Elizabeth McGowan sat in the waiting room of the psychiatrist's office, wringing her hands nervously. She didn't want to be there, but she had been ordered by the court on a referral by her former psychiatrist who could do no more to help her.

A couple weeks earlier, Elizabeth had been arrested when the bartender of the establishment she was in called the cops after learning she was blowing and fucking guys in the restroom. She was doing it right in the middle of the floor, not even trying to be discrete about it. When the officer found her, she was bent over the bathroom counter watching her own face in the mirror as some half-gassed bar patron was driving his large cock into her greedy cunt. Because she wasn't charging money or getting any kind of compensation for her services, they couldn't make prostitution stick. So the charge was reduced to "lewd and lascivious behavior".

In court, her previous psychiatrist, Dr. Wilkinson, testified that Elizabeth was a good person, she just had a lack of self-control when it came to sex. She was diagnosed as a nymphomaniac and although she had seen several psychiatrists, counselors, and even her clergyman, nothing seemed to help.

But the psychiatrist had heard of one other in his field who'd had some rather remarkable success in treating different aberrant behaviors using hypnosis along with other therapies. He suggested to the judge hearing the case that jail wasn't the place for Elizabeth because she wasn't deliberately trying to break the law - she wasn't in control of her actions when she was doing these things. Basically, putting her in jail would be punishing her for something she didn't do!

So upon recommendation from her former doctor, the judge ordered her to seek the help of this "miracle worker" doctor. 

But before the new doctor saw Elizabeth, he needed to know a bit about the case. So Dr. Wilkinson made a phone call.

"Hello, this is Dr. Addams office, can I help you?" the receptionist answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Dr. Wilkinson calling. May I please speak to Dr. Addams? It's about a patient referral," he said.

"Of course doctor. Please hold a moment," she said. 

Then Dr. Addams got on the phone. "This is Dr. Addams, how can I help you?"

"Dr. Addams, I have a patient here that I need your help with. I'm afraid I can't do anything more for her and she is in trouble with the court system. I told the judge in her case that you have had a lot of success using hypnosis and other therapies that I don't use. He suggested you have a look at the case and meet with her and see if you can help her. I don't know, but I'm afraid if you can't help her she may wind up in jail!"

"I see, so this is a serious legal matter then. So what is her problem?" Dr. Addams asked.

"It's a sexual dysfunction. I am sending over her file for you to read through. It will explain her case and everything that has been tried. You should get her file today or early tomorrow. She needs your help if you can help her," he said.

"Well I can't make any promises, of course, but I will have a look. I don't like to see anyone go to jail for what they can't control," Dr. Addams said.

"I agree. Thanks for your help. I will tell her and the courts so they are aware of what's going on as well," Dr. Wilkinson said.

The next day, Dr. Addams couldn't wait for the file on this patient to reach his desk. Dr. Wilkinsons words kept replaying over and over in his mind. He wondered what kind of sexual dysfunction could have this patient in trouble with the law and why no one seemed to be able to help her.When the courier arrived with the unmarked brown manila envelope, Dr. Addams was quite excited to read it. He wanted to find out more about this "very special case." So as soon as the courier left, Dr. Addams shut his door and began reading. 

It was quite a file too! In fact, Dr. Addams couldn't remember ever seeing a file so thick. This poor woman had really been through the ringer when it came to seeking help. And from the looks of things, she didn't receive much in the way of help along the way. Just a lot of "I understand" and "Maybe we could try this" and "I can't help you but maybe this person can". She was handed off like a Christmas fruitcake no one wanted!

As he skimmed through the encyclopedia-thick file he saw an evaluation that stated the woman "suffers from an aberrant nymphomaniac dysfunction that produces an irrational need for sexual gratification. She suffers from an inability to judge appropriate settings and times for these sexual encounters leading to uncomfortable social interactions and trouble with others." This was going to be an interesting and challenging case to be sure!

Now Elizabeth was waiting to see what this new doctor had to say. She wasn't holding out much hope - most of the doctors either told her flat out they couldn't help her or if they did decide to try, it never lasted very long. So she didn't figure this doctor would be any different... and she was quickly running out of mental health professionals!

Suddenly the door opened up and a woman walked out. "Thank you so much, Dr. Addams. I will give your suggestion a try and see if that helps. I will make an appointment with your receptionist for two weeks from today for a follow-up," she said. Then she turned to the receptionist and Dr. Addams turned his attention to Elizabeth. 

