                          

                              The Shaman's Secret
                                      by "D" 

This story includes situations of an adult nature that may not be appropriate 
for all readers. 

Please note that all characters and situations are fictional and provided solely 
for the enjoyment of readers. 

Any resemblence to real persons is coincidence and strictly in the mind of the 
beholder. 

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Synopsis: A researcher learns from a South American medicine-man that a jungle 
root contains the female equivalent of Viagra. A female colleague, with whom he 
has shared a casual sexual relationship, gets wind of this and insists on giving 
it a try. 

================================================================================



Part I

It was office hours, which meant I was obligated to be at my desk with my door 
open in case a student came in needing help. I didn't expect much traffic today, 
it being the first mild and sunny day of Spring and the entire student body 
seemed to be in their bathing suits sunning on the grassy lawn of the Quad. So, 
I killed time reviewing galley proofs. 

Cindy wandered in. She occupied the office across the corridor. She was a 
microbiologist and geneticist, and a damned good one. Cindy was a few years 
younger than I -- she had been a grad student when I first joined the faculty 
and she stayed on after her degree to become an assistant professor. 

She was a fiery redhead, with clear, pale skin covered with a faint ruddy mottle 
and broad freckles on her shoulders, arms and legs. Usually she wore her dense 
red hair pulled back in a ponytail in a way that emphasized her high and broad 
forehead. 

She was slim and stood about five foot five. Her overall appearance was a bit 
awkward since her hands and feet seemed too large for her slender limbs and her 
small frame. She had not an ounce of surplus fat on her; in fact, I felt she'd 
benefit from gaining five or ten pounds. 

Although she was far from homely she wasn't what most folks consider beautiful, 
either. Her oblong face featured a prominent lower lip giving her a perpetual 
pout; and a strong, almost Roman nose that made her appearance severe -- almost 
hard. She used this to her advantage with her students by wearing a pair of non-
corrective eyeglasses to exaggerate a stern look. Being a young, female prof, an 
intimidating visage helped her keep their respect. 

When she smiled, though, everything changed. Her eyes would sparkle and her 
toughness would melt into a sweet softness that I found fetchingly pretty. I 
wasn't the only guy on campus who appreciated Cindy's stealth beauty. She 
regularly scored seventh or eighth in the student humor magazine's annual PILF, 
or Prof I'd Like to Fuck survey. 

She regarded me at my desk. "Your book?" she asked. 

"Yes -- care to pre-order a hundred copies?" 

"I think I'll wait for the movie to come out." 

"The day Hollywood beats a path to my door for the film rights to Ethnochemistry 
Case Studies is the day I can retire... It might make a good miniseries, 
though." I stood and approached her. "Are you doing okay?" 

"I'm getting over him. By the way -- thanks for being there Sunday." 

"I knew what had happened as soon as the phone rang. There's only one person who 
calls me on a Sunday night and for only one reason." 

"I thought he was the one. I really did." She looked into my eyes and I could 
see hers were filling. "He called me frigid! That's why he dumped me!" 

"Nonsense. How long have we known each other? Ten years?" 

"At least," she replied. 

"In all that time I've never known you to be frigid." 

"I couldn't come with him. It was so frustrating." 

"Then, it's his problem -- not yours. Cindy -- if by now your man can't reliably 
bring you to orgasm -- it's his fault, not yours. He's too wrapped up in 
himself. Forget about him." 

"You're just saying that." 

"I mean it. How long were you going together?" 

"Six months." 

"No -- how long had you two been sleeping together?" 

"The past two months." 

"You dated him for four months before laying him?" 

"What's the big deal? It took you five years." 

"That had something to do with the dean's rule against profs shagging students 
... even if they happen to be grad students in another department." 

"That only accounts for four years out of the five," she replied. "How come it 
took you another year? You were afraid of me, weren't you?" 

"ME? Afraid of YOU?" 

"Brother! You don't remember anything, do you? If I hadn't initiated something 
our friendship would still be platonic." 

"That's not how I recall it," I replied. "Do you remember that joint Chem-Bio 
department Christmas party? The one with the Jell-O shots and the big bowl of 
eggnog that someone spiked with lab alky? It was before you got your apartment 
in faculty housing. You were still living in that old trailer on the edge of 
town. Remember?" 

"Yes..." 

"I had enough sense to stay away from the Jell-O shots, but you had four or five 
... plus several helpings of eggnog. Then, it started snowing. By then you were 
pretty much out of it -- I don't think you could walk a straight line. I 
suggested instead of driving in the snow in your condition that you walk with me 
back to my place, since it's just down the hill from the Science Center. I said 
you could have the bed and I'd take the sofa. Well, the walk in the fresh air 
cleared your head somewhat -- enough so when we got home you raided my 
refrigerator and discovered a jug of Gallo red. Is it coming back to you?" 

She shook her head. 

"You didn't remember much that night. We downed some wine and then we couldn't 
keep our hands off each other. The next morning was a disaster. You bolted out 
of there like a turpentined cat. Then, the day after that I came to you. We had 
a long talk about what happened." 

"I remember that," she replied. "You said I fell asleep, and you assured me that 
nothing happened. Are you saying you lied to me?" 

"Of course not. But, I never told you everything that happened. Just as things 
were getting hot and heavy, you threw up on the bed. Do you remember that? Well, 
my mattress does. A mixture of lime Jell-O, half-digested eggnog and red wine 
makes for an ugly stain. After you were done puking, you passed out and even in 
my condition I recognized there wasn't much sport in fucking an unconscious 
partner. Instead, I stayed up all night watching you ... keeping your face 
pointing downward so if you hurled again you wouldn't die choking on your own 
vomit." 

"I remember waking up..." 

"Yeah -- in a panic, not knowing where you were or how you got there or why you 
were naked and assuming the worst. That's why I came to you the day after. I had 
to talk with you. We went to the Coffee Pot, sat in a booth and talked all 
morning. We concluded maybe what we attempted wasn't such a bad idea after all. 
We agreed to try it again without the alcohol and see what happens. We were both 
pleased with the result, and after that we formed our understanding -- we 
weren't lovers, we were just friends, no emotional baggage, no ball-and-chain, 
the sex was purely recreational, we could see other people and either of us 
could walk away whenever we liked." 

"I remember that ... word-for-word. But, you told me I started it the night of 
the party..." 

"You might've thrown the first pass at our booze-fueled gropefest, and you were 
the first to take off your shirt. I don't think that counts as initiating a 
sexual relationship." 

"But..." 

"Is your recollection of events leading up to it different? Are you writing 
revisionist history or something?" I snorted. "Don't make me out as some timid 
milquetoast you had to prod into action. It was mutual. I wanted it as much as 
you did, and I was the one who broke the ice." 

"It still doesn't explain the extra year..." 

"That was because I didn't think intramural relationships were a good idea. I 
still don't, but I've made ours an exception. If you and I were in the same 
department -- it would not have happened. Being in the same school is dicey 
enough. I know the dean doesn't like it." 

Her lip quivered. "Why are you doing this? Why are you being so mean to me?" 

"Why is it every time you lose a boyfriend you come pick a fight with me?" 

"I don't do that." 

"Yes, you do." 

"I do not!" 

"All right -- not every time. Just most of the time -- when you're the one being 
dumped. When you do the dumping, you're as sweet as pie." 

"Right. I'm always the dumpee. Are you insinuating that I'm imminently ... 
dumpable?" 

"I'm not passing judgment on dumpability. I'm stating what I observe." She faced 
me flexing her jaw, her eyes narrowed and a vein in her forehead standing out. 
Then she threw a slap at my face. I blocked it with my forearm. 

She took a step backward. "Oh, God..." Her eyes started filling. "Oh, my God!" 

"Cindy ... I know you're hurting. That's why you're lashing out. You need to 
vent some hostility. You want to hurt someone. If you need me to be your 
punching bag -- go ahead. I can take it. I'm strong enough. Our friendship is 
strong enough. Just not in the face, okay?" 

I opened my desk drawer, took out a felt marker and handed it to her. Then I 
pulled my shirt out my waistband and unbuttoned it. "Here," I said throwing my 
shirt off my shoulders and tapping my sternum. "Write the word 'Everlast' right 
here and then have at me." 

She giggled, put her hand to her mouth and laughed. I opened my arms and she 
fell into them, sobbing. "Oh, God! It hurts! I hurt so much!" 

I held her, caressed her back and kissed the top of her head. "Let it out. Let 
it all out. Don't hold anything back." She put her arms around me and squeezed 
me as she wept. "It's the rejection, isn't it? That's what hurts the most." 

"Uh-uh..." She nodded as she sobbed. Finally she started to regain her 
composure. "You did it on purpose," she sniffled. 

"Did what?" 

"You know what you did ... those mean words... You goaded me into taking a swat 
at you. You knew it would make me cry." 

"You needed a good cry. You feel better now, don't you?" 

"...yeah..." 

"The last time I got dumped I had a good cry. A real good one." I kissed her 
forehead and lifted her chin with my finger. "You know, when you cry like that 
and your face gets red -- your eyes look even greener." She sniffled, laughed 
and wiped tears from her cheeks. I hugged her again, caressing the back of her 
head. "I'm sorry I used such strong medicine. I had to snap you out of it, 
though. Last time this happened, you tried to stiff-upper-lip it and you were 
miserable for weeks." 

"I must've made you miserable, too with my bitchiness. I don't know what I'd do 
without you. I truly don't." 

"Are you okay now?" 

She nodded. "Yeah... Thanks." 

