PART FOUR f – Training

  "Feels good, doesn't it? To finally admit that you're my little slut, and you like it. Tell me if I'm wrong about it."

  "No. You're right."

  "We might hide it from the rest of the world, but not from each other. We share our little secret. When this is all over, think how close we'll be. We'll do everything. We'll be able to try, anything. No shame anymore."

  "Shame is a real theme with you."

  "It is. You know the difference between pop psychology and real psychology?"

  "Maybe. You should tell me. You're the expert."

  "Popur psychology, pop psych. That's the book, the video, the seminar. The TV shows, the radio talk shows. Now, people that aren't in the field, can sit around in their armchairs and discuss topics that were once reserved for the professionals. Example. Now everyone knows the difference between dominant and submissive, right?"

  "Pretty straightforward, sure."

  "Okay. So then, tell me. What are the traits of a dominant person. Quick and easy. Then tell me the traits of a submissive person. Go on. First time I heard this, it was an eye opener, and its my field now."

  "I mean, dominant. Duh. Bold. Aggressive. Tough. You don't ask people, you tell them. You're put in charge of things."

  "Now do submissive."

  "Submissive. The opposite. Meek. Mild. Weak. You can't tell anyone anything, and even if you do, they don't have to listen to you anyways. If you were put in charge, everyone would walk all over you."

  "Yeah. Standard pop psych talk. So soccer moms and teenage boys can sit around, and repeat slogans that are about as advanced of psychological concepts, as T shirt slogans and bumper stickers. Its pop. Its fluff. I'm sure in your field, computers and mathematics? You hear people talk about pop computer stuff, and you roll your eyes. Its a three word phrase everyone learns, and now thinks they know something. Am I right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Me and you. What are we? Tell me. I want to hear it out of your own mouth. Say it."

  "Well. You just went over expining it to me, I actually forget how many times. Who is in charge here. You? Are dominant. I'm submissive. You demanded that I completely submit to you. I did."

  "See? Pop fluff. Ready for the real story?"

  "If it doesn't get me into trouble."

  "Hmm. You're fine dear. You've been taught how to address your strict mommy with respect. And I can hear it in what you say this time in the bath, and how you say it. So, if you want the real story? I'll tell you."

  "Sure."

  "The public learned two new vocabury words. They think they know what those terms mean, because they sound like words in the dictionary they already know. Dominant. Submissive. Type A, type B. The alpha male, and the beta males. You know the drill, like the rest of the public."

  "Its all… wrong?"

  "Pop fluff is always like that. Little sound bites. Slogans for bumper stickers. Then here come the hucksters. The snake oil salesmen. Why, you buy this book? I'll teach you. What simple things to say to any woman, and she'll fall instantly in love with you. You've seen ordinary men, and women that look like models fall all over themselves for them, that can be you. I'll teach you the simple secrets they know, and you don't. Sound familiar?"

  "New one like that every couple years."

  "Yep. Snake oil. Its about as real, as a beer commercial. Do you really think if you drink the right cheap beer, beautiful women will y at your feet while you go fishing? Come on. Get real. Learn to say the magic words, and you can instantly have the best looking women, anywhere you go. Begging for your cock and fighting each other over it. Please."

  "So if it sounds too good to be true…"

  "It usually is. Here. How about all the self help courses. New one every year that goes big. You come to my obscenely expensive seminars? I'll teach you the simple things you ck, that are holding you back, from having anything you want in life. Your own jet airpne, like I have. Your own private paradise isnd, here look at mine. A successful career, I have one. I'm willing to teach you how I got all that, and its not because I'm better than you. Its because I know the little secrets to the way things work. And once you know them? You can apply these simple things, to anything you want, and get it. Just empty out your pockets in that money barrel right there, and step right up."

  "You know? You're right. All these things sound… all different, but, all very much the same."

  "Yes, my little slut with the very sore ass who can't sit still in the tub right now, and is squirming and annoying his mommy. I'm beginning to wonder if putting my switch across a naked, wet ass draped over the tub would achieve, getting you to sit still."

  "Do you want me to get out of the tub, and stop annoying you."

  "No. I'm enjoying my hot soak. I love it. I also like having you in here with me. If you get out of the tub, you'll be annoying me more than the squirming."

  "Um…"

  "No dear. Mommy is not going to switch your naked wet ass. As fun as that would be for me? It would actually make you're squirming worse. Defeat my whole purpose. I'm just having fun teasing you. This time. Ready to hear the real story of all the snake oil, pop psych fluff hucksters?"

