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Amanda's Worlds

When I, Ben Shaklee, graduated from Northwestern University's journalism school I was lucky to land a job with the Chicago Tribune. Ever since I was a kid, no doubt inspired by Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and cub reporter Jimmy Olsen in reruns of the old Superman TV show, and then enhanced by real life investigative reporters from the Washington Post and New York Times, I always wanted to be a newspaper reporter.

I went through the normal hierarchy for young reporters at the Tribune; obituaries, then local interest pieces, and then assisting on political stories both local and national. I got a big break when I was twenty six and still single, with no significant other. No one senior to me could stand the hours that would be involved, so I was assigned to ride with a Chicago Police late night crime squad. On a typical night we took off about ten p. m. and finished about five a. m.

After a testy start the cops on the squad - a sergeant, two Swat dudes, a uniformed policeman, a uniformed policewoman, a homicide detective, and a vice squad detective - warmed up to me. I wrote several very favorable articles about them that were published in the Metro section, never got in their way, and always brought coffee and donuts for all when we started the shift. They allowed me more and more access until I was almost treated like Richard Castle in the popular T V program.

While if this was a "True Crime" story I could relate many hairy and violent episodes that I witnessed and subsequently wrote about for the Tribune, by far the most unusual case I ever came across, which someday I might actually write an entire book about, was that of "Amanda's Worlds."

***************

It was about two a. m. on a Wednesday morning when the squad, with a "No Knock" warrant, broke down the front door of a townhouse in a middle class neighborhood. It was a "first" in my experience when we entered a den on the ground floor where music was playing and saw a naked woman being fucked doggy style by one guy, and vigorously sucking another guy's cock. While the guy getting his cock sucked immediately broke away the guy pounding away doggy probably didn't see us right away because he kept going despite the order from the lead cop to "break it up."

The woman being reamed turned her head toward the lead cop and snarled "Let him finish," and then she reached her long arms in back of her and pulled the guy fucking her toward her. It was also obvious that she was doing something with the muscles in her crotch area because the eyes of the guy fucking her got really wide when her pelvis seemed to start vibrating.

All of us in the squad were stunned - stunned enough that no one immediately did anything but watch. Within seconds of when her pelvis vibrations started, the woman looked like she was having a convulsion, and the guy grunted and yell "Holy Shit," at least a dozen times. Obviously they had both orgasmed violently - certainly more violently than any orgasm I had ever experienced.

When the cops on the squad finally regained their composure they pulled the fucker out of the woman, and lifted her up. It was when she was standing, still naked, with cum leaking from her pussy and her eyes rolling in her head, that I got a good look at her. She was the sexiest woman that I had ever seen in my life.

The woman looked to be about thirty years old, five feet eight inches tall, maybe one hundred thirty pounds, with sleek thighs, prominent hips, and big tits with puffy nipples. Her hair was dark blond and shoulder length. Her eyes appeared to be dark blue, but since she was rolling them I couldn't initially say for sure. Her face wasn't classically beautiful yet cute, although it did look a little older than her firm body.

While the cops pulled the two men out of the den to begin interrogating them, I stayed in the room, mesmerized. The lone policewoman, Cathy Jenkins, in the squad went up to the woman with the leaking pussy and put an afghan that was lying on a couch around her, spoiling some of my view - but not all of it; I could still see one of her thighs and part of her pussy, and the cum slowly inching down toward her knee.

After she cuffed the woman, only Officer Jenkins and I were still in the den because apparently the two guys had gotten frisky and were being restrained by some of the squad members while others searched the rest of the townhouse.

"What's your name?" Cathy asked.

"What the hell is going on?" the woman replied, obviously still feeling the effects of her massive orgasm.

"I need you to cooperate, ma'am. Tell me your name."

"I haven't done anything wrong; fucking isn't against the law."

"I really need you to cooperate. If you haven't done anything wrong, tell me your name."

After a long pause and a few deep breaths "Amanda; Amanda Watkins," came out of her lips.

"Where are your purse and clothes?"

"Over by the bookcase."

Cathy walked over to the bookcase, picked up Amanda's very short skirt, thong, and skimpy top - there didn't appear to be a bra - and then her purse. As Cathy looked through the purse she asked "Why are you here, Amanda?"

"Because I needed to get fucked badly, and the two guys you saw me with as well as the guy upstairs looked like good prospects for ringing my chimes - which they did despite your rude interruption."

"Are you a prostitute Amanda?"

"Fuck no - just because I enjoy sex that doesn't make me a prostitute. I wasn't being paid, just having a good time."

After that exchange, Cathy pulled out an I. D. from one part of Amanda's purse. Cathy got a weird look on her face. She fished around some more and found two more I. Ds. in other parts of the purse. She walked up to Amanda holding them.

"How come you have three I.Ds. Amanda?" Cathy asked, fanning them out.

I walked over to the side, right next to Amanda so that I could plainly see the I. Ds. The one Amanda first focused on had her photo and the name Amanda Watkins, just like she had said. "That's me," she replied, nodding at the Amanda Watkins I. D.