I kissed her forehead. She laid her face against my shoulder and ran her fingers 
along my chest. "What are your plans tonight?" I asked. 

"I have a stack of quizzes to grade. Then -- a hot bath and some quality time 
with my vibrator. What else is a single gal to do?" 

"Bring your quizzes over to my place, and leave your vibrator at home." 

"I have to be up early..." 

"I have an alarm clock. After you grade your quizzes I'll make you a nice, hot 
bubble bath... I'll scrub your back ... and, your front if you wish." 

"A bubble bath? It's been years..." 

"And, after that..." 

"What after that?" 

"I'll prove to you you're not frigid." 

"I don't know why you'd want someone's sloppy seconds. I don't understand why 
you keep taking me back." 

"I'm not. You never left." I kissed her lips. 

"I'll be there at seven... Do you want me to bring the black one?" 

"Surprise me." I hugged her and glanced over her shoulder. A student was 
standing in the doorway. I didn't recognize her as one of mine. "I think you 
have a customer." 

Cindy sniffed back her tears, wiped her eyes, adjusted her hair and spun around. 
I started buttoning my shirt. "Hello, Charlene," she said to the girl. "Were you 
looking for me?" 

"Yes, Dr Kelley," she replied. "I can come back later if this is a bad time." 

"No, no... It's why I'm here." Cindy glanced at me, eyes wide and her hand over 
her mouth. I gave her a little wave as she escorted Charlene across the hall. 





That evening my bell rang. I let Cindy into my apartment. She was carrying a 
duffel and an accordion folder. "Drop your bag anywhere," I said. "You can grade 
your papers on the dining table. I'm going to work on my galley proofs." 

I sat across from her. With a purple pen in hand she began going through the 
quizzes, stopping now and then to giggle. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Some of the answers these kids come up with. I ought to give partial credit for 
creative guessing." 

"You're in a better mood tonight." 

"Mmm... The prospect of a bubble bath would sweeten anyone's mood." 

"Not what comes after?" I asked and turned over a sheet of galleys. "How much of 
our conversation do you think Charlene overheard?" 

"I dunno. How long do you think she had been standing there?" 

"I have no idea. I looked up and there she was." 

"Well, however much it was, it didn't faze her." 

"I suppose there's no harm in letting a student see that profs are human, too." 

"But we're not," she replied. "We're gods and goddesses living in ivory 
towers..." She paused and regarded me with my stack of galleys. "What's your 
book about?" 

"It is the benefice of my graduate-school experiences living among a primitive 
tribe in South America. I went there to observe what medicinal plants they use 
and to attempt to extract and identify the active ingredients. I ended up being 
apprenticed to the village shaman -- an old and formidable witch doctor whose 
name meant Jaguar. I could never pronounce it in the native tongue, so I called 
him Jag. I have about a dozen case studies for my book." 

"Including the wormicide that got you your degree?" 

"And, a patent -- and, my butt in a prestigious, tenured chair? Certainly. I did 
leave one case study out, though." 

"What's that?" she asked. 

"It was Jag's most jealously guarded secret. Until I can get it patented, I'm 
not telling a soul about it." 

"Can't you tell me?" 

"No." 

"Don't you trust me?" She pouted. 

"I'll tell you this -- the secret is locked that carved wooden box in my 
office." 

"What if I sneak in there sometime and take a peek?" 

"Peek to your heart's content. How are your quizzes coming?" 

"Almost done." 

"I'll go start your bath." 

I shut off the water, lit a couple candles and switched off the lights. Cindy 
entered in a short robe, her red mane clipped into a bun. "Ooo -- look at all 
the froth!" She turned her back to me, slipped out of the robe and stepped into 
the tub. "How did you get all the bubbles with the hard water in these 
apartments?" She sniffed. "Peppermint?" 

"Castile soap," I replied. "Dr Bronner's liquid peppermint castile. It foams 
even in hard water. I threw in a handful of Calgon to be on the safe side." 

"Can I see it?" I handed her the bottle. "I never heard of it before. Does it 
come in other scents?" 

"Yes. I have peppermint and unscented. I thought unscented would make a boring 
bubble bath." 

"It's different... Feels good." She leaned forward. "You said you'd scrub my 
back." I picked up a washcloth, dipped it in the water and began rubbing her 
shoulder blades. "This feels so good," she said. "How come you're not in love? 
You're such a sweet guy. I'd think chicks would be swarming all over you." 

"Never met the right one," I replied. "Maybe you are going about it the right 
way -- keep swinging for the fence. You're bound to connect sooner or later. 
It's better to have loved and lost then never loved at all." 

"That is the stupidest aphorism -- written by someone with sour grapes." She 
leaned back and slid down in the tub so her chin was level with the bubbles and 
her bony knees poked out of the water. "I guess it's easier for a man. Men don't 
hear their biological clocks ticking the way we do." 

"You about done?" 

"I guess. My fingers are getting crinkly." 

"I'll go turn down the bed." 

"Okay -- and I'll do my bedtime routine... brush my teeth, take my pill..." 

I lit a couple more candles in the bedroom, turned down the bed and switched off 
the lights. Then I undressed, slid into bed and sat up with my back against the 
headboard as I waited for her. 

Cindy came into the bedroom wearing a floor-length, black satin nightgown. It 
was slit on either side up to her ribcage. I turned down the covers and patted 
the mattress between my thighs. 

She sat, and leaned against me with her back against my chest and put her hand 
on my thigh. I held her around her waist and kissed and nuzzled her under her 
ear. "Vibrator can't do this, can it?" 

"Unh-unh." She drew in a deep breath and released it. I cupped my hands over her 
32-B breasts. "Your hands are warm... Feels nice..." 

I ran my fingers along the fabric until I encountered one of the stainless-steel 
balls of the barbell piercings in her nipples. I found both ends and began 
rocking them. Then, I caressed her nipples through the smooth satin with the 
backs of my fingers. 

Her breathing slowed. I traced the outline of the bodice of her gown, slipped my 
finger under the fabric and massaged her nipple directly, my skin against hers. 
I could feel the muscles in her thighs tense. 

I slid my hand through the side slit of her gown onto her thigh and slid it up 
until I felt the coarse hair of her pubic patch. Cindy had a full, red bush and 
she kept it natural. A beautiful bush like hers would've been a shame to trim, 
much less shave. I ran my fingertips through it and explored the shapes of her 
labia. 

I found her slit. She rolled her thighs apart to open up for me. I moistened my 
middle finger on my tongue and slipped it in, stroked her clitoral shaft and 
worked it under her hood and against the glans of her clit. I began a gentle 
stroking. 

"Mmm... That's nice," she said. "But -- I'd really rather have one of your oral 
jobs." 

"All you have to do is ask," I replied. I rolled from behind her and adjusted 
the pillows under her shoulders. I massaged her breasts in lazy circles, pausing 
now and then to pinch and roll her nipples through the fabric. 

"That feels really good," she said. She crossed her wrists above her head. 

"That's new," I said. 

"What's new?" I grasped and gently tugged at a tuft of bright red hair under her 
arm. "Oh, that. I did that for Craig. He said he likes his women natural. I can 
get rid of it if you want." 

"Don't on my account. I think it's kinda ... interesting. At least you still 
shave your legs." 

"I think hairy legs look dorky on a woman," she replied. "Especially under panty 
hose." 

I folded back her gown, knelt between her legs and ran my hands along her smooth 
skin. I kissed her knees and up her thighs alternating from side to side. 

I reached her labia and worked my nose and lips between them. It smelled like 
peppermint in there. I spread her, kissed the entrance to her vagina and began a 
gentle back-and-forth on her glans with my tongue. 

This was her favorite, a reliable way of driving her to orgasm within ten 
minutes or so. I slid my arms under her thighs and cupped my hands over her 
breasts. Through the thicket of her red bush I could see her chest move with her 
breathing. 

Cindy lay there. She brushed hair from her face. I continued to tongue her clit. 
She shifted her legs and crossed and re-crossed her ankles over my back. I 
caressed her breast with my right hand and with my left I stroked her abdomen 
and fingered her navel. She drew in a deep breath and released it. "Mmm... 
That's good..." She looked in my direction, we made eye contact and she smiled. 

I came up from between her legs. "Why did you stop?" she asked "I was almost 
there." 

"No, you weren't," I replied. "You weren't even close. Cindy -- what's wrong?" 

"You didn't give me enough time. You were getting impatient -- just like Craig." 

"You were faking it, weren't you?" 

"Now YOU think I'm frigid, too!" 

"Cindy -- I dated a girl once who was honest-to-God frigid. You are not frigid. 
You're a little slow maybe, but you're not frigid." 

"Slow? What do you mean?" 

"It takes you a while to get there, but when you do -- hang on." 

"What makes you think I wasn't getting there?" 

"You weren't making any progress at all. After five years with you I know. Your 
body has little tells. I can read them and know just how far along you are." 

"Tells? What tells?" 

"I'm not saying -- otherwise, you'd try to fake them, too." 

"Why in hell would I fake them?" Her lip was quivering and her eyes filling. 
"Why?" 

"Why in hell would you fake an orgasm with me? With ME, Cindy?" 

"Because..." Tears ran down her cheeks. "You and I haven't been together in six 
months! I didn't want you to think I was frigid, too!" 

"Cindy -- you are NOT frigid. There's nothing wrong with you, except maybe 
you're trying too hard. If you lie there, worrying whether or not you'll come -- 
you won't. It becomes self-fulfilling. Good sex is giving and trust. If you give 
everything toward pleasing your partner and trust her to reciprocate -- the 
result is wonderful for both. What did that joker ever give you?" 

