Doctor O: Beth – Session One

Doctor O: Beth - Session OneProfile: Chef, 50ish, married forever, now separated, empty nest.

Issue: Husband won’t give up his share of the business. He’s a drunk.

While there are similarities and consistencies among the women I see, I’ve come to expect something new each time the wounded walk through my door. Luckily, I have a well-stocked medicine bag and a high tolerance for the bizarre.

“Beth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You’re not one of them crazy fans are you? I’m not going to autograph your chest, sweetie.”

“Actually, I am a huge fan. Your mushroom risotto is to die for.”

“How will we ever keep this on a professional level if you insist upon flattering me?”

“We’ll manage, as long as I’m allowed to continue visiting your establishment.”

“Of course you are–that is, as long as my asshole husband doesn’t fire me.”

“Can he do that?”

“Technically, we’re partners. It’s a balancing act–I do all the work while he drinks all the profits.”

“He’s a heavy drinker?”

“A heavy drinker of hard-to-reach bottles, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. One of my favorites is up on that shelf–Macallan 18.”

“Excellent choice.”

“So, after twenty-six years of marriage, two children now grown, and a thriving restaurant business, you’re ready to move on.”

“Oh, I’ve been ready for years. The problem is I can’t take the love of my life with me.”

“Who?”

“My restaurant.”

“Why not?”

“He refuses to part with his half. I swear to you, he never so much as picked up a damn broom there. For him to claim ownership is ridiculous.”

“But, if you file for divorce, he’ll be forced to settle, won’t he?”

“He said I can sign over my half, but he’ll never part with his half. It took me five years to get the place into the black, and now that I can finally reap some of the benefits, he’s blocking me. He’s so vindictive and resentful. He’s not the same man I married.”

“Do you think it’s the alcohol?”

“No doubt. Other things too. I’m just over him. He makes my skin crawl.”

“Has he ever sought help?”

“For his drinking? No. He insists there’s no problem. I wish he’d just go away. We already live in different houses, and he has been fucking one of my servers. The jackass thinks I don’t know.”

“Ouch. Why don’t you get rid of her?”

“Because she serves a purpose for me as well–she keeps his slimy hands off me.”

“All right. What, to you, would be the ideal resolution to this?”

“John would meet someone new–like the bumper of a speeding bus. Anything short of a dirt nap, and I’m stuck with him.”

“I’m sure we can find a less drastic way, Beth. If he were out of the picture, what would you do?”

“Spend less time babysitting his drunk ass and more time having orgasms, for one.”

“Are you seeing someone now?”

“Nope, but I’m looking. Know anyone?”

“I might.”

“It takes a certain kind of man to handle all this, you know.”

“So, you’re quite a handful?”

“This pussy has been on lockdown far too long, doctor. I’m sorry. Jesus. I don’t want to offend you.”

“Beth, you’re not going to offend me.”

“Look, I’m a big woman. I make no apologies for what I am, and I ain’t goin’ on any damn diet. I love food, and I’m going to eat. Mr. Next is going to have to love all two-hundred-forty pounds of me and my Snickers pie.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“You don’t understand, doctor. I’m a wild animal in the bedroom. There are things I want, and things I know. Let’s just say I leave most of my men limping.”

“But, you said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“I’m not. I’ve been fantasizing and practicing a lot, though. I’m ready.”

“Since we’re on the topic, what are some of those fantasies?”

“I love anal. While my man is fucking me hard, I need my hair pulled. The more he pulls, the wetter I get. Ooh, then, while he’s plowing me from behind, he needs to bite my neck and call me a nasty whore. It drives me wild. I can’t get enough. You getting all this, doc?”

“Um, yes.”

“I’m not turning you on, am I? Now, that I refuse to apologize for.”

“What else, Beth?”

“Blowjobs. I am the fucking queen of blowjobs. It’s all in how much spit you use. And, you have to get both hands involved. I love when he forces himself deep and makes me gag. The real slippery stuff comes up then. When I sense he’s about to shoot, I squeeze the base of his cock and make him beg. When I finally allow him to come, I drain every last drop–kind of like getting that last dab of toothpaste from the tube.”

“Right.”

“I’m also going to try a few lesbian encounters. Guys suck at eating pussy. I need a woman to get me off a few times. God, I love having a tongue slapping me around the clit.”

“I see.”

“How about you, doc?”

“How about me, what?”

“What kinds of kinky shit are you into? Or, do you get off just hearing us women talk about it? Tell me what you love.”

“Well …”

“Yes?”

“I love ravioli. Have you ever served butternut squash ravioli with a sage brown butter sauce? Divine.”

“Ha! You’re a fucking pisser.”

“I’m serious. I love ravioli.”

“I’m serious too. I love taking it in the ass.”

“OK, darling, let’s find a way for you to keep your love-of-a-lifetime business and remove the deadbeat patron.”

“Sign me up.”

“Do me a favor and speak to an attorney this week. See if the lawyer has any options. I have some ideas, and I’ll place a few calls. Let’s regroup next week. Same day and time?”

“You bet.”

Diagnosis: Kinky, but smart woman. Knows what she wants. More than two handfuls.

Treatment: Ask Ronnie if he can help persuade deadbeat to step aside.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.

Comments

  1. Angry and doesn’t like herself much, but what a hoot. Her talk makes one take a step back and open their eyes really wide. Dr. O, ponder this one over butternut ravioli and the sage browned butter sauce. This one calls for a glass of wine, too. What would you suggest?

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