

Her

Catalyst

## a story of hope and love

## in an alternate timeline

# Part 01 of 25

## Geoff Schultz

ebook format edition - distributed by www.smashwords.com

Copyright 2020 by Geoff Schultz

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events in this book are products of this writer's imagination or, in the case of referenced historical persons, are used fictitiously. Any other similarity to actual persons, names, or events is purely coincidental.

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License Statement: 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 recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this writer.

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Note to the Reader: The principal elements of this story were previously released under a different title by Glynn Glenn who requested that this writer rewrite and release this story under his own name.

WARNING:

Each of the 25 Parts of Her Catalyst has some descriptive scenes of intimate pleasure experienced individually or shared between consenting adults which are inappropriate to children and will be offensive to some adults. Some Parts also have brief descriptive scenes of violence unrelated to intimacy. In addition, some of the statements and ideas expressed by the characters may be offensive to some people. The intent of this writer is not to be offensive, but to allow the characters to practice their right of the freedom of speech.

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An explanatory note:

This story takes place in an alternate time line which uses a calendar of ten months with six weeks of six days each. The remaining five days are set aside for the New Year holiday at the beginning of the year which expands to six days every fourth year.

Months are identified as 'first' through 'tenth' with the New Year holiday being the 'zero' month at the beginning of each year. The days of the week are known as: first-day, second-day, third-day, fourth-day, fifth-day, and sixth-day. Dates are recorded with four digits for the year, two digits for the month, and two digits for the day. For example, 2120-06-18 refers to the year 2120, the 6th month, and the 18th day.

Days are divided into 24 hours with the start of the hour being referred to by the number followed by the word 'hundred'. For example, noon is called 'twelve hundred' and an hour later is 'thirteen hundred'. Rather than use precise times, the following abbreviations are used to designate general time periods with the dates:

(n) for night or about from 0001 to 0600

(m) for morning or about from 0601 to 1200

(a) for afternoon or about from 1201 to 1800

(e) for evening or about from 1801 to 2400

For inclusive time period listings with dates, '>' is used between time period abbreviations. For example (m>a) means from the morning into or through the afternoon. For partial time period listings with dates, (a1) is the first part of the afternoon and (a2) is the second part of the afternoon.

The cartographic coordinates used in this story to identify municipalities and other locations are based on a defined circumference of the earth of 25,000 miles divided into 1,000 units of 25 miles each. Longitudinal coordinates begin near the western edge of the Western Ocean (in the reader's timeline it's called the Pacific Ocean) and reach the 500th unit near the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. While the units are 25 miles apart at the equator, their separation diminishes as the location nears the North and South poles. Latitudinal coordinates begin at the North Pole and maintain a 25 mile separation to reach the 250th unit at the equator and the 500th unit at the South Pole. After the cartographic coordinates were defined, it was discovered that the circumference of the earth around the poles is less than it is around the equator so there is some overlap of units at the North and South poles based on maintaining the 25 mile interval between units measured from the equator. For the story of why the cartographic coordinates were developed, please read The Trouble With Luck available at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/GeoffSchultz.

# Her Catalyst – Part 01

2142-07-15

After her beloved Papa died when Angelisa was a little girl, Mama had very little time to give her in order to help her deal with such a devastating loss and no time to continue to teach her at home since she had to work more hours to keep the family restaurant open. To make bad matters worse, at least as far as Angelisa was concerned, she was forced to go to 'school' where they spoke a language she barely knew and nobody would explain to her what the lines and squiggles of the written language meant. A few years later when Mama married Yohseef, who cooked for the restaurant, and they had a baby, Angelisa had even less undivided attention from Mama.

It seemed like Angelisa's only solace was to be able to immerse herself in her culture's books with their stories and history, but as she grew older there was so little time for that when she had to rush home from school in order to work in the restaurant until it closed. That also didn't give her any time for a social life, not that she was interested in being involved in the antics of her multitude of cousins or of her classmates. And those antics only became more disturbing as she went through puberty and found out that her cultural 'career path' was to be a baby factory.

In an effort to escape reality which became more unpleasant with each passing month, Angelisa had made several unsuccessful attempts to sneak in and grab one of her uncle's handguns. When that solution was denied her, it seemed like the only way to even delay the inevitable was to stay in school, but that meant she had to learn to read what they called the 'standard' language. Since she received no help from the public school, she started going to the public library after school reading program and is already trying to work with a second tutor after the first one told her she was hopeless.

In some ways, it seems like the only thing she can take some pride in is her efforts to avoid being noticed. But, today, as she walks from school to the public library, it looks like her abilities have deserted her or her luck has run out when she notices Hektor start to follow her. Angelisa walks a little faster without making it look like she's hurrying, but before she can get to the library, he quickly closes the gap, grabs her arm, jerks her to a stop, and tells her, "Don't run away."

"Leave me alone!"

While he firmly holds her with one hand, he roughly caresses her arm with his other hand and says, "No. I think it's time for me to show you a good time."

As she tightly holds her books to her chest, Angelisa proclaims, "I don't want it. Leave me alone!"

"Don't you want to have some fun? A lot of the other girls enjoyed it." He tries to push his hand under her books.

She tries to turn away, "No! Go away! Leave me alone!"

"Hey, Hektor!"

He releases Angelisa, turns, and asks, "Can't you see I'm busy, Eddie?"

She's not sure how long he'll be distracted so Angelisa quickly moves away. As she nears the public library, she glances over her shoulder and sees that Hektor is catching up. He isn't running which might attract attention, but she isn't sure she can make it inside before he catches her. Then she spots her new tutor walking out of the parking lot so she makes a detour and calls out, "Mr. G."

He stops and as she gets closer, he says, "Hello, Angelisa. How are you?"

"I'm doing better now, Mr. G," as she glances back to see that Hektor has turned around and she tries to keep her relief from being too obvious. Then she almost blanches as she asks herself, "But how will I escape Hektor tomorrow?"

* * * * *

2142-09-22

Since she's feeling quite vulnerable and close to numb, Rebeka sits at the kitchen table and waits for her dad to come home from work. She really wishes her mom was still alive and she has to bite her lip to keep those tears inside.

She hears the back door open then her dad just stares at her for a few moments before he closes the door and says rather sarcastically, "Well, Rebel, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

Rebeka tries to speak, but nothing comes out.

"It's a good thing your mother can't see you."

She slams the side of her fist onto the table but doesn't raise her voice as she says, "Don't remind me that she's gone." The silence stretches then she quietly says, "Dad, . . . I was raped."

The silence is almost deafening before he says, "So, you finally admit that you've been screwing around."

"No, Dad, I haven't. . . . I was raped."

"That's a likely story. The way you've been acting and dressing, you might as well as be asking for sex and I'm sure those boys you're running around with are very willing to give it to you. Or did you get yourself pregnant and are trying to blame it on someone else."

"No. Dad, please . . . ."

He snatches up her keys which she had left on the table, grabs her arm, pulls her out of the chair, says, "No whore is going to live in my house," pulls her to the door, opens it, pushes her onto the porch, slams the door, and locks it.

"Dad!?! . . . Daddy . . . ."

* * * * *

2147-02-34 (m1)

In a modest house in 742x158, a sleeping young woman suddenly stiffens and as the sound of a grunt of surprise is almost immediately overwhelmed by the sound of shattering glass and tearing metal, her body breaks out in a sweat of fear and her breathing quickly escalates. In her unconscious state, the sounds seem to take a long time to diminish, but it's only a matter of moments before she's wide awake, sitting up, and looking around.

Slowly, she calms down and realizes that it was a repeat of the nightmare she occasionally has of when her parents were killed by a drunk driver as they pulled into the hospital driveway. Instead of being born in a clean delivery room, Sharlene was born on the front seat of her parent's wrecked vehicle with the assistance of a paramedic who was almost immediately there even though it was in the middle of a dark and stormy night.

Again, she wonders how she can have such vivid memories of sounds when she was still in her mother's womb, unless the sounds are products of her imagination. Or had she actually been partially born and heard the sounds with her own ears? She shakes her head as she reminds herself that she'll never know the answer to that dilemma even as she reaches for the photograph of her parents which had been taken just days before their death and her birth.

She lightly touches the glass which covers the photograph as though to get some sense of what her parents were like as they smile while her mother holds her swollen belly as though she's hugging her unborn child. How would her life be different if they had lived or if she was called by her intended name as she traces the characters on her mother's shirt which says 'Sha-Lin sleeps here'. But her name had been misspelled on the birth certificate and when it was discovered after the confusion of her parents' death and her adoptive mom's own miscarriage, her mom, Sarah, who is the wife of her natural uncle and adoptive dad, Robert, thought Sharlene was more appropriate in a non-Asian culture so her name remained.

As she sets the photograph back on the nightstand, she realizes that just like on previous occasions, the nightmare seems to mostly reveal itself when she's facing a known change to her life. And this time, the change is probably the biggest she's even knowingly faced. Even though she's been looking forward to starting her new job, the fact that it's her first 'real' job after she finished her education and she had to move halfway across the continent for it, purchase a house for the first time, and needs to learn to live in an unfamiliar environment, those are definitely big changes. She reminds herself that along with the unknowns which those changes entail, a very positive change is that she'll be closer to her favorite aunt and with that thought to encourage her, Sharlene gets up, takes her shower, finishes packing, and is soon on her way out of the city.

* * * * *

A couple of hours later, Sharlene drives through the small town of 739.8x154.9 and pulls into a small convenience store and fuel depot which is almost on the border of the wilderness area. She gets out of her vehicle and as she steps into the store, she hears the woman behind the counter ask, "How can I help you?" before she even looks up.

"Hello, Aunt Paula."

"Sharlene!" Paula quickly steps around the counter to wrap her niece in a big hug and proclaims, "How wonderful to see you." She holds her at arm's length, "I can't say, 'My, how much you've grown,' but you're looking good." She pulls Sharlene back into her embrace, "Oh, I can't tell you how proud I am of you. My little girl, a doctor, or do I call you Doctor Schmidt?"

"No, Aunt Paula. I'm still Sharlene."

"Oh, you do make an old lady happy. Let me get Paul to watch the store so we can visit."

He's soon there and tells her, "Congratulations, young lady."

"Thank you, Uncle Paul."

Sharlene gives him a quick hug which he extends while he whispers, "Your aunt is so proud of you, she's told almost everyone in a hundred miles and is about to pop the buttons off of her shirt. I'm mighty proud of you myself. Go tell her all about it."

Paula says, "Come on, Sharlene, let's get your things put away. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for your graduation or endorsement awards."

As they walk to the guest bedroom, Sharlene assures her, "That's all right, Aunt Paula. Both times, it was very hectic and we wouldn't have had much time to visit. Now that I'm so much closer, it will be easier for me to get away and come see you."

As they step out of the bedroom, Paula asks, "Did you want to sit inside or on the back porch?"

"Since I've spent most of my time in classrooms in a city for the last few years, I could use a dose of open spaces and trees."

"The back porch it is. Would you like some iced tea?"

"Yes, please. Let me help carry it."

"Here we are," as they step out the back door.

Sharlene takes a deep breath then says, "Ah, that's more like it. I'm always amazed at how wonderful it is to come here and feel the peace and tranquility away from the hustle and bustle of the rat race. And who are you?" she asks a large canine who is sitting down in front of her.

Paula answers, "That's Molly."

"Hello, Molly."

Molly lifts a paw.

"My, aren't you polite," Sharlene shakes the paw then kneels down. Molly steps forward and Sharlene wraps her arms around her and gets a single lick in the face, then Molly leans onto Sharlene and puts her big head on her shoulder. "You're sure friendly, aren't you? Where did she come from?" As the silence stretches, Sharlene turns around and as she notices that her aunt is simply staring at her, she asks, "Aunt Paula? What's the matter?"

"I've never seen her that friendly."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She'll let some of the school kids pet her and hug her, but I've never seen her initiate the hug. Usually women can pet her, and she lets Paul pet her. She won't let another adult male get close to her without backing off or growling, except one old man who she'll go to and ask for a petting. Because of that, we assume she was abused by a man when she was a puppy."

"Where did she come from?" Sharlene sits down in a chair and continues to pet Molly.

"Nobody knows. She was seen around town, but avoided people and didn't cause any problems for awhile. Then she settled in and splits her time between here and the old man's place."

"Why did you name her Molly?"

"We didn't, her collar has a tag that says Molly and nothing else."

"She sure is big. Do you have any idea what breed she is?"

"No. The rumor around town is that she's part wolf from her appearance, size, and fierceness."

Sharlene turns to look at Paula in surprise and asks, "She's fierce?"

"Yeah, about a month after she settled in, one day she insisted on coming into the store. I couldn't keep her out and since she's usually so well behaved, I didn't make an issue out of it. She laid down behind the counter out of my way and went to sleep.

"About a half of an hour later, some guy came in, looked around, pulled out a handgun, and started to say something. The next thing I knew, Molly was across the counter, knocked him down, and had him by the throat. After a few moments of being frozen in shock, I finally said, 'Okay, Molly.' She released his throat, but remained sitting on him and staring at him. Whenever he tried to move even the slightest, she growled at him.

"I called the police and when they arrived, they saw Molly sitting on the guy, made sure I was okay, and started to chuckle. They retrieved the gun and put it in a bag. Molly just sat there even as the guy was yelling to get her off. I tried to coax her off, but she wouldn't budge. It wasn't until one of the police officers put a handcuff on one of the guy's wrists that Molly moved."

"What a good girl, Molly."

"Sometimes she'll disappear for a few hours or even a day or two. Most of the time, a couple of days later, someone will stop in and say they saw Molly on the day in question in town and she had stopped a bully from picking on another kid, or she had interrupted a domestic dispute. A couple of other times, she's stopped robberies.

