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Dr. Freudine Goes Geisha For Irish On New Year's Eve!Jan 01 '04 (Updated Apr 11 '05) Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line New year means a new start for Dr. Freudine and myself. Happy 2004, everybody! Author’s Note--My psychiatrist Dr. Freudine has been challenged by Irish to be his geisha for the night, which means she will entertain him seductively, but how far she lets things progress is up to her for he isn’t her darma (sponsor). Last time Doc beheld Miss C’s last sex therapy session as a geisha with David in my Cyrano de Bergerac review. ************************ I hear the click of my apartment door and footsteps making their way to the kitchen. My note on the unlocked door had told Irish to follow his nose, which certainly couldn’t be difficult with the stirfry I am dishing up. A soft bed of brown and wild rice topped with sugar snap peas, Portobello mushrooms, red onions, red cabbage, avocado and pineapple chunks stifried in organic coconut oil and ginger root, then liberally sprinkled with tamari sauce, that aged soy sauce. He steps in the kitchen like a posing runway model, adding a wisp of herbal cologne to the air, as I smilingly set the heaping plates at the candlelit table for two. Suddenly he whistles. “Doc, you look like a midnight blue dream! And this dinner! I had no idea you would go to so much trouble to dress up and cook Japanese style...” His stunned voice trails off and I curtsy as Miss C had done to David. “Please, my lord, pour the wine, then we may sit and eat.” The stirfry is as delicious as it smells, so much so that Irish moans in appreciation and can’t take his glittering eyes off me. I hardly have room for the healthy, but lovely vanilla cake made with raisins and walnuts, but serve us as planned, complete with a blueberry/brown rice syrup sauce. If anyone is listening at the door, they would think we were making love to hear our satisfied cries of delight. Finally we only have the red, musky wine to drink and I pull out a sheet of paper tucked in my silvery sash. Irish opens his mouth, but I shush him coyly. “Reflections of a Geisha,” I murmur, feeling my heart start to pound. “I once thought you were crazy; Now that’s kind of hazy. You once were my client, But you’re so self-reliant. I guess you’re a proud man; You want me as a fan. That surely I can do, And might even coo. Still I really do wonder; Have I made a blunder. Are you as sane as you think; Will you be driven to drink? I will trust you to tell me, To ask of me freely, What you should do, Or if you might woo me. I may be a bad shrink; I’ll say with a broad wink. Tonight I’m only your geisha; I don’t mean user broomqueesha! Let’s just have some fun; In all ways laugh as if one. With my eyes like my master’s, Our horizon shall be vaster. Now my poem must end, My love you shall tend; Do I please you, I hope? Or do I sound like a dope? I’m filled with some fear, Though I know you’re a dear. It’s from caring so much That I please you and such.” Irish sighs, relaxed in his high-backed chair. “Darlin’, you are amazing. I’ve rarely been more pleased in my life. I’m so stuffed with good food, wine and company that...I don’t know, I’m completely enthralled. I would be happy with whatever you want to do now.” “So I’m forgiven for that catfight with Dr. Defiance?” I tease and take a sip of wine. He reaches out for my other hand and I let him cradle and kiss it softly. My breath catches. “Meow,” he purrs, gazing at his geisha who now is grateful for her white make-up to cover up her flushed face. “She deserved it, I’m entirely convinced now. I can’t bear the idea this night might not have happened without it.” He massages my palm with his thumb. “I don’t want it to end, cat woman.” I close my eyes briefly at the thought and quickly rise. “Shall we dance? I just do traditional American style.” “Sounds perfect!” Irish says with a laugh and stands with my hand still in his even warmer one. Taking small, stiff steps because of the kimono, I lead him to the candlelit living room with the stereo and turn on the pre-selected CD. “Madame Butterfly!” he realizes. “Brilliant choice, darlin’. Mmmmm...” Then I’m in his arms, moving in time to the passionate opera with him. My heartbeat slows with his own and the only language spoken between us falls silently on our listening spirits in the dance. Something more meaningful than words, more present within us than a mere urge. I feel reborn and yet at peace as if I’ve found my center after all these years, here in Irish’s sweet embrace. I unconsciously turn my head to meet his undecipherable stare, his eyes now a darker, more gorgeous hazel that fantastically drift closer to me and at the last second I’m rivetted to his pink, sensually-shaped lips bearing down on mine. The wine I taste is much more heady than the peppermint or Long Island Ice Tea of other kisses and I swoon, knees buckling. But it’s only a moment for I’m aware of Irish sweeping me up into his arms. His breath tickles my face as he struggles to lay me down on my bed without wrinkling the kimono, and I half-growl, half-laugh at his efforts. “Hey, I need help taking this off while standing up!” Needless to say he is more than happy to oblige his geisha and Miss C will get her ‘outfit’ back in mint condition, although some dry cleaning wouldn’t hurt to eliminate any smell of sweat. I’m such an amateur geisha!  |
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