The Erotic ╔tudes Opus VI
╔tude III - Dr. Carus
It was late. I had stayed up practicing the Sch÷ne MŘllerin, drinking wine, and after Frau Carus had stopped singing I had two cigars with Dr. Carus and he talked about his youth and going to university to study medicine in Leipzig. He seemed wistful, and drank much more than usual, which I found surprising. I always considered him very abstemious.
He spoke of his regrets about not studying music more seriously. "But you must understand, my dear boy, that once a man undertakes a medical study, there is no time for anything else. The laboratories.... you never escape from the laboratories, all the studies in chemistry... and then the cadavers...." He wandered onto some private thoughts of his own, falling silent, and we smoked in silence for a time. He routinely asked me to play piano for Frau Carus because his own playing was not good enough for the pieces she wished to sing. His violin was considerably better, and so he limited himself to violin, when he played at all. He maintained that Schubert's work was almost all beyond him.
He looked much younger than he must be - a little too thin, not a trace of grey in his hair or mustache. Perhaps it was the French in him, the French don't age quite as rapidly as we do. "Ah, you don't know how lucky you are, to have the possibility of something less dreary than medicine... that is why I left the gorier work to my colleagues and went into the exploration of the psyche."
I nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself. Carus had something on his mind, though I was not sure what. He would usually get to the theme, if I maintained a discreet silence. "Do you plan to stay with the law?" he asked me, quite directly.
"Well - that is what my mother would like," I equivocated. "I am not sure as yet."
"It would be a shame to waste your musical abilities, my boy, a shame. Even for a more distinguished career... how different my life would be if I had stayed with music, and not sacrificed myself to medicine, and wiping up after imbeciles and madmen..." He fell silent briefly and then said, "I am embarking on a new research study. Would you like to hear about it?"
And I nodded, engrossed in thoughts provoked by his last comments. At least, I had one ally in my pursuit of music, if I chose it. But as yet, I had not decided.
"I have begun research on the history of sexual deviancy, and the influence of the social order." I peered through the smoke at Dr. C and said nothing. "It is my theory, controversial as it may be, that what is considered deviant intimate behavior is actually a more normal biologic functioning of man as a species, and that it is social conditions that constrain us to strict roles of heterosexual function. I have observed this amongst my patients... once they are removed from the constraint of their careers and families, in the hospital, they display much more overt sexual behavior to one another. And so I theorize that this may be more normal than otherwise..." he trailed off.
"Are you going to publish this?" I asked, appalled and trying not to show it.
He smiled. "Not this year!" he laughed, a bit hollowly. "As I say, this is quite controversial."
"Not to mention against the law."
"That, too..." he took a longer draw on his wine, and looked down into the bottom of his now empty glass. I realized from the pallor of his face, that Dr. Carus was drunk. "Who knows, maybe it will never be published," he forged on, "but at least I will have done something original in the quest for the truth about the human psyche. I better go to bed."
I stood as he left the room, a slight stagger in his walk, and sat again to finish my cigar.
The Schlo▀ was quiet - it had to be well after midnight, but I had not heard the church bell chime. I had spent enough time at Colditz so that the bell had faded into the background of my consciousness and rarely surfaced until I had lost track of the time and listened for it.
I stepped out to the front door and into the summer night. It was considerably warmer outside, and immediately, sweat sprang to my forehead. I listened to the night. The patients in the Schlo▀ must all be either sleeping or quiet in their dark rooms, safe from the beating summer heat behind the thick stone walls, trapped in the isolation of madness. And as always, when I stayed here I thought about what it would be like to be confined to one of those cells, let out once a day to wander in the courtyard, sitting with Dr. Carus for one of his probing interviews, "And have you ever been attracted to boys of your own age?"
I chuckled quietly. I understood, perhaps better than Dr. Carus did, his fascination with the passions of his patients. I understood, too, why he would linger long after Frau C had retired, smoking in the parlor with me, meandering from one topic to another until he arrived at the one he wished to discuss... for he had once, after one of my more severe episodes in Leipzig, spent some hours questioning me about my dreams and fantasies, writing everything down in excruciating detail, and that horrible night, pursued by dreams of both death and desire, I had told him everything; and when he asked about my intimate relations I told him about my affair with Rosen in Heidelberg, which ended rather messily when he became engaged.