"I don't know..." 

"He was in it for himself. He didn't even pay enough attention to you to learn 
your body. It's not hard to read a woman's body -- all it takes is some 
observation. I knew yours cold after two weeks. Cindy -- I know how to pleasure 
you. All you need to do is relax and lose yourself in the sensations. I know the 
way. Trust me and I'll take you there. Okay?" 

"Okay..." 

I kissed the tears off her cheeks. "Now -- shall we start over?" 

She smiled and nodded. 

I knelt between her knees and caressed her pale, freckly skin. I moved my hands 
up to her knees and kissed them, alternating from thigh to thigh until I reached 
her mons. Again, I slipped my lips between her labia, found her clit and 
massaged it with the tip of my tongue, counting under my breath to maintain an 
even rhythm. 

Through her bush I watched her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall to one 
side. I could feel her flexing her clitoral shaft. Good, I thought. I cupped my 
hands over her breasts and caressed them through the fabric of her gown. She 
drew in a deep breath and then crossed her wrists above her head. Very good -- 
this was an invitation for some breast work. I ran my fingers back and forth 
across her breasts and felt her nipples become erect. I continued tonguing her 
clit. 

Cindy crossed her ankles over my back. Not good -- this meant she was having 
trouble getting her legs comfortable. She stroked the small of my back with the 
top of her foot. Then I felt her hips relax and the strokes with my tongue began 
reverberating in her thigh muscles. Hmm ... maybe she just wanted her legs 
there. 

She brought her arms down and touched my head. I slipped the straps of her gown 
off her shoulders and folded down the bodice to expose her breasts, her pale, 
silver-dollar sized areolas and erect pink nipples. I rolled them between my 
thumbs and forefingers, keeping time with the rhythm of my tongue and could feel 
the shafts of her piercings under her skin. "This is really good," she said 
softly. "It's building..." 

Her heart was beginning to pound -- excellent. She was approaching her plateau. 
This was the tricky phase with her. I needed to keep her there long enough to 
build tension for a strong release, but not so long that her clit would tire and 
cease responding. I used her heartbeat as a guide. When her heart started racing 
I knew she was ready to come. Then, all she needed was a little shove over the 
edge. 

"Oh, God!," she gasped. "I'm almost there." I knew she was right ... and, it was 
too soon. I lightened the pressure on my tongue. At the same time I deepened my 
massage on her nipples, to transfer the emphasis to her breasts. Her clit needed 
a rest, anyway. 

She rolled her head to the other side, her eyes closed. "You changed it. I 
almost came... Mmm... It's building again... Oh this feels good ... feels 
good..." She relaxed her jaw and started breathing through her mouth. Her feet 
slid off my back and her entire body went limp. I slowly ramped up the pressure 
on her clit. 

I watched her breasts heave as her breathing grew heavy. Her heart was 
accelerating. I decided now was the time. I switched from back-and-forth to 
sucking her clit it while keeping the same cadence. I also began pinching and 
rolling her nipples hard. "Don't change it," she panted. Her thighs were 
quivering. 

Her breathing became panting. She grabbed the bedcovers. "Oh, God! More!" she 
gasped. Then, she groaned, arched her back and rocked her hips. "Ohhhh," she 
moaned and pounded the mattress. I felt her run her fingers through my hair. 
"Stop. Stop! It's too much!" 

I came up from between her legs. She was gasping and trying to regain her 
breath. I helped her into sitting position and lifted her nightgown from her. 
She threw her arms around my shoulders and covered my face with kisses. 

"See?" I said, "You're not frigid. All you had to do was relax." 

"How are you so sure I didn't fake it that time?" 

I put my hand on her knee and slid it up her thigh, slipping my finger into her 
slit and pressing it against her glans. She nearly jumped out of her skin. "OH! 
DON'T! It's too much!" 

"That's how." 

"You do know how to push my buttons in the right order." 

I lay on my back. Cindy knelt beside me and caressed my chest. Then she kissed 
my legs, wrapped her fingers around my stiff member and kissed its shaft. "Mmm," 
she said, "meaty... It has been a while, hasn't it?" 

"Nothing makes me stiffer than watching you have a good orgasm," I replied. 

"Do I put on that good a show?" 

"You don't hold back. Like I said -- I can read your body and know what you're 
feeling. There's nothing sexier than watching you build up to a climax. If I had 
let you get away with your little fake... Well, I would've know the difference." 

She continued squeezing my shaft. "And, he would've known, too..." 

"That's right -- honesty is the best policy." 

She kissed my glans. "How do you want me?" she asked. 

"Usual way." 

She climbed on top. I found the entrance of her vagina with my glans and pushed 
myself in. We locked legs and I held her across the small of her back. I rocked 
my hips to work in deep and began caressing her smooth buttocks, running my 
fingers along her crevasse until I reached her anus. 

"Unh-unh," she said shaking her head. I moved my hand out of forbidden 
territory. "You always do that." 

"I keep hoping you'll say yes sometime." 

Cindy began rocking her hips. I closed my eyes and tried to keep my mind off of 
what was going on. It never worked. After about eight strokes my climax was 
imminent. "Oh, Cindy," I grunted, grabbed her buttocks, pushed in deep and 
ejaculated. 

She kissed me. "I envy you," she said, "being able to come so easily." 

"You're too kind. Be careful what you wish for. I wish I could last longer. You 
have the climax and I have the anticlimax." 

"No complaints from me -- not after your tongue job. On a scale of one to ten it 
was a twelve. Was it good for you?" 

"It was wonderful for me." 

"Then, that's what counts, isn't it?" She climbed off of me, sat up, ran her 
fingers through her thick red hair and re-tied her ponytail. 

I grabbed the alarm clock and twiddled it. "What time do you need to be up?" 

"Six-thirty." 

"Oh, shit." 

"Yeah -- I know..." 

I set the clock and blew out the candles. Cindy snuggled against me in the dark 
and I caressed her shoulder blades. "You know," I said, "I tried everything to 
get myself to last longer ... delay creams, exercises, meditation... Nothing 
works." 

"It's all right." She kissed my cheek. 

"I know it is. I finally decided it's just how I am -- how I respond. It's not 
something I have control over. However, I do have control over my tongue and I 
can train it to last as long as it takes." 

She squeezed me. "I'm going to tell you something about myself I've never told 
anyone. I had a lesbian lover, once." 

"You? You're bi-curious?" 

"I was ... my freshman year. She was a junior and an experienced lesbian. I just 
had my first ... disappointment with a man and she scooped me up on the rebound. 
I discovered that love is love. Gender doesn't matter -- it sucks just as bad. 
That's another story. She always said she couldn't understand why a woman would 
prefer a penis over her tongue." 

"I think a tongue is the perfect instrument for stimulating a clit." 

"Well, she was good with it." Cindy kissed my cheek again. "She wasn't half as 
good with hers as you are with yours. Seriously." 

"Thanks," I said. 

She slid her hand down and wrapped her fingers around my limp manhood. "And, you 
have one of these, too." 

She wriggled her body to move closer. "You know", I said, "I think I like 
cuddling afterward as much as doing it." 

"I think I like it almost better,." she replied. 

"Wait a minute -- isn't almost better the same as, as much as?" 

"No. It's better." 

"But -- not as good as better." 

"Unh-unh." 

"I will never understand a woman's logic." 

She kissed my cheek. "Thank you for tonight," she said. 

"Now, are you officially over him?" I asked. 

"Over whom?" 





When I woke Cindy had already left. I showered, dressed and trudged up the hill 
to the Science Center. It was about eight-thirty when I reached my office and 
unlocked the door. Across the hall Cindy's door was closed and the room was 
dark. 

I opened my case and set up my laptop, then took out the stack of galleys and 
continued proof- reading. Around mid-morning Cindy poked her head in the door. 
"Knock-knock," she said. 

"Come on in. Maybe you should close the door." 

"It's not that sort of a visit." She handed me a paper bag. 

"What's this?" I looked inside. "Chocolate donuts?" 

"It's a thank-you gift for last night. I thank you and so do my students." 

"They can see a difference?" 

"I was pretty bitchy with them for a couple of days... Actually, I was pretty 
bitchy for the past couple of months. I was more relaxed in class today and so 
were they. It's amazing how getting properly laid improves a gal's mood." 

"What's next for you?" I asked. 

"Lose myself in my work. Hang out with you. You're a good role model for me. One 
thing for sure -- I'm not going to fall in love again." 

"Do you know you say that every time?" 

"I mean it this time." 

"Do you know you mean it every time?" 

"No -- this time I REALLY mean it. I'm gonna be an old maid..." She wandered to 
the window and picked up the wooden box on the sill. "Is this the box that 
contains your precious secret?" 

"That's the one." 

She struggled with it. "It's locked. How can I peek if it's locked." She pouted. 
"After all these years I can't believe you don't trust me." 

"Close the door." I unlocked a desk drawer, retrieved a key and handed it to 
her. 

She unlocked the box, opened it and withdrew an object wrapped in acid-free 
tissue. "What's this?" she asked and began unwrapping the tissue. 

Inside was a piece of dried root about six inches long. She held it up. 

"That is one of only two remaining specimens," I said. "The other is in a 
safety-deposit box at the bank." 

"But -- what is it?" 

"It's a root." 

"Duh. What kind of a root?" 

"I don't know the species. I believe it's extinct by now, anyway. That part of 
the jungle has been overrun by civilization. Do you remember me telling you 
about my shaman friend Jag?" 