"Once a high school kid burglarized a store at night and when he came out, there was Molly, waiting for him. He said, 'Okay, Molly, you got me,' and just sat down on the step and waited for the store owner to show up. When the police arrived, Molly just calmly trotted away. I never did give any credit to that ESP stuff, but I have to wonder after watching Molly in action."

"They say animals can detect the vibrations of the ground before an earthquake, but I've never heard of animals detecting the bad vibes of people who were planning to do harm."

"Well, now you have."

* * * * *

2147-02-34 (m2)

Paula pauses then asks, "Anyway, I assume you got yourself all moved in?"

Sharlene nods her head as she answers, "Yes. It was easier than I was afraid it was going to be, but then I had some help. One of Grandpa Hienrik's retired engineers lives in the area and works part time in real estate. He found me a nice place in a quiet neighborhood just a few miles from the new job. I left my piano and most of my books at Mom and Dad's. What little furniture I had, I passed on to some incoming students.

"Between my clothes, linens, kitchen things, some books, and miscellaneous stuff, it all went into a rented small enclosed cargo vehicle with a trailer to pull my personal vehicle. The retired engineer took me to a discount furniture store where I picked up enough to get by on and I'm set. Since I've lived as a student for so many years, my decorating expectations are pretty low. I figure that as I settle in, I'll decide how I want to decorate and then start looking for nicer stuff, but for now I'm satisfied."

"I'm glad. How did your mom respond to this independence of yours? Since I'm her only sister, you would think she would tell me more than she did."

"Well, Aunt Paula, it didn't make her any happier, but then she didn't like me going off to the university years ago. She barely tolerated me going to the community college while I still lived at home. She just gets sadder every year. I'm sorry, but I just can't be her four year old little girl for the rest of my life."

"Of course you can't. Nobody expects you to and it's not something for you to be sorry about."

"Actually, I'm not sorry. It's sadly funny that while I understand the psychological and physiological responses to shock, I still want to shake Mom and say 'wake up'." Sharlene notices Paula's concerned expression and explains, "Yes. I started adding two and two and when I came up with three and a half, I cornered Dad and not so politely questioned him. He told me what happened to Mom after my mother died and I was born. I do feel sorry for Mom and I sincerely wish it hadn't have happened. A lot of other people lost someone special that dark and stormy night.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to blame Mom for her response, even though sometimes I personally want to. I don't think she consciously decided to wallow in grief for the rest of her life. I think something changed in her brain. That's one of the reasons I specialized in neuropsychiatry, to understand what happens in the brain and whether it can be healed or changed back or whatever."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Relief?"

"Yes, Sharlene, I was so worried that you would either push your mom to find out what else happened, which would only hurt her more, or that if someone else did tell you, you would feel deeply guilty about it. When you asked about how your mother died, and Alice warned you not to talk to your mom, and then you asked me and I wouldn't tell you, you were nearing puberty and that can be one of the worst times for a person to hear shocking news. I'm so glad you had enough time to build your self-confidence, so that kind of news wouldn't hurt you."

"It was rather shocking and I didn't like hearing it, but it sure explained Mom's behavior over the years, so, in that sense, I'm glad Dad finally told me. I do thank you for not telling me when I asked, because I think I would have had problems not feeling guilty about it."

"That is a relief."

With a bit of a grin, Sharlene asks, "So, Aunt Paula, are there any other skeletons in the family closet?"

"I suppose if we looked far and deep enough into the family history, we could probably dredge up one or two. As far as I know, there are no other important family secrets being hidden from you."

"No alien abductions, no extra-marital children waiting to inherit the family's wealth, no royalty in disguise? Are you suggesting that our family is boringly ordinary?"

"You've been talking to your dad too much and I certainly wouldn't call the family ordinary."

They both laugh.

Paula asks, "What's your new job about?"

"It's part of an ongoing study of trying to understand what happens in the brain of those people who are diagnosed with so-called mental illnesses. Most people and many medical professionals believe that if people just think better thoughts, they won't be depressed, or manic, or suffer panic attacks. The Institute for Psychological Responses, where I'll be working, is conducting this study to demonstrate that serious emotional or mental disorders are caused by problems within the physical, chemical, and/or electrical structure of the brain. If those problems can be identified within the structure of the brain, then maybe a way can be found to change it in order to solve those problems.

"For example, like in Mom's case, if it could be found that a particular part of the brain is very active in people with severe sadness then maybe that part of the brain can be turned down which might allow other emotions in the brain to have an opportunity to express themselves. Of course, this would normally involve looking at thousands of brain scans, not only of people with severe sadness, but of people who are considered normal, so we can compare and contrast the similarities and differences. Maybe instead of one part of the brain being very active, we'll find that some part of the brain is very inactive and if that area can be stimulated to be more active, maybe the person will be less sad and more joyful.

"What's exciting about the new job is that the study appears to have made some sort of a breakthrough in their research and they're able to identify emotional problems within specific areas of the brain. The next step is to narrow it down to specific neural areas and attempt to make changes to those areas to adjust the negative emotions. I've done a lot of reading in the medical journals and talked to people in the field and there's a lot of anticipation for the study to publish what they've accomplished and to begin the next step of treating emotional problems more accurately than with pills or talk."

"That's great. It sounds like it's just what you want to do."

Sharlene nods her head as she responds, "Yes, it is. It almost sounds too good to be true, but everybody I've talked to thinks that a real breakthrough has been made, they just don't know what it is yet."

"Good for you. When do you start the new job?"

"On the morning of the second, or at least that's when the orientation to the Institute starts."

Paula raises her glass in salute, "Here's to a bright future for my favorite niece."

* * * * *

2147-07-04 (m)

After several months on the job, Sharlene settles into a seat in the mini-theater and doesn't have to wait long before someone steps up to the podium in front and after a quick glance around the room, he begins to speak, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the introductory session for the Emotional Data Recording Project at the Institute for Psychological Responses. My name is Nik Nikkels, and yes, I've been teased about my name for all of my life. I'm the director of the Project and will be your host for this introductory session. This is just one of the many projects and studies which we are conducting here at the Institute to better understand how the human brain and nervous system work separately and together.

"The intent of this Project is to allow one person to feel what another person feels through the electronic transfer of brain wave data. The first part of the Project is to electronically record the brain waves of human emotions. When we find strong and clean emotional brain wave activity, I'll cover what we mean by that a little later, and have recorded it as electronic data, we'll pass the emotional data onto another part of the Project. That part is working on how to transfer the recorded emotional data from a computer to a person so they can experience the emotion.

"At this point, the question is invariably raised, 'Why transfer an emotion from one person to another?'. One reason quickly comes to mind, and that is to hopefully improve the therapy for people with depressive and other emotional disorders. The next question which often follows is, 'Why use a computer to transfer an emotion from one person to another person?'. The simple answer is that the two people involved may not live near each other and if the emotion is electronically recorded, then many people can experience the emotion of the first person.

"To reduce some of the cumbersome language of defining the people involved, we use the term 'emoter' as the person who experienced the emotion and recorded it. The person who receives or feels the electronically recorded emotion is referred to as the 'emotee'. Although the terms may be new to you, what they mean is really quite common.

"Most good public speakers, especially those who are referred to as having a 'charismatic personality', whether they're in politics, religion, or business, are essentially emoters as they express their ideas with emotion. The audience can be referred to as emotees, as they experience the emotion of the speaker. Often, the audience then becomes the emoter as they multiply the emotion and the speaker becomes the emotee in receiving the multiplied emotion which inspires the speaker to greater emotion, so there becomes an emotional cycle which grows between the speaker and the audience.

"What the Project is striving to do is to record, in a digital format, the brain wave activity associated with an emotion which the emoter feels and then pass it on to the emotee, so they can feel that emotion through an electronic data impulse of brain wave activity. For the emotee to feel the emotion, the emotion which the emoter recorded has to be clean and strong. By strong, we mean an emotion of sufficient intensity for the emotee to clearly feel and recognize it. By clean, we mean the emoter experiences a single emotion to the almost complete exclusion of all others.

"Experience has shown that while a lot of people do have strong emotions, seldom are the emotions clean. Even when a person is feeling anger, they often also experience the feeling of guilt for feeling angry, or resentment, or any other number of emotions which can be lurking in the background. Let me make it clear that most people do not experience emotions either strong or clean enough for us to use. That's why we're continually recruiting people to participate in this Project, to find those few people whose emotional recordings we can use.

"Strong and clean emotional recordings can come from unexpected sources which often surprise us. Let me give you two examples. We do not know who the people are, as individuals, who experienced the emotions, but their voluntary journal entries described the emotional situations well enough that we know what type of people they are and what they were doing at the time their emotions were experienced.

"Our first example is that one of the cleanest and strongest emotional responses of fear which we've received came surprisingly from a fire fighter. Just before he entered a burning building, all he felt was fear, with virtually no background emotions, but it didn't last long before he was able to put the fear aside and do his job. Our second example is that one of the cleanest and strongest emotional responses of joy came from a participant in the Handicapped Olympics program who, for the first time in many attempts, finished a race without stumbling.

"Some emotional situations can be planned, such as a wedding, or a party, or a reunion. But most happen suddenly and without warning, such as being in an accident or hearing from a good friend with whom you had lost contact or unexpectedly winning something. Some people experience stronger emotions in their sleep than they do when they're awake. If you participate in the Project, we ask that you use your emotional recording equipment twenty four hours a day and six days a week because nobody can plan all of their highly emotional situations.

"For reasons which we do not yet understand, some people can experience strong emotions, but the equipment recording the brain wave activity related to those emotions will record little or no emotional response. Other people can express almost no emotion, yet the equipment will record clearly measurable emotional responses. Still other people will strongly feel anger on one day and joy on another, but the equipment will record the response to one emotional experience and not the other.

"There's no way to determine ahead of time which person is going to fit into which category, so all we can do is test anybody who is willing to be tested. Whether or not your emotional output is sufficient to participate in the Project, we encourage you to invite your family, friends, co-workers, even your enemies, to come in and be tested.

"When you're tested, and if you're selected to participate in the study, do not try to generate emotions or force yourself into emotional situations. When previous participants have tried that, the emotional responses recorded were almost always muddled and unclear. In the very few cases where the emotional recording wasn't muddled, the contrived emotional response was never as clean as a natural emotional response. Even though I say this to every group, there are always some who will try to force an emotional response.

"One of the reasons the Project introductory session is so long is not to listen to me, but for the testing which I don't recall anybody ever complaining about. How can several hours of testing not be something to complain about? You get to watch four movies which are about an hour and a half long and have a wide reputation for encouraging a particular emotional response.

"There will be a short break between each movie. Yes, some of you are starting to smell the popcorn which is provided for you. While you're watching the movies, you'll be wearing the basic emotional data recording equipment which consists of a headband like this," he holds one up, "which contains electronic sensors, a light weight electronic data recorder, and a battery.

"After the testing has been completed, we'll have the computer do a quick review for any emotional responses the equipment might have recorded while you were watching the movies. If the recording equipment does pick up your emotional response to at least one of the movies, you'll be offered the opportunity to take the equipment home for a one week trial. If, at any time, you decide not to continue with the Project, simply turn in your equipment in an undamaged condition and you'll receive a small compensation. If the equipment records measurable emotional responses during the first week trial, you'll be invited to continue for four weeks.

"Let me make something very clear before you go watch some movies. The ability of the emotional recording equipment to record your emotions has no bearing on who you are as a person and it is not a reflection of how emotional you are. Some people who have very emotional responses to the movies or experience a strong emotional situation, will show little or no response on the recording equipment.

"At the same time, other people who appear to be as emotional as a chair, record strong emotional responses. So, whether you are compatible with the emotional recording equipment and whether you are invited to participate in the study has nothing to do with who you are as a person. The reason we use four movies, is that people respond more strongly to some emotions than to others. Again, this is no reflection on who you are as a person.

"Before we started the Project, we conducted a study to try to determine if there were any factors which predisposed one person to provide stronger or cleaner emotional recordings than another person. After months of research and testing a multitude of factors, there was nothing which we could point to and say that this person will have stronger or cleaner emotional recordings. So we test anybody who is willing to be tested.

"If at any time the content of the movie you are watching offends you, please leave the movie and wait for it to end. You're free to continue the testing with the next movie if you wish. We've tried to choose movies which are as inoffensive as possible, but one does have some scary scenes which has bothered some people. Are there any questions? Yes, sir?"

"Do we get paid for doing this?"

Nik answers, "Yes, for each week of emotional recordings which you submit, you will receive a five credit deposit in your Project account at a local bank."

"Hell, man, that ain't even beer money for a week."

"I'm sorry, sir, but if the emotional recordings which you submit don't have any measurable emotions, then it's not of any value to us."

"What if it's . . . uh, if you're able to measure it?"

"If you have a submitted emotional recording which is strong enough and the primary emotion is clean enough, then a deposit of several hundred credits will be added to your Project account at the bank, depending on how strong and how clean the emotional recording is."

"Hot damn, I'm in."

Nik clarifies, "Excuse me, sir, but that depends on how well the recording equipment can pick up on your emotional responses. If your emotional responses aren't strong enough to be recorded, you can't participate in the Project. I'm a good example of that. I'm in charge of the Project, but I don't qualify to participate in the Project.

"I do want to thank you, sir, for bringing up the subject of compensation. One of the ways in which we protect your personal information during your participation in the Project is that we don't collect any of your personal information. We've made arrangements with a local bank to reserve a block of account numbers for the use of the Project.

"When you're invited and if you agree to participate in the Project, you'll receive an account card for the bank which will also be used as your participant number in the Project. When you submit emotional recordings, you'll use that participant number. When you're due compensation, we'll notify the bank to transfer whatever you're due into your account. You'll need to provide personal information to the bank, but they won't pass it back to us. In the unlikely event that we need to contact you, we'll send the information to the bank with your participant number and they'll pass the information on to you. Are there any other questions? Yes, ma'am."

"Have there been any reports of side effects with the equipment?"

