JENNIFER AND PUNJAB

A LYRICAL TALE

By izzy sommers, md

When Jennifer Seville became so ill she couldn’t move; her doctors diagnosed a mental problem, severe conversion hysteria.  Hysterical paralysis leaves doctors baffled as they understand it not and cannot put themselves in patient’s shoes.

Supposedly, Seville loved Menschen Mild from Idyllwild, who left her when she mentioned marriage.  Just after that our Jennifer transferred her mental efforts to adjust by just denying that the Idyllwild town idiot was giving up a caring, loving, bright divorcee who could offer him a life of bliss and happiness.  In truth, there was no loving on his part.  He wanted sex, and lots of it, without acknowledgement of Jennifer’s real need to be committed to a man who loved her for herself.  The piece of paper was not really necessary for her.  What was needed was sincere acceptance that he’d try and be her loving room-mate for as long as it was love that bound them both together.  In the actuality, it wasn’t Menschen’s handsomeness or sexual prowess she adored.  She thought he loved her, not her sexual cooperation.  She was as sexy as they came, in fact.  Her loyalty and need for someone caring was the issue.

If truth be told, at 43, she was as beautiful as Sophie Loren and as sexy as Sarandon, Susan.  Another man, a Wilfred Waterford, had almost made the leap to happiness with her, the year before.  Unluckily, he fell in love with Wanda, his returning sweetheart from the distant past, who sought him out.  Sir Wilfred was undone and had to say good-bye to Jennifer.  Depressed she was. but had a chance for closure by a final weekend in the Rockies.  Jennifer and Wilfred parted shedding tears and happy to have had each other’s love for seven months.

The year before, just after Steve Seville had left her for his youngish pal gal, Sam, who had no brains but did have bigger, firmer breasts, like dolly, Dolly Parton’s; Jennifer felt bad, but realized the shallow Steve was not for her, even after fifteen years of marriage and a pair of sons that had potential for success as lawyers.  Stevie Junior had charisma and Pierre was smart with money which he earned in large amounts, from teenage years and on.  Their house was lovely and was sold at higher prices way back then, allowing she and Steve to purchase townhouses and Hondas and assure the college funds for both the boys.  While Steve changed companies, our Jennifer continued working as the part owner and part manager of Florence Flowers in the neighbourhood.  Her Florence was her long-time friend and casual sex partner for the longer lonelier evenings that ensued.  Last year, Flo fell in love with Susan Snowfield and became less there for Jen.

One-night stands with several handsome customers were just OK, if Jennifer imbibed enough Chablis.  One very rich, though married man, had tempted her.  His name was Beauregard Brown, III.  He treated her with kindness and expensive gifts and took her places she had often dreamt about.  Her stand with him was lots of fun and lasted one whole fortnight; his darling wife, Joanne, was off in Europe for a shopping spree, with Adele, her friend from Hunter College.  Later, she wrote in her memoirs that it was a “Fancy Friggin’ Fling”, an interlude that turned her on and seemed to be just what the doctor ordered to get her through, what turned out to be a chronic feeling of failure and a mild to moderate, reactive, depressive mood.

Some estrogen, progesterone and testosterone helped, thereafter.  The hormone cocktail made her figure wonderfully full and rounded and cleared some dryness of her skin and mucous membranes.  She noticed that her fantasies were more intense and her masturbation more exciting, with or without the porno flicks she watched some evenings by herself.  She secretly purchased several stimulating toys and liked to use them once or twice a week.  She rationalized her guilt as due to Catholic beginnings and managed to be more and more guilt free.

The neuropsychiatrist, consulted to assist in her treatment of hysterical paralysis, was good but couldn’t find the root of her inner conflict, even with hypnosis.

A younger, recently-graduated and recently certified member of the American Psychiatric and Neurologic Society was called in.  He was from New Delhi, Punjab, India.  He sang baritone for his nationally renowned church choir.  He played bowler for his provincial cricket team, regularly scoring a century for them, while allowing less than ten for his opponents.  He graduated first in his medical school class, as Valedictorian.  His dissertation for his MD/PhD degree was an A+ effort on, “On Utilizing Kama Sutra for Diagnosis and Therapy of Neuropsychiatric Disorders, including Hysteria and Severe Anxiety/Depressive States.”  This became an hundred pages, widely sold and translated text book, ranking with Sigmund Freud’s famous books on, “The Interpretation of Dreams” and “The Pleasure-Pain Principle.”  Dr. Punjab Patel was exceedingly handsome and tall for an Indian.  He was charismatic and charming, witty and of good humour.  He was also single, though there were rumours of frequent dating of Bollywood starlets and beauty queens, singly and in pairs, and a persistent rumour of several offspring he supported.  He was known to his friends as Pee-Pee.  His English was impeccable, his accent mimicking Richard Burton’s.

Travelling on a Rhodes’ Scholarship, Professor/Doctor Patel, studied in Massachusetts, at Harvard and MIT, as well as in Chicago, at the Psychiatric and Psychosomatic Institute of the once famous Michael Reese Hospital and The University of Chicago’s Billings Teaching Hospital, both of which had, at one time, outstanding Neuropsychiatric units.  He was frequently invited to Presbyterian-St. Luke’s Hospital, part of the University of Illinois at Chicago’s Medical school and its residency and fellowship programmes, to make rounds to see interesting and difficult patients, and give seminars based on his published dissertation.