"The one you studied in South America. Yes." 

"That is Jag's most jealously guarded secret. In fact, I thought I'd never gain 
enough of his confidence for him to reveal it to me. I don't know how many times 
I asked him about it and he always rebuffed me. I bribed him with packages of 
fish lures ... eighty-nine cent hardware store snap-blade knives ... aspirin 
tablets and finally a brand new machete. He rebuffed me at every turn. Then, one 
day we were walking in the forest and he pointed out a plant with a white 
blossom and nearly circular leaves. That's it, he told me. That's the source of 
Royal Nectar." 

"Royal Nectar? Why is it so important?" 

"You see that root contains a chemical -- a drug -- that's the female equivalent 
of Viagra." 

"Do you mean it's a true aphrodisiac?" 

"No. It's more like a female sexual extender -- an orgasm enhancer. It increases 
the ease of a woman reaching orgasm and the intensity of the experience." 

"And, it's used by your natives? It must've been one rockin' tribe you studied." 

"It's used for one and only one purpose. The rules of succession for the tribe's 
chief are quite specific. The next chief must be the closest first-born boy. If 
the current chief's first- born is a daughter..." 

"His line loses the chiefdom." 

"Worse -- the father of the heir apparent can call him out on a combat challenge 
and replace him as chief. Consequently, the current chief desires his first-born 
to be male. The tribe believe that a woman's odds of conceiving a boy are 
increased if she experiences orgasm during conception." 

"Actually -- there have been studies indicating it does increase a woman's odds 
... slightly." 

"Well -- the chief will take it. He contracts with the shaman to produce what 
they call Royal Nectar. It's the extract of this root. On the appropriate day of 
her menstrual cycle, the chief's bride presents herself to the shaman, who 
administers the Royal Nectar. She then joins her husband. If the issue is an 
heir, then the chief pays the shaman." 

"Pays him what?" 

"Whatever the chief feels is appropriate. Jag told me one shaman was paid one of 
the chief's nieces. Jag received only a carved shell." 

"What does the shaman get if it turns out to be a girl?" 

"We didn't get into that part of it..." 

Cindy regarded the root with awe. "No wonder you're keeping this under wraps. 
You said you had three samples?" 

"Yes -- one I sacrificed to extract and analyze the active ingredients. I'm 
still working up the chemistry on them. It's a ... side project of mine I work 
on when I have spare time -- which isn't often. Not even the university knows 
about it so please keep it quiet." 

She nodded. "You can trust me... This is hot. This is red-hot. A discovery like 
this could make you rich ... and famous. How do you make the extract?" 

"The same way as all of Jag's extracts -- chop it up and steep it in boiling 
water. A third of a root is one dose." 

"Then, she drinks it?" 

"No. The drug appears to be sensitive to acid hydrolysis." 

"Stomach acid breaks it down." 

"Exactly." 

"A modern drug company would have no trouble formulating a pill that would 
protect the drug until it passes into the intestine," she observed. 

"No doubt. Jag didn't have access to such technology, so he bypassed the stomach 
altogether." I retrieved an object standing in the corner of the window-sill. 
"He administers it rectally -- with this." 

"I've wondered what that was used for." 

"This is an enema gourd. Note the long, thin neck. They're typically a metre 
long with some longer specimens." 

"It looks like a long-necked funnel." 

"Precisely. It's used for a variety of treatments, Royal Nectar among them. I 
helped Jag cure a tribal girl for ascariasis once, using one of these." 

"What's ascariasis?" 

"Roundworms." 

"Right, right. Your wormicide." 

"Jag's wormicide, truth be known. The girl's name translated to Morning Mist. 
She was about thirteen or fourteen, just starting to blossom -- a very nice and 
pretty girl who was well-liked in the village. She complained of a pain in her 
belly that I would've diagnosed as appendicitis, but Jag was sure was a case of 
roundworms. The worms form a bolus in the ileum that can block the intestine. 

"He cured Mist by giving her a massive enema containing a naturally occurring 
wormicide. He had her kneel on a mat and put her shoulders down. Then, he 
greased her anus, worked in the end of the gourd and started pouring the 
solution in. Poor kid -- it must've been misery for her. She was about half your 
size and he must've given her nearly a gallon -- enough to force it past her 
ileo-cecal valve and into her small intestine. As Jag's assistant I had to 
ensure she didn't expel any of it prematurely. I did this by plugging her anus 
with my thumb and pinching her buttocks together." 

"You're kidding." 

"Why would I kid about that? Jag told me it was the procedure, though I've left 
open the possibility he was pulling my leg and amusing other tribesmen with 
tales about the white man with his thumb up the girl's ass. Mist lay there for 
what must've been a couple of hours, her abdomen bulging as if she were four 
months pregnant." 

"Do those things grow naturally like that?" she asked. 

"No -- they're cultivated and trained." I held the gourd toward Cindy for her to 
take. 

"No, thank you," she replied, her lip curled. 

"Don't worry -- this one hasn't been used. The bend in the neck near the end is 
deliberate." I held the gourd upright. "It allows the tip to be inserted into 
the anus while keeping the gourd nearly vertical. If you could picture yourself 
on your hands and knees..." 

"I'd rather not picture that." 

"Hmm. Its a picture that suits me..." I returned the gourd to its place in the 
corner. "Jag administered other types of enemas, too. He made a very effective 
bowel cleanser from the bark of a tree. Mist needed her colon purged before 
getting the wormicide, so she got some of that, first. All this is in my book. 
Also, Jag said the bowel must be emptied before giving the Royal Nectar." 

"Did you see it in action?" she asked. 

"Royal Nectar? No -- when I was there the chief already had an heir. The boy was 
conceived with the aid of it, though. At least, that's what Jag told me. The 
chief sent his bride to him and he administered the treatment. That evening her 
screams of ecstasy permeated the village and the tribe agreed an heir was a near 
certainty." 

"So -- you don't know if it works or not," she said. 

"I have no doubt it works. I never saw anything of Jag's not work." 

"I want to try it." 

"No, Cindy. It's too precious." 

"You have another sample, and a dose is only a third of a root. Surely you can 
spare one dose." She looked into my eyes. "Just once I'd like to know what it 
feels like to come easily -- the way a man can. You never worry about coming." 

"No -- in my case it's a different worry. You have no trouble. You came okay 
last night." 

"Yeah -- merely okay. How would you rate my performance?" 

"How would you rate it?" 

"I asked you first." 

I looked at the ceiling. "Well... You were distracted ... understandably so. 
Once you got your mind focused, it was about par. It took you a little longer 
than usual. I can't experience your orgasm except vicariously, but it did appear 
to be longer and stronger than some. I'd give you a solid B-plus." 

"That's about right," she replied. "You said it -- once my mind was focused. I 
have news for you. Yes, I came last night, and yes, it was good. But, it was an 
effort for me. It's always an effort. I have to concentrate, and I never know 
for sure if I'll come or not until I start coming. Just once I'd like to know my 
orgasm is assured, so I can abandon myself to the experience. Please?" 

I shook my head. "No. Once I've worked up the chemistry and we have a synthetic 
source, then maybe..." 

"It sounds like you're talking about clinical trials. That could be years away. 
How long have you had these samples? You haven't been to South America since 
I've known you and that's been ten years." 

"The last time I went I discovered the village was gone and that part of the 
forest had been cleared. I was so upset I turned around and came home." 

"How do you know the root is still good?" 

"Jag said once dried it lasted indefinitely. He would harvest the roots whenever 
he encountered them and save them for posterity." 

"No wonder it's scarce -- it was over-harvested. I don't want to wait however 
long it's going to take for clinical trials. Please? I'll let you give it to me 
in my butt, if that's what it takes. I know you've wanted to get into there." 

"Now you're bribing me." 

"Let's do it for science. We'll use last night as our experimental control. 
Saturday I'm coming over for home-made pizza, right?" 

"Right..." 

"You KNOW what we'll end up doing afterward. Bring the root and we'll compare my 
responses to last night." 

I took the root from her, re-wrapped it and locked it in its box. "It goes 
against my better judgment." 





Part II

Saturday evening my bell rang. I let Cindy into my apartment. She set down her 
duffel and greeted me with a kiss. 

"Did you bring it?" she asked. "Did you bring the root?" I pointed to the wooden 
box on the table. "Oh, boy..." I could see the anticipation in her green eyes. 
"Do you have everything we need?" 

"I'm fully prepared," I replied. 

I took the pizza from the oven, cut it and set it on the table. Cindy picked up 
a water goblet. "No beer or wine?" 

"I didn't know how it would interact with the root," I replied. 

"Right, right..." 

Cindy pushed her empty plate back from the edge of the table and pressed her 
hand against her stomach. "You make the best hand-thrown pizza," she said. 

"I think you ate more than I did." 

"I skipped lunch for it. Your pizza is the one time I gorge myself." 

She helped me clear the table. "Shall we get started with our experiment?" I 
asked. "I'll prepare the root." 

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied. "I'll go change into something more 
comfortable." Cindy carried her duffel into the bathroom. 

I removed the root from its box, unwrapped it and measured off a third. This I 
cut with a paring knife and began chopping. 

"I'm giddy like a virgin on prom night," I heard her say. 

I turned and saw her approach from the bathroom. She was barefoot and wearing a 
short, green, see-through baby-doll nightgown and no briefs. The green matched 
her eyes. Not every woman looks good in green but she looked terrific. 