Nik shakes his head before he explains, "No, there haven't been any reports of problems. Some people with very fine textured hair have said the headband can slip off sometimes. One participant reported that when their dog started to chew on the headband, it accidentally touched the two ends of the battery, and receive a mild shock. After that, the dog left the headband alone. Are there any other questions? . . . No?

"Okay. Mariam is going to pass out headbands and slips of paper to you which have the numbers one through four on them. Please go to the mini theaters to see the movies in the order listed on your paper. The reason for this is that some of you came with friends and that's perfectly fine. When we do the testing, we want to receive your emotional response without you being influenced by your friend, so if you're sitting next to your friend now, you'll be watching the movies in a different order. Also, when you do watch the movies, we would like you to sit several seats away from anyone else. Again, we want your emotional response, without you being influenced by someone who may be sitting close to you."

When he sees that Mariam is done, Nik asks, "Does everybody have a headband and a numbered paper? Good. The mini theaters are through the back doors and then to your right. They are clearly marked with the numbers one through four. The popcorn and soft drinks are available between the mini theaters and there are restrooms just past the mini theaters. When the second movie is complete, there will be a longer break and some sandwiches and salads will be available. When you have finished watching the fourth movie, please come back here and we'll review your emotional recordings. If the equipment recorded a measurable emotional response, you'll be invited to do the one week home trial, but we'll tell you more about it then. Let's go watch some movies."

* * * * *

2147-07-04 (a)

Several hours later, Sharlene steps up to a table and says, "Hello, Mariam."

"Hi, Sharlene. Are you ready to have your emotional recordings revealed to the world?"

"Uh, no."

"That's good, because we don't let anybody see it. Take off your headband and let's see what you have." Mariam pulls something out of the back of the headband and explains, "This is the Electronic Recording Device or ERD as we refer to it which we just plug into a computer with the right software, punch a key, and the software does a review of the data, it takes less than a minute, then we'll have a chart of your emotional responses to the movies."

Sharlene observes, "That looks just like a mini-drive."

"It is, but it has specific programming on it to record the emotional data and to date-time stamp it. The take home version also has journal software on it for you to record brief text messages to explain your emotional experiences or situations."

"Boing."

When she hears the signal, Mariam turns back to the computer and says, "The software is done. Let's see what your emotional response chart looks like. Pretty flat, but you did have a measurable emotional response during the second movie. Which movie did you see second?"

"The sad movie. It reminded me of a family situation."

"That's one of the reasons we experience stronger emotions for some settings than for others. You qualify. Are you interested in doing the one week trial?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Since you work here, why don't I come by your work station later and fill you in on the process and I can help get some of these other people on their way?"

"That sounds fine with me, Mariam. I'll see you later."

"Thanks, Sharlene."

* * * * *

A little over an hour later, a voice asks, "Hey, Sharlene, do you have some time?"

She turns her head and responds, "Hi, Mariam, come on in. Yeah, I could use a distraction."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm doing some research into the history of the study I'm working on and some things just aren't adding up right now. Hopefully, as I dig a little deeper, I can find the missing pieces and the puzzle will come together. What do you have?"

"Like I said earlier, you qualify for the one week trial. For the trial, you get a headband with the ERD and a battery. It also comes with a mini keyboard and screen with connecting hardware so you can add journal notes to explain which emotion you felt and to describe the situation in which the emotional experience occurred. At the end of the week, bring back the equipment and your recorded emotional data will be reviewed to see if it's strong enough to continue with the Project.

"If your emotional recordings aren't strong enough, you get five credits and that's the end. If any of your emotional recordings from the one week trial are strong enough, you get the five credits and will be invited to participate in the Project for four weeks. At that time, you'll get your participant number to set up an account at the bank. You'll also get the headband back with an empty ERD and a fresh battery, a second battery, and a plug in re-charger as well as the mini keyboard and screen.

"Each week, you'll need to swap the battery with the recharged battery and either download the data from the ERD through your computer to our online site, or bring in the ERD to be swapped with an empty one. At the end of four weeks, you'll need to bring your equipment back in and somebody will do a quick review of your last week's recordings and then go over your emotional recordings with you to see if any of them are strong and clean enough to continue for another four weeks. If you do get in for the four week participation, since you work here, you can either submit the recordings through the regular channels or you can give it to me to do a preview for you before the data goes into the system, it's up to you."

Sharlene considers it for a moment before she responds, "That sounds rather straightforward. So for the first week, it's just a matter of wearing the headband 24/6. I assume it can be removed for showering."

"Well, it would be kind of hard to shampoo your hair with a headband on, but if you think showering is an exciting emotional experience, keep the headband on and we might get some good recordings, you never know."

"I'm sorry, but I've never really thought of showering as either exciting or emotional. Even with today's technology, there just aren't too many other ways for a human to get clean."

"Yeah, it's a shame. Well, I've got a couple of other things I need to get done before I get out of here. Have a good evening, Sharlene."

"You too, Mariam."

* * * * *

2147-07-31

Since the Institute has a self-proclaimed progressive policy of giving the employees a week off every five months in addition to their annual two week vacation, yesterday, Sharlene took a leisurely drive along some of the back roads to visit her aunt for a week plus two weekends. After Paula closed the store and Paul closed his vehicle repair shop, the three of them went to a local restaurant for a relaxing meal then went back to the house for dessert and to talk about a variety of inconsequential topics and gossip about the family for the evening.

* * * * *

Sharlene takes advantage of the situation and sleeps in later than usual this morning. After she gets up and has a quiet breakfast, she watches the store for a little while so Paula can sit down to eat a relaxing lunch instead of snatching bites out of a sandwich between customers as she usually does. It's a change of pace for Sharlene to use the cash register, but it's kind of fun for her to do something different, although the customers know the store better than she does. Since Molly makes her presence obvious, no one bothers Sharlene or makes an issue of her being new in the store.

In the afternoon, while Paula is working in the store, Sharlene takes a walk through the forest and fields behind the house with Molly, and enjoys the quiet which is only lightly interrupted by the normal sounds of nature. Sharlene tries to follow a couple of lizards, but they soon scurry under some bushes and are lost to sight. Later, she putters in her aunt's garden and picks some vegetables to add to dinner.

* * * * *

As he pushes his empty plate away, Paul says, "Thank you, young lady. That hit the spot."

"You're welcome, Uncle Paul. I'm glad you liked it."

Paula agrees, "Yes, Sharlene, that was good. Where did you get the idea to combine the vegetables like that?"

"My friend at work, Mariam, made something similar once from what she said was an old family recipe. Over time, I made a few minor changes to it on different occasions until I came up with this version. It's a lot better with vegetables fresh from the garden. I hope you didn't mind me raiding your garden."

"Not at all, that's what it's there for."

After they put the leftovers away and clean up the dirty dishes, Sharlene and Paula prepare a pot of tea and sit down to talk while Paul goes to the other room to watch some television.

"So, Sharlene, how's the job going?"

"Not so good. I started to put out feelers with some of my professors and internship directors to find another job."

"What's going on?"

"When I first started the study, I was excited because I was told that certain results had been achieved and it was insinuated that a breakthrough had been accomplished which involved proprietary information and hadn't been released to the research journals. But as I was doing my work, some things just didn't add up. So when I looked up the history and parameters of the study, I realized that the progress which I had been told about was what they hoped to do, rather than what had already been accomplished."

"Oh, no."

"That was my response. Then I wondered whether that same style of advertising rather than accomplishment was limited to the study or pervaded the organization. So I started looking at the Institute as a whole. When I re-read the purpose of the Institute, I felt like shooting myself for being a fool."

"Why do you say that?"

Sharlene explains, "Because I was so excited about what the study claimed, I had ignored what the Institute as a whole claimed to try to be doing, which was to electronically capture human nerve functions and study them. The problem is that there isn't even a super computer which can manage just a fraction of the information which is carried by the human nervous system. When I discretely checked the history and progress of the various teams who are working on trying to electronically record the human nervous system, they were all failing because the computer hardware and software can't handle that amount of data. There was one team which showed a slight glimmer of progress and that was the team assigned to the inside portion of the little toe on the right foot of a human."

Paula looks at her in surprise then proclaims, "You're kidding. The nerve information from a quarter square inch of skin was too much for the computers?"

"And not just any quarter inch square of skin. The inside of the little toe has a whole lot less nerve endings than the palm of the hand or the tip of a finger. Computer processing capability is growing very fast, but it will be years and more like decades before computers can record the data carried by the human nervous system, much less sort it out and study it."

"Do you call it job security?"

Sharlene answers, "I suppose from a theoretical perspective I could say, 'yes', but in reality, I have to say, 'no'. From what I've heard, funding agencies and businesses want a quicker return on their investment. I tried to make some discrete inquiries into some of the contracts and what their time tables were, but wasn't able to get any information. When I couldn't go any further at the Institute level, I turned back to the study I was working on and the more I dug, the more I realized there are some major technological issues which need to be resolved before the study can go forward as advertised."

Paula asks, "Like what?"

"Well, the first problem is that there's no way to do a continuous scan of how the brain is functioning in a person. A single scan even once a week of a person with an emotional or behavioral disorder doesn't provide enough information to be positive that this or that brain activity is involved in the disorder, especially if the disorder isn't being manifested at the moment the scan is being conducted. Then that scan needs to be compared to the scanned brain activity of thousands of other people who are supposedly normal, but may have their own brain functioning disorders whether they know it or not.

"Currently, the brain imaging equipment is huge and expensive. Until the imaging equipment can be worn as easily as a sports cap with the storage capability to record thousands of brain activity scans every day, any determination that certain brain activity relates to certain disorders or behaviors is guesswork, not accuracy of a scientific nature.

"Another technological problem is in trying to study the chemical nature of the brain. We know that if certain chemicals in the brain are present in greater or lesser quantity, behavior can be affected. Even the guesswork of feeding pills to depressed people has demonstrated this. The problem is that it's guesswork. There's currently no way to test which chemicals are available in what quantities.

"To do that, they would need multitudes of highly miniaturized chemical sensors placed in many areas of the brain. Each of those sensors would need to be able to distinguish a variety of different chemicals which might be minutely altered due to a number of different factors and then be able to transmit the chemical information from the brain without interfering with the brain's own electrical activity. The chemicals in the brain can't be tested without some invasive procedure. Then there's no way to be sure the chemicals which are tested are identical to the chemicals in the pristine environment of the brain or if they were somehow altered or contaminated during the process of installing the sensors.

"Capturing the electrical brain wave activities has a better chance of success, but even that has a chance for contamination or alteration of the brain's electrical activity due to the electrical nature of the electronic sensors and recording devices. Even that success has a very limited application because we don't know if emotional and behavior disorders are caused by the structure of the brain, the chemicals in the brain, or the electrical impulses of the brain. Or some complicated combination of the three."

"In other words, current research doesn't even know where to look to find the problem, yet the study claimed they had narrowed it down and were ready to apply solutions."

"That's it in a nutshell."

"What do you intend to do?"

"My inclination is to get off of the ship while it's still floating. If I don't hear anything from the feelers I put out in the last couple of weeks, I might start looking for positions at clinics or hospitals. I've also considered looking at teaching positions at some of the local colleges. If nothing works out, I can always try hanging out my own shingle as a private practice."

"I'm glad you're thinking about your options. Sharlene, if there's a gap between positions or you just want to get away, you're always welcome to sack out here."

"Thank you, Aunt Paula, I really appreciate that."

* * * * *

2147-07-32

After Paula closes the store and they clean up from dinner, Sharlene makes a pot of tea and they sit down to talk.

"Thanks for fixing dinner again."

Sharlene assures her, "It was my pleasure. Sometimes it's kind of fun to cook for other people. If I didn't keep busy with work and some of the other research I'm doing, I would probably get bored with my own cooking. Keeping busy is enough of a distraction that I just throw something together to eat and don't pay much attention to it."

"I understand what you mean. Sometimes it's hardly worth the effort to make a meal when you're tired, so you make the same meal you've eaten a couple of hundred times before because you can do it almost on automatic. I'm sure glad Paul isn't a fussy eater."

"I get the impression that Uncle Paul notices the meal only when he thinks a glass of wine is appropriate."

"Sometimes that's almost true. I don't mean to be nosy, but I've never seen you wearing that headband before this weekend."

"Actually, it's two headbands. The visible one is one which Grandma Running Deer gave me and I use it as decoration to cover up the plain headband."

Paula asks, "What's that one for?"

"It's for an emotional recording project my friend at work, Mariam, is involved with and she talked me into trying out for it. The headband contains electronic sensors connected to a device which records emotional brain wave activity. The Project is attempting to electronically record and collect emotions and then transfer the electronic emotions to another person. The idea is to help the therapy process of people who are diagnosed with emotional disorders."

"That sounds interesting."

"It is. Their emphasis is on collecting the emotional responses of people. I don't know whether they've made any progress in transferring the emotions electronically to another person. If they succeed, it will be interesting to see what affect it might have on the therapy process."

"I assume that this project has more chance of success than the study you're working on."

Sharlene nods her head as she responds, "Definitely. For one thing, simply recording brain wave activity related to emotions is much less involved than understanding how or where the brain produced the emotion to begin with. Even though they don't know all which is involved with an emotion in the brain, emotions are at least partially transmitted by electrical currents in the brain and can be recorded. The down side is that the emotions recorded are fairly basic and need to be strongly felt. What they've found so far, is that few people and few emotional situations provide strong enough emotions which are clean enough to be of any use in trying to transfer them to another person."

"I can understand a strongly felt emotion, but how is an emotion clean enough?"

"What they mean by clean is that in an emotional situation, one emotion stands out substantially over any other emotions, so it's like feeling only one emotion. When I went to the introductory session for the Project, they didn't really explain it well, but Mariam gave me an example to clarify what they mean. She remembered when she was going to meet an old friend. She felt joy at the upcoming reunion, guilt for having lost touch with her friend, anxiety about how much she or her friend might have changed, as well as the multitude of other emotions a person experiences in daily life. As the time approached for her reunion, those three main emotions kept fluctuating. Although joy was the main emotion at that time, it wasn't the only emotion."

