Wallace - The Celestial Bed

By Irving Wallace

Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

Copyright 2012 / The Estate of Irving Wallace

Copy-edited by: Christine Steendam

Cover Design By: David Dodd

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Irving Wallace was born in Chicago, Illinois, raised in Kenosha, Wisconsin, and educated in Berkeley, California. After writing political articles, biographical profiles, human-interest stories, and fiction for the leading national magazines, he turned his attention to the creation of books. Wallace's 16 novels and 17 non-fiction works have sold tens of millions of copies around the world. His first major success was with The Chapman Report , in 1960, which was made into a film in 1962. His bestselling 1962 Cold War novel The Prize was made into a film in 1963, starring Paul Newman. The Man was made into a film in 1972 starring James Earl Jones. After an amazing career spanning decades, Irving Wallaced died on June 29, 1990. He is survived by his children, Amy Wallace and David Wallechinsky, both best-selling authors in their own right.

Book List

The Almighty

The Celestial Bed

The Chapman Report

The Fabulous Showman: The Life and Times of P.T. Barnum

The Fan Club

The Golden Room

The Guest of Honor

The Man

The Miracle

The Pigeon Project

The Plot

The Prize

The R Document

The Second Lady

The Seven Minutes

The Seventh Secret

The Three Sirens

The Two

The Word

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To

Ed Victor

friend, literary agent, true believer

In 1783 one of the most popular attractions in London was the Temple of Health, promoted by an amiable Scot named Dr. James Graham. The main feature of the Temple was the canopied Celestial Bed, supported by twenty-eight glass pillars and attended by a live nude Goddess of Health. Male visitors were invited to recline on the Celestial Bed for fifty pounds a night with the promise that this treatment would lead to a cure for impotence.

A s he was driving home for dinner, having parted from his visitor and locked up his clinic, Dr. Arnold Freeberg decided that this was one of the best daysperhaps the best dayhe had enjoyed since establishing himself in Tucson, Arizona, after having left New York six years earlier.

All because of his visitor, Ben Hebble, Tucson's most successful banker, and Hebble's announcement of an astonishing gift to him.

Freeberg recalled the essence of the corpulent banker's visit. "It's because your sex therapy cured my son," Hebble had said. "Timothy was a mess, and we both know it. Afraid to be with girls, because he couldn't get it up till his psychiatrist sent him to you. Well, you did the job, all right. In two months, you did it. After that, Timothy played the field for a while until he fell in love with a pretty young lady from Texas. They tried living together, and it was such a success that they're getting married. Because of you, I expect to be a grandfather yet!"

"Congratulations!" Freeberg had exclaimed, remembering how he and his sex surrogate, Gayle Miller, had so patiently worked to bring the dysfunctional banker's son to sexual adequacy.

"No, it's you, Dr. Freeberg. You're the one who deserves the congratulations," Hebble had boomed out, "and I'm here to thank you in a very practical way. I'm here to tell you that I'm setting up a foundation to supplement your own clinic, a foundation that will enable you and your staff to help cure dysfunctional patients who can't afford to hire you. I'm talking about guaranteeing you one hundred thousand dollars a year toward this end for ten years. That's a million dollars to give you a chance to broaden your work and lend a hand to other unfortunate victims of impotence."

Freeberg recalled that he had felt faint. "II really don't know what to say. This is overwhelming."

"Only one condition attached," Hebble had added briskly. "I want this set up in Tucson, and all your work must be done here. This city has been kind to me. I owe it something. What do you say to that?"

"No problem. None whatsoever. This is most generous of you, Mr. Hebble."

Freeberg had parted from his benefactor in a daze.

Now, reaching home, opening the front door, he was humming to himself when he saw his plump wife Miriam waiting for him in the entry hall.

Cheerily, Freeberg kissed her, but before he could speak she whispered to him. "Arnie, you have someone waiting for you in the living room. The city attorney, Thomas O'Neil."

"Oh, he can wait a minute," Freeberg said, putting an arm around his wife. He and O'Neil were casual friends, often on the same committees together to raise money for local charities. "Probably just some more community business. Now, listen to what just happened to me at the clinic."

Quickly, he told her about Hebble's offer.

Miriam exploded with excitement, hugged her husband, and kissed him again and again. "How marvelous, how truly marvelous, Arnie. Now you can do everything you ever dreamed of."

"And then some!"

She took Freeberg by the arm and directed him toward the living room. "You better find out what Mr. O'Neil wants. He's been here ten minutes. You shouldn't keep him waiting forever."

Moments later, having entered the living room and greeted the city attorney, Freeberg sat down across from him. Freeberg was puzzled to see that the city attorney looked uncomfortable.

City Attorney O'Neil was apologetic. "I hate to break in on you during your dinner hour," he said, "but I have several appointments this evening, and I felt I must speak to you as soon as possible about anwell, an urgent matter."

Freeberg continued to be puzzled. This did not sound like the usual charity fundraiser.

"What is it, Tom?" Freeberg asked.

"It's about your work, Arnold."

"What about my work?"

"Well, I've been officially informed byby several other therapists that you're using a sex surrogate to cure patients. Is that true?"

Freeberg squirmed uneasily. "Why, yes, itit is true. Because I've found that it's the only means that works with many dysfunctional patients."

O'Neil shook his head. "It's against the law in Arizona, Arnold."

"I know, but I thought I could cut a corner or two, if I did it quietly, to effect cures for my more drastically troubled patients."

O'Neil remained adamant. "'Illegal,'" he said. "It means you're pandering, and the woman you're using is playing prostitute. I'd like to close my eyes to what you're doing. We're friends. But I can't. Too much pressure is being put on me. I can't ignore it any longer." He straightened himself and seemed to force out the next words. "What it comes down to is your losing your job or me losing mine. This has to be resolved immediatelyand strictly according to the law. Let me tell you what you have to do. It's the best proposition I can make to you, Arnold. Are you ready to listen?"