"Well whose picture is this, then?" Cathy asked putting the Amanda Watkins one behind a second I. D. The second one had a photo almost identical to the one on the Amanda I. D. but the name on it was Shirley Blomquist. Amanda stared at it, blinked her eyes, and then got this funny look on her face. As she looked around the room, at herself, at me, and at Officer Jenkins, her look morphed from odd to terrified. She squealed, and then said "Where am I, and why don't I have clothes on, and why have I been handcuffed?"

Cathy Jenkins thought that it was an act. I wasn't so sure. Without responding to Amanda's inquiry Cathy put the second I. D. behind the third one and asked "Who is this?"

The name on the third I. D. was Joan Greene, and the photo sure looked like Amanda and the photos on the other two I. Ds.

Amanda's actions looking at the second I. D. were virtually repeated this time for the third I.D. Then her lips started quivering and she started softly crying. "I don't know what's going on. I want to talk to my husband Richard."

"Richard Greene?" Cathy asked.

"Yes - call Richard!" she whined.

Cathy went back to the purse to find a cellphone. There were three of them, one in each of the compartments that she had gotten the I. Ds. from. "Which one is yours, Amanda?" she asked.

"My name is Joan. I don't know what those two flip phones are, but the iPhone is mine. Richard's number is in the contacts."

"Where is Richard now?"

"He's on business in Los Angeles,"

"Just past midnight there," I said to Cathy. She nodded, scrolled through the menu and then pressed a button. She put the phone on speaker.

"Uh, shit, Joan. Why are you calling so late. I have an important meeting tomorrow," the obviously sleepy voice on the other end of the line said.

"Mr. Greene, this isn't your wife. This is Officer Jenkins of the Chicago P. D. calling on your wife's phone. We found someone who might be her in a precarious situation and want to confirm her identity."

"I'm OK, Richard, honey," Joan yelled. "There is some mistake; they've handcuffed me."

"What? What the hell is going on?" Richard snarled, now apparently fully awake. At that point Cathy turned off the speaker, and for the rest of the conversation I only heard one end.

After asking Richard to describe his wife, and when he would be back in town, and who his lawyer was, Cathy - obviously at Richard's request - put the phone back on speaker.

"Joan, honey. I'll be back as soon as my meeting ends tomorrow. In the meantime say nothing. John Braxton, my attorney, or one of his associates will meet you at the police station. Do not say anything, understand?"

"I won't Richard," she sobbed. "I love you - hurry back."

Cathy asked me to stand in the doorway to the den, with my back to her and Joan to block her exit in case she tried to flee. Then Cathy uncuffed her, helped her get dressed, then cuffed her again and put the afghan back on her so that her prominent puffy nipples were not visible through her blouse. I heard Joan say a number of times "These aren't my clothes - they look like a hooker's," while Cathy kept responding "They fit you though, Joan, and you have to wear something."

Once Joan was dressed, Cathy marched her out of the townhouse. The three men that had been found inside were on their knees in the living room, handcuffed, and being read their rights. The two that had been in the den were bloody, and still naked.

I rode with Cathy in the front seat of one of the squad cars, with Joan in the back. After Cathy put Joan in the car she handed Cathy's purse to me and whispered in my ear "I can't interview her since she asked for a lawyer, but you can. On the way to the station make nice with her and then ask her about the piece of jewelry in her purse."

This is probably a shock to anyone reading this, but sometimes the police skirt the law in questioning suspects. Go figure. I was going to decline, but my curiosity was aroused, I wanted to stay on Cathy's good side, and I figured that any judge worth a damn would consider me an agent of the police and rule anything that she told me inadmissible anyway, so I played along.

I established with Joan that I was a reporter, not a cop. I asked her a number of innocuous questions, and found common ground with her in discussing recent movies. Then I held up the expensive looking sapphire necklace in the part of her purse that the Amanda I. D. had been removed from. "Say, Joan, this is a really nice piece of jewelry. When did you get it?"

Without hesitation she responded "It's not mine. I've never seen it before."

"Why is it in your purse?"

"Someone must have put it in there."

Despite approaching the subject several different ways, Joan stuck to her story.

Joan was booked on possession of stolen property and prostitution just to keep her locked up for a while because the guys in the townhouse with her were known big time felons, who ran a burglary ring specializing in high end jewelry and gems, and they hoped that Joan could provide some worthwhile information.

**************

That afternoon I made some inquiries about Joan with day shift cops at the station, and that night some more inquiries of Cathy. I didn't get much worthwhile information, but the situation had really piqued my interest so I latched onto the case like a bulldog. Thursday late afternoon I got some worthwhile intel from my most reliable source on the force, desk Sargent Melissa Nichols.

Melissa was a free spirited cop who at only the age of forty had already been through three husbands. After the third husband was history she had come on to me while I was doing a story at a cop bar and we spent three really nice nights together over the next week. She was about a seven out of ten on the looks scale but a 9+ on the freaky sex scale. If you ate Melissa's pussy once at the start of the evening you could do anything you wanted to her and she'd love it. After that first week we still got together about once a month, but neither of us looked upon it as anything serious or going anywhere - it was just a good way to trim our horns.

"Hey sexy; hat do you have for me about the Joan/Amanda/Shirley woman?" I asked Melissa while she was on break, making sure that no one else was around and then pinching her ass.

"You're gonna owe me three oral orgasms and a doggy fuck, stud," was her playful reply.

"That good, huh?" I chuckled.