"You said something about few people having the right emotions for recording them. I have the impression that they want more than just a few emotions recorded."

Sharlene nods her head again and says, "You're right. Almost every week, they run an introductory session with between fifty and a hundred people attending. They'll test those people while they wear the headband by having them watch four movies, a comedy, a romance, a sad one, and a scary one. If the person records an emotional response to any one movie, the Project people know the equipment is capable of recording at least some of that person's emotions and they're invited to participate in a one week trial.

"At the end of the week after they wear the headband as close to all of the time as possible, the person goes back to the Institute to have their emotional recordings reviewed to see if they had any emotional response which is strong enough to be used by the Project. If they do, they're invited to participate for four weeks in the hope that they'll have some clean emotional recordings which are strong enough. I don't know how many people are invited to be four week participants, but I received the impression that it's only a few."

Paula briefly hesitates before she says, "I don't know quite how to put it, but you're rather even keeled emotionally and I'm kind of surprised you were invited to participate."

"So am I. In fact, the last three weeks when Mariam has reviewed my emotional recordings, she's threatened to review them before she goes to bed as a type of sleeping pill."

"Then how did you get to be a participant?"

"During my one week trial, I had my encounter with what I refer to as my driveway molester I told you about."

Paula's eyes open wide as she asks, "That was the same week? What a fluke of timing."

"Yeah, I'm feeling somewhat guilty about participating since the idea of the project is to experience emotional situations. They did make it clear that we shouldn't try to contrive such situations because the emotional recording isn't as clean or as strong as from a naturally occurring emotional situation. I'm looking forward to our planned day trip, but if you have any other ideas about things I can do which might be fun or interesting, I would sure like to hear about them."

"If you're desperate enough, we could ask the local rescue service or police if you can spend a day with them. I'm sure they would appreciate it, but I don't think you would want to do that for vacation. I suppose we could ask Molly if she knows of any bullies who need to be beat up. We did have a bear and her cubs wander through town a few months ago, but that's kind of hard to arrange another visit since she didn't leave her business card. Other than that, I can't think of anything off the top of my head. If I do have any ideas, I'll dump them on you and let you try them on for size."

Sharlene chuckles, "Aunt Paula, when you start coming up with those kind of crazy ideas, I think you and Dad are related instead of you and Mom."

"We need to spread out the crazy people, that way every family can have their very own black sheep."

"I don't think you're a black sheep, but I can see how your family might think so."

"Half the time, they don't know what to do with me. If she wasn't so sensitive, I could easily think of a dozen ways you could blow your mom's mind. I love my sister, but I also wonder how your dad has put up with her for all of these years."

"I've wondered that myself. A couple of times I've asked around the subject and he shrugs his shoulders and changes the topic. As I've looked back, I'm somewhat amazed at how young I was when I realized I had to be careful about what subject I brought up to Mom or even when I tried to talk to her."

"You've been a good daughter to her and she's been a pretty good mom to you even though you and your dad have had to work around her problems."

Sharlene nods her head as she responds, "I know she's been a good mom, but I'm also very glad I have you to talk to, Aunt Paula. I think life would have been harder if I couldn't talk to you about sensitive subjects or to just blow off some steam."

"I've been happy to listen to you. You've been the daughter I was never able to have. I can just see it now. We're standing around in the afterlife and Soo-Lin, Sarah, and I are arguing over whose daughter you are. The men are shaking their heads at the silliness of it and you're standing there with your hands on your hips. After awhile, you get fed up with it and say, 'Oh shut up. If I can't be a daughter to all of you, I'll go be a daughter to all of my dads and grandpas,' and walk off."

At the absurdity of the picture, Sharlene laughs and Paula joins in.

* * * * *

2147-07-33 (m1)

While Sharlene is cleaning up after breakfast, Paula calls to her from the store, "How would you like to see what kind of wildlife there is in our local swamp and the surrounding forest?" She knows Sharlene enjoys observing nature and animals in their natural environment, but seldom takes the time to do so.

"That sounds good. I know you don't have the time to go, so how do I get there?"

"Let me make a phone call and see if I can arrange a dependable guide."

A few minutes later, Paula steps into the house from the store and asks, "Can you be ready to go in about a quarter of an hour?

"Sure. Is there anything special I should wear or take?"

"You'll probably want to wear your heavy jeans, long sleeve shirt, and boots, more for protection against bugs and thorns. I probably have some gloves and a wide brim hat you can take if you need them. While you're getting ready, I'll throw together a lunch and a couple of snacks to take with you. What would you like to drink?"

"What about some of your mint iced tea? Will it really be long enough to bother taking a lunch?"

"Iced tea it is. Let's see, time wise, it's roughly about a half hour drive each way and if you spend an hour or two looking around the forest and swamp, the time can fly by. Besides, your guide has some firewood there that he wants to pick up and . . ."

Sharlene interrupts, "HE?!? You're sending me into the forest alone with some strange man?!?!?"

"Relax, girl. Do you think that I would put you into a dangerous or even uncomfortable situation?"

"Well, maybe somewhat uncomfortable, but not dangerous. Aunt Paula, can I trust this guy?"

"First point, yes, you can trust this guy. By the way, his name is George. Second point, Molly will go with you and you know she'll protect you, even against George whom she happens to like and you know how Molly is around human males. Third point, I know you've taken some self-defense classes and your dad claims you're quite good. Fourth point, you can take one of my handguns with you if it will make you feel safer. Fifth point, George knows that if something happens to you and it's his fault, both Paul and I will kill him."

"Okay, okay. You've made your pointssss. I'll go with George and try to enjoy the forest and the swamp. And, no, I don't think I'll take one of your handguns if he's safe. By the way, why do you trust him so much?"

Paula assures her, "I've known George for several years and he's never touched a female unless they directly asked him to, and in a small community like this, we all know what happens. Even then, he was hesitant to touch them until he felt sure they were sincere. He's safer to be alone with than any other man I know. Now, get yourself ready and I'll get some food and drink ready for you to take."

A few minutes later, Sharlene emerges from her room wearing a thick flannel shirt, heavy jeans, and sturdy hiking boots. She's partially rolled up the long sleeves of her shirt since the day is beginning to get warm and she has her long hair in a simple braid down her back under a wide brim hat. After she helps her aunt finish fixing the food and drinks, they put it all into a backpack along with some gloves and a small first aid kit and carry it to the front of the store.

Soon, a battered old small cargo vehicle with open cargo space and short side walls, commonly known as a 'pickup', pulls up to one of the fuel pumps in front of the store and an old man gets out and starts to add fuel to his vehicle.

Paula says, "There's George now."

Sharlene looks and can't stop her reaction, "That old man?"

"Yes, that old man. That could be the sixth point, he's an old man and if worse came to worse, you could outrun him. Actually, George isn't quite as old as he looks, but he's certainly past the prime of his life."

"What about that pickup? Will it even make it to the next block?"

"Well, the pickup may look like a wreck, but underneath it's solid and runs very well. Ask Paul about it sometime since he's the one who George has do any work which needs to be done."

"Molly does like him." Sharlene voice has a slightly awed expression as she sees George stop and greet Molly as he comes in to pay for the fuel he pumped.

"Hello, Paula."

"Hi, George. Do you need anything else?"

"Yeah. A bag of ice."

After she rings up his purchases and gives him his receipt, Paula says, "George, I'd like to introduce my niece, Doctor Sharlene Schmidt. Sharlene, this is George Greyson."

He sees a small, slender, extremely beautiful young woman with delicate features, long black hair, large dark eyes, a smooth brown complexion, and a slight Asian cast to the shape of her eyes. He struggles to keep his response neutral, "How do you do, Doctor Schmidt?"

She shakes his hand as she responds, "Quite well, Mr. Greyson. I understand that you're going to be my guide today?"

"I guess, and it's just George. I never did go for that mister stuff. I keep thinking someone's talking about my dad and he's been gone quite a few years. Is the 'doctor' medical or academic?"

"Medical, at least for now, and, please, call me Sharlene."

"Well, Sharlene, whenever you're ready to go."

"I'm ready now. I'll see you later Aunt Paula."

"Now go have fun. And George, you take care of her now."

"Yes, ma'am." As he steps out of the door, he says, "Let's go, Molly," then turns to Sharlene, "I hope you don't mind sitting in the middle. Molly likes to ride by the window."

"That will be fine."

"Go ahead and climb in while I get Molly buckled in."

As she notices him adjust some straps, she asks, "What's that?"

"It's a cross between a harness and a seat belt for a canine. Molly doesn't really like it, but she knows she has to put up with it when she goes riding with me. If you have a drink or something you want to keep cold, you can put it in the cooler which is down there on the floor."

When they're seated and have their seat belts fastened, he says, "The pickup is probably too noisy to be able to talk, but once we get off of the main road, there's usually something to see."

* * * * *

2147-07-33 (m2)

After a quiet half hour ride along country roads, George pulls over just past a narrow lane. He pauses then asks, "Sharlene, can you please move your left knee towards your right knee a little more? I need to back down the lane and the gear shift, when it's put into reverse, will be above the seat just past where your knee is and I don't want it to hit your knee. I prefer to back down with an empty pickup and drive out forward when the pickup is loaded."

While she's surprised he would ask her first, as well as explain his reason, Sharlene willingly moves her knee. George puts the pickup into reverse and begins to back down the lane. Once he's driven a few yards down the lane, he pushes the clutch in and holds it while he brakes the pickup to a halt and leaves the gear shift in the reverse position. When she looks at him with a quizzical expression, he quietly says, "If you look down the lane behind the pickup, you might be able to see the deer which is back there."

Sharlene tries to turn just her head around, but can't quite see the deer clearly.

He suggests, "Go ahead and turn all of the way around and kneel on the seat if you want, then you should be able to see out the back window more comfortably."

She does so and leans forward until her nose almost touches the back window as she watches the deer graze for a couple of minutes before it walks on. While she's still kneeling on the seat and holds onto the back of it, she sits up, looks at George, and responds, "That was wonderful. I've never seen a deer in the wild before."

"Then I'm glad you were able to see it. If you want to keep looking out the back, that will be okay. I have a few hundred feet to back up, but I go slow enough so you shouldn't need your seat belt."

While he pays no more attention to her, he gently releases the clutch and starts the pickup moving in reverse. Instead of turning around to look out the back window which would cause him to get closer to her, he intently watches where he's going by using the side mirrors as he backs up towards a clearing.

As she sat up to remark about the deer, Sharlene unknowingly almost sat on the gear shift knob. As he starts to back up, the vibrations which are transmitted through the gear shift move it enough to touch her. Although it's sudden and she's not sure what's happening, it feels really good. Very soon, the experimental scientist in her takes over and she finds that by moving slightly, the gear shift knob touches different parts of her legs, buttocks, and in between. While the sensations vary in intensity, they're unexpectedly very enjoyable.

When he arrives at the clearing which has some firewood stacked on one side and several uncut logs along the other side of the clearing, George engages the clutch, stops the pickup, sets the emergency brake, turns off the engine, and leaves the gear shift in the reverse position. Without a word, he gets out of the pickup, pockets the keys, and walks around the clearing to see if anything has been disturbed and to stretch his legs following the drive.

After he steps out of the pickup, Sharlene just sits there for a couple of minutes as she wonders what just happened. She's somewhat surprised to realize she's glad the feelings hadn't gone on any longer, while at the same time she wishes they had never stopped. When Molly starts to whine to get out of the pickup, Sharlene comes back to the present, releases Molly, lets her out, gets out of the pickup herself, and goes over to sit on one of the uncut logs while she thinks about the experience some more.

Belatedly, she recognizes that the sensations she experienced must have been of a sexual nature from some of the rather detailed discussions she's had with her aunt and from overhearing her fellow students. Of course, her medical training covered the clinical aspects of sexual intercourse and related activities, but that's a lot different from personal experience and since she was several years younger than her fellow students, they reserved their discussions of personal sexual experiences to when she was out of the common room.

Her fellow students would have been embarrassed and surprised to realize that Sharlene wasn't always as far out of the room as they had thought. And when she had been out of the common room, she was still aware of the discussions because she had discreetly planted a few listening devices she had made during her electrical engineering courses. She didn't listen to those discussions from a voyeuristic attitude, but to learn what might happen in order to better prepare herself, at least mentally, should she decide to get involved in a sexual relationship.

However, what she had heard had been rather disturbing to her and had strongly encouraged her to concentrate on her education and to avoid anything sexual. She had been on a few dates, but found that males her own age were usually much less mature, and if they were older and supposedly more experienced in how to treat a woman, it was clear, at least to her, that they were more interested in achieving their own pleasure. Since she figured the risks were much greater than the apparent pleasure others claimed to have received, she had put aside her interest.

Once he makes sure everything is in order in the clearing and that his legs are a bit less stiff, George goes to the firewood stack and begins to transfer some wood to the bed of the pickup.

Sharlene is startled out of her concentration by the sudden quiet when he stops putting firewood into the pickup so she looks up and sees that he's sitting on the tail gate while he takes a drink and wipes the sweat from his brow.

George glances towards Sharlene and asks, "Are you okay?"

After she takes a couple of moments to realize he had spoken to her, her response is simply, "Huh?"

"You look like you're a bit dazed there."

She shakes her head as she becomes more away of the present and explains, "No, I'm okay. Sometimes when I'm thinking about something, I tend to forget about what's going on around me."

"Well, let me get Molly some water and then I can walk you down to the swamp and you and Molly can look around. You might want to take some food and drink with you."

"How far is it?"

"Distance wise, it's only a few hundred yards, but it's not a straight path so it will take about ten minutes or so to walk. Do you know how to use a handgun?"