Wherever he went, he seemed to collect entourages of very pretty women, students and graduates and their female kith and kin.  Most used his famous nickname, Doc Pee-Pee, in demure fashion with adoring eyes and hands.  His success with Conversion Hysteria was outstanding.  His private sessions with patients were always sequestered and never filmed.  Any questions posed to his admiring young women, who were with him ostensibly to learn his craft, were demurely countered with a shrug of those pretty shoulders and a toss of those glamourous hairdos.  It was thusly, that he came to see Jennifer Seville at her bedside in her secured room on the Psych Unit of Pres.-St. Luke’s Hospital, in the heart of the Chicago Circle Campus of the University of Illinois, on Ashland Avenue, just south of the wonderful Greek Town and Publisher’s Row districts.  Two of his beautiful young females accompanied him.  The three of them had read in detail, Jennifer’s thick chart at the nursing station.

What I’m about to reveal is still a secret.  Jennifer left it out of her memoirs, purposefully, and essentially by request of Dr. Pee-Pee.  I am forbidden to reveal the names of the young women medical students who were there and participated.  Suffice to say, Jennifer was cured of her paralysis and became self-actuated, almost instantly.  She married the youthful Pee-Pee and moved back to India with him where an institute was built for him in the Black Hole of Calcutta, where Sister Theresa, and now Sainte Theresa, had performed her miracles on the disabled and impoverished.

Jennifer and Punjab lived happily ever after, as co-directors of the highly sought out Punjab Patel Institute, inside of which they shared a lovely love nest overlooking the fountains and gardens.  Millions of curious and ill people were greeted for over twenty years by the charismatic Patels.  Virtually all who came for help were improved significantly.  Often, those who came for the first time, ill or not, made definite arrangements to return for follow-up in Calcutta, or the new Clinique Jennifer et Punjab, CJP, en Seoul, in the recently reunited, Républiques des Koreas.

Now that the Patels are deceased, I have their last testimonial permission to tell you the details of the therapeutic procedure which cures conversion hysteria.  I was present at that fateful meeting in Presbyterian-Saint Luke’s Hospital, between Jennifer and Punjab, my adoptive parents.  My name is Isobel, Izzy, to most of my kith and kin, Est-Un-Cloche, to all of my associates, en Seoul, ou je suis, maintenant, La Directeure de la CJP.

It was dramatic!  After the door was securely locked and the windows were covered,  all of us were instructed to undress to complete nakedness.  Punjab and the two young women who accompanied him, mounted the bed with a stunned and paralyzed Jennifer.  Punjab spoke soothingly to Jennifer, “Thou art a beautiful and sexy woman.”  He kissed her gently on the lips.  We, in turn kissed her on the lips.  Then we kissed every square inch of her now quivering body.  Jennifer smiled from ear to ear.  Gradually, she moved slowly to touch us all, all over.  Then we focussed on the growing tumescence of Punjab’s penis and our tinier clitorises.  Jennifer spread her legs and lifted her knees to reveal an engoging clitoris and a reddening of her large sexual lips.  Punjab messaged her ample breasts and large brown nipples and we followed suit.  Punjab kissed her belly and slowly moved toward her groin, where he licked and flicked Jennifer’s twitching clit which resulted in an outpouring of vaginal juices, making a puddle on the bed.  In fact, all of us were dripping with greater and greater outputs.  Samantha, the other nurse, lay back and messaged her clitoris which resulted in a grand climax.  The rest of us made a laughing, mocking, standing ovation.  I followed with the next grand climax and received a standing O, as well.

Jennifer and Punjab closed their eyes.  Punjab sought her out with his magical hands while she sought out his erection, guiding it into herself, to the sound of squishing and clicking noises.  They began pushing and thrusting, slowly at first and then more and more vigourously.  They climaxed simultaneously, grabbing at each other and holding each other, very tightly.  Samantha and I lay beside them rubbing our breasts and nipples and clitorises against them while Punjab and Jennifer put their arms around us to make a closely united foursome, all achieving multiple simultaneous orgasms.  Finally, we let each other go and lay side-by-side, catching our collective breaths.  Then, we all started laughing.

Jennifer moved her arms about, realizing that she was no longer paralyzed.  The rest of us gave her a standing ovation.  Jennifer got out of bed and tested her new-found legs.  It was an incredible experience for all of us.  “When’s the next treatment?” she asked, smiling broadly.  “I prescribe such a treatment, with or without Isobel and Samantha, every afternoon, for the rest of your life.  Will you marry me?”  “Yes, of course, my genius, generous, loving, darling, caring Dr. Pee-Pee!  I’d marry you, immediately, if not sooner, in white or black, dressed or undressed, outdoors or indoors, under, over or on top of this or any other planet we choose.  Do you have the time this afternoon for another treatment?”  All of us laughed heartily and then jumped on the bed for another treatment by using The Kama Sutra’s second position for foursomes, wherein all of us were penetrated, in turn, by the fabulous Dr. Punjab Patel, while the future Mrs. Jennifer Patel, pushed us all closer together.

The rest is already recorded history.  After I graduated with a Registered Nursing Degree from the University of Illinois in Chicago, I entered Medical School at Stanford, graduating with honours four years, later.  I stayed in contact with Jennifer and Punjab.  They invited me to join the staff of their Institute and Clinique, where I’m now the Director of the latter.

I trust you have enjoyed and been edified by this saga.  The Kama Sutra is now enjoying a renaissance and is presently being used in non-chemical treatment of Mental Disorders in our growing numbers of successful Cliniques, around the globe.

FIN

© IZZY SOMMERS, MD

WELLAND, CANADA

MAY 25, 2013