Idiot Fondue: Case Study #37

  Continued from a previous post. Click Here to read the first session with Bexx, a client annoyed by straight people who are confused that some lesbians fancy intimate toys…


  “Are you still there?” inquired one of the voices on the speaker phone.

  “I certainly am, Bexx,” responded Dr. Brian. “But would you mind holding for just the briefest of seconds? I need to berate an underling and I’ll be right back with you.”

  “Oh!” enthused Bex. “That actually sounds like fun. Let me hear it.”

  Dr. Brian sighed. “That wouldn’t really be the right thing, now would it? Why don’t you and the lovely Sangria get back to your amorous adventures for a minute or two.”

  Bexx giggled raucously, in a manner that fully explained she had been a participant in multiple bar fights at some point in her life. “What makes you think we ever stopped? Sangria really likes an audience, her whole family is in the entertainment industry. There was this one time at the Muskrat Music Festival when we-”

  “Bexx, I will be right back.” Dr. Brian stabbed at a button on his phone, welcoming the sudden silence. Then he turned to glare at Lanae still standing in the doorway and still using her incredibly flexible tongue to search for missed bits of raspberry filling.

  The tongue stopped moving, but the mouth didn’t. “Wait. Am I the underling? About to get berated?”

  “You are my only underling, Lanae, of course it’s you.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Well, it’s nice to finally hear you own up to that after my paying you all these years. Now please leave and close the door behind you. Close it.”

  Lanae pouted. “But I want to hear what you’re going to tell her.”

  “We’ve discussed this, it’s not proper.”

  “Yes, we have discussed it, and I thought I made myself clear. I hear everything and I know everything. I sit ten feet away from you and….Ohhhhh…”

  “Oh what, Lanae? Did you just figure out what day it is?”

  She smiled victoriously. “You don’t know what you’re going to say. You don’t know how to answer her.” She folded her arms smugly and leaned against the open door frame. “I’m going to stand right here and listen to you wing it. I‘ve earned it”

  “And when, pray tell, did this earning take place. Was I even here?”

  Lanae smirked. “Do you really want me to get started on this? Letting all your blog readers know your secrets?”

  “Don’t break character, Lanae. Stick with the script.”

  “The goat in Paris?”

  “They know about the goat. I’m the one who told them, if you’ll recall. It was a very moving six-part series. Get back on this side of the camera.”

  “And then there was the time when you stole the giant tortilla and-”

  “Okay, Lanae, you win!” Dr. Brian made a dismissive gesture with one hand, something he had once seen Paul Newman do in a movie that made Elizabeth Taylor cry. “Stand there all you want. Just be QUIET. Don’t say a word and quit licking your lips.”

  Lanae quit licking. And stood.

  Dr. Brian punched at a button again. “Bexx?”

  “Hello there, Dr. Feelgood. I thought perhaps you had passed on from this life.”

  “So sorry, Bexx. Now, about this penetration thing.”

  (Lanae professionally choked back a snort.)

  “Oh, right,” said Bexx. “Let me tell Sangria you’re ready. She can’t hear you right now… my legs are covering…” (Sounds of the phone being jostled, Bexx’s voice focused elsewhere, giggling,  and general re-arrangement activities. “Oh, honey, don’t sit on that, I just had it cleaned.”) Then her voice was again directed at the phone. “Okay, proceed, Marcus Welby.”

  Dr. Brian cleared his throat. “Well, as any sufficiently-enlightened person will tell you, sexual pleasure and satisfaction actually has a strong root in the brain. It’s a significantly mental experience. That being said, physicality is an equal partner, so to speak. Some sensations are, in fact, purely primal.”

  Bexx sighed. “So far, I could have learned this from the back of a cereal box.” (To the side: “Sangria, sweetie, put that down. It’s annoying me.”)

  Dr. Brian stupidly glanced at Lanae in the doorway, who was completely red-faced with her struggle to remain discreet and non-laughing. “Primal?” she mouthed. Are you kidding me?

  Dr. Brian flipped her off, something he had once seen Jack Nicholson do in a movie that did not make Cher cry, then continued. “So any sexual experience, and the enjoyment derived from the encounter, is a combination of complex, mental satisfaction and the simple pleasure of stimulation. Ergo-”

  “No one says ‘ergo’ anymore, doctor,” remarked Bexx. “Except for Republicans who are trying to sound fancy in a debate by using a word that has more than three letters.”

  Lanae failed at remaining non-intrusive, releasing a small yelp.

  “Did someone just step on a chipmunk?” inquired Bexx.

  “No,” said Dr. Brian. “That was just my assistant, Lanae. Apparently she just took a look at her next paycheck.”

  Lanae was not amused, but got the point and tried to focus on not exuding further wildlife emanations.

  Bexx tried to focus on what was going on at the other end of the line. “Is she in the room with you? Is she listening?”

  “Yes,” said Lanae, quite clearly and unmistakably, surprising both Dr. Brian and herself.

  “Oh,” said Bexx. “Well, doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Wait, does she do women?”

  “Not that I recall,” explained Lanae. “Although I did find a strange pair of panties on my chandelier one time. Never really did find out what happened there. Fairly certain it was all innocent, but the margarita machine was bone-dry in the morning. Who knows.”

  Dr. Brian was simply at a loss for words at how things were going at the moment, then he found a few. “Lanae, would you like to take over the session?”

  “This isn’t a session,” clarified Bexx. “It’s a conversation.”

  “But you’re still paying for the conversation, right?” inserted Lanae. “I do the books, and it’s so much easier when things balance.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about the money,” soothed Bexx. “In fact, I’ll throw in a little extra for ya darlin’, because I really do appreciate people who love raspberry filling as much as I do.”

  “How did you know…” asked Lanae, flummoxed.

  “I know exactly what a tongue is doing based on the sounds alone,” explained Bexx. “I love tongues. They’re pretty swell.”

  Now both Dr. Brian and Lanae were at the loss-of-words speed bump.

  “Anyway,” said Bexx, “There are things which I must attend to.” (Slight squeal from Sangria, hoping to be on that agenda.) “Let’s cut to the chase. Dr. Brian, give me your final answer in one sentence.”

  Dr. Brian looked at Lanae with slight hesitation. Lanae looked at Dr. Brian with partial pity. The last remaining splotch of raspberry jelly on Lanae’s face looked at her tongue with total fear.

  “Dr. Brian?” prompted Bexx.

  He cleared his throat, then leaned toward the speaker phone. “It’s not the car, it’s the driver.”

  Pause for contemplation. And a short word from our sponsor.

  Then Bexx: “Interesting. Well, I’ll be sure to include my analysis of that response in the evaluation.”

  “Evaluation?” asked Dr. Brian.

  “Yes,” confirmed Bexx, then clarified: “In regards to the request you filed to extend your office lease at Bonnywood Manor.”

  Dr. Brian was stunned. “My lease? How did you know… when did you become involved…”

  “I bought the entire complex,” announced Bexx. “I own it now. Just like this plane. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I also have some panties on my chandelier, and I know exactly where they came from. Best of luck on the request, we’ll talk soon.”

  Click.

  “Holy cow,” breathed Lanae. “Did I just eat my last free donut?”

  “You and me both,” sighed Dr. Brian. Then he took off his glasses, folded them neatly, and slipped them into his shirt pocket. “Well, we’ll just have to see what happens. In the mean time, would you mind fetching that last-”

  Lanae strode toward his desk and plunked down a bottle of Madonna merlot. “I’ll be right back with the glasses.”