She nods her head then answers verbally, "Yes, my grandparents taught me."

"Good." He goes to the pickup, opens the glove box, pulls out a small handgun, and hands it to her, "Here."

She hesitates to take the handgun until she sees that it's the same type as what she's familiar with.

"If an animal bothers you or Molly, the noise should scare it off. You shouldn't have any problems. If you think you're lost, tell Molly to 'find George' and she'll lead you here. Are you ready to go?"

"Let me grab my backpack and I'm ready to follow."

They walk along a clear though winding path through the trees while Molly scouts both sides of the path and they soon come to a small stream which empties into a moderate sized swampy pond.

"I'll let you and Molly look around some and I'll go back to the clearing. I have more firewood I want to load and I'm not as fast as I used to be."

"When should we be back?"

George shrugs his shoulders as he says, "Whenever you want, although I would recommend sometime before it gets dark."

Sharlene responds, "I'm sure we'll be back long before then."

* * * * *

2147-07-33 (a>e)

While she drifts around the swampy pond and adjacent forest for a couple of hours, watches the fish in the pond, a couple of lizards, and several birds, she takes a few breaks to eat and drink something. After they follow the inlet and outlet streams for a little ways, Sharlene and Molly slowly walk back up the path to the clearing while they feel rather tired, but quite happy. The ride back to her aunt's home is quiet, although it takes somewhat longer than the ride out due to the weight of the heavy load of firewood in the back of the pickup.

* * * * *

In the evening after dinner, Sharlene asks, "Aunt Paula, why did you know that George wouldn't touch me?"

"He didn't touch you, did he?"

"He didn't come close to touching me."

"Good. . . . Do you remember a few years ago when Paul and I were separated for awhile?"

"Yes."

"Well," Paula starts then hesitates before she continues, "part of the reason we separated was because I wanted a little more, uh, excitement. While Paul is a good man, he's a bit stuck in a rut. After several weeks of just working and being alone at night, I tried to discretely talk to a couple of the other single women in town about eligible men and it wasn't long before almost every woman in town, married or single, was stopping by to make suggestions.

"I was told who to avoid because they just wanted the woman to please them; who could be trusted to take you to dinner, but not to a movie; who not to take to bed because they didn't know how to please a woman; who could please a woman, but was a little weird about how they did it; almost any variation you can imagine and I think there were even a couple of suggestions presented simply because of their shock value. Whether they were true or not, I don't know. There was even a couple of hints to forget about men altogether and enjoy a woman, but that was a little far out for me.

"Just about every man in town was put under the microscope and a number of them from several different angles. Some of what I heard was common gossip, some I had guessed at, and some was rather surprising, especially when one woman would complain about her husband, but imagine the neighbor's husband was good in bed and two days later, that neighbor would be in with nothing good to say about her husband, but wondered what it would be like to be the mistress of the first neighbor's husband. If I had had my wits about me and had been taking detailed notes, I could have conducted a very interesting social science study on the sexual fantasies of women in a small town. But I didn't. Do you need something more to drink?"

Sharlene answers, "No, I'm fine."

"Well, anyway, I took a couple of the suggestions and went on a few dates, even did some kissing and groping around in the dark, but nothing more. I had some fun, but it was nothing to write home about, as they say, and I always felt like there was something missing. One of the occasional threads through the gossip and female suggestions was that if you could get through to him, George knew how to touch a woman.

"My reaction was, 'That old man?' I only knew George slightly, basically just someone who bought fuel and a few things at the store and I thought he was just a boring old man, and he is. Everyone agrees he's not romantic, he seldom goes to a restaurant and then usually just the cafe and not the nice restaurant in town, nobody remembers seeing him go to the movies, his biggest adventure appears to be that he goes to the city a few times a year to buy used books which he sits at home and reads for hours.

"From the stories I've heard, a number of bolder women, both young and old have tried to get at George either as a personal challenge, or on a dare, or because they thought he had a pile of money stashed away and in every case, he backed off faster than if he had seen a skunk or a rabid bear in his back yard. Frankly, that intrigued me because a normal man would have taken advantage of those women, used them, and left them, or he would have married one of them and in a few years both of them would have been miserable.

"There were a couple of women who had spent some time with George and their stories were consistent in that George wouldn't touch them unless they directly asked him to or physically took his hand and put it on themselves. Apparently, in those cases, he believed they didn't have ulterior motives, but actually wanted to be touched by him and so he touched them. And that's how I knew George wouldn't touch you. Are you sure he didn't touch you?"

"I'm sure. In fact one time, he asked me to move my leg so he could move the gear shift without touching me. It surprised me to hear him ask it."

"That's George. He's not a knight in shining armor and he's not much of a gentleman in the courtly or romantic manner, but he is a gentle and considerate man. Well, you'd better be off to bed, if we're going to go to 'the big city' tomorrow."

"Good night, Aunt Paula."

"Sweet dreams, child."

* * * * *

2147-07-35 (m1)

Yesterday, Sharlene and Paula took a day trip to the nearby larger town of 740x156 where they visited several small shops, went to a nice restaurant for lunch, enjoyed a movie, bought an outfit or two, talked a lot about mostly inconsequential matters, and just had a pleasant day being together which they seldom have the time to do. When they returned in the evening, Paul, who had watched the store during their absence, told them that George had cut some logs which Paul wanted and would be by in the morning to borrow the flat-bed trailer to haul them back.

* * * * *

When George arrives and starts to hitch up the borrowed trailer, Sharlene walks over and asks, "Do you mind if Molly and I catch a ride with you to go visit the swamp again?"

"No, I don't mind, but I'll be ready to leave as soon as I hitch up the trailer and fuel up the pickup. Can you be ready by then?"

"I'm basically ready now, but I need to let my aunt know I'm going and then I need to find Molly."

"You don't have to find Molly, she was at my place and rode down with me. See?" He points to the side window of the pickup.

Sharlene looks and sees Molly look at them as if to say, 'Well, what are you waiting for?'

With a laugh, Sharlene goes to get her backpack of supplies and tells Paula she's going. After George pays for his fuel, Sharlene walks out with him, gets in the pickup, and enjoys the quiet ride out to where George cuts his firewood. When they arrive at the narrow dirt lane leading to the clearing, George slows down, but instead of stopping and backing down the lane, he pulls in and slowly drives down to the clearing.

Sharlene is puzzled and says, "I thought you normally backed down the lane while the pickup is empty and drove out forward when it's full."

"I do, but I don't like to drive backwards with a trailer whether it's full or empty, so I drive forward to the clearing. Since there's not enough room in the clearing to turn around, I have to unhitch the trailer and turn it around by hand, back the pickup to the road, turn around, and then drive back down the lane. Then I line up the pickup to the trailer, hitch it back up, and after it's loaded, I can just drive straight out."

When they reach the clearing, he stops the pickup along the firewood side of the clearing, hops out, and goes to the back of the pickup to unhitch the trailer. Sharlene unhooks Molly's harness, opens the door, and is surprised that Molly remains in the pickup. Since there's insufficient room to get around Molly, Sharlene slides out past the steering wheel and helps him finish unhitching the trailer. They push the trailer away from the back of the pickup, turn the trailer 180 degrees, and park it parallel to the pickup facing in the opposite direction.

Sharlene remarks, "I'm surprised Molly didn't get out when you stopped the pickup."

He explains, "She knows I'm not done moving the pickup, so she stays in the pickup until I've parked it and am going to stay parked for awhile. Did you want to wait here while I turn the pickup around or did you want to ride along?"

"It's hard to argue with Molly's wisdom. I'll ride along."

"Okay. I guess you'll have to slide in from my side since Molly isn't going to move."

After she slides past the steering wheel, Sharlene moves her knees to the right so he's able to move the gear shift into reverse without having to ask her. When he turns in his seat to look out the back window to back up the pickup, she scoots forward on the seat and leans on the dashboard. As she looks out of the corner of her eye, she sees that he's concentrating on backing up so she slips her left leg over the gear shift so the knob is between her legs.

"Ahhh, yes," she thinks. It feels better than she remembers, but she doesn't dare let herself get carried away as she moves her hips to spread the wonderful sensation around and quietly hums with the pleasure. Soon, she recognizes that they're coming to the end of the lane and she forces herself to move her leg back to the right and away from the gear shift.

In a matter of moments, he has the pickup turned around and starts to back down the lane. She appears to be staring intently out of the windshield of the pickup. Following another glance out of the corner of her eye towards him, she again slips her left leg over the gear shift and turns her head to the right so he is unable to see her face as she breathes heavily, swivels her hips, and rocks her torso while she tries to keep her groan quiet then she almost cries out aloud as the pleasure sweeps through her.

George slows down then divides his attention between driving the pickup in reverse and watching her hips and struggles to not have more of a response. When he reaches the clearing, he stops the pickup, turns off the engine, gets out of the pickup, and pockets the keys. Molly slips around Sharlene's back and gets out. After he takes his customary walk around the clearing, he hitches the trailer to the back of the pickup.

A little later, Sharlene slowly slides out of the pickup and takes a few deep breaths. When she feels like she's has a little more control over herself, she walks over to him and asks, "George, do you need help with anything?"

"Well, if you wouldn't mind, I could use some help keeping some of these logs from rolling around while I trim the branches and cut them to size."

"Okay. What do I need to do?"

"Just hold the log steady in whatever way is easier for you. Some people prefer holding it with their hands while others prefer kneeling or sitting on the log. You can hold it against your leg or you can kneel next to the log and hold it against your hip, but for some reason that tends to cause more bruises. Let me get you some gloves, a hat, and safety goggles."

When he brings the items back, she notices that he's also carrying an old piece of fabric and she points to it as she asks, "What's that for?"

"The fabric?"

Sharlene nods her head.

"That's to drape across the log so you don't get tree pitch on your clothes."

After she puts the gloves, hat, and goggles on, she goes with him to the closest log and as she holds it steady, he starts the chain saw and trims off those branches which he can reach. He turns off the chain saw, sets it down, and, with her help, he rolls the log part way over so he can cut the now exposed branches. Soon, they get into a rhythm of cutting some branches, rolling the log, cutting more branches, rolling the log, cutting the last of the branches, rolling the log out of the way, and going to the next log. Sharlene finds that with the smaller logs she can hold them steady with just her hands and then roll them herself. On the larger logs, she needs to straddle the log and sit on it to hold it steady and needs his help to roll it.

After he trims about a dozen logs, he turns off the chain saw, sets it down, and tells her, "Take a break." Rather than hear him while the noise of the chain saw is still ringing in her ears, she recognizes the shape of the words as he spoke. As he hands her one of her drinks from the cooler, George says, "I appreciate your help, Sharlene. You made the job go faster and safer."

"It wasn't a problem. I've never done anything like that before. I won't claim it was easy, but it was kind of fun."

"When you've rested, you and Molly can go down to the swamp if you want."

"No, I'll help you finish first. It looks like you only have a dozen or so more logs to trim."

"True. Then I'll need to trim them down closer to the length Paul wants. That will be just a single cut across each log and I can do that myself by dropping one end of the log in that v-shaped brace." He points at the brace then hesitates to say, "If you don't mind, what I could use some help with, is holding that long log over there steady while I cut it into firewood length pieces."

"I can help with that."

"Thank you, Sharlene, I appreciate your help."

"It's my pleasure."

They sit for several more minutes in companionable silence. Then with unspoken mutual agreement, they put their drink bottles back into the cooler and finish trimming the branches off the rest of the logs.

With the second break, George gets out food with the drink bottles, sets it up on the tail gate of the pickup, and simply says, "Brunch." Sharlene is surprised at how hungry she is and eats the simple fare with gusto while she finishes one drink bottle and seriously depletes a second one. Thankfully, her aunt had packed more than she could possibly drink. A couple of times she almost starts a conversation, but the peace of the forest is pervasive and pleasant. Even when she finishes eating, she sits still while she listens to the birds chirping and the breeze sighing through the trees. Occasionally, she thinks she hears bubbling water from the nearby creek.

* * * * *

2147-07-35 (m2>a)

A few minutes later, Molly comes trotting back from one of her scouting forays and sits down in front of him with a look which seems to say, 'You've got your food, where's mine?' Without a word, George reaches behind him and puts a bowl of canine food garnished with grilled chicken cut into small cubes down next to the water dish he had set out earlier. He cleans up and puts the food away which wasn't eaten.

Sharlene says, "Whenever you want me to hold that long log steady, please let me know."

"Okay. I need to put some fuel in the chain saw and then I'll be ready. You might want to find a spot at that end of the log to put the old fabric."

Sharlene walks over there and as she looks at the end of the log, she sees where a branch had been cut off, but it isn't quite smooth with the trunk of the log. A moment later, she asks herself, "Why does it look somewhat familiar?" With a blush and an embarrassed smile, she quickly looks around and sees that he has his back to her. As she looks back at the log, she realizes that the stump of the cut off branch is the same size as the gear shift knob in his pickup. "What do you think you're doing?" she silently asks herself. "You're a professional woman with a doctoral degree and here you are acting like a young teenager in her first flush of sexual excitement."

George asks, "Are you ready?"

"Just a second." Sharlene lays the cloth over the log, straddles the log, and sits right on top of the stump of the cut-off branch. "Okay!"

As George starts to cut the log with the chain saw, the vibrations which travel the length of the log cause her to hum and almost groan aloud in pleasure. She's glad he can't hear her over the noise of the chain saw. With a somewhat clinical detachment, part of her mind notes that in some way the vibration of the chain saw transmitted through the log is less intense on her pubic area than the gear shift knob of his pickup had been, as she arches her back while she moans with pleasure.