She had untied her ponytail and let her red mane fall about her shoulders, 
framing her face. Cindy never wore makeup and she didn't tonight -- that was 
fine with me. I looked her up and down, taking in her slender legs and her slim 
body. Her gown left nothing to the imagination. "Godammit, Cindy -- you look 
sexy." She gave me her winning smile. "A guy would be nuts to kick you out of 
bed on a cold night." 

"Plenty have," she replied. 

"Then, they were all nuts." 

Cindy approached me and ran her hand up and down my back as I did my work. She 
looked over my shoulder as I dumped the pieces of root into my blender. 

She picked up a small cardboard box. "What's this?" 

"It's a rectal bulb," I replied. "We'll use it to administer the nectar." 

She turned the box over in her hands. "So we fill it and squirt it in?" 

"It holds eight ounces," I replied. "One bulbful should do it." 

"That much?" She continued to examine the box. "Brand new? It still has the 
cellophane wrapper on it." She removed the wrap, opened the box and examined the 
bulb with its slender nozzle. "It doesn't look so bad, I guess..." 

"I had to look high and low to find one of those -- they're not carried by the 
drugstore chains anymore. I found it in a mom-and-pop pharmacy on the other side 
of town. It looked like it had been on the shelf for ten years. Of course if 
you'd like the authentic experience, we could use a gourd." "No thanks -- I'll 
stick with this." 

The kettle whistled and I poured a cup of boiling water onto the chunks and 
turned on the blender until the root was finely ground. 

"Now what?" she asked. 

"We let it steep and cool. In the meantime we can prep you." 

"Prep me?" 

"Yes... We need to give you an enema." 

"WHAT?" 

"Witch-doctor's orders: To be administered to a freshly-cleansed bowel." 

"I don't remember you saying that." 

"I certainly did. I said the colon must be emptied before administering the 
nectar." 

"Oh, shit... I guess you did say it. I had forgotten about that part. What if we 
just skip it?" 

"Jag did everything for a good reason." 

She shook her head. "Unh-unh. Not that. No way." She took a step backwards. 
"There's ... no ... effin' ... way." 

"I've already committed this root," I replied. "They don't make it any more. 
Jag's procedure called for a cleaned-out colon. I cut this up to make Royal 
Nectar. I'll be royally pissed-off if it goes to waste." 

"But... Isn't there another way? A ... laxative or ... something?" 

"Well -- I suppose we could give you some bowel-prep and clean you out from the 
top down. It would ruin the mood, I think -- it would take about eight hours, 
you'd have to force fluids the whole time, you'd have miserable stomach cramps 
and you'd poop so much that by the end you'd need a new O-ring installed down 
there. Besides, why purge all thirty feet of your digestive system when an enema 
will cleanse only the last thirty inches?" I almost could hear her crestfall. 
"Did you have a bad experience with one?" 

"No ... I've never had an enema." 

"Then, what are you afraid of?" 

"I have a cousin and her mother used to give them to her. She told me about 
them. My mother used to threaten me when I was sick ... she said she'd send me 
to Aunt Betty for an enema." Cindy stared at me, flexing her jaw. 

"That's an awful thing to do to a little girl," I replied. 

"My cousin told me how they cramped and hurt and how they made her cry." She 
continued flexing her jaw. 

"Then Aunt Betty wasn't doing it right," I replied. "It's not an unpleasant 
experience. When done correctly an enema can be administered with almost no 
discomfort at all. In fact some folks find it enjoyable. Most eevees find the 
notion of an enema far worse than the experience itself." 

"What are eevees?" 

"Enema virgins. You feel great after a good enema. It's a technique that goes 
back to antiquity. The Aztecs used them, as did the ancient Egyptians... The 
court of Louis XIV... All God's chillun use enemas." 

"Ha-le-lu-ia." She stared at me, still flexing her jaw. "What would happen if we 
didn't?" 

"Jag never told me why, so I can only guess. Perhaps something in bowel contents 
interferes with the drug. All I know is, it's part of the procedure. The nectar 
is an enema, too -- of the retention kind. You need to hold to absorb the drug, 
and it's lots easier to retain it if you're cleaned out first." 

She looked at me. She looked at the blender. She looked at the bulb. She looked 
back at me and let out an exasperated sigh. "All right -- I'll take the enema." 

She followed me into the bathroom. From a cabinet I took a bottle of Dr 
Bronner's unscented and a small measuring cup of the sort that comes with cough 
syrup. 

"Is that what you used for the bubble bath?" she asked. 

"This is unscented." 

She sniffed the bottle. "Smells soapy." 

"Fancy that." I measured a teaspoonful into the cup and put the bottle back in 
the cabinet. I ran water 'til it warmed up and measured three pints into a 
plastic, graduated pitcher. Then, I opened up the linen closet, withdrew a flat 
box and opened it. Inside was a red rubber combo syringe. I took the bag out of 
the box and examined it. "It's been a few years since Ol' Red has seen any 
action." 

"How old is that thing?" 

"Vintage 1958," I replied. "I inherited it from my grandma." I showed her the 
enema tip. "Look at this -- it's hard rubber, not plastic. They don't make 'em 
like this any more. See how it's made? Not a single sharp edge. This'll slide 
into you smooth as silk..." 

"Now, you're beginning to frighten me." 

"Nothing to fear," I replied as poured the contents of the pitcher into the bag 
and dumped in the castile. Then, I attached the stopper and hose, blew some air 
into it to inflate the bag, closed the clamp and rocked it to distribute the 
soap. "I know exactly what I'm doing." I affixed the nozzle. 

"I can tell -- and that's what's freaking me out. Why did you put soap in it?" 

"To make it a bit more purgative. The soap will stimulate your colon, and it 
also acts as a lubricant. I've found this to be the best recipe for a quick 
clean-out." 

"Oh, God... I'm sorry I agreed to this." 

"If I recall, you were the one begging for the nectar, and this is part of the 
procedure. Jag used an enema made of a bark decoction that I never experienced 
myself, but witnessed enough to know was a powerful purgative. The soap is mild 
enought to use on infants and I didn't use enough to cause you any distress. A 
normal dose is three times as much, and some folks use even more than that. The 
only thing this much soap will do is to encourage your colon to expel it all, so 
you won't have to get up in the middle of the night." I looked into her eyes. 
"Trust me, Cindy. I'd never hurt you. I'd never do anything to you that might 
hurt you. I'm not into hurting people and certainly not you." I held up the 
filled bag. "This might look scary, but believe me -- it is the best way." She 
bit her lip. "I KNOW what I'm doing. Do you trust me?" 

"Yeah... I guess... How do you know so much?" 

"I grew up living with my grandma. She was an RN from the Old School. She 
believed colonic hygiene was important to good health, and she practiced what 
she believed. When I was a kid, Saturday night enemas were the routine. When I 
became a teenager she taught me all I know -- and, she gave me a fountain 
syringe I could call my own. I've been doing it ever since. An enema is a great 
way to relax before bed." 

"If you say so... You never mentioned any of this." 

"Have you told me everything about yourself? I don't think so. Look how long it 
took you to tell me about your lesbian experience." 

"Touché. Is this the ... apparatus you use, too?" 

"Oh, no. I have my own personal gear. Ol' Red's reserved for special guests. You 
should feel privileged. Don't worry -- Red's clean and sanitized. I take good 
care of him." With my thumb I opened the clamp to flush air from the tube, 
aiming the stream into the sink. 

She regarded the filled bag. "How much is in that thing?" she asked. 

"I put in three pints. It's important to have sufficient volume, Cindy, for a 
good enema. A rough rule-of-thumb is, one pint for every fifty pounds of body 
weight." 

"I do NOT weigh 150," she protested. 

I stood back and regarded her. "I'll guess you weigh 130..." 

"About..." 

"Better to err on the high side. You don't have to take it all..." I held the 
bag next to her abdomen. "Three pints looks about right. Let me describe what 
you should expect. First the water fills your rectum. It may give you a 
sensation like you have to go, or maybe pass some gas. You'll need to fight that 
urge, but it shouldn't be too difficult for you. There's a sphincter at the top 
of your rectum that eventually will open, and let the water flow up into your 
colon. From that point on, it's easier until you're filled up. Then, you'll feel 
fullness and maybe some pressure. There may be some minor cramping along the way 
as your colon expands, but no pain. If you feel pain, tell me and we'll stop 
right away. Understand?" 

She swallowed and nodded. "Then what?" 

"You need to hold it for a while -- then you go sit on the toilet. When you're 
done you'll be one cleaned-out little girl." I looked into her eyes. "So, is it 
a go?" 

She closed her eyes and nodded again. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed 
a pot of petroleum jelly. Then I snagged a towel and gestured toward the door. 

"Come into my parlor," I said. Cindy followed me into the bedroom. She stopped 
short on spotting my camcorder set up on a tripod. 

"What's that for?" 

"Record keeping," I replied. "It's easier than note taking. We can establish a 
timeline on the drug -- how long it takes to act; its effects and so on." 

"I dunno..." 

"I had no intention of taping your enema." 

"That's a relief -- I was starting to get majorly weirded-out. I suppose it 
makes sense." I set down the bag, spread the towel on the bed and patted it. 
"Now what?" she asked. 

"Lie on your left side and draw up your knees." 

"Like this?" 

"Perfect. I'll tell you, Cindy -- I've been wanting to do this for years..." I 
opened the petroleum jelly and smeared some on the nozzle. 

