Don’t Fear the Freudians
Page 6/8

“Once,” she said. “Now it’s in Houston, I believe, connected with Baylor University.”
“What was wrong with you as a little girl?” I asked. 
“I tried to flush myself down the toilet,” Jillian said. “My skull was too fat for the plumbing of the commode.”
“Thank God,” I said.
“Yes, Jillian said. “I ended up with was a bad ear infection and a cold, and eventually, they sent me down the road to a normal hospital near Wichita where they removed my tonsils.”
“Take me back to the minor leaguer with the crooked prick in bagels and cream cheese,” I said. “Was Jen just an apparition, maybe?”
“Jen was real,” Jillian said. “She was a talented, lovely, and a wonderful kisser.”
“Okay, Jen was a gifted kisser and what was Meredith’s view about a threesome?”
“He was an accepting young man,” Jillian said. “Although, of course, he was the one with the crooked, warped prick.”
I nodded.
“Meredith cried whenever he had a hard-on and I had multiple orgasms when I felt his warm tears strike my neck as I nibbled on him.”
“You were aroused by Meredith’s anguish?” 
“Incredibly so,” she said. “You must understand that we couldn’t have intercourse. It was impossible for him to straighten out his John Thomas for it hooked way off to the right like some highway exit ramp gone rogue.”
She shook her head.
“It appeared like a UFO with the trusty bagel attached, or perhaps even the Starship Enterprise. Meredith had suggested adding the bagel with the BJ and it was a revelation for Jen and I.”
“Dr. Legg wrote in the margins here that you never had oral sex before coming to Hartford?”
“Yes,” Jillian said. “I thought it was an absurd act—was even repulsed, disgusted during middle and high school and my one semester of school at Baylor University.”
“So, what makes you go from absurd, repulsed, and never to often?” 
“Plantains,” she said, blushing. “A wild spark in the night.”
“Expand, please?” 
“Puerto Rican kid,” Jillian said. “Wealthy one with homes in San Juan, New York, and Miami. Tall, dark, and handsome. His dad was a big shot in the produce world, so we got loads of free fruit.”
“And?”
“He had a perfect body,” she said. “Dark brown muscular arms, legs, chest, and his knowing hands would cook up these giant plantains so sweetly in the patient’s kitchen.”
“How old was he?” I asked. 
“Eighteen,” she said. “Two years younger than me.”
“What happened?” 
“Our magic happened out on grounds of the clinic,” Jillian said. “Near the Kentucky coffee trees. Amazing would be an apt term, I saw stars shine and the earth rumbled like a jacked-up 3,500-horsepower John Deere.”
“How’d the kid react?” I asked.