"Yeah, that good!" she snickered.

"OK—deal as long as you shower and shave first" I replied, getting me a hard smack on the arm and a few choice curse words.

"You bastard. I shouldn't tell you for that - but it's too salacious not to tell," Melissa said with a shit-eating grin.

"I'm all ears," I chortled.

"Someone found a guy by the name of Eric Blomquist on one of Joan's flip phones and called him. Turns out he's husband number two. A little after noon today both husband number one and number two showed up at the station within five minutes of each other."

"What did they look like?" I asked, starting to salivate waiting for the juicy details.

"Well you know how gorgeous at least Joan's body is, so to no one's surprise Number one - Richard - is a flashy successful handsome businessman in a three piece suit. Number two - Eric - looks like he stepped off of a Viking ship. He's like six four, two hundred forty pounds of muscle, with blond hair, a chiseled body, and a face like Leif Ericson's. He looks like he could fuck any woman comatose. He's a long distance trucker."

"Did he punch out #1?"

"not right away; too many cops around. But some genius from the D. A.'s office gets the idea to have the three of them meet in one of the interrogation rooms to see what happens, and - I've seen the tape so I'm not shitting you - the woman first throws her arms around Richard and kisses him passionately, like Eric wasn't even there. Then - I still can't fucking believe it..."

"Get on with it, bitch," I snickered while I pinched Melissa's ass, "don't keep me in suspense."

"Impatient little shit, aren't you," she snickered right back. "So then when she's telling Richard how much she loves him and Eric is seething, she notices him. She gets this weird look on her face, then her eyes glass over for a second, then she yells "Eric, baby, I'm so horny, I need you so badly," and leaves Richard and literally jumps on Eric and as he's holding her up by the ass she starts smothering him with kisses, then reaches down with one hand and shoves it into his pants and starts playing pocket pool as this fucking snake starts growing in his crotch.

Melissa paused to take a breath and for effect before continuing.

"Then, one of the cops gets the idea that the prisoner - she's still under arrest but no longer cuffed - shouldn't be carrying on like this and tries to pull her away. Richard starts to help the cop. Eric knocks them down - one punch each. He gets Tasered, and just pulls the fucking electrodes out. When Richard hits the floor, Joan/Shirley/whoever the hell she is, starts screaming and retreats, and everyone forgets about Eric for a while.

After all of the commotion dies down and Eric promises not to hit anyone else she's in the corner of the room and says "What the fuck is going on here? Why am I here?"

One of the cops says "Don't you remember being arrested in the townhouse?"

"Yeah, but I was just fucking - and that's not against the law as far as I know." Then she gets this evil look on her face and walks over to Eric, who's standing there with his mouth wide open. By this time Richard and the cop who got knocked off his feet are getting back up.

"Hi big guy," she says to Eric, stroking her finger over his chest. "I'm Amanda; what's your name?"

"Eric looks like he just got punched in the gut by Mike Tyson in his prime, the D. A. who set this up realizes what a fucked up mess it is, and with lots of shouting and swearing Amanda is shuffled out of one exit and the two hubbies out the other," Melissa concludes, now out of breath.

"So what happened then?" I pled.

"No one is talking, anymore. Something about her seeing a shrink."

*************

That was all that Melissa knew - I know that for sure because I interrogated her two nights later while my cock was buried in her pussy after I had eaten her out twice and in that position she'd tell me everything. I couldn't find out any more from anyone else either until finally after my stint on the late night task force ended, I got the green light from my boss to investigate it from all sides.

I got Eric's and Richard's addresses and phone numbers. Neither would talk to me. Eric looked like he might wring my neck so I made myself scarce. Richard threatened to sue, so I backed off from him too. I talked to the D. A.'s office and all that they would tell me was that "Jane Doe" as they now called Amanda/Joan/ Shirley, was still charged with felonious receipt of stolen property and bigamy to boot but was being evaluated by private and state shrinks.

I finally found out that the Court was holding a hearing on competency, and that the D. A. was likely to drop the charges if they were satisfied that Jane Doe had some sort of personality disorder. She had a Court-appointed attorney because it seems that both Richard and Eric had ditched her and she didn't have access to her own money. For reasons that I couldn't discern at the time the Court-appointed attorney was a big name partner with one of the three biggest firms in Chicago handling the case pro bono, and even paying the private psychiatrist's expenses, although she also was handling the case pro bono.

Attempts were made to make the hearing closed to the public, but I got the Tribune's First Amendment sharks involved. They made a deal with the Court and the parties that I got to sit in on the proceedings as long as I never reported the names of any of the participants, especially Jane Doe's (not that I would have known what to call her anyway).

************

Shortly after I got to the hearing room Jane Doe came in with her pro bono legal team. She was dressed in a blue business suit although the skirt was slit up the side almost to the top of her thigh, the blouse was low cut, and she had no pantyhose on. Her three inch heels matched her outfit completely. Her hair was perfectly done. I gulped. Something about her rang my chimes more than seeing any other woman in my life. Just before she sat down she turned and made eye contact with me - and smiled.

I gulped again and felt the pain in my groin from my cock swiftly inflating into contact with my zipper.

The State shrink took the stand first. He was completely unimpressive. I got the feeling that even the assistant D. A.s who were examining him thought that he was full of shit - it made me wonder why they were holding the hearing at all.

