Saturday Morning Fever

Hangover, headache and dehydration, Dr Jekyll's usual 'Saturday Morning Fever' permeated his body. He had enjoyed the perceived admiration and attention of the previous evening. After all he had been typically charming, taking great care to hide the private, moody, agressive persona that lurked beneath the public masque. Last night he had kept his emotions in check and alcohol had done the rest. This morning however, the narcissistic rage, that uncontrollable and unexpected anger that occured when his self-esteem was threatened, welled up inside him.
He shifted uneasily as he remembered everything he had said and everything he had done. Of course it hadn't been his fault. He had convinced himself of that. But what about his friends? They had all grinned and nudged him when he left. Jekyll knew exactly what the conversation would turn to next Friday evening when they met up again.
He shoved his hands into his jeans and decided that, as usual, he would not tell the truth about what had happened. Instead he would tell them exactly what they wanted to hear. How his warm, tender lips had teased hers with a sensual gentleness that made her want to melt against him. How, as he tilted his head slightly, then brushed her lower lip with his tongue she had instantly parted for him as he claimed her—passionately. No-one needed to know how miserably he had failed to even begin to fulfil his own private fantasies let alone hers.
He looked at himself in the mirror and gave himself a smile full of male confidence.

After the bar at the .....

The bottle of white wine stood empty in the middle of the table surrounded by the remains of the usual fourteen pints that Jekyll had consumed throughout the evening. Somewhere in the fug of the night she had spoken the words he wanted to hear.
"You're coming home with me tonight!"
He struggled into the taxi beside her. Remembering nothing of the journey he found himself fumbling in the half-dark of her bedroom as she offered him a teasing smile. A slight frown tugged at his brow as he was painfully aware that he remained limp and soft. It had happened before and the timing couldn't have been worse. A touch of desperation swept through him but he told himself that he could easily blame it on the alcohol.
Ten endless minutes later Jekyll's nerves were stretched to breaking point as they continued to fumble beneath the sheets. He wondered if he could tell her that what he really wanted was for her to take him into her mouth and that nothing else was going to rouse him. The silence between them was broken by her inevitable reaction. Driven by frustrated rage she stormed at him until he scrambled out of the bed and into his jeans and shirt.
She swept the door shut just shy of a slam as he retreated before her steady gaze. It was a deliberate maneouver, meant to intimidate. Unfortunately, it was working. He didn’t pause until he was well out of sight.

Taxi!

The bar at the .....

As the aquamarine water swirled and spiralled out of his bath Dr Jekyll's narcissism took complete control and he admired his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Totally pre-occupied with himself and his own needs and aspirations he had developed a very distorted perception of his true looks and character.
He was tall, but hadn't noticed the stoop he was developing. His hair was steely gray, flecked with dark strands, but was not nearly as distinguished as he believed it to be, while the blue eyes he prided himself on were set too close together and were rather raptor like in their gaze.
Friday nights were the times when he prepared to end the week with unrepentant self-indulgence. It was a time to take a few risks and perhaps - if he was lucky (or drunk) - experience the kinds of exciting activities he normally only fantasised about without having to break his vow of non-commitment.

He slipped on his favourite, as yet unwashed, navy, viscose shirt which opened at the neck to reveal his not so muscular chest and pulled his denims over his freshly laundered underwear. Patting his hair into place his eyes sparked with interest as he stood face to face with this vision of irresistable manhood.
Ready at last he had every intention of tracking down the barmaid he'd been distracted by the previous week after getting an eyeful of her voluptuous breasts. Jekyll felt a leap of pure electricity and was arrogant enough to believe that there had been a spark of heated connection between them both. Thoughts of her had pre-occupied his fantasies all week and tonight he intended to find a way to persuade her to spend a sensual evening together.

Bathtime

Dr Jekyll and personal hygiene....

Dr Jekyll was a one bath a week man. What was good enough for his mother was good enough for himself. Friday night 7.00pm, bath bomb fizzed, he would submerse himself in the tub. Keeping his body clean had never been rated as important for his self-image. Those sweat glands under the armpits and round the genitals could roar into full production all week. So what if his back and buttocks erupted in craters of yellow pustules. He couldn't see them and out of sight was out of mind! He changed his underpants once a week. So what if they hugged him tight right next to his skin and collected dead skin cells, sweat and other unmentionable stains. He changed the rest of his clothes just as infrequently. So what if they got dirty, sweaty, stained and grubby allowing bacteria to start to work on them overnight until they began to smell. It didn't matter that oil and grease collected on his hair and scalp, wasn't the reason he still had a good head of hair down to the fact that he always used Brylcream? And so what if his teeth were yellow because he refused to brush them! So what if this neglect caused other problems - many people with bad breath were blissfully unaware of it. One bath a week was good enough for his mother, and one bath a week was good enough for him!

Now is the Winter of our Discontent....

Dr Jekyll had little time to invest in personal relationships. His dedication to his mother often made him thoughtless and distracted when it came to the women in his life — which is why no woman ever stayed in his life for very long. He was content to admire his women from afar and to continue on in his life of solitude.
"Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York".
As Larry Olivier's voice filled the room during his performance of Shakespeare's powerful tale of the wicked deformed king Richard III and his conquests, both on the battlefield and in the boudoir, Jekyll looked around the room at his sudents.
There she sat. The relationship between them was easy to describe. She didn't really know he existed whilst he was fascinated by her in a way that could only be called an obsession. She featured prominently in his daily fantasies.
After the lecture Jekyll stretched his long legs in front of him and lounged against the back of his chair. He smiled as he began to indulge himself, keeping his mind focused on her face, letting his hormones take over from common sense. The thought of being in a dark room with her appealed to his senses and he prepared to enjoy the time he spent with her before this fantasy ended.

Mirror of the soul.

Our Dr Jekyll is a man totally preoccupied with himself, his own wants, needs, aspirations, desires and fantasies. Constantly craving the attention, adulation or even the subservience of others he will lie and deceive with ease. His behaviour in public is very different to that of his private persona. Most of his colleagues and aquaintances have only ever witnessed his typically charming public masque (designed to generate admiration) and therefore have a very distorted perception of his true character. Although constantly critical of others he dislikes criticism of himself and while he might interupt others in conversation he strongly dislikes being interupted himself. Everyone must fit in with his plans and he reacts badly when any aspect of his freedom is threatened or his plans are thwarted. Emotionally abusive and always impatient, he will subject those who are close to him to shouting and verbal abuse, especially if they interupt, confront or contradict him. His narcissistic rage will suddenly erupt but remain hidden and smouldering in public situations in order to protect his reputation and hide his aggressive nature from others.

The Strange case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is a novella written by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson and first published in 1886. It is about a London lawyer who investigates strange occurrences between his old friend, Dr Henry Jekyll, and the misanthropic Edward Hyde. The work is known for its vivid portrayal of the psychopathology of a split personality; in mainstream culture the very phrase "Jekyll and Hyde" has come to mean a person who may show a distinctly different character, or profoundly different behaviour, from one situation to the next, as if almost another person.