Wallace.He was all of five feet tall, and almost that wide. His head was capped by a thick mane of snow white hair, and a generous white beard covered... his multiple chins. He wore a set of spectacles with round lenses and, if you caught him in a good mood, he would even admit that he wore that style because it fit the image he was trying to portray ... the man looked like a short Santa.Doctor Andrew Wallace was sixty years old and had been practicing psychiatry for more than thirty of them. He. "Where are the tissues?" I ask. Bec goes to the bathroom and returns with a handful. I begin mopping up and all of a sudden a huge weight of self consciousness and guilt spread over me. "Christ Bec, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." "You don't have to be sorry," she said, "it was really cool!" "Yeah, but it's really not the sort of thing a brother and sister should be doing, don't you think?" There was a pause and I could tell Rebecca was deep in thought. She then went on to tell me. Then she began crying. It was the first time that I was ever in doubt of my wife’s sanity. Then her sobs turned into laughter and she yelled, “I need cock, where the fuck are you guys?” Then she picked up her phone and quickly tapped out a message that I imagined was the text version of what she had just yelled and hit send.She then got up off the bed and walked into her office. From my new vantage point, all I had to do was turn around as the viewing slit to her office was right behind me. As. Her nightgown clung to her wet body as she ran.The thoughts and feeling that she had been exploring in the bathhouse stayed with her as she returned to her room. She lay down in the bed and slid her hand below her gown. Her mind returned to the stories that her roommates Cossette and Jacqueline had told her as they talked in the darkness of the night. A smile crossed her face as the idea entered her thoughts. She climbed off the bed, and reached for the candlestick on the nightstand before.