Chapter 3
Romo wasn't sure just how much he liked Lisa. Oh, he enjoyed making it with her sexually, all right; partly because fucking humiliated her and partly because screwing her gave him a sense of having done something useful-of having provided her with a bit o heterosexual therapy, of having given her an insight into the pleasures of man-woman sex. But did be like her? He wasn't sure. She could be incredibly vulgar at times, and she enjoyed dishing out humiliation as much as he enjoyed watching her be humiliated. The way she had behaved with Jan the other night, in front of the group… She hadn't been very nice to Jan, really, though God knows she hadn't behave any worse than Romo himself.
There were moments when Lisa could be remarkably tender. She did love Jan; she said so, and he believed her. It wasn't the same kind of love a woman would have for a man, or even the sort that a true lesbian would feel for a fellow dyke, but it had a certain sincerity. It was a sisterly love with incestuous overtones, one might say.
And the story of Lisa's first lesbian experience, her friendship with Marcelle, had been deeply touching. She had told the story with genuine emotional warmth. It had been more than a confession of sin; it had been a reminiscence of a true friendship, a friendship that bordered on love, Lisa hadn't exploited Marcelle, nor had the French girl taken advantage of Lisa. It had been the tenderest, most genuine form of friendship, and whatever bitterness Lisa felt now was aimed not at Marcelle, but at her own confused sexual identity and needs Lisa was becoming something of a problem for Romo. He found himself worrying about her, identifying with her problems. It was an unhealthy state of affairs, and he knew it. Romo had always been aware of the need to avoid emotional involvement, no matter how casual, with GSI members. Personal counseling was one of the services which he offered, to be sure, hut he had no obligation to cure his members' neuroses and he certainly didn't accept any responsibility for whatever sexual failures his clients might suffer during their tenure in GSI.
Romo wondered about Lisa's relationship with Jan. He knew Jan; he knew the blonde well. There was something about Jan's personality that cried, 'Hurt me!' She needed to be dominated. She required a sado- masochistic relationship-with herself on the receiving end. Yet she needed genuine love or at least affection, as well. The person who hurt her one day would have to assuage her feelings with kind words and delicate caresses the next.
How long would Lisa's relationship with Jan last? Romo wasn't worried about Jan; if she were to lose Lisa, she would soon find a partner to replace the petite brunette. She would try to become closer to her current 'keeper,' the divorcee; or she would find a new friend within the group. But if the converse occurred, if Jan dropped Lisa, Lisa would no doubt be in for a nasty surprise. Would the brunette be able to adapt? Would she be able to survive the shock, the hurt, to find a new female lover within a reasonable period of time or readjust her thinking to accept a suitable male partner?
Romo didn't know. He did know that he shouldn't care, involvement is weakness, he warned himself in a silent rebuke. Like all men, however, Rome had his weaknesses. Just how serious this current weakness could be was something that only time would tell.
Lisa had left at one o'clock, after they had showered together and exchanged a bare minimum of conversation during lunch. Romo spent the next hour checking his books. He reminded himself to phone his accountant. He wanted to double check a few of the 'facts' in the occupational cover story which he and the accountant used in filing his income tax. (Romo was not one to ignore the IRS; what with his sex operation, he was running legal risks already.)
He gave some thought to what he had suggested to Lisa-the idea of having her ball with a number of males in the hope that the shock treatment of sorts might give her a few insights into the deficiencies of lesbianism. Now that he considered the idea more carefully, he realized it wouldn't work, Not yet, anyway. In time, she might be ready for such an experiment-soon, in fact, if he could get her to give it awhirl on a voluntary basis, But to force her into it, to work her to a high pitch of desire and have some stud step in for a quick fuck with her, would do more harm than good. Perhaps he should screw her again himself, Romo considered. If he could prove to her that she could enjoy orgasms in two consecutive heterosexual bouts, he might be able to talk her into examining the possibilities. Romo would have to come up with some suitable candidates, with some meal who were masculine enough, yet understanding enough to look out for her orgasmic interests and thus lead her to a cure.