At the same time it's also a more intense feeling overall because the vibration is also along the entire length of the insides of her thighs, "Yesss!!" where she straddles the log while she rocks her torso. She also notices that the vibration of the log almost ceases when the chain saw finishes a cut, but with each cut being made, the vibration seems to be a little more intense since there's less distance for the vibration from the chain saw to travel, as she swivels her hips and groans. With the rest of her mind, she revels in the pleasurable sensations which travel through her body while it feels as though the vibration variances add to the enjoyment as she throws her head back and gives voice to her pleasure.

When the noise from the chain saw stops a few moments later, Sharlene puts her head down and hopes he doesn't see the flush of her face or her labored breathing. After her breathing is more or less under control, she looks up and sees that he's put the chain saw away and is sitting on the tail gate with a drink. She slowly stands up, walks over to get her own drink out of the cooler, and quickly downs what's left in the bottle and starts another one. After a few minutes, she starts to feel a little more normal and sees Molly look at her, look at the path which leads to the swamp, and look back at her. She remarks, "It looks like Molly wants to go down to the swamp."

George nods his head as he responds, "Yep, it sure does. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so. Let me get my backpack and a couple of drinks."

"Did you want to borrow the handgun again?"

"No, my aunt let me borrow one of hers. I just have to dig it out of my backpack and belt it on."

"Okay. Take your time and enjoy your walk. I'll be here when you're ready to go back."

"Thank you, George. Okay, Molly, let's go."

With a playful "Woof," Molly leads the way down the path and Sharlene follows after.

While Molly sniffs around and investigates the various smells and sights, Sharlene sits down on a rock near the pond and is soon lost in her thoughts. Her response to those sexual experiences greatly surprises her. She had never considered herself to be a sexual person. In fact, she more often thought of herself as a nun type personality, although of a scientific rather than of a religious orientation. Can she enjoy sexual experiences and still retain her professional demeanor? What will people think of her? What does she think about herself?

As she considers the subject some more, she realizes that people must be able to enjoy sexual experiences and still be professionals. After all, aren't most of her co-workers married and most people usually assume that married people have sex and theoretically enjoy it. But then, there were always the stories of dissatisfied spouses, affairs, and sexually transmitted diseases showing up in monogamous relationships.

Then the question arises about who to have a relationship with. She certainly doesn't know anyone who she's willing to commit herself to be married then she shudders in revulsion at the idea of sleeping around. So far, her sexual experiences have been basically spontaneous accidents. She pauses then laughs out loud at asking George for rides in his pickup or to go cut up some more logs.

If she's going to enjoy these sexual sensations, Sharlene guesses it's going to have to be more like being by herself in a dark room with . . . what do they call those things which some women use?, oh yeah, a vibrator. Vibrations in the pubic area are very good, at least the few she's recently experienced. Wistfully, she wishes there was a playback feature on her emotional recording device, assuming the thing captured what she felt, because she would sure like to experience it again. Maybe she can touch herself. If it felt that good for a machine to touch her through her jeans, what would it feel like to touch herself directly?

There's no way to know until she tries. With that thought, she carefully looks around to make sure she's alone. As she thinks about it a little more, she briefly smiles at the idea of getting away with some forbidden pleasure of touching herself while in the forest. She pauses a few more moments then she unzips her jeans, pushes one hand in, and as she touches herself near her pubic area, she realizes that she enjoys the sensations. She slides her hand down a little further then groans with pleasure and wonders, "Why haven't I tried this before?" In a little while, she feels herself getting a little sore, so she stops touching herself and leans back with a pleased sigh.

Hasn't she heard that some females like their breasts to be touched? When she had tried it a few years ago, there was nothing special about it. Maybe it needs to be in conjunction with other sexual feelings because she notices that her breasts are feeling different than normal. Again, she hesitates before she unbuttons her shirt and opens her bra then slides a finger around one breast, moves it in a spiral motion towards the center and hears herself moan until she reaches her stiffening nipple and she groans with the pleasure she feels. Her nipples had stiffened before, but they had never felt like this, so she tries touching her other breast and lightly rubs the nipple while another groan slips through her lips. What has she been missing?

As she cups her almost flat breasts in the palm of her hands, she caresses them while she moans in response, then she slides the palms of her hands across her hard extended nipples and groans with the growing feeling of pleasure. For several minutes, she experiments with how she touches her breasts, her nipples, one, then the other, together, softer, harder, as the waves of pleasure flow through her until she begins to feel a little sore. When she stops touching herself, she almost falls over and feels weak.

Sometime later, when she's calmer and her heart and lungs are working at a more normal pace, Sharlene straightens up her clothes and notices that the headband with the electronic sensors had fallen off, but she doesn't know when. As she puts the headband back on and wonders what emotions had been missed, she makes an effort to resume her thoughts. She realizes that the sensations she experienced in the pickup and on the log seemed more intense in some ways than when she touched herself. She supposes that makes sense, because in the pickup and on the log, she was able to just enjoy the sensations without having to put any of her own effort into the experience.

With a feeling of surprise, it occurs to her that she now understands why some of the people she's heard about wanted someone to give them pleasure without thinking of trying to please the other person. So, in spite of what she's heard directly and indirectly from her classmates, there does appear to be some positive element to a sexual experience. She also realizes that in contrast to what she had thought about herself for years, she really does want sexual experiences and feels like life might be missing something without that kind of enjoyment.

It has to be something more than sweaty fumbling in the dark and the self-centered desires she so often heard about. She's glad she's been able to avoid having to put up with grubby pawing hormone driven self-serving sex maniacs like some of her acquaintances have had to put up with. It would have been enough to convince her to never want anything sexual.

As she considers the whole situation, Sharlene thinks that sexual experiences should be something gentle and sharing between two people who care for each other and who are trying to please each other, or at least take turns in doing so. Oops, and here she's been taking advantage of George. Well, not really, since she hadn't forced him to do anything. She doesn't even think he was aware she had enjoyed herself.

The more she thinks about it, she's somewhat embarrassed at the possibility that he might have observed her enjoying herself in the pickup and on the log while a part of her feels increased respect for him for not taking advantage of her. What a muddled mess. She doubts that any books can help her since they tend to be clinical and ignore the obvious emotional element, or they're of the 'let it all hang out' variety.

Although she's not sure if it would help to talk to someone, she considers the people she knows: her parents, no, they would be shocked after all of these years, even her down-to-earth Grandma Running Deer might be hesitant to talk in depth about such matters on a personal level; her co-workers, no, they would either be embarrassed, try to be clinically objective, or try to take advantage of her; a psychologist, no, they spout platitudes or want you to talk about it without giving you any guidance while they collect their fee. No, if she's going to talk to anyone, it will have to be her aunt. Aunt Paula might cheer her on, but she would also give her practical advice after she had carefully listened.

Now with that thought settled, Sharlene comes back to the present and sees Molly is sitting in front of her with a sympathetic look and that it's starting to get late. She kneels down, hugs Molly, and receives a lick in return and surprisingly, doesn't mind it. She stands up, takes a long drink, looks around, puts her drink bottle away, tells Molly, "Let's go find George," and starts to walk back up the path.

* * * * *

2147-07-35 (e1)

When they're alone after dinner, Sharlene tells her aunt about what had happened on third-day and today, without mentioning her own experimentation, and finishes with, "I'm glad George hadn't noticed what I was experiencing."

Paula chuckles before she says, "Oh, Sharlene, he noticed. You can bet he noticed and quietly cheered you on."

"Oh, no," is the embarrassed squeak which comes out of her month.

"Oh, child, don't be embarrassed," Paula lays a comforting hand on her arm as she continues, "George is a good gentle man. If you enjoyed sexual pleasure, even though he had nothing directly to do with it, he was happy for you. For him, it meant that something is right with the world. He's very aware that most people have very twisted ideas about sex. People tend to be either puritan or promiscuous. Or they associate sex with violence or with dominance.

"For George, sex isn't rutting like wild animals or to prove one's power over another person, but would be more truly called making love where two adults agree to mutually share physical pleasure without obligations or hidden agendas. And since women are usually the victims in the cases of unpleasant sexual encounters, George thinks that any time a woman can enjoy sexual pleasure without coercion or obligation, either by herself or with another person, it's something to be celebrated."

Since she's surprised out of most of her embarrassment, Sharlene looks at her aunt for several moments before she asks, "Really? That's a strange way for a man to think. . . . Wait a minute, how do you know all of that?"

"Well," with both an embarrassed dropping of her eyes and a shy smile twisting up the corner of her mouth, Paula answers, "George and I have had some long talks and there's more to the story than I told you the other night."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Let's see, I told you how when Paul and I were separated that I had asked for advice about eligible men from some of the other women in town and that when it came to George he backed off from the bolder women, but would touch those who sincerely wanted to be touched only after they directly asked him."

Sharlene nods her head as she responds, "Yes."

"Well, after I dated a couple of other guys, I decided that George couldn't be any worse. I guess I must have been feeling a little desperate to think of dating a man who is probably old enough to be my father, because I forgot half of what I had heard about him. The next time he was in to buy something, I asked him if he would go to the dance with me. He looked around the store and asked, 'Are you talking to me?' When I said, 'Yes', he muttered, 'No, thank you,' and left. I saw him in town a couple of times, but he didn't stop here to buy anything for over a month.

"I like to think I'm a considerate person, but it shocked me that I scared him off so easily, especially after I realized I had approached him wrong. After some thought, I remembered that Jean had been the first woman in town to spend some time with George. So I went to talk with her. Apparently, after he moved to the area, he had taken out a personal ad and while most of the women in town laughed themselves silly over it, Jean thought that if the ad was honest, it took some real guts to run it and she wanted to meet him. The ad said, hold it, let me show you, I have a copy of it here somewhere. Do you want some more tea?"

"I can get it."

A couple of minutes later, Paula hands Sharlene a piece of paper as she says, "Here it is. Read this."

"Okay. 'Boring old man seeks to meet slender lady who likes quiet times, good books, and might want to be touched.' Wow, that's either brutally honest or some sort of gag."

She nods her head as she says, "That's what Jean thought. So she responded and found it to be honest. They spent some time together, I don't know how much touching was done, Jean never did say beyond that he knew how to touch and she had to directly ask him to touch her. Jean wanted to be married, but George didn't, so they parted on friendly terms and the mystique of George Greyson greatly expanded. Most people thought he was a bit of an eccentric to begin with since he's a quiet intensely private man who built a big home a couple of miles from a small town out in the middle of nowhere. They figured he must have something to hide.

"Not many women want to take an older man as a lover, in any sense of the word, unless they think he has power, status, or money. George doesn't have any of those, well, he has enough money to live comfortably, but not enough to attract a real gold digger. Still, several women have been attracted to George over the years, if for no other reason than the apparent mystery of him. Those women got nowhere with George, because there's no mystery about him. Just a couple of women have been able to spend time with George and when I asked them, they said it was because they took George at face value as 'a boring old man'. You know, now that I think about it, each of those women are now actually happily married. I wonder if George told them what he told me."

Sharlene asks, "What was that?"

"Oh, sorry, that's getting ahead of the story. Like I said, it was over a month before George came back to the store. When he stepped up to the cash register, I rang up his purchase, took his money and as I handed him his change and receipt, I spoke up, 'George?' He looked up and asked, 'Yes?' I said, 'I want to apologize for asking you to the dance several weeks ago.' He replied, 'Thank you.' I took the next step, said, 'I'd like to be friends,' and stuck out my hand. He looked at my hand for a couple of moments before he slowly raised his own and as we shook hands, he said, 'Friends,' almost wistfully, and with a final, 'Thank you,' he walked out of the store. For some reason, I felt a sense of relief and that background feeling of desperation receded.

"George returned to stopping by the store once a week or so as he used to do to purchase fuel or other small items and gave a quiet friendly greeting, but said nothing more. After a few weeks, I took a chance and said, 'George, I'd like to invite you to dinner.' He paused before he said, 'Okay.' I pressed on, 'How about first-day at nineteen hundred?' He shook his head and said, 'Can't.' I tried again, 'Okay, how about third-day at nineteen hundred?' He stood still for a moment before he responded, 'Okay. Thank you,' and left.

"Over the next few days, I questioned myself as to why I was trying to get to know him. He's not young, athletic, handsome, rich, famous, or any other thing which a woman typically looks for in a prospective mate and he certainly wasn't making it easy. There had to be easier fish in the pond, but did I want easier or did I want real, and if real, real what? He didn't match the typical picture of a 'real man', in fact, he almost came across as a real basket case. I figured I should be able to make it through one meal. From talking to the other women, I knew George liked simple and hearty home cooked meals. I could handle that, but I wondered about carrying on a conversation with someone whose responses were monosyllables."

When Paula pauses, Sharlene says, "As you're telling the story and from what I've guessed at, George seems to be rather lonely, but has felt burned or betrayed and would rather stay lonely than risk a relationship."

"That's a good observation."

"Do you want some more tea?"

"No, I think I have enough, oops," as she turns the cup upside down and a single drop rolls out onto the saucer, "I guess I do want some more."

A couple of minutes later with fresh cups of tea in front of them, Sharlene asks, "So, how did the dinner go?"

"Very well." Paula's eyes look into the past as she describes what happened:

George showed up a few minutes before nineteen hundred and when I let him in, he said, "Thank you for inviting me. I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to bring."

Well, I thought, at least he knows about the social conventions, but I only said, "That's okay, I hope you brought your appetite."

With just a hint of a grin, he answered, "Yes, ma'am."

"What would you like to drink?"

"I've heard rumor that you make a good mint iced tea."

As I poured the iced tea and put the food on the table, it dawned on me that I heard him talk more just now in a few seconds than in any other single setting in all of the time he had been stopping by the store. We ate the meal in companionable silence and neither of us said a word.

When he emptied his plate, he took a long drink, sat back, briefly paused then said, "Thank you, Paula. That was a wonderful meal."

"You're welcome, George." As I pushed my chair back, he got up, picked up the dirty dishes and took them to the sink.

While I covered the leftovers and put them in the fridge, he asked, "Do you want help doing the dishes?"

