The Sanity Ward by John A. Russo

Author:John A. Russo [Russo, John A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781639777624
Published: 2023-05-22T16:00:00+00:00

14

At first Vickers couldn’t believe that the Oldsmobile wasn’t coming back. He paced around the lot, staring out past the ramp and its rows of lights, into the darkness of the highway. Then he started to laugh. Three truckers stomped past him, giving him a wide berth, eyeing him with suspicion and anger. He put his hand over his mouth, stifling his mirth like a child caught giggling in kindergarten. The truckers piled into a big rig, slamming the doors. Their grizzled faces peered down from the cab, looking at Vickers as if he weren’t quite all there. He reached into the front of his shirt, fondling the deck of pornographic playing cards he had bought in the general store. Watching the big rig pull out, he sat down on a bench and picked at the cellophane wrapper around the deck of cards. The top card, face up, clearly visible through the wrapper, showed a couple of nude young women performing fellatio on a couple of nude young men.

Vickers had developed a secret taste for pornography even before he got stashed away at Blue Ridge. Now his libido was being fanned by seven years of abstinence. Like a red-faced adolescent he had concealed his purchase of erotica from Norman Teague, out of fear that Teague might have scorned him. High and mighty Teague always acted as if he was above ordinary human concerns like the need for orgasms. He wasn’t even attracted to the prostitutes in the restaurant—maybe women no longer fazed him after not seeing any for such a long time.

For most of Vickers’ life his sex drive had been low, abnormally so, if he could believe the statistics put out by researchers like Kinsey and Masters and Johnson. He had no desire to produce children; his work in astrophysics was all the reward he needed. He and his wife Helen made love about once a month. Then, in the year immediately prior to his incarceration at Blue Ridge, his sexual appetites suddenly, unexplainably rose to a fever pitch. To say the least, it wasn’t the sort of mid-life crisis he was expecting. Helen just couldn’t keep up with him. His work suffered; he knew it, though he kept trying to cover. He began furtively to keep a library of pornography and to frequent prostitutes. He wasn’t good at being deceptive, so Helen found out about his extramarital activities and filed for divorce—two weeks before he was forcibly taken out of her life.

Some of the things he did with prostitutes were positively kinky; he would have been ashamed to have anyone find out. He simply couldn’t help himself; his tastes kept getting more and more bizarre. Near the end, he knew he wasn’t any longer in control of his drives, he was a prisoner of lust. It wasn’t even much fun except during the brief moments of consummation. The rest of the time he was a wreck, worrying himself to a frazzle over his lack of interest in science, which had virtually been his god.

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