Sessions

“Someday I want to be able to look at my 'demons’, ask them in for a drink and then ask them politely to leave and never return.”

“Mr Grissom,” The grey haired older woman asked. “How do you expect to do that?”

“You are the professional here, Dr Duluth. You tell me.” Grissom quizzed the woman.

“How long has this been going on?” Her notebook was resting on her lap and she was busily taking notes.

“I’m not sure, exactly. I can’t pinpoint the precise day.”

“When did the need for sex start, Mr Grissom?”

“It basically started,” He paused. “Sometime after I was teaching seminars at Harvard.” He rested his head in his arms that were propped behind his head.

“Can you think of anything traumatic that happened around that time? Was this something you had done before?” She toyed with the pen in her hand while he searched for his answer.

“I’m not sure what prompted this, that’s why I’m here. This wasn’t something I did before” He stopped abruptly, “never before.”

“Alright, Mr. Grissom. That is our session for today. I want you to think about significant things that may have caused you to pursue this type of behavior. Next time we’ll do word association.”

“Ok.” Grissom said getting up.

“Same time next week.” It was more of a statement than a question. Grissom nodded as he walked out the doors of the Professional building and into the quiet solitude of his truck.

He headed home to go to bed. His sessions had been going on for nearly three weeks now and he hoped they would get to the bottom of his little “problem” As it was; it was beginning to get out of hand. He used to frequent Lady Heather’s Domain for the anonymity; she kept his visits very discrete as to what was going on and the nature of his visits. He had been frequenting her establishment for years and then she up and moved her business to New Orleans. Seemed that she got all the good money out of Vegas and it was time to branch out. The new Lady’s name was Claire, but she wasn’t the same.

“Gil, I really hate to do this to you, but my options are better in New Orleans, besides that is where Zoë is.” Heather began.

“I understand that Heather, but what now?” He placed his hands on her face like he had many times before. “ You are the only one who knew of my “problem” and understood it.”

“Claire is a nice lady, why don’t you give her a chance?” She walked away from him.

“She’s not you, it’s not the same.” He reached for her hand. “What am I going to do now?”

“I have a friend on the outskirts. She owns a brothel. The Belladonna. She caters to business men.”

“I need my anonymity I don’t need everyone knowing my business, you know how much of a private person I am.”

“I know that, Gil, and I assure you that most of her clients do as well. I can give her a call if you like.”

“What is her name?”

“Blanche. I’ll make sure you get special treatment. She used to work for me, she owes me.” Heather began to walk away.

“Ok” He said not knowing what else to say. “ Can we get on with this please, Heather?” He nearly begged. He dropped his pants and she lifted her skirt. This wasn’t about love or feelings; it was just about sex, nothing more.

In the beginning he had wanted the sex and all the feelings that had went with it. The touches, the caresses, the whole package but at some point something had changed.

“Gil, you know you should probably get some help about this. You have a sexual addiction.” Her voice was laden with sincerity.

“What are you talking about?” His tone was defensive. She had always been able to read him. She had known about his hearing almost before he did. She had some type of gift. It usually made people uncomfortable with her admissions of truth, but it was just Heather.

“The signs are there, when was the last time you had a girlfriend? What about a relationship?”

“I’m socially inept.” That had been his cover for years. Not good with people so they tended to leave him alone.

“That’s just what you tell yourself. Sex without attachments can’t hurt your feelings; you don’t allow them to get involved.”

Grissom pushed her off of him and did up his pants. She straightened her skirt. “The truth hurt, Gil?”

He walked away.

Gil shook that image from his head. Hearing that Heather was leaving nearly broke him but not nearly as much as her accusatory words hurt him. They hurt because they were the truth. Sure she had given him options, but it wasn’t the same.


Blanche was a petite buxom woman in her mid-sixties. She looked terrific for a woman her age. She had dark hair and dark features. She reminded him of Heather. Except she was more petite; Heather was taller.

“Mr Grissom, I assume. She said reaching out her hand for him. He kissed the top of it. “And a gentleman.”

Grissom smiled. “It is nice to meet you Mrs..” He searched for the last name to the woman in front of him.

“Blanche, just Blanche. People in my line of work don’t worry about trivial things like last names.” She stepped back away from him to light her cigarette. “Bad habit, I know, but after nearly forty years I’m having one helluva time to kick it.” She laughed lightly as she drew in a breath and exhaled the smoke. “Would you like one?” She asked passing him the metal case that housed her long slender cigarettes.

“No thanks.” He said softly. “I don’t smoke.”

“Smart man.” She said drawing in another breath of smoke. “I really wish I didn’t either.”

“Ok, Blanche.” Grissom cut her off rather abruptly, he feared he would be here a while talking small talk if he didn’t interrupt her soon. “What did Heather tell you about me?”

“She told me you were a very special gentleman.” She raised her brow and winked at him. “She also said you were partial to brunettes.” Her face showed mock enthusiasm.

He nodded. “Did she mention anonymity?”

“Mr Grissom, I assure you all of our clients remain anonymous. Candy is waiting for you in the room at the top of the stairs; when ever you are ready.” He quickly left and walked up the stairs.