"No. I'll just rinse them off and put them in the dishwasher."

Without a word, he turned back to the sink, efficiently rinsed off the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher.

I thought to myself, "This can't be the same man who's been coming to my store." As we stood in the kitchen, the silence started to become awkward until I finally asked, "Would you like to sit back down and talk?"

"I'm not much for talking."

My thought was "Don't I know," but what I said was, "That's okay. There are a couple of things I don't understand and maybe you can explain them to me."

George asked if he could have some more iced tea and use the restroom first. I pointed out were the bathroom was and poured the iced tea while he was gone. When he came back, we sat down across from each other at the table.

Since he appeared to maybe not be talkative, but a little less silent, I decided to push a little and see where it went, so I told him, "George, I don't want to be offensive, but I do want to be direct."

"Good."

That took me back a little, but it was encouragement rather than rejection, so I plowed on, "George, what was the problem with me asking you to the dance?"

He looked over my shoulder, looked down at his hands, and took a drink of iced tea. I thought he was going to leave when he lifted his head up, looked me in the eye, and started to talk, "Paula, when you first took over the store here, I obviously didn't know you. But over time, I came to think of you as a real person. Not simply as being human rather than alien, but as a person basically without pretension. A person who treated everybody else, young or old, rich or poor, as people, not because you thought of them as customers, but you thought of them as people and of having equal value to yourself. I know I don't talk much or get involved in social doo-dahs, but I do try to be observant."

He paused and took another drink before he continued, "I also thought of you and Paul as a good couple, as two people who belong together." He held up his hand to stop my interruption. "I don't know why you and Paul separated, and, frankly, it's none of my business, but that's what I thought. Sometime after your separation, I guess you started to feel lonely because you began to dress a little fancier, wear a little more makeup, and paid a little more attention to the male customers, especially those who appeared to be well off financially. And then you started to ask around about eligible men."

My jaw must have dropped open in surprise.

He explained, "People may not talk to me, but they often pay no attention to me, so they talk around me." With a sad half smile, he took another sip of iced tea before he continued, "Anyway, I was beginning to doubt my impression of you, which is my problem, not yours. When you asked me to the dance, I couldn't believe it. My immediate, and I realize now, inappropriate reaction, was that you obviously hadn't learned or observed anything about me and that you were like those other pushy . . . people who want whatever they think I might be hiding. I know it was wrong of me to judge you so harshly and I apologize for that." He dropped his head and was quiet.

* * * * *

2147-07-35 (e2)

Paula's eyes return to the present when she hears Sharlene's, "Wow!"

"Yeah. Needless to say, I was stunned. I just sat there and after a couple of minutes, I realized he was right about me. Right about everything, except why I had asked him to the dance."

"What happened next?"

Paula turns her attention back to the past:

After a few more minutes of absolute quiet, George finished his glass of iced tea, put his hands on the table, said, "I'd better leave," and started to push his chair back.

Without thinking, I reached across the table, grabbed his hand and said, "No, wait, Paul, I mean, George. Wait a minute. Sit back down."

With a sad smile which I didn't understand at the time, he sat back down.

I held onto his hand, "George, I'm so sorry."

"Paula," he interrupted and squeezed my hand, "you don't have anything to be sorry about. Almost any woman who was lonely would do just what you did. It's better that a woman will put on a little makeup rather than take a bunch of pills or put a gun to her head."

I gathered my courage enough to ask, "What changed your mind?"

"I knew my judgment was harsh right away, that's one of my faults, but it took me a few weeks to build up my courage to face you. When you offered to be friends, I was doubly ashamed of my harsh judgment and stunned that you would want to consider me as a friend. I sincerely thank you for that. I hope I haven't hurt you more by what I've said tonight. If you're willing, I would still like to be friends."

I couldn't help myself, I got up from my chair, walked around the table, held out my arms, and said, "Hold me."

After a moment's hesitation, he stood up and held me and before I knew it, I was sobbing like a baby. I don't know how long we stood there while he held me and I sobbed onto his chest and got his shirt all wet. I cried like I haven't cried for years. After awhile, my tears diminished and as I started to lift my head from his chest, he reached over, grabbed a tissue, and handed it to me. After several more tissues to dry my face and blow my nose, I became aware that he still had one arm around me and it was a good thing otherwise I might have fallen over.

When I finally looked up at him, I first saw his sad smile, then I saw tears rolling down his cheeks. I slowly reached up my hand and traced his tear tracks with my finger. Then I reached up my hand to behind his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him. I kissed him to within an inch of his life, or at least it seemed like it at the time. When I broke the kiss, I dropped my head to his chest. After I caught my breath, I looked up at him and said, "George Greyson, you'd better leave or I'm going to take you to bed."

"You would regret it."

"Not until tomorrow."

He made sure I was holding onto the table before he stepped away. When he reached the back door, he turned and softly said, "Good night, Paula." He opened the door, locked it, and closed it behind him.

As she returns to the present, Paula reaches across the table to tap her chin and suggest, "Close your mouth, Sharlene."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Paula. That's an incredible story. That really happened?"

"Are you calling me a liar? Don't answer that. Yes, it really happened. I don't have dementia yet and my memory is still pretty good."

"Would you have taken George to bed?"

"In a heartbeat, child, in a heartbeat. Yes, I probably would have regretted it, in light of how things turned out. And, yes, it was an emotional response to a highly emotional situation by a lonely woman. But, still, there are times when I wonder how things would have turned out."

"You said something earlier about wondering if what George told you was what he told the other women he dated."

"Are you sure you want to keep listening to me babbling?"

"Aunt Paula, you're not babbling. I know I'm rather old to start having sexual thoughts or experiences, especially compared to my age group. But if you don't talk to me about it, who will? At my age, people are going to assume I'm either experienced or frigid."

"Before I go on, do you want some more tea or would you like a little wine?"

Sharlene answers, "I'll stick with the tea."

After they each make a quick trip to the bathroom, Sharlene gets a few cookies out of the pantry and with fresh cups of tea, they sit back down.

Paula returns her gaze to memory lane and continues:

It took me several days to calm down from the emotional flood, but when I did, I felt more relaxed and more like my old self than I had been for weeks. About a week after George had come to dinner, he came into the store and went down the aisle to pick up a few things. As I handed him his receipt, he said, "Thank you," paused, then in a chivalrous manner, he asked, "Would you do me the honor of accepting my invitation to dinner on sixth-day at nineteen hundred?"

I chuckled, but it was almost a giggle as I answered, "I would be delighted, kind sir."

"Shall I send my carriage around to pick you up?"

"I think I can drive myself, George."

With a gallant bow, he said, "Thank you, my lady," and stepped out the door.

I knew where he lived and arrived there a little before nineteen hundred. I wore one of my sun dresses with short sleeves, a modest neckline and a full skirt which reached to the bottom of my knees and my walking pumps.

He greeted me at the door, "You look nice, Paula. Welcome to my humble abode," and with a gallant bow, he waved me in.

I had never been inside before, so he gave me a quick tour. There was nothing fancy about the place, although it was big and roomy. He had some good quality electronics, neither start-of-the-art nor cheap, good quality furniture, and rather plain furnishings in the bedrooms and bathrooms.

Then there was the library. It must have taken up a full quarter of the house. Beautiful wood shelves, indirect lighting, and probably several thousand books, all in neatly labeled categories. I think most were fiction, but the non-fiction section was still large. There were even quite a few children's books which surprised me. I can't claim to a lot of experience, but that was the most beautiful personal library I've ever seen. I regretted leaving it, but you can't eat in a library.

When we went to the dining room, the table was simply, but nicely set. He took a couple of chicken breasts from the fridge and put them on the grill in the back yard and was soon back to ask what I would like to drink. I chose the lemon iced tea which he said didn't match my mint iced tea, but I thought it was quite good. When he stepped back outside to turn the chicken, I followed him and saw the back yard was clean and neat with a few fruit trees, a small grape arbor, some strawberry plants in a corner, and a profusion of colorful flowers. As I looked closer, I recognized that a lot of the flowers were pansies. Somehow, that seemed odd and when I turned to look at him, I saw that he had come near to see what I was looking at.

He explained, "It's a simple flower, easy to grow, and quite colorful, as well as a past accusation."

I don't think he meant to leave me with a puzzle, but it took me a few moments to realize that someone important must have accused him in the past of being a pansy which is a derogatory term for someone accused of being a weakling.

As I walked back across the yard, he turned and said, "Dinner's ready." Along with the grilled chicken breasts, he had wild rice, green beans, a garden salad, and dinner rolls.

After I shamelessly stuffed myself, I leaned back and said, "Thank you, George, that was very good. I don't think I'll need to eat for several days."

"You're welcome. I also have angel food cake with fresh strawberries for dessert, if you would like."

"Maybe later, George. I don't think I can eat another bite."

"Well, sit there and rest since I know you've been working all day and I'll get this mess cleaned up." In just a few minutes, he had the leftovers put away and the dishes rinsed and stacked in the dishwasher. I enjoyed just sitting there, watching someone else do the work. When he was done in the kitchen, he refilled our drinks then sat down across from me at the table and asked, "How have you been?"

"Fine," I replied while I felt somewhat puzzled by his question.

After a pause, he look directly at me and in a quieter voice said, "I think I should apologize for taking advantage of you when I hugged and kissed you. I don't know what got into me, I'm usually not that forward."

It took me a moment to respond, "George Greyson, are you losing your memory? I'm the one who held out my arms to be held. I'm the one who pulled your head down and kissed you. Well, wasn't I?"

He reluctantly nodded his head.

"No more apologizing. I'm glad you were there. I haven't had a good cry like that in ages. I needed it. And you were a good friend to be there and hold me when I needed it." We sat there in the quiet dining room and I couldn't keep the smile from my voice as I said, "You know, George, you're a pretty good kisser."

He looked at me in shocked surprise.

"I know I was in a state of high emotions that evening, but I still recognize a good kiss when I experience one. You responded to my need and met me as an equal without trying to take over or push it further than I wanted it to go. It was a good kiss and I'll remember it for a long time."

He dropped his eyes and with a sheepish smile said, "Thank you, Paula." The quiet was homey and comfortable and I think we must have sat there for several minutes without saying a word. He looked up and held out his hand, "Friends, still?"

Rather than shake his hand, I clasped it between both of mine, smiled, and said, "Friends still."

* * * * *

2147-07-35 (e3)

Sharlene proclaims, "Aunt Paula!"

Since she's startled out of memory lane, she asks, "What?"

"You've been just sitting there for a couple of minutes staring off into space with a dreamy smile."

"I'm sorry, I was just remembering. I know it sounds like I'm making George out to be some wonderful paradigm of the ideal man, but he's not. There are times when I think I could have loved that man, but I know he would have driven me around the bend in short order. He does care, and he does have some clear insights, but when you take it all together, he is what he claims to be, 'a boring old man' who just sits in his house, . . . reads his books, . . . avoids people, . . . reads his books . . . . I'm sorry, where was I?"

Sharlene answers, "You had just clasped his hand with yours and said, 'Friends still'."

Paula picks up the story:

I guess I was still trying to figure out which direction to take because what I said next was, "George, do you want to touch me?"

He lifted up his hand with both of mine still clasped around it and said, "I am touching you, Paula."

"I mean more than this."

He softly responded, "That's not the important question, Paula."

For some reason, that made me angry, "What do you mean, it's not the important question? I asked it!"

"I'm sorry, that was poorly stated. Yes, Paula, I would like to touch you more. You're a warm, caring, and physically attractive woman. I can't image a man who wouldn't want to touch you."

I enjoyed the little ego boosting.

He continued to explain, "That's one of my problems. I would like to touch just about every woman I'm with. But I will NOT have a woman feel coerced into being touched, whether that coercion is physical, emotional, social, financial, parental, or for any other reason. I've known of too many women who have had their lives ruined or their self-image either destroyed or severally damaged because they felt coerced or somehow obligated to submit to being touched, or to do the touching. That's why I've made a self-rule to never touch a woman unless she's under no coercion or obligation and she has no ulterior motive other than to sincerely want to be touched by me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get on my soapbox."

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about that. Thank you for telling me. It explains a great deal."

"You know," he said with a hint of a grin, "being a boring old man does make it easier to keep my self-rule, it greatly reduces the opportunities. After all, how many women want to be touched by a boring old man?"

"So," I prodded, "what is the important question?"

George looked me in the eye for a little while before he answers, "The important question is whether you want to be touched by me."

I returned his look and said, "Yes, I think so. And before you ask why, I'm lonely and haven't been touched in what seems like a long time and you're a gentle man and I don't think you'll touch me more than I want."

"That's fair. I wouldn't want to touch you more than you want, but you'll need to say, 'no,' or 'stop,' or something, because I won't know how much you do or don't want to be touched."

I thought about that for a moment before I said, "That sounds reasonable."

He paused then went on, "The next question is, how and where do you want to be touched?"

"What?!?" I almost yelled.

He repeated, "How and where do you want to be touched?"

As I flung one of my hands into the air, I asked, "What is this, sixty questions?"

He grabbed my hand and held both of my hands in his, and in a gentle voice he explained, "Paula, I'm not trying to be difficult, I'm trying to be considerate. If I came around the table and began to gently blow in your ear or nibble on your ear lobe but didn't know that as a child, you had had severe earaches and hated your ears to be touched, would that be considerate?"

I could only shake my head, 'no'.

"Or if I started to play in your hair but didn't know that you had an irrational fear of creepy crawlies in your hair, would that be considerate?"

Again, I could only shake my head, 'no'.

He continued, "Touching between two people should be fun and enjoyable. I agree, it shouldn't be a bunch of questions. But without knowing how and where you want to be touched, I run the risk of turning you off before I can turn you on. Excuse me for being crude, but any male insect knows how to put his penis into a female's vagina. That's not making love. That's not two people touching to mutually share physical pleasure. That's certainly not the comfort and companionship of two people holding hands," and he held up our still clasped hands.

