Looking up to the screen, Dr Zoptic snickers at Ashleigh “Busy girl. Hope she gets to work on time.” Returning to her officious voice, Dr Zoptic intoned, “I believe that the attraction of males to watching girl — girl intercourse is a latent castration anxiety. Girl — girl scenes are the most popular attraction for fertility clinic harvesting spermatozoa from all donors — particularly hale and hearty, brainy male med students. The secret is that there’s a latent fear of the power of female sexuality,” Dr Zoptic chuckled, “The aggressive, intelligent, independent woman, the Castratrix!” Dr Zoptic declares. With a snicker she adds, “With all these guy’s brains shouldn’t they know better? Like all men, the braniacs”
“If the potential yield,” Dr Zoptic orated, “is valuable enough and auto stimulation, mechanical stimulation and material sparking the imagination fails,” Dr Zoptic releases the patient’s scrotum and hands the patient a sperm collection condom. Tapped on the shoulder, the patient bends over and reaches behind him to spread the hemispheres of his butt cheeks.
Discarding her gloves for a fresh pair, Dr Zoptic addresses the students, “As a last resort, a prostate message will induce ejaculation,” Giggling Dr Zoptic adds, “or shall we say produce a strike of bubblin’ crude.”
“You’ll take Carter’s job,” I told Zaftig, “and the girl he jilted finds sexual satisfaction with other women.”
“I need to take a shower,” Zaftig savored the irony, “so that I can be presentable to shower with Dr Windham in the morning. I suppose I can just find a clean pair of scrubs.”
“No,” I instructed, “wear the clothes you had selected to wear to your graduation. They’re still in the box. Also wear them to the filming of the shower scene. We can have you on camera taking off the outfit Carter stole before you run into the shower bare breasts bobbing…”
“Put on clothes to take them off,” Zaftig thought aloud, “Does that make me a stripper?” Zaftig hugged me. Her bare DD boobs were embedded in my chest. “Help me to the bathroom. I’m so tired I might fall down.”
My heart raced. Has the moment I’ve prayed for since I met Zaftig arrived? Arm in arm we skipped to the bathroom. At the door, she skillfully slipped away and locked the door in my face.
Imagine, I thought, I’d have trusted her with knowledge of my deformity, the secret I carefully safe-guard.
•••
The following night at the fertility clinic, a much refreshed Zaftig in her new outfit that exuded professionality, brushed past me and Al, apologizing, “Sorry I’m late. First day off in three months I slept the day away. Two weeks off. I start classes in computer science. Al hand — signalled one of his cameramen to follow Zaftig.
Pointed in the direction of the locker, Zaftig started stripping off as she ran down the corridor; finally rendering herself naked but still shod. Pausing to hobble on one foot, Zaftig removed one boot then the other and ran into the locker yelling “Sorry I’m late.” Entering the shower, Zaftig froze. Under a shower spigot, tall buxom Ashleigh was locked in an embrace with a cute, petite, pony tailed, honey blond girl. “Don’t mind me,” Zaftig promised as she unperturbed turned the shower on, “I’ll be gone in a jiffy.”