Tzeporah 10

The third weekend brings a surprise. Friday evening I must perform in front of two of her female friends.
Now, to be fair to Karen, she was honest from the start. She never either stated or implied an ongoing relationship. Her real boyfriend, who had given permission to wander during his abscence, was on a tour of duty in Afghanistan, which would end about two weeks before Tzeporah's return from Ottawa.
Still, I had been at least half heartedly hoping to stay on, what with the huge amount of energy between us.
I arrive at her place for that final weekend.
She grins, "before we get started, time we had a serious talk."
Don't you just hate it when women say that.
"Now we've very scrupulously avoided any of that taboo topic, the history. Still, one comment should suffice. I've read quite a bit on it. Conclusion, your side was considerably more traumatized by events than mine."
I blush hotly.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, let's keep it all clinical. Now the standard response is PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Basically, you experience a shutting down of pretty much any emotion; if not total, then almost so, right?"
"Yes."
"Which explains your relationships with women in general and Tzeporah in particular. Now, she actually likes you and a fair amount; yet you find yourself to be neutral, ambivalent, right?"
"Yes."
"But yet you connected well with me?"
Again I blush.
"Hey look nothing to be ashamed, proof you aren't totally gone. Now, here's what I'm telling you to do about Tzeporah. Meet her at the airport, take her straight home and deliver a vigorous spanking. Come on, don't look squeamish, you remember how well she reacted to our weekend of cleaning?"
"Yes."
"So, just do it. Force yourself to be nice, to be involved, until it starts to come naturally. And now, "giggle, "you can start by practising on me."