  "Yes. Please."

  I rubbed the washrag over him, and kissed and gently bit his shoulders.

  "Mm. Such nice manners. You're learning not to sass me. Today's little… demonstration worked wonders. About the only thing I didn't pn on, was the squirming."

  "I'll try not to squirm so much."

  "Hmm. You do that… now then, about my story. Shall I continue."

  "Please."

  "Thank you. Anyways, all snake oil and hucksters pushing it. Lets take the self help gurus and their courses. Did you know that all those courses, are actually the same thing? Every one of them."

  "Really?"

  "Yep. A long time ago, after the depression. A writer wanted to ask all the big men, the giants of industry. What their secrets they had to share were. He found they were all telling him very simir things, and he put it all in a book. That? Was the original, the first, the best self help book. Ever. All the others? To this day and to the end of time… are just imitations of parts of that one book, with different names and words spped over it. It even says in the original book. All you have to do, is repackage what I've taught you here, and you can be successful helping people too. Right in the book."

  "Honest?"

  "Serious as a heart attack. I'll get a copy. You'll see. Now, onto the be dominant courses. The… be the alpha seminars. Again? All these pop psych fluff salesmen… all they do, is teach their listeners a couple vocabury words, show simple examples, and all the mesmerized listeners? They go… why, that's Bobby! He's right! That girl? That's Linda! This guy really knows what he's talking about! He's good!"

  "He isn't?"

  "No dear. Anyone that can read and write, could open any introductory psych 101 text book, and copy all the words in big print, and the definitions… and pick out groups of them to make your very own… informative talk show. You're own course on… thing X. Its a trick. They're showmen. They're salesmen. They dangle a shiny thing in front of you, and you're all mesmerized. They give you two, three easy examples? You see that they're right… then? They can tell you the moon is made out of cheese, and you all fall for it."

  "So. There's no magic words, to go with the magic cheap beer… and supermodels fight over who gets to sit with you. Damn."

  "No. Its all… Alpha Beta vocabury definitions. They give you textbook examples of what the alpha says and does, and what the beta says and does… you sit and go… that's Mike! That's Jerry! Wow, is this guy good or what."

  "No magic beans. Tragic."

  "Oh. It works a little. Not like they advertise, though. Silly mesmerized boys are learning to say and do a few things, that sends the signal that they're the alpha. It works a little. You bang bar whore randoms, out on girls night out. It works enough for that. But… you boys ever notice something? Its all how to be the pyer. How to score chicks. Not a thing about a retionship. It only works a little, up front. Many things can shatter the girl's illusion, and she suddenly sees through the fairy gmour you boys have been taught to sprinkle in the pickup bar."

  "Ooh. Tell me that stuff. I love when bullshit gets washed away. I like the real deal. It usually takes work to build the real deal, with anything. Bullshit smeared around? Washes away with the rain."

  "Hmm. Crude analogy, but I otherwise like it. You boys might be silly falling for this snake oil, but the girls? Sillier. Read retards monthly, and that much is obvious. Want to be more successful at work? Wear this, and buy a pair of smart gsses. People will treat you like you're successful and smart, and that will make you feel that way, and bang, you're on your way. Now, you want to drive your man wild, and have him become your love sve and become addicted to you? Easy. This month's centerfold premier article, 11 things to drive your man wild. By the time you get to number six? He'll be eating out of your hand. Now… who's sillier. The boys desperate to get id more? Or… believing success in business comes from the right clothes, and a pair of fake reading gsses. That a man will do what you say, every day, if you learn number six. I mean, come on now. Who writes this shit, and who's dumb enough to believe it all."

  "Hmm. Depends on what number six is. I mean, if number six was tonight… they could have something."

  "Hmm. Different kind of article, dear. But you see my point. Now. What can shatter the bad boy fake alpha fairy dust?"

  "I'm all ears."

  "You can't become alpha, by learning 4 simple tricks. That's just… sending fake signals. Lots of things shatter the illusion."

  "Like…"

  "Your pack you run with. These tricks start working, when you're out trying them alone, somewhere new? Yeah. You get one night. Now… you brag, and your buddies demand you prove it? Well… go down to the bar in town, where everyone knows everyone. When your buddies give you the shits? The girls realize, you're no alpha. Or, everyone already knows who's who. And if you do nd a new girl, what do you do… when a real alpha walks up, and starts running you off, and talking to her? Nothing. And even if you nd the girl you picked up out and about? As soon as you take her around your home town, and your home crowd… she suddenly sees what you really are if you're faking it."