"I figure you did -- you pervert. I've known you've wanted to get into my bottom 
one way or another." I scooped a glob of vaseline onto my finger, lifted the hem 
of her nightie, spread her buttocks and brushed aside some short, red hair that 
was the savanna to her pubic forest. Then I lubed her pinkish-brown hole with my 
fingertip, going in to my second knuckle and trying to remember the angle of her 
opening. "Hey!" she said. 

"You'll thank me when it comes time to expel. Okay -- relax. This won't hurt a 
bit..." I held the nozzle at the proper angle and touched it to the spot. With a 
slight twist I penetrated her and slid it into her rectum up to the hilt. "Now, 
stretch out your left leg and roll halfway onto your left side ... keep your 
right knee drawn up... Perfect. You can rest your left arm behind your back. Get 
comfortable. Ready?" 

"As ready as I'll ever be..." 

I held up the bag with one hand and snapped open the clamp with the other. "Oh, 
my God... Oh... My... God... That is the strangest sensation..." 

"What does it feel like?" 

"Sort of a cool flow inside my bottom." 

"I made it warm enough not to cause cramping, but cool enough for you to feel 
it. It's how I like them... Take slow, deep breaths. The motion of your 
diaphragm will flex your colon and minimize any cramping. 

I held the bag low for a gentle flow and watched her deep and deliberate 
breathing. "How are you doing?" I asked. 

"All right -- so far." 

"Is the breathing helping?" 

"Yeah... I felt some pressure at first. Then it released and I could feel it ... 
flooding up my left side." She took a pair of very deep breaths through her 
mouth. 

"Cramp?" I asked. 

"It started to it's okay now..." 

"Your colon is a little kinky. It needs to unfold as it fills up." 

"It's not the only thing that's a little kinky. It's under my ribs, now. I felt 
bubbles inside." 

"We're taking it slow." I watched the bag deflate. "You're doing fine, Cindy." 

"Now it's on my right side." 

"Do you remember your anatomy?" I asked. 

"Yeah," she said, "I do... I'm starting to feel uncomfortable." 

"Fullness? Pressure?" I asked. 

"Uh-uh ... bloat..." She pressed her right hand against her abdomen. "I think my 
stomach is bulging. Is that normal?" 

"To some extent..." I pinched the bag. "You have a little less than a pint to 
go." 

She resumed her deep breathing. "Really uncomfortable, now..." 

"We'll slow down even more..." I pinched the hose to release the remaining water 
into her in short bursts. "Relax your belly and let it fill. Tell me if you 
think you absolutely can't take any more. You're doing great Cindy ... almost 
done ... going ... going..." The bag emptied and I removed the nozzle from her 
bottom. "...gone. Good job! You took it all." 

"Now what?" 

"Now you hold it for a while." 

"How long?" 

"As long as you can stand it -- preferably for a minimum of five minutes." 

"Five minutes?" 

"Fifteen would be better. This is the second secret to a good enema -- holding 
it. Why don't you roll onto your back -- it might be more comfortable for you." 

Cindy rolled over. She ran her hands along her sides. "I can't believe how full 
I am. My stomach's huge... I can't believe I took so much." 

"You could've taken twice that," I replied. "It's a matter of how much 
discomfort you can tolerate." Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide. "Is 
something wrong?" 

"Yeah -- that bulge in your pants." 

"This is a very sexy thing to do, Cindy." 

"If you say so." 

"I'm going to massage your abdomen a bit." 

"Massage?" 

"Don't freak -- I'm gonna be real gentle..." I ran my hand along her abdomen and 
felt her through the sheer fabric of her gown. "Here," I said, leading her 
fingers, "you can feel the outline of your entire colon..." 

"Huh..." I pressed my fingertips gently on her sides in several spots. "Ummph," 
she grunted. "Mmmph ... I'm starting to cramp..." 

"Hold it back," I coached. 

She closed her eyes and grimaced; then panted. "How much longer?" 

"It's been about two minutes." 

"Only two?" 

"I know in this situation each minute feels like ten..." 

"Another cramp..." She bit her lip, clamped her eyes shut and grunted. A long, 
low gurgle came from her belly. 

"Good -- the enema is inducing peristaltic waves in your colon." 

She gasped. "This is reminding me of labor -- not that I've been in labor." 

"They used to give enemas to induce labor." 

She grimaced again and another gurgle came from her belly. "Uhhh!" she gasped. 
"I almost had an accident that time. Can't I go now? I'm starting to feel sick 
to my stomach ... please?" 

"Okay -- go sit on the toilet, but you should keep holding it for as long as you 
can. Wait for pressure to build and then relax your bottom and let it come out 
on its own. Leaning over and hugging your shins can help get rid of the last of 
it." I pointed to my right side. "If you're sitting upright, your colon has to 
pump it uphill. It helps to move around on the toilet -- lean back, stretch one 
arm above your head. Don't be in too big of a hurry to expel it, and don't 
strain if there's nothing there. That's how you get hemorrhoids and I'd hate to 
think of your cute little pucker with hemorrhoids." She gave me a stony stare. 
"Just kidding." 

"No. I don't think you are." She sat up, swung her feet to the floor and stood. 

"Wait..." I ran my hand along her stomach. Her abdomen was bulging from above 
her navel to her mons, especially on the right side. 

"Do you mind?" 

"I'm sorry -- go." 

She was in the bathroom for almost half an hour. In the meantime I made 
preparations for administering the root infusion. I poured the contents of the 
blender through a strainer and into a half-litre lab beaker, carried it into the 
bedroom and set it on the nightstand along with the petroleum jelly and a bulb-
style enema syringe. Then, I undressed, slipped into a robe and softened the 
lights. 

Cindy returned from the bathroom. "I'm sorry I took so long," she said, "but 
every time I thought I was done more came out." 

"How did it go?" I asked. 

"It was like ... the anal equivalent of puking my guts out. Wave after wave ... 
I couldn't believe how much came out. It was like the worst case of diarrhea 
I've ever had." 

"Maybe you should walk around for a while in case any more drains out of you." 

"No, I feel like I'm pretty empty." 

"Then you are ready for the nectar. Did you have cramps?" 

"Not really ... not bad ones. Just a lot of wet, sloppy ... stuff." 

"Mmm... I'll bet it felt good, getting rid of it." 

"Yeah ... the same way banging your head against a brick wall feels good once 
you stop." 

"Expelling an enema is half the fun. Admit it -- it wasn't as bad as you 
anticipated." 

"No, it really wasn't so bad." 

"Admit it -- you feel better now than before." 

She ran her hands along her sides. "My insides do feel oddly relaxed." 

"Admit it -- you'll want to try it again sometime." 

"Maybe..." She held her hand against her belly. "I'll say this -- my stomach is 
flat." 

"Your stomach always is flat." 

"Never this flat... I was looking at myself in the mirror before and after." She 
led my fingers along her abdomen. "Feel. It usually pooches out a little here." 

"Did you know that ballerinas sometimes give themselves enemas prior to 
performances to flatten their stomachs?" 

"You certainly are the expert. I don't know why you didn't become a gastro-
enterologist." 

"I want to keep it recreational. It's an avocation, not a vocation. Now that you 
know how good an empty colon feels -- I'll bet you'll come begging for more." 

"Think what you like..." She approached the nightstand and picked up the beaker 
of pale yellow-green liquid. "This is it?" 

"That's it -- Royal Nectar." 

She sniffed it and turned up her lip. "I'm glad I'm not drinking it." 

"Shall we get started?" 

"How do you want me? Same position?" 

"Left side and draw up both knees. I'm going to start taping..." I grabbed the 
camcorder's remote control from the nightstand, aimed it at the tripod and 
pressed the button. Its red record light came on. Then, I picked up the bulb, 
squeezed out the air and filled it with the infusion. I dipped into the vaseline 
and lifted her hem. "Are you tender here from the enema?" I asked. 

"No, I'm fine. You were right about that -- I think the vaseline helped." 

With my finger I lubed her anus and slid the nozzle into her. "Ready?" 

"Ready... " 

"Tell me everything you experience." I squeezed the bulb to inject its contents 
into her rectum and pulled out the tip. "One thing for sure... It's not like 
someone could slip you some of this without your knowledge." 

"True fact..." 

"There's a little left in the beaker so I'm going to give you another squirt." I 
refilled the bulb, re-inserted the nozzle and squeezed. "Oops ... some air went 
in. Sorry." 

"I felt it. You know, I was a little apprehensive about having you squirt that 
into me. After the enema -- this was nothing." 

"No irritation?" 

"Just a cool squirt," she replied. "Now I feel the coolness infiltrating up my 
left side." 

"It's flowing into your descending colon. Lie like that while I put this stuff 
away." 

When I returned Cindy still was lying on her side. I slipped off my robe, lay on 
the bed against the headboard and patted the mattress between my thighs. 

She snuggled against me with her back against my chest and put her hand on my 
knee. I hugged her under her ribs and kissed her neck. 

"I don't feel anything yet," she said. 

"How does your colon feel? Any cramping?" 

"No cramping, no nothing ... it feels fine ... a little squishy, maybe. I don't 
feel the least bit horny, though." 

"More precisely -- you don't feel the least bit hornier. I've never known you 
when you're not horny." 

"It comes from being over-sexed and under-laid," she replied, stroking my leg. 
"You know, I'm glad you're not real hairy. I think really hairy men are gross." 

"I'll shave my legs for you if you like." 

"No -- don't do that. I think men with shaved legs are creepy. You're just hairy 
enough..." She stroked my shin. "I like your legs how they are. You have nice 
legs ... for a guy." 

"Anything yet?" I asked. 

"No, not yet. What's it been? Ten minutes?" 

