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SESSION 1: Initial Assessment

Was I a bad person?

If you asked my buddies that question, they’d jokingly tell you yes. They’d claim I was a fraud doctor who became a chiropractor just to get my hands on beautiful women. They’d say that under the guise of alternative medicine, I’d given myself free rein to touch body parts without instantly being thumped with a harassment claim.

I did enjoy treating an attractive female, sure. Who wouldn’t? But those occurrences were so few and far between, especially for my struggling practice. My usual fare consisted of arthritic senior citizens, heavyset folks with bad backs, or car accident victims who’d rather be anywhere else.

Hector stood on the balcony of his rented vacation flat on the island of Madeira, overlooking the south side of Porto Moniz. Below, through the red-tiled roofs, he could see the artist’s studio. The French doors to the artist’s balcony were open, revealing a scene that had captured Hector’s attention the previous day: a handsome, perfectly formed Nordic young man with blond hair, posing nude on a blue-velvet-covered dais.

Hector had arrived just as the young man was stripping off his T-shirt and athletic shorts. He couldn’t help but smile at the contrast of the model’s deeply tanned body against the pale skin covered by a Speedo. This contrast, highlighting the young man’s pelvis and privates, particularly aroused Hector. The artist, an old man with a gray beard, painted the young man’s body with swirling colors of green, blue, red, and yellow as the model stretched out provocatively.

There are some things in life that are not planned. They just happen! My sister Donna is four years older than me and we have never been very close. We were just typical siblings with an age difference. We would fight all the time over just about anything, but as we got older we managed to become friends. My sister was a wild child; I caught her more than once having sex with her boyfriends at our parents’ house. I never said anything but she knew that I knew.

There were times, and I am sure it was my imagination, that she enjoyed teasing me by having sex while I was in the house. I can understand why my sister had so many boyfriends – she had the body of a Playboy bunny. At the age of 16, she was already a 36D with a small waist. Her waist only made her breasts look bigger than they were and her long blonde hair did not help. I was always getting ragged by my friends about how hot my sister was. I am only human and have to admit that looking at my sister’s hot body turned me on like any red-blooded American boy, but I never forgot that she was my sister.

I hated that everyone found her so hot and sexy and that dating was so easy for her. I was just average looking and I had to work to get dates as I got older. The upside of that was that I learned how to treat a lady and more specifically how to please her. My sister just went from boyfriend to boyfriend never learning how to choose a good one because she never had to.

The Weaver Wagon, the name the kids gave to their parents’ Toyota Sienna minivan, pulled in front of the resort lobby at around four p.m. They had driven nineteen hours, stopping only for bathroom and food breaks, since leaving Ann Arbor, Michigan the night before.

All six occupants piled out. They needed to stretch. They walked around, breathing in the warm, humid Florida air and enjoying the bright sunshine and blue sky.

The father, Dexter Weaver, had paid for the vacation. He wanted to receive the credit and their appreciation. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “Isn’t this great? Back home there’s two feet of snow on the ground and the temperature won’t get above freezing.”

His daughter hugged him and said, “This is great. Thanks, Dad.” The others said similar things.