The shrinks have a word for it: Obsessive-Compulsive. When Crystal Ray was a kid, her concerned mom had her on the couch thinking there was something very weird to Crystal's insistence that the family cars be parked in alphabetical order. Her trimmed bangs had to hang evenly, measured precisely by a geometric instrument. The Buster Brown shoes had to be spit-shined. Clothes had to be hung in a closet starched, creased and according to a defined sequence. Eventually living with Crystal was like being on a military base, and she'd have shit fits if things were not found in their proper place. This might have been looked upon as idiosyncratic had it not extended into Crystal's sex life. To Crystal's way of thinking every hole had to have occupancy, every hole had to be loaded up. Know what they say about psycho chicks giving the best sex? There it is in a nutshell.