Saving Grace

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A week in the life of a sociopath.
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If you want something 'hot' from the outset this is probably not for you. This is essentially a 'romance'. The basis of this story is the notion that we can be redeemed through love. I was motivated to use a shorter form after reading the story 'Home is Where the Heart Is' by lovecraft68, which I'd recommend. My use of 'Jamie' as the protagonist is a nod in that direction – although my Jamie isn't nearly so nice.


'Love; it is as a chain to a felon or as water to a seed. Some it binds, to remain only what they are. Others it frees, to become only what they are.'

My name's Jamie. Jamie Jensen. Not James, JJ or anything else...just Jamie. This is my story.

I was born with a bit missing. No, not that you dumbasses! Empathy - the ability to really relate to others. That's supposed to make me a psychopath. You know, a Jonathon Lecter - Silence of the Lambs, Dexter kind of person.

Well it didn't. Not completely anyway. According to the literature, especially DSM – IV TR, the diagnostic bible of mental disorders, I have an antisocial personality disorder but not too bad. I'm a socialised psychopath. That's good, I suppose. I was always precocious – or so I was told, physically, mentally, socially but certainly not emotionally. I always felt different; that's the way it's seemed to me. People always puzzled me and seemed a bit like big, incomprehensible insects but I could play their games.

If you want to experience for a while what I've felt about other people all my life, you can do this. Get on a bus or a train, preferably with only a few people on it, on a warm afternoon. Relax and close your eyes for a while and let the movement lull you for ten minutes or more. Then slowly open your eyes and look at the people around you. Seem unreal, like aliens do they? Does the world seem remote somehow? Do you feel oddly calm, emotionless, like an automaton? Derealisation and depersonalisation – my constant companions.

And no, no history of trauma or abuse. No terrible soul scarring experiences. I am an only child from an upper-middle class family with two normal parents, both of whom still seem to love each other and me. Pretty much I was a happy sociopath if there is such a thing.

As background, I'm 188cm tall, (6 foot 2 in the old money) and relatively slim and fit without having to do a lot of exercise, thanks Dad. Women have told me that my best features are my dark brown, (sometimes black), eyes and my body. Oh - I so yearn to be appreciated for my fine mind and the sensibility of my soul!

I was twenty four years old doing my half-time final placement to register as a clinical psychologist. Yeah, I know - the irony. And yet, it really suited me. I couldn't understand humans at a natural, experiential level so I was doing it academically and clinically and it seemed to be working. I was good at it and it gave me a bit of camouflage. After all, psychologists are right up there with psychiatrists; regarded as a bit strange.

Here's the weird thing. My clinical supervisor, Madeleine, who operated a private service for abused and traumatised people, was just like me. We'd had long professional and not so professional discussions and gradually discovered this about each other. Originally we just went out for drinks after work which became dinners and even the odd dinner with my family where she impressed my parents mightily. Finally it became bed. Although she was twelve years older than me we'd become 'lovers' – or whatever it should have been called since neither of us believed we could love.

Madeleine had taught and coached me in some things that weren't part of any academic curriculum. She had also arranged for me to seduce some of her friends for her own purposes – always with strict instructions for me about how, where, when and what but never 'why'. She always had her agenda and her own way of deciding who deserved what. She seemed to revel in manipulating and controlling those things known as people around her without them being aware of it. I suppose, to an extent, I was one of those things, although a willing one. A frequent comment from her was, "No punishments or rewards in life, only behaviour and consequences."

***

FRIDAY

We were having dinner at Madeleine's place, which I'd cooked of course since she refused to do anything so mundane, when she raised the topic over dessert.

"I've got a friend you should meet. Maybe take her out to dinner. I've told her about you – a bit anyway. Her name's Grace. She's a librarian at the university. She's about my age."

"What, another real old bitch to seduce then? Owww!" I gasped as she punched me hard in the chest. "Why do you always hit me?"

"I don't 'always' hit you, only when you deserve it," was her retort.

I pursed my lips and furrowed my brow as I tried to think of an appropriate response. Eventually, "As a psychologist I thought you'd be intellectually evolved enough not to be violent."

She had her often smug look as she said, "Violence works. Study your history. People bang on a lot about achieving things through non-violent means but research clearly demonstrates that in recorded history, groups using violence achieved their goals more often."