'cure'? Romo smiled. By puffing down lesbianism, he was making a moral judgment. But what the' hell, wasn't that his privilege? In the incestuous world of the Group for Sensual Involvement, Romo was an omniscient and omnipotent God.
The next scheduled group meeting was for eight o'clock, and Romo reviewed his appointment book. Most of the participants were to be married couples who were seeking liberation from their tired, unvaried sex lives by switching mates in an atmosphere of depravity tempered with a 'group therapy' let's-let-it-all-hang-out approach. Romo always enjoyed the sessions. They were entertaining, just like a good Western movie. There were the bad guys, and the good guys. You could root for either side or both. There was violence, physical and verbal; and in the end someone always got his or her just desserts.
People began showing up at seven-forty-five. Romo grinned as he greeted his guests at the door. There weren't many stragglers in the world of communal sex. People who would have been a half-hour late for a theatre curtain were invariably punctual when it was time to witness or take part in a juicy, public fuck.
By five past eight everyone was seated in the Discussion Room, a windowless room some twenty-by-twenty feet in size and without furniture. It was a comfortable room, however, by virtue of the three inches of foam padding that lay under the fake, fur-carpeted floor.
'It's like sitting on a polar bear,' one newly initiated member giggled, as she dug her fingers into the soft white fuzz.
'Yeah,' her husband said. 'Except you won't catch fleas and it doesn't bite.'
Romo was naked, as were his clients. There were eleven of them altogether; five married couples and one middle-aged male voyeur who had come along for the ride. 'We'll start with a few comments on our last meeting,' Romo said, consulting his notes. 'At our last session, Mr. and Mrs. Schmeling discussed several aspects of impotence. Nora pointed to Max's prick and suggested that it was going limp on her because Max had, in her words, been 'sleeping around.' Max denied the charge, claiming that the cause of his impotence was twofold: nervous exhaustion stemming from difficulties at work, and a feeling of inadequacy on Nora's jokes about his small cock. I read a passage from Masters and Johnson which refuted the myth of large cock supremacy, and Nora promised to refrain from such jibes in the future. Max agreed to limit his overtime to three hours per week and to temporarily give up his hopes for a more prestigious position within the company. Max and Nora were then encouraged to fuck during the meeting, but Max was unable to get it up. Elvira-Mrs. Hennessey-came forward and described how her husband had once, had the same problem and how several techniques that she had learned had helped. She proceeded to fellate Max while toying with his nipples, and in due course the two of them fucked with Nora and the rest of us looking on.'
Romo closed his notebook and turned to Non Schmeling. 'Tell me, Nora-you saw your husband penetrate and achieve mutual orgasm with Elvira Hennessey. Just what were your feelings at the time?'
Nora, a slightly fleshy platinum blonde of about thirty-five, looked down at her knees and flushed. 'I was jealous,' she confessed. 'I know it was immature of me, but-'
'You were jealous?' Romo nodded as if her answer had confirmed some suspicion. 'Why were you jealous, Nora?'
The woman shrugged, then looked up. 'Why shouldn't I have been jealous? My husband was fucking another woman. It was just like the things I've been accusing him of all along-he was sleeping around.'
'I wasn't sleeping around, I was getting help,' Max countered, angered by the charge. 'Anyway, what do you think we come to these meetings for? Didn't we agree that we'd come here for sex?'
Romo decided he'd better interrupt before the argument turned into a full-fledged marital tiff. 'Nora's reaction was perfectly normal, even if it wasn't justified by the circumstances,' Romo said. 'As for Max's fucking Elvira, didn't it accomplish what it was supposed to do? He was able to maintain an erection through a lengthy blow job and an equally extended act of screwing. He brought Elvira to climax and enjoyed a healthy orgasm himself. I don't think he should be put down for living up to his potential as a man.'
Nora sighed. 'I know,' she said. 'And…'