The private practice psychiatrist was a fifty plus year old woman who was extremely well put together, and though not beautiful was both attractive and dynamic. The examination by Jane Doe's pro bono hot shot attorney, a guy by the name of Bigley, and the private shrink's responses, were crisp."

"State your name for the record please."

"Doctor Merilee Brighton."

"What is your education and work history Dr. Brighton?"

The next fifteen minutes were taken up by Dr. Brighton going through her Harvard, Stanford, and Northwestern educations, her teaching position at Northwestern University Hospital, the hundreds of articles and studies that she had authored or participated in, and the awards that she had received. Not only was her background beyond-impressive, but her delivery was impeccable. By the end of that fifteen minutes the judge was nodding his head and it was clear that he would believe anything that she said.

"Have you had the opportunity to personally examine the woman who has been referred to as Jane Doe in this proceeding?"
"Many times."

"How many hours total would you say?"

"Forty six and one-half hours of actual clinical examination, and hundreds of other hours interacting with her in a wide variety of settings."

"Have you charged for these services?"

"No I have not."

"Why?"

"Because I find it the most interesting case in my more than thirty years of work in the field, and because I think that she can be helped. While she will never be what we consider 'normal,' in my opinion she can become a completely functioning single-personality member of society."

"Do you know what her birth name is?"

"With a 99% degree of certainty it is Amanda Watkins, and I would prefer to refer to her as Amanda during my testimony."

"Very well; does Amanda have a recognized disorder."

"Absolutely. Without question, Amanda has dissociative identity disorder , acronym 'DID', formerly called multiple personality disorder."

"What is DID?"

"DID is a mental illness that involve disruptions or breakdowns of memory, awareness, identity and/or perception. When one or more of these functions is disrupted, symptoms can result. These symptoms can interfere with a person's general functioning, including social activities, work functions, and relationships. People with DID often have issues with their identities and senses of personal history."

"Does Amanda have more than one identity?"

"In the very recent past she had three different personality states—sometimes referred to as "alters," each of which took control over her behavior at one time or another. Each alter had distinct traits, personal history, and way of thinking about and relating to her surroundings"

"What were her alters?"

"Amanda Watkins, Joan Greene, and Shirley Blomquist. The last two were married last names; in each case her last name was 'Catoctin' before she married."

"Were Amanda, Joan and Shirley aware of each other?"

"No, those alters were not aware of the other personality states and none of them had memories of the times when another alter was dominant."

"Do you have an opinion as to what caused her to develop alters?"

"An incomplete opinion, and I would consider it risky to her well-being to purse the cause any further than I have. As a child Amanda witnessed her father's murder, her mother's prostitution, her favorite teacher's death in a car wreck, and she herself was at least once sexually abused."

"What is her intellect?"

"She is extremely intelligent, which likely accounts for her success in a profession despite her alters, and her ability to survive to her present age of thirty two. I estimate her I. Q. to be 135-140, significantly higher than that of the average college graduate."

"Did she always have Amanda, Joan, and Shirley as her alters?"

"No. As best that I can determine at one time she may have had as many as six different alters to deal with different points and levels of trauma. Joan came on the scene shortly before she met Richard Greene and was molded in part by her interaction with him, and the same thing was true for Shirley and Eric Blomquist."

"I believe that earlier you said that in the recent past she 'had' three alters. Does that mean that she now has only one personality?"

"No. Jane and Shirley left after her breakups with her two husbands, both of whom have already been granted divorces. Amanda is still around, but the dominant personality is Jessica Jenkins. She somehow became imprinted with the officer who first arrested her and has visited her a number of times, Cathy Jenkins, and developed a personality that she believes is akin to Cathy Jenkins' sister."

"Is that unusual?"

"Highly unusual, if not unique."

"Who is she today?"

"I'm not sure. We'll ask her when she takes the stand later today. I suspect that she is Jessica. She was Jessica when we walked into the courtroom."

"Did Amanda, Joan and Shirley have distinct characteristics?"

"Absolutely."

"What were they?"

"When she had all three, Joan was a writer with a keen imagination who sold stories and novels to a variety of publishers, mostly on the subject of romance. She was kind and considerate, and enjoyed the many social functions she got to go to as Richard's wife over a period of seven years."

"Was she loyal to Richard?"

"Yes - Joan was, but Amanda and Shirley were not."

"Please continue."

"Shirley apparently developed to fulfill the need for a little more sexual excitement while not going to the extremes of Amanda - who I will deal with later. Although Richard was a good companion and provider, he had a relatively low libido and was conservative when it came to sex, and Joan's libido and interests conformed to his. As she was developing Shirley she met Eric. She fell for him hard because his sexual prowess was mind-boggling. As Eric's wife she was completely sexually satisfied and actually functioned as a part-time sex therapist for the three and one half years that they were married."

"How did she keep them separate?"

"Only because of unusual circumstances. Both Eric and Richard travelled much as part of their jobs, Eric as a long haul trucker of hazardous materials and in risky environments, and Richard is an International businessman. If they both were in town at the same time - which according to their schedules, which I have been able to obtain with a subpoena from the Court - in the year before Amanda's arrest Richard and Eric were in town together for only thirteen days; then during those days she was able to interact with both or be 'away' on business herself."