I shook my head. "You awe me. You can rationalise anything. Anyway, a librarian needing my special charms – how clichéd. I suppose she wears horn-rimmed glasses, tweed, thick stockings, clunky shoes and always has her hair up?"

Madeleine snorted and indicated with an inclination of her head. "That's a photo of her there, from when we were at university."

I walked over to the sideboard and picked it up. I'd never really paid attention to it before. It was quite large with an obviously expensive, solid silver frame. The black and white photo it contained showed two women, a younger Madeleine looking at the camera with her trademark seductive smile and a slightly taller, slimmer young woman seeming to gaze off into the distance distractedly. She was dressed in pants and a blouse, unlike Maddie's more casual jeans and t-shirt and she had an altogether more 'formal' look. She was certainly not unattractive with a handsome, rather than beautiful face, high cheekbones, sharp features and an unsmiling mouth a trifle too wide for complete symmetry but suggesting a passionate bent. Her hair was cut relatively short in a bob which didn't really seem to suit her somehow.

I could imagine her fifteen years older, especially as a librarian and my joking comment when I'd said 'tweed...clunky shoes...always has her hair up,' could well prove to be true now.

Madeleine came up behind me, took the photo and placed it carefully back on the sideboard. "Listen to me. You're not to get her enamoured of you and then split, okay? Grace is a good friend and I'd like her to feel a little more confident about herself, that's all. Just dinner and dancing somewhere – she was always a great dancer, I envied her that. And she's smart, genuinely smart, so no condescension, she'll detect it." Maddie stroked my cheek – very unusual. "Here's her work and mobile number," she said, looking very serious and handing me a slip of paper. "She's expecting your call. I think she'll impress you actually."

"Don't call me Ashley," I said, trying to lighten the mood. This wasn't how Madeleine usually gave me my 'missions' and I wondered just how many ulterior motives she had. It made me apprehensive.

* * *

Later that afternoon I was feeling a little nervous as I dialled the number, probably because Madeleine had acted differently about this woman. The call was answered immediately by a pleasant but professional sounding female voice, "Good morning, Art History Collection, Grace Duffield. How may I help you?"

I put on my most affable tone, "Hi Grace. It's Jamie. Madeleine gave me your number. I was hoping we could meet for coffee or better yet, a meal."

There was an extended pause. "Oh...yes...Madeleine said something about ...Jamie...yes..." Then another long interlude of silence. God! This was painful!

I continued undaunted, (well, truly a little daunted), "Is there somewhere you could suggest Grace?" (Seduction Rule 3 - let her choose the initial meeting place so she'll feel more comfortable).

Again, silence on the line for what seemed like ages. I struggled not to fill it and held myself back. "Well I went to a nice place for a staff thing with the women from work a while back – near the University. It's called the 'Dinner Club'. The food was good...and they have a dance floor."

"Okay, that sounds perfect Grace. I'll book if you like. Will seven tomorrow night be okay?"

"Mmmm...yes...that's fine," she said in a tone that indicated it wasn't really fine at all.

"Shall I pick you up?"

"No. I'll stay back and walk from work. It's not far."

I used my most pleasant and enthusiastic voice. "Great! I'm looking forward to it, (you liar Jamie). The name'll be Jensen. See you about seven, Grace."

We finished with me mouthing pleasantries and I hung up shaking my head. I hoped Madeleine would appreciate the effort I'd put in.

***

SATURDAY

I was a bit unsure if the young-looking, attractive woman being escorted to my table was Grace until she was very close. She looked a little bewildered as they arrived and started to say to the hostess, "No. I think there's some..."

I stood and interrupted her before she said something that she'd feel embarrassed about later. "Grace? Hi, I'm Jamie." She looked like a doe caught in car headlights.

The hostess left behind a Grace that seemed almost shocked, not just surprised and I think that's probably why she spoke truthfully if not all that tactfully, "Jamie? Hi...I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting... it's just that you're so much younger than I thought you'd be. Sorry, I didn't mean..." Well, couldn't save her from that one.