  "Ah. Important point you make. To me? The whole game… nothing but a bunch of bullshit, met with more bullshit. I don't py it, I refuse."

  "Hmm. I know who taught you that. You told mommy. Your… quiet hard ass mentor."

  "Yes. He did. God rest his soul. I'm left behind down here. To imagine what else he could and would have taught me. I feel like… my two years with him? I got my Associates, and I was on path to get my Bachelors. See if he wanted me for some grad school. I might have really turned into something great. Now? I might never know."

  "Mommy is very sorry you lost your mentor. He was a real guru, not some salesman, out hawking snake oil."

  "Truer words were never spoken."

  "I just realized something."

  "Yes?"

  "Your mentor. Before he… got called home. He would have came up with your, pn you follow now. The way you… are. Or he approved of this pn. You two came up with it together."

  I heard him sniffle. Then I felt his erratic breathing through his back, reverberating into my own chest. I froze, and you could have heard a pin drop. Because I stopped the jets by bumping the button. Then all I heard was what sounded like a leaky faucet, drops of water falling into a puddle collected on a dish. He was crying, and I could hear the drops hit the bath water. I was sick to my stomach, and I hadn't intended to cause a small emotional earthquake.

  I did what any good mommy knew to do. I put my arms around him from behind and kissed his shoulder and his neck. I shushed him, and told him it would be all right. Within a minute, I felt deep, regur, even breathing, and a long slow exhale. He leaned back into me, the way we started… and it was gone. A little cloudburst that passed before you even barely realized it had struck. Gone. He spoke quietly and evenly. Which was mildly shocking.

  "Yeah. He was always asking me, what I wanted. What the MPs gave me, was it what I really wanted all along? I was their mascot. To the young MPs, nervous? Hey. Look here, this is our mascot. Computer kid, for Christ's sake. Look how he does fine, ain't even his job, its a hobby. Anyone can do it, you just learn. Don't worry about it. You work hard, you train hard? When the time comes your training will take over, and you'll do fine. Now, let's do take downs one more time. Practice makes perfect. Control the head, the big, scary body will go wherever you put that head, long as you do it right…"

  I let him go, and just moved the washrag over him. Therapist 101. When they spill? You shut the fuck up and let them spill. You can't make them, you have to recognize it when it happens. So instead of doodling on my empty scratchpad, I moved the washrag over him.

  "He had me… think what made me happy. Not… the MPs thing. Great as that was, don't get me wrong. What was I into as a kid, what did I want for myself, before I decided to get what everybody else pced value on. Yeah, I was gonna re enlist again, as an MP this time. Already worked out with the MPs, already knew the instructors through them. Hell, I worked with new guys, prepping them for some of the tough stuff. MP school? Scary. For me? Was gonna be a cake walk. I knew what to expect, I already did the rough stuff for fun. They had me doing fun house drills with them for kicks."

  "Fun house…?"

  "You know, you walk through the house, the things flip out at you, you instantly decide whether to grease them or hold off. Split second choice. Instinct. You hesitate? You're dead. You don't hesitate? You pop innocents. You instinctively react. Its fun, but scary. You get used to always having a bad guy pop out at door X. One day? You pop it, and its a cardboard cutout of a cute little girl, in her little PJs, holding a teddy bear. You just blew her face and throat out with 12 gauge buckshot. They mix it up. Any target card, flips around from anywhere, always different every time. Its a walk through real life video game. You learn to just react, instinctively, and be good. When you got it? You got it. Yeah. I was gonna breeze though fun house drilling and all the hand to hand. They told me I was already one of them. Just needed the little tag on my greens."

  I rubbed the washrag, light and slow. I know when the work is being done for me. A good therapist? Knows what to say and when. A great therapist? Same thing, but also knows when to shut the fuck up and let them do your work for you, better than you ever could. So I rubbed my washrag.

  "That all came about by accident. Football pyers, boxers, wrestlers… they go and try out for MP. Not guys like me. But, some joker in housing thought it would be cute to stick computer boy in with these guys, for why I'll never be able to fathom."