"How did Amanda fit in?"

"Amanda only surfaced when both Eric and Richard were out of town and Shirley had not had sex with Eric for a week or more. Amanda at this stage was highly promiscuous and enjoyed seeking out sex with multiple partners at the same time. It was as Amanda that she was having sex with two men when arrested by Officer Jenkins."

"Is Amanda the same now as at the time of her arrest?"

"No. She realizes that her behavior was risky, however if she does not develop a long term loving and sexual relationship - as Jessica - with another man in the near future, the old Amanda could return."

"How was she able to seamlessly slip from Amanda to Joan to Shirley - in fact I understand that she assumed all three alters at one time or another the night that she was arrested?"

"Normally stress, or a reminder of the trauma that caused DID in the first place, triggers the change from one alter to the other. However, in Amanda's case that does not appear to be the controlling issue, although it may play a part. Perhaps the most unique - from the clinical standpoint - situation with Amanda is that she is someone who was able to control the transitions in a manner that least impacted her life. This may be due in part to her high intelligence, but there are other factors that play a part and I hope that I will be able to work with Amanda in the future to determine what they are, both for reasons to advance the science of DID and to help Amanda."

"Now to the nitty-gritty and why we are here today, Dr. Brighton. In your expert opinion did Amanda have the mental ability to understand that she was a bigamist, or that she was likely receiving stolen property in the form of the sapphire necklace that she received on the night that she was arrested?"

"In my opinion, taking into account the decades of study and research relating to DID that I have done, and in view of the hundreds of hours I have spent with Amanda, she positively did not have the mental ability to understand that she was married to two men at the same time, or that her reward for the sexual favors she performed for three men the night that she was arrested possibly was stolen property."

With that the direct examination of Dr. Brighton ended. The judge asked her a dozen or so questions of his own; she provided perfect answers to each. The cross-examination by the assistant D. A. was perfunctory at best.

Amanda's attorney said "We would like to rest, Your Honor."

"Mr. Bigley; we still haven't heard from Ms. Watkins and Dr. Brighton as much as promised that we would."

"I think that we'll leave it as is, Your Honor," attorney Bigley slyly responded.

"Mr. Bigley - I assure you that it will help your case if I hear from Ms. Watkins, and with the D. A.'s concurrence will not consider anything that she says as self-incriminating. You do agree don't you, Ms. Phillipe?" the judge asked looking at the lead assistant D. A.

"Yes Your Honor," Ms. Phillipe replied after a short pause.

With that, Bigley, Brighton, two assistants, and Amanda conferenced. After about five minutes Bigley said "We would like to accommodate you, Your Honor, but respectfully request that Dr. Brighton do the examination."

"Does the D. A. object?" the judge asked.

"No, Your Honor," the lead assistant D. A. Phillipe said with a shrug.

"Proceed," the judge said.

As Amanda approached the stand all eyes were popping out. The judge may have been old, but he wasn't dead. No one could look at her and not think "WOW!"

"You know I don't believe in God," Amanda chuckled when asked if she would swear to tell the truth "So help you God."

"Do you affirm that you will tell the truth?" the judge gently asked.

"Sure," she replied with a smile.

"What is your name and age?" Dr. Brighton asked.

"Amanda Watkins, thirty two but more sexually energetic than any twenty one year old," she replied with a big grin, turning to look at the judge, and then I swear at me.

The judge barely suppressed a laugh. "Oh shit, this could be the number one reality T V show in the world," I mused.

"Amanda, have you ever been married?"

"No - haven't found the right guy yet, but I'm looking."

"Do you remember the night that you were arrested?"

"Yeah - sure, although I'm still not really sure why even now. I mean sex isn't illegal is it? I was just having a good time."

"Do you remember getting a sapphire necklace that night?"

"Yeah, sure. But the cops took it away from me and I haven't gotten it back yet." Then Amanda turned to the judge and said "Is that something that you could help me with your judgeship."

He smiled and said "We'll see."

"Why did you get that necklace?"

"Well, because according to Joey, Jack and Smitty - at least that's the names that they gave me - I was their best fuck ever. In fact when I had my thighs around Joey's waist and after I squeezed his cock so hard with my pussy that he popped like a balloon..."

"Uh, please, Amanda - there is no need to provide any details," Dr. Brighton interrupted, living up to her name since she was now "Bright" red.

"Uh...OK, just answering your question," Amanda quipped as she smiled at the judge. He returned her smile.

"Since that night, and working with me, have you had any sexual encounters with strangers?"

"No; I realize that that could be very risky, dangerous, behavior. However, I am getting horny and would like to meet someone. I recognize that guy who's the only one in the gallery from the night I got arrested; he's cute. If I fucked him it wouldn't be risky behavior would it?"

Now it was my turn to flush crimson and start sweating. "Why is my collar so fucking tight?" I wondered.

I was sure hoping that the examination was over. The judge, also slightly flushed, said "Unless the D A has any questions I don't need to hear any more."

Mercifully Ms. Phillipe replied "No questions, Your Honor."

"Then this matter is concluded. Let me see all attorneys and Dr. Brighton in chambers please."

After they left the only people in the courtroom were the bailiff, two female paralegals who worked for Bigley, me - and Amanda.