I thought I should try and rescue her though. "Well, I could say the same about you. The photograph Madeleine showed me of you two certainly didn't do you justice," I said and it was absolutely true. I know it's overused – 'she took my breath away' but it was hard to believe this beautiful, feminine creature was the same woman in the photo, yet around fifteen years older. The planes of her face were softer; more appealing in some way and the black and white photo had failed to convey that her large eyes, green and shining, really were breathtaking. Her slightly tousled titian tresses tumbled over her shoulders attractively and her simple A – line dress of silver and blue, not too short or tight but elegant on her tall, not quite so slim frame, hinted at some voluptuous treasures within. I shook my head and took a deep breath to settle myself.

Grace's hesitant smile was sweet as I pulled out her chair. "Please, sit Grace. What would you like to drink?" She sat and I resumed my seat. God! It almost looked like she was trembling.

The waitress was approaching and Grace seemed at a loss, "Ummm..." she managed twice.

"Here, have a sip of this and see if you like it." (Seduction Rule 11 - establish a bond). It was a first foray, a suggestion of intimacy without being threatening - unless she was a germ freak.

Grace almost dropped the glass. She was trembling! She bravely took a small sip, obviously prepared for something unpleasant. The smile she had after she swallowed it made me feel kind of funny. Odd.

"Oh, that tastes lovely and so is the colour. I'll have that, what is it?"

The waitress had by that time appeared and I said, "Two Vanilla Galliano and tonics with a little lime juice thanks."

She sat with her eyes downcast and I felt that one sudden move from me and she'd bolt for the door. I thought I'd better do something before she came up with some reason to leave. I gently placed my hands on hers and thankfully, she didn't jerk them away as I softly said, "Grace, please relax. We're going to have dinner and that's it."

She exhaled a long breath. Obviously she was pretty stressed and probably ambivalent about our meeting. I continued, my voice as low and unthreatening as possible, "I'll drive you home, walk you to your door and if I'm lucky I'll get a kiss. Okay? No expectations, no pressure – tonight's what you want it to be."

She looked genuinely relieved. "Thank you. I wasn't sure what Madeleine had said about me. I'm sorry if you thought..."

"It's OK, Grace. Dinner and a dance if you can cope with my two left feet, alright? You don't have to do anything. We're both just here to have a nice evening and get to know each other."

Grace looked relieved and actually looked directly at me as she smiled, "Thank you. That would be nice."

"Good, can we start again?"

She was able to laugh, even if it was a little shaky and her, "Yes, I'd like that," sounded a little more relaxed.

We made small talk – well I asked questions and she answered. Although getting her to talk felt a bit like pulling teeth. I asked her advice about the food and we settled on our entrees and mains, deciding to leave dessert for later. (Seduction Rule 17: Don't order anything that requires fingers to eat or is sloppy and definitely no salads – you'll always end up with something green in your teeth).

"Would you like some wine, Grace?" Hoping she'd say yes and maybe relax a little under its influence.

"Yes that would be nice. Would you pick? I haven't had wine for ages." (Thank the Gods).

"Of course Grace. Maybe a young New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc?"

She smiled and nodded. "That sounds lovely Jamie."

I made small talk amidst the silences until our first courses arrived.

After our entrees Grace nodded enthusiastically and smiled broadly when I asked her to dance and I couldn't help enquiring, "What's that big smile for?"

The smile didn't diminish as she said "I love to dance and it's been so long. Thank you Jamie."

As we walked toward the small wooden dance floor Grace suddenly looked stricken. "Oh God! I don't believe it. There's my boss with her cronies," she said with an inclination of her head, to a nearby table where three women sat.

"Grace? Grace is that you?" came loudly from a plump woman with makeup trowelled on and a very low-cut dress - 'mutton dressed up as lamb,' my mother would have said. Their table was covered with empty glasses rather than plates and they obviously hadn't come here for the food.

"Oh. Hi," Grace said without enthusiasm and introduced me seemingly reluctantly, "Dianne, Jennifer, Susan, this is Jamie."

"Hi!" I put on my bright and friendly mask. "I can see Grace only associates with other beautiful women," I said. Yeah, I was laying it on thick but what the hell; it didn't cost me anything to flatter her boss and workmates.

Dianne, the mutton dressed as lamb, was obviously holding court and took the lead in an interrogation. "So, is this your boyfriend then?" she demanded with a nasty smile.