  "Then, he made me realize. My original pn. What I liked as a kid, what I wanted before the happy accident went over good. College. Computers. It wouldn't be like when I was young. I'd seem the same to the new people, but… I'd know what I now had. And he taught me my responsibilities, for his finishing school on it all. Its all bullshit. Don't take the bait. Do what's important, according to the long range pn."

  I kept moving my washrag. The spill had paused. I could now direct the spill to what I wanted. Suggest gently, that's what they're there for, that's what you're for.

  "So what was the long range pn…"

  "What you see me doing. Follow my own pn. Do my own thing. If I want what everyone else has? Then by all means do what they do. If you want something different though, then you better not do what they all do. Find your own path, that takes you where you want to end up. You'll find yourself there eventually."

  "Where's there…"

  "What you see me doing with my computers, electronics. The pnning on that. If I just want cute Latinas, fine. If I want something more? Don't do what everyone else is doing, or you'll end up with what they get. I need a good woman eventually. Someone just for me. If I look? I'll never find it. Like… wanting MP stuff in high school. The more I wanted it, the more it eluded me. Like cute Latinas in high school. The more I looked, the more it eluded me. I quit looking for Latinas, and for MP stuff? Universe stuck me right, and I mean right in the middle of both of them, and handed it to me on a silver ptter."

  "His advice on girls?"

  "Same as everything else. If you don't want what everyone else has? Better do something different. They meet girls in bars and parties? You better meet them anywhere else but. The gym. The library. Anything but. You want a rich girl? Figure out where they go, and be there. You want a spoiled cunt? Get a job in a nail salon. Now, you want a tall athletic girl? A real tomboy? Gee. Where do they go. What do they do. And, that's how I became a little sports girl groupie. In the gym. Jogging. The universe, has a funny way of putting you right where you need to be though, you just have to let it. The mathematics boratory. Tutoring mathematics and computer science. I'm there three months, and suddenly I got this fucking conga line, of jocks coming in. Sent to ask for me, for help with math and comp sci. Traditionally, the jock's hardest subjects. Some of these jocks? Had great hair and really nice legs."

  Move the washrag. He's spilling. Keep it going. Adjust the nozzle direction gently, don't touch the faucet handle.

  "How did that work…"

  "Well, nothing hard works. That's why its hard. I was being confronted with one of the bors of Hercules. You must grab the head, of this big, muscur, scary guy. That knows you're trying to do it, mind you. And control that head, and fire him down and then control him and finish him off. I tried it hundreds of times. Finally, I timed it right, I shifted my hips right, my footwork was on… I fucking threw this goril ass over tin cups, over my hip, and tossed him like nothing. His own weight and strength do it, and work against him, when you do it right. Finishing them, once the huge guy gets the wind knocked out of him all stunned? That's as easy as spreading icing when you're done. The hard part, is baking the fucking cake."

  Washrag. Keep it moving. Gently nudge the nozzle.

  "Talking to tall, strong female athletes. Another one of the bors of Hercules, hmm?"

  "There's a couple hundred of you girls. Only so many of you are tall and strong. Only so many of you are feminine. Only so many of you are tomboys. I got years. Start going through them. I want different results than the other guys, so do anything else than what's the normal thing. Acting like a jackass, is about normal. Doing the opposite of what doesn't work, is always a great start. That st one, was another gem from the… oracle, before he… you know."

  Washrag, always moving. My lips? Barely moving.

  "And then what… it wasn't working…"

  "Neither was tossing around pissed off charging gorils all jacked up on steroids. That wasn't working at all, the first couple hundred times. When the only way forward is a locked door? Keep bumping it, gently. Sooner or ter, someone will be opening it from the other side, where its not locked. You just gotta be bumping when its happening. The door will open itself, you just gotta be there and be bumping. Just see its open, and walk through."

  Lots of washrag, very little lips.

  "Good luck will come eventually, hmm?"

  "Luck? Good fortune is usually with he who has the most cannon. What most people attribute to good luck? Good luck is just what we call it, when preparation meets opportunity. That was you, by the way."

  "Hmm. How did that go…"

  "I remembered birthday swats. The Christmas swats. Both happy accidents. It… went so perfectly with the… naughty pictures that were coming all along anyways. The secret ones you don't talk about. You swatted my butt at our party. A friendly joke, I stuck it out for you, because you forgot to swat it on the way back. Little jokes. Sve? Pour me another shot of my brandy. Pour yourself another one. I allow you. I have pns to take advantage of you. Opportunity seemed to be knocking. Coffee and a snack? Same thing all over again. Then? Christ."