I was trying not to stare at Amanda when she started walking over to me. I was like a deer in the headlights, that is until she extended her hand and I made body contact with her.

"Hi, handsome. I'm Amanda. Who are you?"

"Hi...uh...hi...uh, I'm Ben Shaklee," I stammered.

"Why are you here, Ben Shaklee?" she asked, without letting go of my hand. "You're not a cop, are you?"

"No; I'm a reporter for the Chicago Tribune."

"Why is a reporter from the Trib here?"

I had a sudden moment of clarity. I honestly felt like a stream of sunlight came right into the courtroom and pierced my skull. I knew that my life would change that day. "Because our paper in general, and me in particular, find you the most captivating, sultry, phenomenal woman on the planet, that's why. Everyone at the paper - and especially me - wants to find out everything about you."

"Sultry, huh?" she giggled. "Is that another word for 'sexy'?"

"Actually, to me it means beyond sexy," I gulped staring into the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen in my life as sweat poured out of my palm, still held in her hand.

That was obviously the right answer. Amanda sat down next to me and we had a totally fun and animated conversation. The bailiff and the two paralegals were trying not to be obvious, but couldn't take their eyes off of us. The looks on the faces of the attorneys, Dr. Brighton, judge, and court reporter when they returned from the judge's chambers about twenty minutes later to the peals of laughter coming from Amanda and me, were priceless.

Dr. Brighton hurried over to us and kindly said "Amanda, could you please come back to our table now. The judge has something to say."

"Can Ben come to lunch with us afterward? He's a hot shot reporter for the Tribune" she asked.

"Uh...sure," Dr. Brighton meekly replied.

"Great," Amanda said, standing up, giving me a kiss on the cheek, and then hurrying with Dr. Brighton back to the defense table.

After an awkward silence the judge ruled.

"All charges against Ms. Watkins will be dropped, with the proviso that she continue consultations with Dr. Brighton on an out-patient basis and that she live with Dr. Brighton and her husband for the next six months or until Dr. Brighton determines that Amanda is usually Jessica Jenkins and that she is ready to live without any close supervision."

There were smiles and handshakes all around. I waited in the gallery hoping that in fact I would be able to go to lunch with Amanda and at least Dr. Brighton. I noticed a change in Amanda at the defense table. While still smiling, she seemed less animated and more subdued.

Bigley walked over to me with Ms. Phillipe - I never did get her first name, or his for that matter. "Mr. Shaklee, Ms. Phillipe and I want to make sure that you are completely familiar with your restrictions on what you report about this hearing."

I took the Consent Order out of my sport jacket pocket. "I assure you that I am familiar and will abide by them completely. I would rather die than do anything to hurt Amanda or the integrity of this proceeding, Mr. Bigley, Ms. Phillipe."

They both smiled and shook my hand.

Dr. Brighton walked over to me with Amanda right next to her, with a demure look on her face. "Mr. Shaklee..." Dr. Brighton started out.

"Ben...please," I replied.

"Fine if you call me Merilee."

"Deal, Merilee," I chuckled.

"Ben, I'd like you to meet Jessica Jenkins. I hope that you can join us for lunch."

As I shook Amanda's/Jessica's hand she got a big smile on her face. It was matched in brightness only by mine.

"Nice to meet you, Jessica," I replied. "I think that your outfit may be the nicest one I've ever seen."

"Why thank you, Ben. Merilee helped me pick it out. Everything Merilee does is with class and good taste."

Merilee chuckled.

"I have no doubt of that. Merilee and Jessica, I would love to join you for lunch on one condition -- it's my treat."

"How nice of you," Merilee said while Jessica nodded.

"So which McDonald's do you want to go to?" I asked trying to keep a straight face.

After a three second delay they both broke out laughing.

"Like I said, everything that Merilee does is in good taste - and her food is no exception. I was thinking more of Tru or Everest," Jessica chuckled, referring to two of the ten most expensive restaurants in downtown."

"I hope that my boss will approve my expense account," I smiled. "Everest it is," I continued, holding out my elbows for each of them to take one.

We got a cab, all sat together, me between the sexiest woman that I had ever been around in my life, and a woman that though she was old enough to be my mother exuded charm and understated sexuality. I was almost sorry when we got to the restaurant. The maître d took one look at my dining companions and gave us the best table in the house, with a view - forty floors up - of the entire city and Lake Michigan.

The luncheon was the best of my life. The conversation was stimulating, the humor dry and edgy at the same time, the food delicious, and the view - not only of the city, but of my table mates, one in particular - breathtaking.

Afterward, before I called them a cab for them to return to Merilee's condo and before I walked back to work, I sheepishly said: "I hope that I'll see you again," directing the comment to both of them in an attempt at subtlety.

"Ben, Jessica is going to go crazy living with my husband, dog, and me; we're way too boring. If she's agreeable I'm sure that she'd love to have a nice young gentleman like you take her out dancing once in a while," Merilee said with a smile.

"Merilee, don't be pushy," Jessica laughed while winking at me. "Besides, I need to get a job."

"Tell you what," I replied. Then looking directly into Jessica's deep blue eyes said "Let me pick you up Saturday night about six thirty for dinner and a show, and we'll talk about jobs then."

"Deal," she said, giving me a hug.