"Uh, no, not my boyfriend," Grace said hesitantly. I looked at her. She seemed to have withdrawn into herself in front of this Alpha bitch, almost cringing.

With a triumphant look at the other women Dianne said, "I thought not. A relative then?"

Grace looked lost and my anger blossomed at the way she was being treated. Time to let the sociopath out, I thought. I laughed, "Oh no, not a relative." I put my arm around Grace, pulled her into me, which felt really good by the way, and with a wry grin said, "As my pretty girl knows, I'd give anything to be her boyfriend but sadly...she's just using me for sex. Oh well, I can hope."

I almost burst out laughing at the sudden, stunned silence, broken only, in my head anyway, by three jaws simultaneously hitting the floor; four if you counted Grace's.

"Nice to meet you, ladies," I said and couldn't resist adding in a voice that carried to the three crones as I pulled Grace toward the dance floor, "Come on beautiful, let's do some vertical dancing for a change." As we reached the floor and I gently placed my hand on her back and started to move in time with the music, Grace looked caught between shock and anger.

Staring at me intently she spluttered, "My God! How could you say that? What will they think? How can I go into work on Monday?"

I stopped dancing. I placed my hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes which had a very attractive fire in them I hadn't seen before. "Do you really care what those harpies think Grace?" I said forcefully. "And as for work on Monday, just stand tall, with your head back and put on a secret smile – like you know something they don't." I lowered my voice a little and we resumed our dance. "Actually, I think you'll be surprised. They might show you a bit more respect, especially that prime bitch Dianne."

Suddenly she laughed. It was a full yet throaty sound and kind of sexy. "I can't believe you said that."

I laughed a little too. "Sorry, I really couldn't help myself and you must admit, it did shut them up."

"I thought Dianne was going to pee her pants. You're wicked," she said smacking me lightly on the shoulder. Women just seem to want to hit me.

Dancing with Grace was a delight. She was as excellent a dancer as Maddie had said, so light in my arms and on her feet. We just seemed to fit and the occasional touch of her hip against me was very arousing. She smelt awfully good too – Guerlain, Mitsuko, if I wasn't mistaken and I wasn't. As part of my education Madeleine had exposed me to a lot of very nice smells. Whoa! Calm down boy, I said to myself. I started counting by forty-threes so I wouldn't show my excited state too much. (Seduction Rule 19 – Do not rub an erection, full or partial up against a woman you've just met – unless you've paid for the privilege.)

After some time in my own little cosmos with Grace I heard a soft, "Mmmm," in my ear and Grace intoned, "We should probably go back to our table. It looks like our mains are there."

"Oh, Okay. I hadn't noticed," I said, a bit flustered. Normally it was something I would have been paying attention to and smoothly disengaged and led my partner to the table. I thought I heard a small giggle from Grace.

***

Grace seemed a little more relaxed as we ate our main courses and we almost had a conversation. I started with, "So, you went to uni with Madeleine?"

Grace gave me a condensed history of her time at uni and Madeleine's role in helping a sheltered, naive girl from a small town 'open up to the possibilities of life.' It was Madeleine who encouraged her to go on and do her Masters and although not saying so explicitly, she was also there when Grace had some 'personal problems.'

Finally she asked me about my taste in art and I had to admit, "I'm afraid my art appreciation ended with the Pre-Raphaelites, Grace."

Her eyes opened a little wider, "Truly? Then you're missing so much,"

"Well I'm not really a visual creature. What am I missing Grace?"

As she gave me a synopsis of the development of modern art she was voluble, passionate, articulate and once again, entrancing. She went on to describe her PhD in Art History topic and research. Although some of the language was a mystery to me, her excitement was infectious and I couldn't help but smile.

She finished by saying she had moved here only a couple of months ago as a Subject Librarian in the Visual Arts Department of the Uni Library so she could earn an income and do some more research for her PhD.

We danced again and I became a little more adventurous with my moves and Grace responded perfectly. Madeleine was right; she could really dance and seemed an altogether different person on the dance floor.

As the music ended I moved with Grace into a slight 'dip' and held her there for a few seconds, staring into her eyes and making sure we were in direct line of sight to her boss's table. As we lifted, Grace shook her hair, looked at me slyly and said, "Liar."

"What?" I asked, all innocence, as we walked back to our table hand in hand.