"About. I'd think if your colon were absorbing it you'd feel something by now." 

"Maybe it isn't working. Maybe you got the wrong root." 

"No -- it was a distinctive plant." 

"Maybe the shelf life isn't indefinite. Maybe it's gone stale sitting in your 
carved box." 

"Jag said he's used specimens older than mine." 

"Maybe the effect is psychological. Or, maybe Jag is playing a joke on you -- 
having a good laugh at your expense." 

"I suppose it's possible... Oh, well..." I began stroking the side of her 
breast. "You are sexy in this nightgown, Cindy." 

"What, with my too-big hands and too-long feet? My knobby knees and skinny legs? 
I hate my skin -- all freckly." 

"Don't sell yourself short, Cindy. You're an attractive woman. You have a great 
body, a very pretty smile and beautiful eyes... And, lovely breasts with very 
pretty nipples... You never told me why you got them pierced." 

"You never asked," she replied. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I did 
it for my first boyfriend. I was a freshman in college and just turned 
eighteen." 

"Why do you keep them? For his sake?" 

"No -- for mine. I got used to them and I kinda like how they feel. I used to 
have a brow ring and a nose stud, but I took them out when I graduated -- not 
professional I thought. I kept these because no one sees them. Besides, I figure 
if I ever took one out I'd never get it back in again. Do you like 'em?" 

"They're part of you, so I like them." I kissed the top of her head, put my arms 
around her and squeezed her. "Cindy -- I hope my thing for enemas hasn't put you 
off too much." 

"If it had been our first date, I would have been outa here. I've known you for 
so many years... It's part of you, so..." 

"So, you like it?" 

"So, I'm okay with it." She picked up my hand and kissed it. "How much longer 
should we wait?" 

"I don't know..." I continued stroking her breast with the backs of my fingers. 
Then, I ran my finger down, across her nipple. 

She gasped. "I felt that," she said. 

"I'm sorry..." 

"No, that's not it." She touched her mons. "I felt it in here." 

"Do you mean if I do this?" I ran my fingers up and down her chest across her 
nipples. 

"Yes... Oh, God that feels good." 

"Doesn't it always feel good?" 

"Not this good." I stroked her nipples through the fabric. They were beginning 
to firm. "Oh!" 

"Do you think it's the drug?" 

"It must be. The sensations are ten times as intense. Do more!" 

"It must be how the drug works -- you need to be aroused to feel it." I grabbed 
the balls on the ends of her piercings and began moving them in circles. 

"No," she said, "on my skin." 

I pulled her spaghetti straps off her shoulders, folded down the bodice of her 
nightgown and began pinching her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I 
could feel the shafts of her piercings under her skin. 

"Oh, yes... Like that..." She dug her fingers into my thighs and squeezed. Her 
breathing slowed and deepened. "Oh, God ... this feels unlike anything I've ever 
felt before... Mmm ... mmm ... mmm..." I could feel her heart accelerate. 
"Deeper," she said, "like you're milking them ... both sides..." I began a deep 
massage of her breasts, stroking outward, squeezing her areolas and pulling on 
her nipples. 

"Oh!" she gasped. "My clit feels like it's the size of a golf ball..." 

I looked between her legs. "Nothing's peeking," I replied. 

"It's what it feels like -- like it's gonna burst." 

"Shall I stop?" 

"NO! Do more ... more ... MORE!" I pinched, rolled and massaged her breasts. She 
began panting and her heart was racing. "Oh, God, more!" I squeezed her areolas 
and rubbed the tips of her nipples "...I'm gonna come ... Oh, God ... don't stop 
... don't change it... MORE!" She grimaced, pulled her shoulder blades back and 
pressed her breasts into my fingers. "OHHHH," she moaned, gasped and panted. 
Then she turned around and looked into my face. 

"Did you really come?" I asked. "Did you just have a nipple orgasm?" 

"Yes..." 

"Have you ever had one before?" 

"No -- never." 

"What was it like?" 

"It felt like a regular one." 

"You mean you felt it in your..." 

"I felt it where I always feel it." 

"Did the drug do that?" 

"It must've." 

"So, now are you done?" 

Oh, God, no. -- I need more. Let's try one of your world-famous oral jobs." 

Cindy lay on her back and rolled apart her thighs. I knelt between them and 
caressed her smooth legs. I kissed her knees and lay between them; worked my 
nose between her labia and inhaled her scent. 

I parted her bush, slipped my tongue into her slit and found her clit. It was as 
hard as a ball bearing. Cindy crossed her ankles over my back. I slipped my arms 
under her thighs. I figured her nipples were probably still tender, so I 
caressed her abdomen under the fabric of her nightgown, fingered her navel and 
ran my fingers through her red bush. 

Then, I began the back-and-forth on her clit with my tongue. I could feel her 
flexing her clitoral shaft. "Oh, God! I'm gonna come!" She grabbed my forearms, 
arched her back and moaned. "Ohhhhh... Stop..." 

There was no way I was going to stop. It was happening too fast. I lightened my 
tongue pressure but kept the rhythm and looked up at her. She had closed her 
eyes and was biting her lip. Then, she started flexing her clit again. I upped 
the pressure. "MORE!" she gasped and moaned again. 

Wave after orgasmic wave washed over her. She pounded the mattress. I grabbed 
her hand and she squeezed mine in a white-knuckled grip. For the next half hour 
I tongued her clit. She came non-stop, one after another. Her moaning grew 
louder. I could see her ribcage heave with her panting and gasping. I knew she 
was coming hard because each time I could feel the muscles in her pelvic floor 
push against my chin. 

I moved my fingers up under her gown and massaged her breasts. The power of her 
orgasms increased and her thighs were trembling. I wondered how long she could 
go on. Finally she stroked my hair. "Stop," she panted. 

I came up from between her thighs. A deep flush had spread across her face, neck 
and upper chest. I cradled her in my arms and kissed her. Her lips were dry from 
mouth- breathing. She put her arms around me and held tight. "Oh, God," she 
said, "oh, God... I came lots ... lots..." 

I helped her sit and lifted the nightgown from her. She threw her arms around me 
again and covered my face with kisses. I eased her onto her back and kissed her 
naked body from her navel to her chin and down again. 

When I reached her breasts I started tonguing a nipple, feeling the hard steel 
of her piercing against her soft flesh. She threw her arms around my neck and 
held the back of my head, squeezing my face against her breast. I held her 
across her shoulder blades. Together we rolled to our sides. I drew as much of 
her breast into my mouth as I could, the scent of her skin filling my nostrils. 
She squeezed my thigh between her knees and groaned. 

I needed to come up for some air. "God, Cindy," I said, "were those more nipple 
orgasms?" 

"I don't know," she panted. "Maybe..." 

I coaxed her onto her back again. She rolled open her thighs. I caressed them, 
knelt between them and went inside her. She locked her legs with mine and rocked 
her hips. I felt her nails digging into my back as I thrust against her. 

"Harder!" she gasped. "Push harder!" 

"I'm pushing as hard as I can..." I tried to last as long as I could but it was 
all too much for me. I squeezed her, pushed in deep and ejaculated. "Oh, God 
Cindy..." I grunted. 

"That's it?" she asked. "That's all? I need more!" 

"You know I never last very long. It's why I developed my oral technique -- to 
compensate." 

"Oh, my God..." She stroked my cheek. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry... I wasn't 
complaining... I wasn't criticizing you ... I just got caught up in it and... I 
didn't mean..." Her eyes started filling. 

"Cindy, it's all right..." I kissed cheeks and her eyelids. "It's all right -- 
no need to cry. You need what you need. It's my fault -- I didn't realize you 
weren't done yet... Okay?" 

"Okay," she sniffed. 

"Let's try this..." I plumped a pillow and propped her shoulders. Then, I 
slipped two fingers into her vagina. 

"What are you doing?" she asked. 

"I'm trying to find your G-spot." 

"Don't you know?" she replied. "G-spot's a myth. What you're doing feels good, 
though... In a little further and press harder." 

"Like this?" I pushed my fingers in and massaged the roof of her vagina. 

"Mmm... That's it -- just like that." 

"What if I add this to it?" With my other hand I began pinching and rolling her 
hard little clit between my thumb and forefinger. "You are so wet," I said. 

"I've never been this aroused in my whole life. What you're doing feels soooo 
good... I've never felt anything like it..." 

"Still think G-spot's a myth?" 

"I dunno..." Cindy began squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples. Her 
breathing became panting. "That's perfect," she gasped. "Don't change it. It's 
building... Mmm ... building... I'm gonna come... I'm gonna come real hard. It 
won't take too long, now..." 

"You mean you haven't been coming hard?" 

"This is the big one ... the big kahuna... Almost there ... don't change it ... 
I'm coming... Oh! OH GOD!" 

She closed her eyes and grimaced. Her face reddened and the vein in the center 
of her forehead began to stand out. Her flush spread to the upper part of her 
chest. She arched her back. "UHHH!" she grunted. A jet of fluid hit me on the 
shoulder. 

"Cindy -- you just squirted me." 

"What?" She sat up and looked at the splotch on my shoulder, touched the liquid 
and brought her finger to her nose. 

"Didn't you feel it?" 

"I don't know what I felt -- it was so intense ... the strongest one ever..." 

"Did it feel like pressure building and releasing?" I asked. 

"Maybe... I don't know..." 

"It's a response that, as a man, I can identify with," I replied. 

"It's never happened before. Let me see if I can do it again. I want to watch 
this time... Do what you were doing." 

