Chapter Seventeen

WHEN YOU GOT ‘EM BY THE B…,

THEIR HEARTS AND MINDS WILL FOLLOW

Archimedes made a device for pumping water out of a river. He used a big, wooden screw with a handle on top of it. The screw was placed inside a cylinder. When the handle was rotated, Archimedes' Screw drew the water upward through the cylinder. Wilbur thought about Archimedes' Screw when he realized the water hose was back at The Dream Mechanic. He forgot to put it in the van the day he delivered an Econo King waterbed to a policeman who lived in a second floor apartment.

The policeman's name was Jerry. He had a sturdy build, and his short hair was brownish blonde. His apartment was on the second floor directly above the model apartment. There was a line of red, white and blue flags lining the sidewalk outside the model apartment and sales office.

"At least this setup was easy to find," Wilbur thought as Jerry, the model citizen, waited outside for him.

"The manager made me buy insurance before getting the waterbed," Jerry said as he accompanied Wilbur upstairs.

"Some places don't even allow them yet," Wilbur stated. "If it leaks on the model apartment, the manager will be the first to know about it."

Jerry escorted Wilbur through his living room which was nicely furnished with burnt orange, rust colored furniture. A bookshelf against a wall was lined with books.

"Do you have a hose?" Wilbur asked. "I forgot to bring my hose," he admitted after both of them carried the waterbed materials upstairs.

"No, I sure don't."

"I forgot mine back at the store. Does anyone around here have a hose?"

"No. There's not much use for a hose in an apartment, especially on the second floor," Jerry said, then laughed.

"Yeah. That's true."

"Why don't you set up the bed," Jerry suggested. "I'll go back to your store and get the hose. By the time I get back, you'll be ready to put the water in. Right?"

"Yeah. That's a good idea. If you don't mind."

"No problem. I need that bed tonight. I've got a date."

xxx

After Jerry left, Wilbur looked around the bedroom. Police uniforms were hanging in the closet. On the walls were erotic posters with black velvet backgrounds. A man and a woman were hip to hip, his cock jammed in her crotch. Another poster showed couples in a dozen, different, zodiac positions.

Nearby on the bureau was Jerry's service revolver in a black holster. It was next to his loose change and several bottles of cologne.

A bumper sticker on the wall said, "POLICE OFFICERS DO IT IN THE STREET. "

A poster above the bureau philosophized, "When you got'em by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow."

xxx

Jerry's posters were not like the tranquil, reflective posters Wilbur encountered on his first visit to the Sunlight Yoga Society.

Ever since his first visit there Wilbur was infatuated with Shizsu. It was his first serious attempt to fill the void caused by Debra's death.

He was intrigued by Shizsu's ethereal, angelic nature. He couldn't wait to see her later that evening at the Sunlight Yoga Society.

xxx

"This evening we have a guest," Shiszu said, introducing a young man in his early thirties.

The man had blonde hair and was casually dressed. He looked like he had been plucked off a beach somewhere.

"This is David, and he's a practitioner of Structural Re-integration. He's opening a clinic here in Tampa. David, I'm going to let you explain your work."

Wilbur sat on the floor. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and his arms were crossed over them. Most of the other class members sat like Indians at a powwow.

"Thank you, Shiszu. Like a lot of people, I went to college," David began. "I got a Master's degree in psychology, planned on getting my doctorate, but somehow I wasn't satisfied with my life. I didn't feel I was really helping my patients. So I looked and I looked. I heard about yoga and massaging and Rolfing, and then I heard about Structural Re-integration. In Structural Re-integration we re-align the body to its original suppleness, to it's original center of gravity, because, let's face it, the world beats up our bodies. We build up stresses, the body stiffens and takes up shapes that are not healthy. Your breathing and blood circulation are affected. Our bodies reflect our mental images of ourselves.

"What we do in Structural Re-integration is rework the fascia in the body. The fascia is the connective tissue between muscles and body organs, and it bears all the imprints, and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that are inflicted upon our bodies. Can I have a volunteer from the class so I can demonstrate what we do at the clinic? How 'bout you?" he asked, pointing to a young woman in black leotards.

"I'm going to ask you to take off your top in front of the class for the demonstration."

"Okay," she said, while walking to the front of the class.

"Before I start, let me tell the class this process takes twelve office visits and costs approximately five hundred dollars. I'll leave my cards after the demonstration. Now, what's your name?" he asked the woman.

"Kathy."

"As you can see, Kathy has rounded shoulders, bad posture and a sunken, flat chest."

Kathy looked down at the floor as he said this.

David then took off her black top. She was wearing no bra so two small breasts appeared from underneath the black top. The nipples were barely visible.

"As you can see, these conditions, the rounded shoulders, the bad posture and the sunken, flat chest are the result of Kathy having small breasts."

Once again, Kathy looked down at the floor. She looked at the floor until David grabbed her left breast and began to "restructure" it. She perked up as he massaged it and massaged it. Kathy rocked slightly back and forth on her legs as he put the finishing touches on her breast.

It stood out, full of life on her chest. It was rosy and cheerful after the massage. It was still not large, but it had shape and distinction. Her shoulder relaxed, and her back straightened.

Kathy's left side looked wonderful, but David left her right side in the same sullen shape. Her right-side chest was still sunken. Her shoulder remained rounded, and her back was stooped.

She looked freakish with one good side and one bad side. He helped her put on her black top. One breast was lower than the other. One shoulder was higher than the other.

"All she needs are her breasts rubbed more often, both of them, not just one," Wilbur thought. "That's called copping a feel, not Structural Re-integration."