Loretta arranged for the appointment. I believe there might have been a cancellation. Loretta also announces my patients. Usually, that is."
She let go of my hand and took a small step back. "Please, that was entirely my fault. Don't be cross with her. I was trying to make a point."
I let my smile slip and replaced my features with unabashed scrutiny. "I couldn't be cross with Loretta if I tried," I told her flatly. "Also, I am completely unaware of why you are here, or whether it is to be a group session."
She smiled almost sadly and sighed. "Again, doctor, I am at fault for the rather unorthodox manner of our meeting. Please, I beg you, let me explain why." She turned and put her hand on her pixyish friend's arm. "This is my very good friend, Simone Roderick. I brought her in here, along with your lovely nurse, to demonstrate my little ... um ... problem." At the mention of "very good friend," her companion lowered her eyes, smiled hugely, and blushed; her complexion now matching Loretta's almost exactly.
I huffed a small laugh, letting my tension recede a little, and I again tried not to think about my erection. "Alright," I said, "you've got me. I love a mystery. Won't you ... all be seated?" I motioned toward the chair at the side of the room while glancing at Loretta, and she took it, though she wasn't looking at me. Daphne led little Simone to the couch and they both sat there, leaving the big chair in front of my desk vacant. Again, I was taken aback by something out of the ordinary, but simply shrugged and sat down myself.
"Doctor Herringwick," she said immediately, jumping right in, "I was at a party over the weekend ..." She paused. "I go to a lot of parties. In point of fact, it's how I earn my living; but we can get to that later. Anyway, I was at this party, and I met a man named Justin Ardly. I believe you've met him?" She didn't let me comment, rushing on after seeing me start to nod. "I think he would have talked about butterflies and moths forever, but I changed the topic. I have this knack for leading a conversation in the direction I want it to go. We talked about his pretty wife, who is so pregnant that she looks like she's about to pop. And, after awhile, that train of conversation seemed to lead to you, and how you helped him ... um ... achieve his goals in life." She held up her hand before I could issue the angry comment I had intended. "Please, doctor. Don't blame Mr. Ardly for breaking a personal confidence. Believe me when I tell you that it was not his intention to bring up his relationship with you. In point of fact, he has no recollection of doing so."
That last sentence stopped me cold. "No recollection?"
"Before I get into what brought me here, I need to do a little demonstration. I promise you that it will be a small, innocent thing. Will you allow it?"
I sat back in my chair and swiveled it slightly, left and right, as I thought. Finally, I made a small gesture with my right hand, inviting her to go ahead.
She turned to the smaller woman beside her, and young Simone automatically turned as well, facing her companion. "I need to show him, dear. Don't resist, okay?"
The girl blinked. "Here? But, why, Daphne?" She looked imploringly up into the woman's eyes.
"Don't argue, dear. And don't resist. Now, relax. Just relax. That's it. Very good. Be sleepy for me now. Excellent." Little Simone's eyes almost immediately lost focus. Her lips had parted, obviously with the intention of forming further words, but they were seemingly lost in her mind, along with all other thoughts, her mouth now was slack, her expression blank. "Sleep now, my darling," the woman ordered softly, and she reached up and grasped the girl by she shoulders, gently settling her unconscious body back into the cushions of the couch.
Without pausing to consider her handiwork, the woman rose and walked to Loretta's chair. Nervously, automatically, my nurse rose and faced her. "And now it's your turn, dear," she said.
"I ... I ... no. Please, no."