He walked into the room and was greeted by a thin brunette woman spread-eagle on the big bed. He walked over to her and removed his pants.

“What do you want, Sir?” She asked.

“Felatio and intercourse, no more.” His tone was harsh. She did as she was told. Candy did it with as little feeling as she could. In her line of work she was taught to detach herself from her john but this was worse than usual. Most guys at least wanted foreplay and stuff they couldn’t get at home. The touches, the caresses, fantasies acted out, but not this guy. She finished her job; he blew his load and pulled his pants back on. Grissom threw the money on the nightstand and walked out. Candy was fairly new to this trade; being she was just barely twenty years old. It’s not as if one aspires to be a prostitute; with some girls, like Candy, the profession finds them or they do it because they had no other options.

He got in his car and drove home. Once inside his door he began to think. He picked up the green piece of paper the therapist had given him to review. He read it over once again:

A Useful Tool for Self-Assessment
Answer these twelve questions to assess whether you may have a problem with sexual addiction.
1. Do you keep secrets about your sexual or romantic activities from those important to you? Do you lead a double life?
2. Have your needs driven you to have sex in places or situations or with people you would not normally choose?
3. Do you find yourself looking for sexually arousing articles or scenes in newspapers, magazines, or other media?
4. Do you find that romantic or sexual fantasies interfere with your relationships or are preventing you from facing problems?
5. Do you frequently want to get away from a sex partner after having sex? Do you frequently feel remorse, shame, or guilt after a sexual encounter?
6. Do you feel shame about your body or your sexuality, such that you avoid touching your body or engaging in sexual relationships? Do you fear that you have no sexual feelings, that you are asexual?
7. Does each new relationship continue to have the same destructive patterns, which prompted you to leave the last relationship?
8. Is it taking more variety and frequency of sexual and romantic activities than previously to bring the same levels of excitement and relief?
9. Have you ever been arrested or are you in danger of being arrested because of your practices of voyeurism, exhibitionism, prostitution, sex with minors, indecent phone calls, etc.?
10. Does your pursuit of sex or romantic relationships interfere with your spiritual beliefs or development?
11. Do your sexual activities include the risk, threat, or reality of disease, pregnancy, coercion, or violence?
12. Has your sexual or romantic behavior ever left you feeling hopeless, alienated from others, or suicidal?
If you answered yes to more than one of these questions, we would encourage you to seek out additional literature as a resource or to attend a. Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting to further assess your needs.
He looked at the questions before him. This has been my life, he thought to himself. I lead a double life: no one knew about the domain or the brothel. A normal man of my stature wouldn’t frequent a whorehouse. I haven’t had a good relationship in years. I’m a sex addict. Those words hurt him to the core. You know this Gil; that is why you have been seeing a sex therapist every week for three weeks, remember? He was badgering himself. Think, how long has this been going on? When did it start? You are a smart man, Gil; you should be able to figure this out. He thought for a minute and went to fix himself a drink. He always thought better when he was relaxed. One drink led to two and so on and so forth. Eventually he dragged his drunken ass to bed. He lay there in his bed thinking of the one thing that constantly occupied his mind. Sara Sidle. Beautiful. Brunette. Tall. Slender. It was all her and he couldn’t get rid of the thoughts of her. Touching her, kissing her, fucking her, he wanted it all.

The mere thought of all this and her made him hard. He reached over to his bedside table and squeezed out a dollop of lubricant into his hand. He began to fiercely rub his hard cock. He was rubbing it harder and harder. Thrusting with his hand and he came. He wiped up the mess with a Kleenex and rolled over to go to sleep. It was an action no different to him than blowing his nose. It didn’t give him a shred of feeling anymore. It was like a drug; he had to do it and he had no control over it. This was becoming an increasing problem for him; lack of control.

He was always a man who was in control. Not anymore. These days he was lucky he could function let alone control his own life. His new obsession occupied both his conscious and subconscious and if he weren’t careful they would envelop his whole life.

The ‘jerk-off’ sessions went from once a day to at least three, or more. He had even found himself doing it in the bathroom at the lab like some horny teenager exploiting his body. His biggest fear was being caught in some compromising position in the bathroom at the lab.

Gil Grissom ran out of his office with his hands hard against his legs inside his pockets. One hand gripped the small tube of lubricant. He rushed to the bathroom and locked himself behind the metal door of the handicapped bathroom.

He always chose this one because it was the furthers from the door and it was the biggest. He was able to hid better in here.

He perched on the toilet like he had done many times before. He dropped his pants and boxers to the floor. Placing a small blob of lubricant in his palm he began rubbing the hard flesh. His motions got quicker.

He heard voices. He put them in the back of his mind as he continually pumped his hard manhood in his hand. The voices got louder and he tried harder to bite back the groan that was trying to escape his throat.

He finished up and wiped the white fluid off his hands with a few pieces of toilet paper. He sat on the toilet waiting for the people to leave before he got up, cleaned himself up and went back to his office.

He threw the small tube back in his drawer until the next time he was battling the urge.