We had not discussed it since; and several months passed, after which he invited me to come to Colditz for my holiday and to practice Schubert's newest publications with Frau Carus. I had been here a week already. I half-expected some approach from Dr. Carus, following several evenings of lingering looks.
I took a short walk to the clock tower, where I confirmed in the moonlight that it was hard by 1 a.m., retraced my steps to the guest room and undressed, pulling on a dressing gown in the chill of the stone chamber. I marvelled at the chill that pervaded the Schlo▀ even in high summer, and pulled up a quilt to stop the shivering as I climbed into my bed.
The clock struck 1. As usual, after retiring, my mind grew full of thoughts of the beautiful Frau Carus, her graceful neck and white shoulders bare in the revealing dress she often wore in the evenings when she sang. Now in pregnancy, she had retreated to less daring costumes, but the memory of her in that gown lingered. The forbidden woman, the source of my hidden desires. I prayed that while Dr. C undoubtedly fantasized about me lying in bed with his now-confined wife in the quiet summer nights, he did not guess how many hours I spent fantasizing about her.
The door creaked open, and I was suddenly wide awake. "My dear boy, are you still awake?" Dr. Carus whispered as he crept carefully into the room in almost total darkness.
"Yes." So, it was to be tonight. I sat up and reached for the match, and lighted a candle. Dr. Carus, now in a thin dressing gown, blinked owlishly in the sudden candlelight, a furious blush on his cheeks.
"Oh!" he cried. "You didn't have to..."
"What is it?" I asked, and noted the reticence that overcame him now that the room was no longer dark. I realized that I was still half-aroused by my interrupted fantasies, and that I had almost expected to see her materialize in the doorway when I heard the door creak. He made it the rest of the way across the room and sat down next to me on the bed. A long moment passed.
"I - I couldn't sleep. I...I was... thinking about you."
I found a curious reversal from the night in Leipzig where I lay in anguish and fever in my bed and the professional, confident Carus had sat at my bedside, much as he did now, carefully writing down all of the twisted fears that fled from me into his medical history. His professionalism had fled him, tonight, and I could feel the movement of his hands chafing one another in the shadow, the sharp outline of his profile cast against the wall. My breath was quick: and I knew then, exactly what he was feeling, and I reached out a hand to place on his, to still his nerves.
"You were thinking about me..." I prompted him. From the encouragement of my touch he turned, and with an almost desperate movement, leaned over me and put his mouth upon mine. The strong tang of cigars and wine was on his lips, as it must be on mine, and he exhaled heavily.
"Oh god, how long I have thought of doing that..." he whispered fiercely, and kissed me again, gripping my shoulders hard in his hands, and did not let me go for what seemed several minutes. Then he sat up, as though to gather himself. My pulse had begun to race.
"I hope that I had not... I thought perhaps you mightů" he said, and I reached out to him. The passion trapped within him had leapt into me, and a bolt of sudden desire flooded me, and I threw off the suddenly suffocating quilt. I guided his hand, and heard him sigh as he grasped my now throbbing erection. "Ah, god," he murmured, and once again pressed his mouth against mine as he began stroke me. "Is this what you want?" he whispered.
"I want your mouth," I replied, somewhat breathless, and as I spoke, he slid along the bed and took me into in his mouth. I closed my eyes, and found myself thinking of Rosen then, his delicate tongue teasing me until I felt I should scream or explode... and here was Dr. Carus, the psychiatrist, kneeling between my thighs, teasing me senseless with his exploring tongue.
"Oh god," I gasped, as I felt the first peak of my climax approaching. His fingers clenched down on the base of my aching organ then, as his strokes grew more rapid and intense.
"Oh... god" my vision faded then, and all of my mind was concentrated on the movements of his mouth... and then came the spasm of my climax against his throat, and I felt him swallow once, and again, holding me in an iron grip. He sat up, wiping his lips delicately, as though tasting a mouthful of wine.
"My dear boy," he murmured. "Delicious, you are absolutely delicious." Then he kissed me, with the flavor of my semen mixed with the taste of the cigars and the wine on his mouth.
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The Erotic Etudes Index
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