"Is that OK?" I asked turning to Merilee.

She already had her personal card out. "Here's the address; call my personal cellphone number for now to talk to Jessica in case there are any dress requirements. Now let me have your card."

I gleefully handed it over, hugged them both before they got into the cab I hailed for them, and almost flew back to the office I was so elated.

The first thing that I did was walk into my boss' office with an expense account sheet and the bill from Everest for $398.43. "Don't give me shit about this - you're going to get the best article ever for the Sunday supplement."

"Four hundred fucking bucks for lunch? Was your food gold-plated?" he whined.

"Hold onto it until you see my article, then tell me if it's worth it."

Then I immediately went to the copy room. Second in command there was a friend of mine, Julie Boaz. "Julie, did you fill the copywriter position you were advertising for yet?"

"No; I'm just going through resumes now."

"I have a candidate for you that I want you to give preference to if possible. She has the most unusual background story possible, an I Q of 140, and will be the most interesting employee in history."

"Let me see her resume," Julie replied.

"Let me do it up," I responded. "I'll be back in half an hour."

"Let YOU do it up..." I heard as I scurried away and waved without looking back.

I did up a resume for Jessica as all of Amanda, Joan and Shirley, When I gave it to Julie and she looked it over she asked "Is this a joke?"

"Hell no - completely real."

"Have her come in for an interview Monday - first thing in the morning if she can."

"Will do, I replied."

****************

That weekend, Jessica and I had a fabulous time. It was my best first date ever Saturday night - by a light year. Sunday I went over to Merilee's house for brunch, met her husband David and dog Banshee, and discussed with Merilee and Jessica what a copywriter does with my recommendation that it would be a perfect entry level job. They both agreed whole-heartedly and Jessica was psyched for her interview on Monday. Sunday afternoon Jessica and I went for an extended bike ride in Grant Park, and then along the lake.
Jessica bowled Julie over during the interview and was offered the job on the spot. It wasn't for as much money as Jessica had hoped, but I told her to view it as an entry level job, and she eagerly accepted it. I took her to lunch to celebrate - not Everest, but a deli - and we made arrangements for Saturday night. Saturday night we had another fabulous time, and some extended passionate kissing at the end.

Monday I got a call from Merilee. "Ben, we need to talk," she said.

"Oh shit, that sounds ominous," I responded, only half -jokingly.

"I think - at least hope - that you'll find it good news," she retorted.

"Great when do you want to meet, and where?"

"Can you get to my office at two this afternoon?" she asked.

"Done," I replied.

I was a little apprehensive walking to Merilee's office that bright sunny afternoon. I wondered what she could possibly want a face-to-face about. I was immediately ushered into her plush inner office, with books, plaques, or degrees taking up seemingly every square foot of wall space.

"Something to drink, Ben?"

"No thanks, Merilee - my curiosity has piqued and without further ado I just want to know what's up."

"Typical reporter," she laughed as she plopped down on her desk chair and motioned for me to sit across from her.

"OK, Ben; here's the deal. I want you to have sex with Jessica this weekend. Take her to your apartment; if it's not presentable hire a cleaning service and even get some new furniture or sheets. Screw her unconscious."

"Wow!" was all that I got out for a good minute while Merilee stared at me without blinking.

Impatient for my response she continued, "Look - I have come not only to like Jessica as a patient, but to love her as a human being. By now she's almost like a daughter to me. As I testified to at the hearing she needs to establish a sexual relationship with someone worthwhile in the very near future. I know that you're attracted to her - hell if you're not you're gay because she has the hottest body this side of Kate Upton. I'm just telling you for her good you need to speed things up."

"So you approve of me surrogate Mom?" I asked with a cheesy grin.

"Yes, smart alec," she grinned back. "There are several reasons for that, but one is dispositive."

"What's that?"

"Both Jessica and Amanda are sexually attracted to you. If something happens -I don't know what yet - that causes Amanda to appear, it won't be traumatic. Both you and she will be able to handle it."

That thought both excited - having viewed Amanda's sexuality in the Courtroom - and perplexed - wondering if I could in fact handle Amanda - me at the same time.

"I guess I'll have to get some condoms," I chuckled.

"No condoms," Merilee shot back. "She's had a birth control shot and I had her tested for STDs and she's free and clear. There's a clinic right next door and they're expecting you, so you get tested today."

That took me back. "OK," was my intelligent reply. We stood, hugged, and I was on my merry way to have some blood drawn and a complete peek and poke.

I did get my apartment professionally cleaned, and got off my ass and got the new bed that I had been looking to buy for the past three months, along with some silk sheets.

When I arrived to pick Jessica up on Saturday night she yelled down that she was almost ready. Merilee cornered me and said "I don't want to see her back here before ten tomorrow morning -and hopefully not before six p. m. Order oysters at dinner."

"Yes ma'am," I grinned.

When after dinner and an outdoor performance in Grant Park I asked Jessica back to my apartment, she seemed excited. As soon as we got in the door she kissed me tenderly. I rubbed my hands over her prodigious boobs and we gently kissed, then broke. She unzipped her dress and when it fell to the floor it was clear that it had a built-in bra. Her only articles of clothing were a thong and high heels. Her luscious tits and puffy nipples looked even better than they had the first time that I saw her.