  "What…"

  "We talked. First date? I asked you, you suggested to meet at the mixer. We agreed, we were even I was asking you out, you were picking the time and pce. Even. Second date, I suggested coffee, turned into a snack, too. So, it was your turn, you said, to set the third date up."

  "Was it now…"

  "It was. You said it was a surprise, don't have anything pnned for a couple days. You drove me out into the middle of nowhere. Said we had to do it sometime, might as well pn it."

  "I did, didn't I."

  "You did. Older guys teach younger guys, you make the decisions. You control the conversation. This was… I know I want different results. Secret naughty pictures are fshing through. Your jokes… my innuendo and word py… now? Screw taking control of the conversation. To hell with making the decisions. You're doing it. Everyone else, is getting the normal randoms thing. I want something… different. Do the opposite of what all the other guys say to do."

  "Mm. And how did it feel. Having your sports girl make decisions for you. It didn't feel wrong…"

  "Jokes were being made. You set it up. Told me ahead of time, we'd be alone for… whatever. Now? I'm there. You practically kidnapped me. Drinks? I knew what you liked. You showed me at the mixer. I suggested it, you said good idea. I now don't have to worry about how to get drinks going. I don't… have to engineer being alone with you, like other girls. You did it. You gently took charge of… everything. I just had to nod my head and smile."

  "Hmm. Go on…"

  "I mean, everything. You gotta worry about how to small talk a girl, you handled that from minute one. If people would say you lead the conversations? Fine. One less thing I can not do right. Then, there's that big moment. You have no idea what its like to be a guy. You're expected, to just… magically know. Its okay to touch her arm, her hand. Touch her face, sp her on the ass and make a joke. That's hard to do. It takes courage. You do it too early? Too much? Ew. He's creepy. No way. Take me home. Do it too little, or too te? Oh gee, sorry. You had me there, for about an hour? But… sorry. The moment passed. Oops."

  "Women are such spoiled cunts…"

  "They can be. I'm expected to read minds. Guess correctly. Fucking feel everything. If I ask anything? I get rolled eyes. If I have to tell you? Then its just not working. If I tell her I'm trying, help me out? Oh. The right guy? Doesn't have to try. You girls might not realize, the courage it takes, to just grab you, touch you, kiss you. Know its going to be right. Its scary. Any guy who says otherwise? Lying. Until you get all the experience, you can't know. Can't get all that experience? Without knowing. Its scary, its frustrating. Then when you finally get it right? You're just being used. The show boyfriend. She fucks everyone else but you."

  "Almost all girls, yeah… what about me…"

  "You… showed me what you drink. You… grabbed my hand. You touched my arm. You touched my face. You took me aside in the corner, and grabbed me and kissed me. You talked about what you wanted to talk about, small talk. I just had to… be there. You even? Well… you kind of told me it was time to go home. Text you to say goodnight when I got home. So we can pn on something else next time. I didn't have to… do anything."

  "Hmm. Yes, I remember sending you home. Politely. There was another girl there eyeing you up. Some little girly girl slut. I kissed you some more, and sent you home. Text me, we'll set up the next date. I'm not having my man poached. I want a man that… lets me lead. If you went home when you were told, piece of cheese was getting the next date if you did it? Well. I need a man that lets me tell him. You did. How did it make you feel though… having me… gently guide you with everything."

  "Oh. That. I mean, yeah. I can hear all my guys at the gym's voices in my head. Dude. There you go. You're fucking it all up. Again. You be the man. You tell her. Show her you can make decisions. Girls like that. If you can't take control of the conversation gently, how the hell do you expect to take her by the hand and lead her into the bedroom. Wake the fuck up, Wiz."

  "Hmm. Standard advice your friends give, little boy. Works on… really, almost all women. Why didn't you follow their advice, hmm?"

  "My mentor. If you want the results they're getting? Do what they do. But if you want something different? Don't follow all the advice. In fact, do the opposite for a good start. So… doing everything wrong? Instantly produced the best results I could have hoped for. Little fun sex jokes? You made the first one, not ten minutes at the mixer. Nice one, too. Swatted my ass. You took the reins. I stuck my ass out for another swat? There you go. Another sex joke. Great. Sex jokes and innuendo? Check."

  Washrag keeps moving, its my magic washrag now. My lips are allowed to move a little more. I'm going to get this washrag bronzed, I think.