The Orgasm Rebellion {book preview}.
Photo: Rob Boehle via Pinterest.
By Frank Lingo.
An excerpt from The Orgasm Rebellion.
Ida Funk, in her mid-thirties and slim, with green eyes behind wire-rim glasses and curly auburn hair clasped back in a bun, sat on the edge of a hard bench in the dim light of the doctor’s hallway. Her hands clenched tightly to the scarlet scarf resting on her knees. The full-length blue dress she wore did little to make her feel less naked for the treatment she had come to receive.
Amid the shadows, a lone ray of sunlight illuminated swirls of dust in the air as Ida fidgeted with her scarf and wondered if her condition could ever be cured.
The doctor’s door opened and a woman came out, closed the door and hurried down the hall with her eyes down.
More minutes went by, dust swirling, hands clenching.
“Mrs. Funk, you may come in now.” It was Doctor Harold Furrow, opening his office door so quietly Ida hadn’t heard it.
Ushering her in, the doctor pointed to the examining table. Ida nodded numbly and bent to remove her shoes. Then, as if in a dream, she reached under her dress to slide down her bloomers and climbed up on the examining table.
“Feet in the stirrups, please, and lie back,” said Dr. Furrow. Ida slowly placed her feet in the foot holders with her dress still covering her legs. The doctor wheeled the vibrator machine with the rounded tip to the foot of the table. He briskly raised Ida’s dress and draped it over her tummy. He then placed the vibrator tip to her exposed vagina and abruptly flipped the switch.
Ida snapped out of her dream-like state as her whole body jerked to the jolt between her legs. It wasn’t exactly painful but it wasn’t pleasurable either in its sudden intensity. Ida squirmed a bit and instinctively drew back but the doctor pushed the vibrator firmly upon her. Ida’s hands clenched and her teeth gnashed as the buzzing machine vibrated her vulnerable vulva.
Little by little, the buzz in Ida’s bush changed from a rude intrusion to a sweet sensation. She lowered her mound slightly so the vibrator touched on her clitoris. The vibrations traveled up her spine and wrapped themselves in waves around her brain. Ida’s loin lips lubricated and her face flushed from the static stimulation.
Ida’s hands started clawing at the air for something to grip as the doctor continued to hold the machine tight to her crotch. She grabbed her hips and thrust up to meet the buzzing tip. Her hair bun came undone as her head rocked side to side and she ran her hands up to squeeze her breasts and squeeze her nipples thru the dress.
What a fright I must look, thought Ida, as she glanced at the doctor gazing intently between her legs. Maybe I really am an hysterical woman, she thought.
But her self-consciousness faded in favor of the current churning in her quivering cleft. Ida gave up any effort of self-control as the flow of pleasure grew stronger.
She knew she was close to the release of her hysteria but the vibrator kept slipping down off her pleasure button.
For the first time since arriving, Ida spoke. “A little higher, doctor.”
The doctor raised the vibrator tip and held it firmly on Ida’s clitoris.
“Yes, yes, oh God, YES, YESSS!”
Ida wailed and writhed on the examining table, responding to the buzz by clenching her buttocks and raising them off the table. She let out a moan from deep in her chest as her crimson crevice expressed a sluice of saucy squism.
With her treatment completed, Ida slumped back on the table in a state of floating bliss. Dr. Furrow switched off the machine and pulled it away from Ida who still lay with her legs open in the stirrups.
He placed a towel on her tummy and walked over to sit down behind his large imposing desk. “That should relieve your hysteria for now, Mrs. Funk. You may see the nurse for your next appointment.”
The doctor opened a medical book and began reading. Slowly, Ida sat up and pulled on her bloomers and let down her dress and slip. She reached behind her head and re-tied the bow on her shock of red curls. Again like in a dream, she straightened herself up and wobbled to her feet.
“Thank you, Dr. Furrow,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.
“Same time next Thursday, Mrs. Funk?” asked Miss Hillock, the young, pale raven-haired receptionist, looking up from her calendar book with limpid blue eyes.
“Yes, please,” said Ida, averting her eyes while handing over the dollar for her treatment.
Ida walked out of the doctor’s house into the bright cool April day. As she reached the gate, a chilly wind whipped her neck and she realized she’d left her scarf. She went back up the steps and pushed the door open just as Miss Hillock was coming out.
“Forget something?” asked Miss Hillock.
