And again similar to a massage table in that it has a cushioned top (for while the intention is discipline, it isn't discomfort), of a deep red leathe..., quilted and stitched and buttoned in a luxurious fashion, to an extent that causes even me to frown (though I dare not admit even to myself that on occasion, and only when I am absolutely assured of privacy, I too have lain down on this bench), as if designed to encourage an extended recumbency which would run somewhat counter to my immediate. For some unknown reason it made me feel slightly better. I wondered what the shrinks would get out of that.It was quite late when I had done all my schoolwork for the next week. Suddenly my phone rang. No caller ID. I hesitated for a moment before answering."Eric."Before anything else, there were sobs on the other end."Thank God you answered. Please can you pick me up? I could only remember your number. Please come."And then there were more sobs. Marie. What in hell had happened?"Marie, what is. More

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