Reading Time: 4 minutesRon smirked. He was like a giggling school boy at the wordplay in play with the word therapist. He was silly enough, observant enough to see “The Rapist” on the sign. The court ordered Ron to attend weekly therapy sessions. His proclivities led him first to arrest, court and then punishment. The smirking was at today’s session, the first in Southville. Ron was a master of the inappropriate.
His therapist’s office was cleverly placed above his parole office, both of which sat next to a local cafe. “The Legal Beagle Cafe” offered food, coffee, bonhomie and a poor choice in music. This cafe satisfied the needs of all locals. Such as the legal fraternity, the Police, criminals, the homeless and some office workers. Ron had met with people in each one of these categories. He could be a member of each of them. But not the legal mob.
Therapist appointment
The protocol varied on the Gold Coast, some offices were discrete, subtle and extra careful. Others didn’t seem to give a f*ck. Ron sat with 15 people in the waiting room, waiting in the room that offered no room. Covid-19 required the patients to bath in sanitiser, separate themselves and despite all human norms, not look at or talk to their fellow patients. The patients name and reason for attending would be called out by the receptionists. Patients sat sanitised, nervous and separated in the waiting room.
One receptionist recognised Ron immediately, she recoiled in terror as he walked in and even more so when he started giggling. Ruth had experienced a dreadful interaction, an horrific event which led her to therapy. This treatment concluded with being offered a job at the practice. Ruth reluctantly checked Ron’s appointment details. He was logged into the waiting list.
Her colleague looked after reception while she went to the employee only area to calm down. Ruth had endured traumatic memories of her interaction with Ron. These had been less obvious and frequent until today.
She was working
Ruth worked at a major hotel on the Gold Coast and while there she met Ron. The meeting was not as one would expect while at work. Ruth was tasked with cleaning guest rooms. She’d been allocated a floor, a trolley and a supply cupboard. Ron was tasked with darting about filling supplies, on trolleys and the cupboards. He decided that the cupboard on the 14th floor was quieter than others and very sexy in its nature. Ron had hidden some men’s magazines in the storage locker. He enjoyed a quick glance, read and workout when he could manage it on the 14th. In his own way Ron was a master.
The impact of Ruth’s unexpected arrival was a surprise to Ron. Not only Ruth but a family of four who happened to be walking by in the corridor at that exact moment. The door flew back as they do and the lights from the corridor and the cupboard offered a glow on Ron’s pleasure. He had a grasp on his dick like the mad wanker he was. His pants were at his ankles, his back bent while his dick was straight. It aimed straight at Ruth, the door and the unwitting audience. The timing was unfortunate and memorable.
Yes it got worse
To say that it got worse is an understatement. The mother screamed, the father stumbled and tripped over his own feet. Ron reached a tipping point of his own. His self driven orgasm was intense and the result was large in volume. The outcome of this vigorous exercise shot out at Ruth and landed on her chest. It was huge, a sticky mess, some of which fell off as Ruth started screaming. It fell onto her shoes and the carpet. They had moved past the door and were now screaming at the disgusting situation. All while offering sympathy towards Ruth. She had staggered back out into the corridor with Ron’s produce still clinging to her uniform. She fell to her knees and spread Ron’s mess even more.
The management responded and Ron was out, gone. His locker was steam cleaned and disinfected. Managment searched all lockers and floor cupboards. Anywhere that Ron had cleaned. Ruth showered, changed and went home. She never returned to the Hotel, she could not face the cupboards, or the looks from fellow employees. The Hotel could not redeploy her so they paid her out and the matter became a matter no more.
Ron was a master
They sacked Ron and called the Police. The investigation revealed an interesting fact. Ron had been a Policeman. He was discharged from the Police 2 years prior for paying too much attention to himself at a highway patrol stop in a Police car. The car had a surveillance camera fitted as Ron’s self pleasuring was suspected. The camera footage was rather disgusting and many other officers required counselling after learning about the car they had been sitting in after Ron. Ron’s posting in Southville was not needed or wanted, he was quietly discharged. The matter was no longer a matter. Ron was a master.
Ron had in fact been caught “dollygaging his bit” again in a most inappropriate way and place and this led to his most recent arrest and subsequent punishment. He was self doodling on a bus. The driver and passengers witnessed his frenzied attack on his pant-less self. The bus was taking some old age pensioners to a major Gold Coast shopping centre. He’d spent 3 months in jail. This therapy regimen and ankle bracelet were part of his bail conditions.
Ruth had composed herself and returned to the reception counter. She looked at Ron and wondered if he remembered her. Ron did, he didn’t let on as he sank into his sanitised seat even further than the other patients in the waiting room. Ron wondered what the lady at reception had told the therapist? He’d not had an appointment at this office yet and didn’t know what to expect. He’d expect the worst. It was to come.
Ron was distracted
He was distracted by the sign again and thought this distraction was clever. More distraction led him to think about the coffee he’d bought from the “The Legal Beagle Cafe” on the way to this appointment. He liked the coffee and loved the idea of sitting in the courtyard and loving himself. He’d do that on the way home he thought.
The therapist distracted Ron has he called out his name and his reason for being there. “Ron the Serial Wanker” Ron are you here. Yes the receptionist had said something. Indeed Ron was a master.
Ron got up and walked ever so awkwardly into the office. His humiliation had only just began. It would get much worse, cut even deeper, all aiming to change Ron’s ways. Ron would be a hard nut to crack.
An increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024