She sat with her back against the headboard. I began massaging inside her vagina 
and pinching her clit again. She pushed my hand away and began rubbing it 
herself, squeezing her breasts with her left hand. I watched her grimace and 
bite her lip. She grunted, lifted her hips and groaned. Another jet squirted 
from between her labia. "Oh, God," she gasped and fell back on the bed, panting. 

I crawled to where she lay and embraced her. "You've had quite a night, haven't 
you?" She nodded, still breathing hard. "Are you done?" 

"I think so..." she panted. She was beginning to recover her breath. "I lost 
count of how many... It was lots ... lots..." She put her arms around my neck 
and gave me the biggest, deepest kiss I had ever received. 

I lay on my back. "Let's cuddle," I said. "That way you can calm down." 

She knelt beside me. "Mmm... Look at you..." She slipped her fingers around my 
erection. "You've made a remarkable recovery." 

"Watching you climax is a major turn-on." 

"It is, is it?" 

"Yeah, and those were some major climaxes you had." 

"Well, we can't let this go to waste," she said. 

"We don't need to do more." 

"This isn't for me." she replied. "This is just for you." She climbed atop me 
and I slid back inside her. I felt the warmth of her abdomen against mine. We 
locked legs and she began thrusting her hips. We made sloppy, slurping, squishy 
noises from all the fluid in her. 

Cindy lifted herself up so I could fondle her breasts. I felt her heart 
beginning to race again. She lay against me, embraced my shoulders and started 
moaning. "Oh, God..." she gasped. "I'm gonna come more!" I realized then it was 
no longer just for me. 

I held her across the small of her back and ran my hand along her buttocks. My 
fingers encountered her anus, still slippery from the vaseline; and I slipped 
the middle one in. She grunted, thrust harder and her sphincter pulsed as 
orgasms washed over her. Her juices were trickling between my legs. 

It's usually hard for me to come twice so soon, but not this time. My climax 
approached. I held onto her buttocks, pushed in and grunted as my release swept 
over me. Cindy kept thrusting her hips against mine. 

"Cindy... Cindy... I'm spent. Aren't you?" She gasped and panted. "It's time to 
stop and cool off." I brushed some of her hair from her eyes. Her face was beet 
red, her forehead and neck were dripping with perspiration and her hair was 
stuck to her skin. I was lying on a dinner-plate sized -- and growing -- wet 
spot that I was sure had soaked through to the carpet. 

Cindy rested her face against my chest. I gathered her thick red tangle, pulled 
it aside and stroked her upper arm. "Cindy, do you want a drink of water?" Her 
lips parted, her breathing grew deep and regular and turned into soft snoring. I 
felt her body relax and her legs twitch against mine. "Guess not..." 

The red light on the camcorder caught my eye. I picked up the remote and pressed 
the stop key. Then, I switched off the light and closed my eyes. 





Morning's light roused me. I opened my eyes and gazed into a pair of green ones. 
"Good morning," she said. 

"Morning. Been awake for long?" 

"Not long. I slept better than I ever remember." 

"It was quite a night you had. Aren't you sore?" 

"No." 

"I am. That second time was so good it hurt." 

"What is it about men? I had dozens of orgasms last night and I'm no worse for 
wear." 

"I don't know about men but I know about this man," I said tapping my chest. 
"Twice is stretching my ability." 

She pulled the covers from me and wrapped her hand around my flaccid organ. 
"Poor little thing -- all tuckered out..." 

"We made a mess of the bed," I said. "I think I'm going to have to burn the 
mattress. Next time you come over I'll put on a rubber sheet." Cindy continued 
to finger me. "We can erase that tape if you'd prefer." 

"I had forgotten all about it. No -- I want to watch it. I want to see me 
squirt. I didn't know I could do that. I've heard stories about women who can 
but I never thought..." She squeezed her fingers around me. "Look at it -- not 
so injured after all. Come on, li'l guy -- you can do it... Shall I kiss it to 
make it better?" She wrapped her lips around my glans and caressed it with her 
tongue; then looked up at me with a smile. "I think he's ready for more 
action..." 

She climbed onto me, knelt astride my hips and put her hands on my chest. I 
reached up and began caressing her breasts with the backs of my fingers. 

"This feels nice," she said. "Close ... intimate. Do you like?" 

I nodded. "Not like our drunken monkey sex of last night." 

"I'll never forget last night," she replied. "I learned something about myself." 

"And, I learned something, too." 

"What did you learn?" 

"You tell me first." 

"I learned what my body is capable of." 

"With the help of the drug, that is." 

"No -- I think I could do it without it. It might take me a little longer is 
all. I just had to know I could." 

"Even your nipple orgasms?" 

"Maybe not that." She rolled her eyes upward. "Hmm... Maybe that, too -- with 
some practice. I learned I've been making a mistake all these years." 

"What's that?" I put my hand on her thigh, slid my thumb between her labia and 
rested it against her clitoral shaft. With a rocking motion I began massaging 
her. 

"Mmm... That feels really good... My mistake was telling you to stop after my 
first orgasm. Last night ... the more I came the easier it was for me to come 
more. I reached a meditative state. It was unbelievable." 

"It must've felt good." 

"Saying it felt good is like saying the Grand Canyon is a hole in the ground. It 
was exhausting, though." 

"Was it the drug or the orgasms?" 

"The drug simply lowered a barrier. I'm sure I can leap it by myself next time. 
I can't wait." 

"So, do you think this is how sex will be for us from now on?" 

She shook her head. "No, I don't" Then, she smiled one of her prettiest smiles, 
her eyes sparkling. "I think it'll get better and better and better." 

"And to think a few days ago you were envying me. I can't imagine what it must 
be like to be a woman. It's so far outside my range of experience." 

"You were wonderful -- simply wonderful -- so patient and attentive... Even 
during the enema I felt you were taking care of me... Of ME. Too many guys don't 
appreciate how important that is." She touched my wrist. "Over to the side a 
little ... perfect..." 

She continued to rock back and forth as I massaged her with my thumb. I watched 
her ribs and abdomen heave as her breathing slowed and deepened. "Are you going 
to come?" I asked. 

"Uh-uh..." She nodded, lifted her face, arched her back and let out a low groan. 
"Mmm... You can stop," she said. 

"You don't want to drive on for more?" 

"No, not now. I just wanted to prove to myself how easy it is. Now I want to 
make you come." 

"I don't know," I replied. "Twice in twenty-four hours is a lot for me. Three 
times?" I shook my head. "It's okay if I don't. Really." 

"Follow your own advice," she replied. "Don't care if you do or not. Lose 
yourself in the sensations ... enjoy the moment. Last night I finally understood 
what you've been telling me to do." She continued caressing my chest and ran her 
fingertips across my nipples. "You like this -- don't you? I can tell because 
you got bigger and firmer." 

"It feels good." 

"I'll say," she replied, "you're up against my cervix, now..." Cindy rocked and 
rotated her hips. "Feel that?" 

"I feel it..." I gazed into her face and she smiled. Then I reached up and 
touched her breast. I ran my finger along her pale skin, following a blue vein 
that crossed her areola before diving deeper into her flesh, and stroking her 
almost invisible baby-hair. She continued to rock her hips and to caress my 
breasts. I traced the outline of her areola, felt the textures of her soft skin 
and the hard stainless steel of her piercing. Suddenly the thrill was as if I 
were seeing her nude for the first time. I grabbed her thighs, closed my eyes 
and pushed against her. 

"That's it," she said as she worked my nipples with her fingertips, "come to 
Cindy..." 

"Uhhh..." I grunted as I squirted into her, then settled into the pillow to 
catch my breath. 

Cindy lay beside me, under my left arm. "Oh, God," I said. "I am so sore. I'll 
need to wear my balls in a sling for the rest of the week." I held her across 
her shoulder blades and pet the downy red hair on her forearm. 

"Mmm," she said. "I still feel it." 

"Just now?" I asked. 

"Mmm... I think when you came you were in just the right spot. You must've 
squirted some directly into my womb." 

"Has that ever happened before?" I asked. 

"Not to my recollection. I have this ... tingly feeling deep in my pelvis." 

"Gee, Cindy -- I hope it's not unpleasant." 

"Unpleasant? Not in the least." She kissed my cheek. "I told you what I learned. 
You haven't told me, yet." 

"I learned the truth about the two of us," I replied. "I learned I love you, 
Cindy." 

"Oh, my God! Don't say that!" 

"But, it's true. You're the one I've been looking for and you've been under my 
nose for ten years. I do..." 

She clamped her hand over my mouth. "Don't you dare use that L-word in my 
presence again! Don't you know it's a four-letter word?" 

"But..." 

"You and I are NOT lovers. We're just friends. Understand? Just friends." 

"Can't we be more than that?" 

"Okay -- we're best friends." 

"Best friends who see each other naked..." 

"Right." 

"And, who exchange body fluids. But, not lovers." 

"I don't want to ruin what you and I have with love," she replied. "I've been 
hurt so badly by it -- I hate it. I don't want to fall in love again. Ever." 

"In that case, stick with me and you won't have to. I'll keep you safe from it." 
I kissed her forehead. "Okay?" 

"Okay." 

"There's just one problem." 

"What's that?" 

"If I can't use the L-word with you... How can I tell you how much I care for 
you?" 

"What's wrong with how you're telling me right now?" 



Copyright (C) 2008 by the author. Redistribution in any form is strictly 
prohibited without the expressed, written consent by the author. 

Your comments are welcome -- compliments, complaints, gripes, bitches or cheap 
shots are all welcome. For contact information, or for more works by the author 
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