“Yes, my scarf,” said Ida.
“Oh, go right in. I’m heading home for lunch.”
Not wanting to disturb the doctor, Ida silently opened the door a crack to reach her scarf hanging on the coat rack just inside the room. But her slim arm wasn’t quite long enough. She eased the door open a few more inches to stick her head and shoulders in so she could grasp the scarf. Ida glanced toward the doctor, prepared to apologize for disturbing him, when she saw a peculiar sight.
Doctor Furrow was no longer reading at his desk but had returned to the examining area where he knelt before the vibrating machine, his bearded face at the silent tip. The doctor was facing slightly away from the door so he didn’t notice Ida but she could see him as his tongue licked the vibrator at the exact spot that had been pressed tight to her twat only a few minutes before.
As she realized what he was doing, Ida wanted to get away fast but she froze in fear and fascination. She held her breath so the only sound was Dr. Furrow slurping the squism she’d secreted in electric ecstasy. But when Ida saw Dr. Furrow slide his hand down the front of his pants, she knew she had to leave.
Ida softly pulled the door closed and hurried thru the reception area and outside. Her head was swimming but she felt relieved that the doctor hadn’t seen her. Ida walked home quickly with her eyes lowered. Her mind was a whirl of shock, confusion and repulsion by the doctor’s deviance.
Yet when she got safely in her home, Ida leaned back on the solid oak door and reached up to twirl her scarlet scarf as a slight smile slipped across her lips. Then she had a few sips of Nirvana Nectar, the drink fortified with laudanum she liked so much.
Meanwhile in another neighborhood, Francine Linguine, a brown-eyed brunette in her late twenties with a full rounded figure, sauntered into the office of Doctor Richard Dickinson and hopped up on the table. She wore a red satin blouse and floor-length black velvet skirt. Her long chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her cheeks had a rosy glow from the cool wind.
“Hiya Doctor Dick, I’m ready for my thrill today,” she said cheerily while pulling her legs up so her skirt rose and gathered at her waist.
“Please don’t make light of your hysteria treatment,” chided the tall, dark-haired physician, as he picked up a hand-held vibrating device. Its long cord enabled him to carry it to the examining table.
“Oh Doctor, I respect the efficacy of the treatment. After all, I don’t know of any other machine that can cure my condition and take me to the moon all at once. It sets my twat a–twitter,” Francine smiled.
With that, she slid off her bloomers, lay back on the table and opened her legs to reveal her muff, moistening with anticipation.
“You need to remove your shoes and stockings, Miss Linguine.”
“Oh, I forgot. But why, doctor?”
“Your bare feet provide an outlet for the electric current to exit your body.”
Rather than bend forward to unlace her shoes, Francine raised her knees up above her in her prone position. This brought her apple bottom and furry thatch up off the table into the view of Dr. Dickinson who stood at the foot of the table only a couple feet from Francine’s uplifted loins.
As Francine reached up and slowly unlaced the shoes, she noticed the doctor’s gaze upon her crotch. After dropping her shoes on the floor, Francine pointed her feet at the ceiling and reached up to slide off the stockings while her buttock muscles pulled taut and her puss peeked out above. Francine then lowered her legs and spread them wide to the table corners.
“Harrumph,” grunted the doctor, placing the round vibrator to Francine’s crotch and flipping the switch.
*****
Frank Lingo was raised in a small town in western New York. He moved to Washington DC at age 13, and was accepted into Gonzaga Prep School, from which he was expelled for flunking 5 of 6 subjects, the only exception being English. He was later expelled from High School for being a bad influence. He majored in marijuana from Webster University in St. Louis, and became a vagabond hippie. After hitchhiking all over US, he married Cheri, a fellow volunteer at a crisis counseling center in Lawrence, Kansas. In 1994, Frank joined The Kansas City Star as a contributing columnist, and covered the 1996 Democratic convention in Chicago as well as the 2000 Shadow Conventions in Philly and LA, but was let go after his hiring editor was fired in 2001. He has written and recorded dozens of commentaries for his local NPR stations, starting in the mid-nineties. Frank could not find an agent for his first self-published novel “Earth Vote” in 2000, and released his second venture “The Orgasm Rebellion” as an e-book in 2011 (from which the above excerpt has been taken). Now he’s waiting for the right agent to help propel it to #1 on the bestseller list.
*****
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