Laid Bare: One Man's Story of Sex, Love and Other Disorders by Jesse Fink

Author:Jesse Fink [Fink, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780733629198
Publisher: Hachette Australia
Published: 2012-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

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I met Patricia, the age-indeterminate (but I guessed early 40s) widow of one of Australia’s most powerful men, via a dating site. She was frequently talked about in the press and to some degree the attention bothered her but in person she was no different to any other woman I’d ever met. Sensitive. Vulnerable. Emotional. Except for the fact that she lived in a waterside palace, was invited to all the fancy parties and would never have to work a day in her life.

Patricia had an incredible body and knew how to fuck. Her marriage had been an open and swinging affair. She told me some incredible stories. Orgies with prime ministers and captains of industry. How one renowned billionaire, long married, a giant of the international corporate world, had wanted in on the couple’s private sex parties but was told he was too old and turned away. Paying off Italian police for having cocaine stashed on their private plane. Wild romps in foreign cities that would go on for weeks with groups of prostitutes. And her late husband, a flabby old rooter, was a pillar of society. He’d had a state funeral, paid for by taxpayers.

At the time Patricia was fucking me she was also fucking a well-known Australian sports star being passed off in the press as a loyal and dutiful partner to his dowdy girlfriend. He’d turn up drunk on Patricia’s porch in the wee hours of the morning huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf to let him inside so he could bang her brains out. But Patricia had no problem turning him away. She had her hands full with plenty of other men. She fucked tradesmen. She took young lovers. She’d just come out of a torrid affair with a visiting Canadian athlete. There was a lot of humping going on in her house but not a lot of loving.

I suggested she might have a sex addiction. Funny, coming from me.

‘God, you think?’

‘When you fuck a 20-year-old who comes to sand your floors, yeah, I think there’s a distinct possibility. You should talk to someone.’

‘Who?’

‘A shrink.’

‘No, I couldn’t.’

‘Why not? Do it. What have you got to lose?’

Patricia went ahead and made an appointment with a psychiatrist. A week went by. I came over for another midnight tryst. We were lying naked in her bed, with its mountain range of pillows and debenture of expensive Egyptian cotton sheets and bed linen, watching Dexter.

‘So how’d it go with the psych?’ I said, turning to her on my pillow.

‘Well, I told him everything. Then he fucked me.’

Despite my urgings, Patricia wouldn’t report him. She feared what the press would do if the story got out. She said she’d already been put through the wringer enough after her husband’s death. Which just goes to show that given an opportunity with the right woman, even those men who take the Hippocratic Oath will try to get their ends in.

Patricia wanted to be held until she fell asleep and didn’t like waking up on her own in the morning.

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