I slowly removed her panties while she stepped out of them. I carried her to my new bed while kissing her, and gently laid her down. She sat up and helped me remove my clothes and then relatively clumsily - but oh so sweetly - maneuvered me into a delicious sixty-nine.

Her pussy was incredible; moist, glistening, tasty, and smelling like cinnamon. She made very loud sucking sounds while I slurped like a starving man. She had a sweet little climax; then I spun around and gently entered her missionary style. I pumped, she bucked, I kneaded her boobs, she scratched my back, we both purred. Our simultaneous orgasms were life-altering; I had never felt so loved in my life.

That night we explored every erogenous zone on each other's bodies, and made sweet love in the middle of the night and the next morning. We bought her an exercise outfit at the health club I belong to, and we walked all around the city, and especially the lake front, hand-in-hand the rest of the day. We got back to Merilee's and David's condo at six p. m. Jessica was worried that Merilee might be pissed. Without revealing how I knew I assured her there would be no problem.

Merilee greeted us warmly, asked no questions, asked me to stay for dinner, and made herself scarce when I passionately kissed Jessica goodbye.

The next month was wonderful. Jessica and I ate lunch together every day - since she worked in the same building that I did. The story I wrote about her was published in a Sunday supplement and got rave reviews - my boss did spring for the $400 luncheon at Everest. Merilee recommended that we not show it to Jessica, but she and David loved it. In fact I got big hugs from both of them when I brought Jessica back at the usual time - six p. m. - after picking her up Saturday afternoon.

I was on cloud nine, completely in love, with stars in my eyes, looking to make my relationship with Jessica permanent, when we went to a comedy club on a Friday night. It was raunchy humor. Jessica didn't seem to really like it, although she wouldn't admit it. When we got back to my apartment I mentioned that the act was over-the-top risqué.

"Do you mean 'risky?' How is it risky?"

"No, Hon, I mean risqué - r-i-s-q-u-e. Indecent, shocking, raunchy. Risque."

She repeated "risqué" several times, her voice trilling more each time she said it.

Suddenly she looked up at me with this diabolical stare. "Hey Ben - how in the fuck did we get from the Courtroom to here? Did you rooffie me?"

I was shocked. Fortunately, Merilee had prepared me for this.

"No, you just were tired so I carried you to my apartment. No drugs, I assure you."

She stood up and slithered over to me, stroking her hand over my crotch. "You wouldn't take advantage of a poor helpless sex-starved maniac like me, would you?" she playfully snarled.

My pants were off and my cock deep-throated almost before I knew what was going on. She was a tiger - on speed!

After sucking my cock for a while she stood up, ripped off my shirt and moaned "fuck me, you bastard," into my mouth.

I was overcome with lust. I ripped her clothes off and gummed one tit, twisted the other, and stuck a finger up her pussy as she played with my balls. Soon she was on her hands and knees on the floor - we never made it to the bedroom - and I was pummeling the shit out of her doggy style while she was swearing and gyrating. Then she pulled the maneuver that Amanda must have the first night that I saw her.

Her pelvis started vibrating. I felt her pussy muscles clamp down on my cock, and they squeezed it like fingers would a grape. Gobs of semen spontaneously ejaculated - my biggest load ever - into her pulsating pussy. She screamed in orgasm, I grunted like a truck full of pigs, and we collapsed on the floor.

That night, Amanda worked me over more ferociously that ever before in my life. Fortunately we both buckled from exhaustion around one a. m. with her head on my shoulder. When I woke up my cock was still red and hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Her nipples and pussy were raw.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Ow," we both said when we moved. "What did you do to me last night, Ben," she asked as she tried to stretch. "I don't remember it - did we get drunk or something?"

"No - but we sure did wear out our parts; I won't be able to fuck for a week," I whined.

"Bastard," she laughed as she hit me with a pillow then walked bowlegged into the bathroom.

*************

I told Merilee about Amanda's re-appearance. She smiled. "Was it fun?" was her comment.

"Oh yeah," I replied. "But I hope that it doesn't happen too often. She almost killed me."

Merilee and I worked out a mechanism about how to tell when Jessica was about to become Amanda, and how to easily turn her back into Jessica. According to Merilee this was the first time in history that someone with DID had been conditioned so that her alters were predictable and controllable. Of course only Merilee and I know what the mechanisms are - and we're not telling.

Six months after Merilee and I perfected the Jessica-Amanda transformations, Jessica and I got married. Amanda made an appearance on our wedding night so that we almost missed our plane for our honeymoon. Jessica took up where Joan had left off writing novels and stories. I won a Pulitzer for stories I wrote about Amanda/Joan/Shirley/Jessica, although I never showed them to her. Merilee and David, although a generation older, are probably our best friends, and Cathy Jenkins and her boyfriend are our next best friends, and the ones that we do all outdoor activities with.

Melissa is pissed that I don't have booty calls with her anymore - although once she got a good look at Jessica she appreciated why.

I have the best of all worlds. A beautiful, compassionate, gentle, loving wife most of the time - unless I want a wild sex machine. Then all I have to do is call up Amanda for a night, and even though I can't function properly for a couple of days afterward I am the most sexually satisfied man in the world.

I'm crossing my fingers that things won't change now that Jessica is two months pregnant!
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