"Won't you come in?" he said smiling. Elizabeth got up and nervously walked into the doctor's office. "My name is Peter. I like to use first names here because it puts people more at ease. Not too many people feel comfortable in a psychiatrist's office - they always think I am examining them even when I am just talking with them! We psychiatrists are just above dentists on the 'Friendly Doctor Meter'!" he said, smiling.

His friendly smile and self-deprecating manner made her smile and she relaxed a little. "Please have a seat and let's talk a little shall we? I want to know more about you. I looked through your file - which is quite large - but that is from other doctors... I want to know what you think," he said.

This was something that she hadn't really expected. Most of her past doctors took what was in the file and didn't really ask her opinions or what she thought - it was almost as if what was in her head wasn't the issue. They just wanted a quick and easy diagnosis so they could get to the billing part!

"Well doctor, I'm not really sure. I mean I think I am pretty normal. But from time to time it's like I go to another place. I'm not sure what is going on around me and I feel kind of disconnected to everything. Then the feeling passes and I find that I have had sex with someone - either man or woman, but usually men. Or sometimes I have just taken my clothes off and danced on a table naked or done some other sexually explicit something or other. More than a few times I woke up in the back of a police car or in a cell at the local police station," she said.

Peter listened intently to her story nodding occasionally and taking some notes as she spoke. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't help these 'episodes' as I call them, and I can't control when or where they will hit me. I even tried locking myself in my house, but if I lock the door, I can unlock it. It's only when the door is locked from the outside that I am safe - if there's no other way out... like a jail cell," she said.

She looked down at the floor and sighed heavily. "You probably think I'm pretty broken after reading my file, don't you? It's all right... I'm beginning to think I'm broken any more as well," she said sadly.

"Look at me Elizabeth. I don't care about your file... It seems to be a rather harsh diagnosis to me, and it's just other doctors opinions - none of whom seem to have done a lot to help you. I will form my own opinions on what's going on based on what I see and what you tell me. I actually don't do things like most psychotherapists usually do. I have my own approach to treating my patients and, if you don't mind me tooting my own horn a bit, it's an approach I have had quite a bit of success with," he said. 

Elizabeth managed a small smile at his words.

"I don't see people as being broken or damaged. Whether you are tall, short, smart, sad, happy... we're all equal and on the same level. We just want to be happy. And if there is something in the way of you finding that happiness, well it's my job to find out what it is if I can so we can either remove it or go around it. Now I just need some basic information about you. Then, if I feel a relaxation session is needed, we'll do that," he said.

Elizabeth replied, "That sounds good to me too. You are much different than the other therapists I've been to see... nicer and more friendly." She gave him a timid little smile. 

"Let's start at the beginning since I've found that's where most problems start too. I read from your file that you didn't have the rosiest of childhoods," he said.

"That's right. My father left us when I was just a baby... Mom said I was about nine months old when he split on us," she said.

"So your father wasn't there for any of your birthdays?" he asked.

"No. Once he left, we never saw him again. I don't know where he's at, if he's alive or dead, or even his name to look for him - not that I would want to find him," she said.

"I see. Go on then," he said.

"Anyway, Mom and I made the best life we could. She worked as a waitress and we managed to stay one step... one small step... ahead of the bill collectors. But the stress of working and raising a kid alone got to be too much for her, and she began drinking to forget her troubles for a while. The drinking turned to pills and while she never got heavily into drugs - we couldn't afford it anyway - she soon became an alcoholic and pill popper. And from the age of about nine or ten, I pretty much raised myself,"

I see," he said, letting her know he was following her conversation. 

"When Mom was lucid, everything was good, but more and more I had to fend for myself when it came to meals. It started slowly, only once in awhile would she go on a bender. But as time went on and once in a while wasn't enough, it got more and more frequent. I began to watch cooking shows to learn how to cook for myself and ate a lot of microwave meals until I did. Finally, Mom's body, and her will, gave out. I had just turned eighteen when she passed away.

"That's when I began having these 'episodes' or whatever they are. They started soon after Mom died. And I've been seeing shrinks and doctors ever since. I've had x-rays, CAT scans, MRI's and every kind of test you can imagine but nobody ever finds anything. Physically, there's nothing wrong with me," she pointed to her head, "but up here there's something going on that no one can figure out," Elizabeth said.

