The Creep (16 page)

"No, make it a triple," said Bishman pushing the heavy glass back over the bar.

He continued drinking. He had three more triples and about nine cigarettes. While he did, the blood continued to ooze from his wrist, dripped onto the bar and trickled onto the sawdust-covered floor. Bishman didn't bat an eyelid. Claymore and his buddies were long gone, so were most of the other hard cases.
Bishman
left the bar sketching a farewell
wave to the barman and h
e found himself humming the Alka Seltzer commercial and singing the words,
plop plop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is!

As he went outside he had to hop over a big splattering of vomit. He knew intuitively it belonged to Claymore and his buddies.

Harvey noticed that Bishman was always punctual and as requested, never turned up to an appointment under the influence of booze or drugs. This in itself was quite a feat, and Harvey made a number of notes concerning this and the fact that Bishman was always exceptional in the areas of personal hygiene, always clean and his clothing was relatively clean and fresh too. It was not the normal behavior of someone in Bishman's situation. Harvey concluded that Bishman must stash clothing somewhere or constantly steal new clothes - maybe from victims. Harvey was not one to have the wool pulled over his eyes and made a note to study the anomalies in Bishman's story:

Bishman walked up Fifth Avenue and sat on the top step of the Marble Collegiate Church. A few years previously he'd heard Norman Vincent Peale talking about goals and getting things done, right here in this particular church. Bishman had goals and he wanted to accomplish great things. He
wanted to be a billionaire and be famous. He tried the doors and they were locked.
Fuck, shit!

He continued walking up Fifth Avenue, battling his way through secretaries briskly exiting their offices for lunch, executives hurtling into stores and tourists practically throwing themselves at cabs.

Bishman walked up the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral and pulled on one of the astonishingly heavy doors,
Shit,
these
motherfuckers are heavy,
he thought.

He sat in a rear pew. Two hours of cogitation brought a r
evelation to his mind, to wit: w
hy do women have tits? So men will talk to them!

Bishman's train of thought was broken when he saw out of the corner of his eye a cop the size of King Kong. He didn't have his gun drawn, but he looked as though he could, and would, without too much provocation. Bishman's asshole puckered. The cop escorted the priest around while he emptied all the collection boxes that were on the walls all around the Cathedral.

Lucky I stole the two votive candles before King Kong came in,
thought Bishman as he closed the heavy door behind him.

Harvey noted this item as unfinished. He anticipated that sooner or later Bishman would come back to it.

Anita lay on the bed naked. Harvey had changed from green swimming trunks back into stunning bright yellow boxer shorts. Anita was expecting to make love with Harvey for the first time. She wanted a lot more foreplay, but she really didn't know what to expect next. They'd just come from a long session in the
Jacuzzi
.

"Roll over on your front and pull your hair from your back. I need to get to the back of your neck."

"How's that?"
Anita rolled over and pulled her long blonde hair to her front.

"Yes that's
good,
I don't want to get baby oil all over your hair."

He warmed baby oil in his palm and gently massaged her neck and shoulders.
Powerful hands, working slowly, gently, lovingly.

"Keep you
r
hair pulled back, I'm not finished yet." He warmed up more oil. She felt relaxed and loving. Harvey moved slowly down her spine,
separating the discs, traversing the length of her back. He gently brushed over the cheeks of her ass,
then
massaged each thigh thoroughly.

Harvey warmed more baby oil and caressed her calves and then her feet. He moved back up her legs and started on her thighs again, going right up between her legs - right up to her pussy but not quite. Anita's groin area throbbed and she opened her legs slightly, but not obviously. He then worked back up to her neck and worked his magic on her neck and shoulders again. More oil was called for.

He went down her back, slowly and this time very gently massaged her ass. Each cheek separately, then both at the same time, then gently flicked an oiled finger across her asshole. She quivered and groaned in appreciation. He worked her thighs again, right up to her pussy. She sensed that he actually touched her pussy lips but it was so gentle she wasn't sure. He worked her calf muscles again. She was in heaven.

"If you turn over, I'll do your front. Would you like that?"

Like it? She was purring. "Like it? I'd love it."

Harvey warmed more oil. He started on her neck and then her front, carefully and deliberately keeping away from her full, beautiful breasts, that had lost their shape, because she was lying down.

He spent time gently working the oil around her belly button and her flat tummy and down to the pubes. He deliberately brushed the bush of golden pubes, the Bermuda Triangle he called it, full of mysteries of the deep, and pulled back quickly.

Anita lay there, loving it. He had been over an hour, and he was still at it. She hadn't been pampered like this for a long time.
A long time?
No, never!

This Dr. Bill knows all the erogenous zones, she thought. Anita was lost in thought and lost in lust. And he's still not made love to me. Little did she
know his jism was backing up his spine to his brain, making him go all pasty
white.

"If you sit up now, I'll massage your front again.
"
He snuck behind her and she waited while he was warming up more baby oil. He breathed softly on her neck and then in her ears. Sheer magic! She could feel him through his yellow boxer shorts. He slipped his hands around her and he rubbed her belly and then slowly moved up to her breasts: this was what she had been waiting for. This was what he had been waiting for, too. He gently massaged and felt and groped, and she sighed to let him know her appreciation. She loved it and he kept going, lifting each breast, caressing it,
playing
with huge brown nipples that were getting larger and firmer. He felt each breast for shape, size, texture and he got to know those tits intimately. These breasts could satisfy a man, he thought.

"I want to make love with you," he whispered in her ear, "But if I do, I know we'll regret it, it's too soon. Let's get to know each other. If we decide to make love later, we'll both enjoy it more - I promise."

She didn't doubt him for a moment. She slipped on her black lace negligee, and felt so relaxed she floated out of the room; she fancied herself to be in heaven, she fancied herself to be in love.

Bill Harvey's seminars at the Springfield headquarters were proving a resounding success. He loved flying
there,
his Lear jet was earning its
keep. He was glad to keep his home and personal base in California. That was one of the best moves he'd ever made. He kept reminding himself not to get too involved, that Max was the prime mover now.

The multi-millionaire wizard of hypnotherapy pushed back his prematurely gray hair, loosened his tie and began: "Lack of sleep affects homeless people the same as it does the alcoholic. Because they sleep on park benches or on the street they very rarely get sufficient sleep. Eventually, their waking and dreaming states get out of phase.

"The
drunk
suffering from delirium tremens may very well be seeing Zulu warriors and boogy men right there in the middle of Main Street with his eyes wide open. He'll actually be seeing the traffic and the hallucination both at the same time, which of course is extremely dangerous. He won't be able to tell the real from the dream.

"As for getting to understand states of consciousness, you don't know things until you know them, and you get to know them by doing them. I suggest every one of you lives on the streets for five or six days, in winter, when it's too cold to sleep in the parks. You'll know a little more about waking and sleeping states, and why so many people talk out loud and scream in what would appear to be the most inappropriate situations."

For sessions with Bishman, Harvey used a wide
variety of places because he hated being tied to his office, or for that matter, to any single location. He often used hotel or motel rooms, the beach, the rear seat of his Rolls Royce, and more often than not the warm and inviting wilderness of the majestic Californian countryside. He made a conscious decision never to invite Bishman back to Pinewood.

On every occasion that Bishman went into an altered state Harvey would take particular note of his facial expressions, tears, smiles, body odors, breathing rates and any other hypnotic phenomena that would always be apparent. He also noted Bishman's almost casual acceptance of violence:

It seemed that every time Bishman decided to take a walk in Central Park, it was a full
moon. This
particular evening was no exception.