"That is what I am going to try to help you find out. How often do you have these episodes as you call them?" he asked.

"They vary... sometimes I can go a few months without one. Other times it seems like I have them once a week or so," she said.

"Interesting. Do you have any idea what might set them off? Does anything unusual happen before you have one of these episodes?" Dr. Addams asked.

"No, not really. Sometimes if I am under a lot of pressure, they seem to be a bit more frequent. But what can you do about pressure? I mean, we are all under pressure from time to time, right?" she said.

"Yes, that's true. But sometimes pressure can build and if we can't find a way to release it, it can become too much and we lash out or act out as a relief mechanism. Just like the relief valve on your pressure cooker vents the internal pressure of the pot, if it didn't work for some reason the whole thing might explode. You're 'relief valve' may not be functioning properly," he said.

"What can we do about that, doctor?" Elizabeth asked.

"First we'll have to see if that's the problem and why it isn't working. Then we can see about helping to fix it," he said. Then he took her hand and looked her in the eyes. "Don't worry Elizabeth, we will figure this out together. I am not in the habit of throwing in the towel on my patients. I have never quit on a patient yet, and I'm not going to make you my first!"

Elizabeth smiled, "Thank you, doctor. That means a lot to me," she said.

"It's Peter, and you are welcome. Now you have told me that these episodes often come when you are under pressure, I am going to suggest you come stay with me so I can monitor you for a while. I need to witness one of these episodes, so I can see what goes on, since you say you don't really remember what happens during them," he said.

"You want me to come stay with you? At your house?" she asked.

"That's right. I have a large house with four bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. There's plenty of room since I live alone. And this way I can monitor you more closely and when one of these episodes occurs, I can see what you go through during them," he said.

"I suppose that would be all right. When would you like me to come over?" she asked.

"The sooner we get started, the sooner we can figure all this out. When would you be able to come over?" he asked. 

"All right, is this weekend okay? That would give me a couple days to gather some things - clothes and toiletries and things," she asked.

"That would be fine. I will have a room made up for you and you will have your own bathroom as well. And of course, you will have run of the rest of the house as well," he said.

"Thank you, doctor. I know this is an inconvenience for you, having a strange woman in your house. I do appreciate your help very much," Elizabeth said. 

"Don't worry about it. It will be nice to have some company in the house for a change! That's a big house to just puttering around alone in," he said. "Besides, I make lousy conversation with myself!"

And so three days later, Peter was home when there was a knock on the front door. "Hi Elizabeth, I've been expecting you. Come on in and make yourself at home. Is this all you brought?" he asked, looking at the small suitcase and makeup case.

"There's one more suitcase in the car. Oh, I parked it in the driveway... I hope that's okay?" she said.

"We can move it into the garage later. It will be safe in there," Peter said.

"I really appreciate all this, Peter, and I don't plan on making this a spa vacation - I want to pull my weight around here too. You have been so kind, I want to help out with the chores while I'm here," she said.

"That's not really necessary, Elizabeth, I..." he started to say.

"No, I insist! You are helping me, so let me help you a little... please," she said.

He smiled. "Okay, let me show you to your room, and then I'll bring that other suitcase in," he said. He led her down the hallway to one of the spare bedrooms. "Here you go. You can call this your room while you are here. There's a bathroom right across the hall you can use too. I have an ensuite in my bedroom which I use most of the time and there's another bathroom as well. Once you are settled in I will give you the nickel tour."

He left her in the bedroom to unpack while he went to get the other bag. He made sure the car was locked and then came in with the suitcase, which had wheels so it was easy to roll around. He left her to unpack and get organized while he went into the living room to wait for her. A few minutes later she came in and then he showed her around.

"You have a very lovely home, Peter. I live in a small one bedroom apartment on a third-floor walk-up. It's a pain to buy groceries, so I have to buy just what I will need for one or two days at a time. Whatever I can carry up the stairs in only a couple trips! Fortunately, I only have to eat at home one meal a day except on the weekends. That cuts down the grocery store trips considerably. I usually grab a cinnamon roll and coffee or juice on my way to work and then eat lunch at work, so dinner is the only time I eat at home during the week. And since I only cook for myself, I don't eat fancy....