I think I almost sputtered when I responded, "Isn't a man supposed to know how to touch a woman?"

George looked at me sadly and asked, "How? It's not instinctual. We aren't insects simply breeding. I suppose a man could read a book which might tell him how to touch some theoretical average woman, but what woman is average? And that doesn't take into account what the woman may have experienced earlier in her life. The book will say that a woman likes to have her breasts touched. But if a young woman had been molested earlier in life by someone who touched her breasts, her boyfriend will be in for a rude surprise when he goes to touch her breasts.

"Men are certainly not taught how to touch even a theoretically average woman. Men may get together and talk about their sexual exploits, but that's bragging, not teaching. How can a young man gain experience in how to touch a woman except through trial and error? Any teaching experience which a young man might receive from a knowledgeable woman would be both illegal and immoral in our society. How many traditional marriages have started off on a wrong foot because the bride expected the groom to know how to please her, but he didn't have a clue, or he did know what to do and she wondered who he had been playing around with in order to gain the experience?

"Since our society assumes that a man knows how to touch a woman, or to go so far as to sexually please a woman, we have women who are unintentionally abused, especially when they have no idea about what's going to happen, or the experience falls far short of their romantic expectations. On the other hand, we have young men who are trying to get under the skirt of every female they meet and think that the number of women they take to bed somehow equates to their quality as a lover and those young men turn into beer guzzling bubbas who strut around with their bellies draped over their belts and think they're a deity's gift to women, yet they couldn't describe the difference between a clitoris and a clavicle. I'm sorry, I got on my soapbox again."

Sharlene unintentionally brings Paula back to the present as she asks, "He said that? He really said that guys couldn't describe the difference between a clitoris and a clavicle?"

"Yes, he did."

"I've got to remember that."

"I hope you do, because it's too often true."

"You're kidding."

"No, Sharlene, I'm not. What George said was right, with too few exceptions. In many ways, I'm glad you've lived a safe and sheltered life, because you've been able to avoid many of the problems which a lot of young women have had to deal with. But, in some ways, you're also rather naive and I worry about you. Not so much that you'll cause problems, but that other people will cause problems for you."

"Thank you. I know there are a number of areas of real life about which I'm totally ignorant. Your willingness to tell me about some of those things which Mom has trouble talking about, is greatly appreciated. Was that what you meant when you wondered if George told those other women the same thing he told you?"

Paula shakes her head as she says, "No, that came later in the conversation. It's a bit embarrassing. Let me get another drink before I go on."

Sharlene hesitates before she says, "If you don't want to talk about it . . . ."

"No, child, I think you need to hear it. Why do I keep calling you child? You're not a child."

"I don't mind, Aunt Paula, especially when I hear the love in your voice when you say it."

"Oh, go fix the tea."

* * * * *

2147-07-35 (e4)

A few minutes later, they're back at the table with fresh cups of tea and relieved bladders.

After a brief pause to drink some tea, Paula returns to the past:

When George finished talking, I don't know whether I was stunned, shocked, or what. I started to think about the people I knew or heard about, family, friends, neighbors, and customers. What he said was right. Those assumptions and lack of knowing were the known or probable cause of so many relationship problems. I must have spent several minutes just sitting there and thinking about what he said before I looked up and responded, "George, I don't like to admit it, but you're right."

He gave me a bow as he responded, "Thank you."

"What can we do?"

"I doubt that you and I are going to save the world. We could overturn the moral and legal systems by having older experienced people physically teach younger people, but the result would be pleasing to the older person and not necessarily appropriate to the younger person's future partner. I think a better solution is to encourage patience, asking questions between partners, letting newlyweds know they don't have to consummate the marriage on the wedding night, and to encourage gentle slow experimentation between couples."

I stuttered, "Damn, George, are you always right?"

He shook his head before he said, "Seldom, Paula, seldom. But I've observed and thought about this for years. Most people don't want to take the time, they want their pleasure now and once they're done, maybe they'll think about their partner, if they don't fall asleep first. Or dominance is what they really want, not sharing pleasure. A few people have heard what I've said and I would like to think that their lives are better as a result. I've met a few other people who have discovered it on their own, but among the general population, no, they're not interested."

A few more minutes passed in quiet. He got up to go to the bathroom and when he came back, he refreshed our drinks before he sat down. He again held my hands. After a little while, I quietly swallowed in hesitation or anticipation, I'm not sure which, and asked him, "George, will you please touch me?"

He gave me a small smile before he asked, "How and where would you like to be touched?"

I hesitated then thought of what might be 'safe' but potentially lead to something more interesting and requested, "How about my legs?"

"Like this?"

I felt one of his sock covered feet glide along the outside of my calf up and down a couple of times, then along my shin and then the inside of my calf. Then he used his other foot to caress my other leg with similar movements. It was a comfortable gentle caress and there didn't seem to be anything sexual about it. I suggested, "You can go a little higher, George."

He moved his foot up towards my knee, along the outside, front, and inside, and occasionally slipped his toe behind my knee along the inside of my leg, then did the same to my other leg. I started to relax. Sometimes, one of his feet would slip just above my knee to the bottom of my thigh, then down my leg to my calf, around, and up, and down. "Mmm, nice," I heard myself say. After awhile, the movements blended together into a gentle relaxing caress. I closed my eyes and laid my head on the back of the chair and said, "More." His foot slid a little further up my thigh and seemingly all over my lower legs, until I lost track of what followed the previous caress.

I felt myself slide down in the chair so his foot could go further up my thigh which it did, again all over, and somewhere in the midst, I moaned, "Oh, Paul." It took me awhile, but I eventually noticed that the touching was slowly receding and I dreamily heard myself say, "Paul, why are you slowing?" as the caresses continued to recede. I opened my eyes and there was George sitting across the table holding my hands and sadly smiling.

I struggled to sit up in the chair and snatch my hands away from him, but he didn't let go. Very softly he asked me, "Have you told Paul how to please you?"

I almost shouted, "What has Paul got to do with this!?!"

"You called to him."

I open my mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. After a moment, I numbly nodded my head and promptly burst into tears. He let go of one of my hands and set the tissue box next to me. After a little while, he got up and while he still held my other hand, he came around the table, knelt beside my chair, and put his other arm around my shoulder. I started to push him away then turned towards him, grabbed him, and cried my eyes out, again. When my tears finally subsided, I wiped my eyes, blew my nose, wiped my eyes some more, took a drink of lukewarm iced tea, and just sat there, sniffing occasionally and wiping at a late arriving tear.

After a few minutes, George softly asked again, "Have you told Paul how to please you?"

I shook my head.

"You assumed that Paul knew how to please you?"

I nodded my head.

"How would Paul know how to please you?"

I paused then shrugged my shoulders.

"Did you like it when I touched your leg?"

I nodded my head.

"Do you think Paul could do that?"

I hesitated then nodded my head.

"You miss him, don't you?"

I started to nod my head which turned into tears. I don't know how long I cried before my tears eventually stopped.

"Paula?"

I looked at George.

"Paul misses you. He feels like one of his limbs is missing."

I knew what he meant.

"He didn't tell me what the problem was, but I guessed that part of it was that he felt he didn't know how to please you."

I nodded my head, again.

"Can you tell him how to please you?"

I hesitated before nodding my head yet again.

"Can you do me a favor?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I want you to take a week off from the store, no, make it two weeks."

I stared at him with my mouth hanging open, but I couldn't say a thing.

"I want you and Paul to take a two week second honeymoon. I'll pay for it, wherever you and Paul want to go, and I'll pay for somebody you hire to take care of the store. I want you and Paul to take the time with no distractions to gently explore touching each other. Tell him how you want to be touched. Listen when he tells you how he wants to be touched."

I had a hundred excuses on the tip of my tongue, but what came out was, "You would do this for us?"

It was his turn to nod his head.

"Why?"

He gently smiled before he answered, "Because I like you two and I think you belong together. If, after the two weeks, you can't get along, I promise not to interfere in your lives again."

I hugged him, "Oh, George, thank you," and then I kissed him, just as well as the last time, but, maybe, not quite as long. It took me awhile longer to be able to ask, "You really mean it, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you," and I hugged him again. He stood up to pour me a fresh drink of iced tea then sat down on the other side of the table. He made a couple of suggestions as to who I might get to run the store. He said it wouldn't work for him to do it, since he would unintentionally chase the customers away. We talked about a few other inconsequential matters which allowed me the time to fully regain my composure. When I was ready to leave, he offered to drive me home, but I said I could manage.

Paula returns to the present to explain the results to Sharlene. "It took a couple of weeks to make all of the arrangements and George paid for all of it. Paul and I took George's advice, took our time and learned a lot about each other and life hasn't been the same. Oh, Paul's not perfect, and neither I am, we still have our spats, but the making up is a whole lot more fun."

"Amazing. So that's what happened."

"Yep."

"Mom and some of the other relatives wondered what happened. You and Paul were separated for months and then boom, you're back together again and acting like newlyweds."

"Such a stupidly simple piece of advice, tell the other person how you want to be touched. It won't work for everybody, because some people just don't want to be touched, others won't listen, and the relationship of others is so poisoned that nothing will help. I'm sorry I kept you up so late."

"Don't be sorry, Aunt Paula. I don't think it was easy for you to tell, but I needed to hear it. You've given me a lot to think about. Thank you."

"Oh, just go to bed, child."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * * * *

2147-07-36 (m>a1)

Although she gets up late, Sharlene had only slept her usual number of hours after staying awake late last night to think about what her aunt had told her. She takes her time to get up and dressed and packs her luggage in preparation for returning to 742x158 in the evening. As she fixes something to eat, she looks out of the kitchen window and sees that Paul and George have taken the logs Paul wanted off of the flatbed trailer and are doing something with them, but she can't figure out what they're doing. After she's done eating and cleans up, she steps out the back door of the house and sees that Paul is still working, but George is sitting down on the trailer and is taking a drink.

"What are you doing?" Sharlene asks as she walks towards the men.

Paul straightens up from bending over one of the logs, stretches his back, wipes his brow, says, "You tell her, George," and bends back down to scrape a funny looking blade along the length of the log.

"We're trying to take the bark off of the log." Startled, he looks at her and asks, "What are you doing?" as Sharlene holds his wrist and looks at her watch.

While she tries not to recognize the concern she feels, she answers him, "I'm checking your pulse. You looked somewhat pale when I walked out here. Your pulse is fast and maybe a little weak."

He admits, "Yeah, I probably didn't take a break as soon as I should have, but I feel guilty sitting here and watching Paul do all of the work."

"Oh, be quiet, you old fraud." Paul straightens up and walks to the trailer to pick up his own drink. After he drinks some, he turns to Sharlene and says, "George cuts the trees down, trims the branches, cuts the logs to length, hauls them down here, has been debarking the logs until just a couple of minutes ago, and claims I'm doing all of the work. Fraud!" The last is hurled at George and they both laugh.

"We're trying to take the bark off of the logs," George repeats. "The bark is softer than the wood and is susceptible to insects and to decay from the weather, both of which will work its way into the wood. When the log was a part of a living tree, the pitch would provide some protection and the bark, if damaged, would re-grow, kind of like skin on a human. But once the tree is cut, there is no more protection, so we take off the bark, apply some preservative to the wood, and the log should last for several decades."

Sharlene asks, "So, how do you take the bark off?"

Paul hands her the tool which he had been using and she sees that it's a curved blade about twelve inches long with a slight downward angle and a handle at each end. "The idea is to get the blade between the bark and the wood and pull which is intended to separate the bark from the wood without cutting up the wood. If you're lucky, the bark will come loose in a long strip like this one," he holds up a strip of bark about four feet long, "but most of the time it's a much smaller piece."

"Isn't there some sort of mechanical equipment which could do the job and save you a lot of hard work?"

Paul nods his head as he answers, "Yes, but it's not cheap. Since a log isn't evenly and smoothly round, the machine will either not take all of the bark off or it will take off a bunch of the wood. Yeah, it's hard work. I suppose we can claim we're getting our exercise, but there's also a sense of accomplishment when the job is done, which I know I wouldn't get by shoving the log through some machine."

"Can I help?"

"Normally, I would gladly accept your help, but there's no sense in you getting all dirty before you leave. And if we injured the doctor in the house, who would do the doctoring?"

George asks, "You're leaving?"

Sharlene isn't sure if she heard disappointment in his voice, or wanted to hear it, but in either case she answers, "Yes, I have to be back to work on second-day."

"It was nice to meet you, Dr. Schmidt," he sees her scowl and corrects himself, "I mean Sharlene. And thank you for your help in trimming the branches off of those logs."

"I'm not leaving yet and it was my pleasure to help. When would you gentlemen like some lunch?"

Paul glances at his watch then suggests, "How about in an hour? And we'll have it on the patio so we don't track our dirt through the house."

"One hour it is." Sharlene goes back into the house and then into the store to see how her aunt is doing.

* * * * *

About an hour later, Sharlene has prepared a tray with bread, sliced meat and cheese, condiments, and a fresh pitcher of iced tea and carries it out to the patio where the men are quietly sitting with their almost empty glasses. They appear to have already washed their hands.

When he hears the door open, Paul turns with a big grin and says, "Ah, the pretty wench with the food."

Sharlene stops in her tracks and exclaims, "Uncle Paul!"

"I'm sorry, Sharlene. You know I'm only teasing. Come sit down and eat with us." As they start to fix their sandwiches, Paul explains, "When I was a young man, I had a fantasy about being a swashbuckling pirate in a movie and that was one of the lines I dreamed I had. Dreams, a far cry from real life."

They eat in silence and as they finish, Molly comes around the corner of the house and apparently knows that there will be some scraps for her.

"Thank you, Sharlene. That hit the spot."

"Yes, thank you," agrees George.

"Well I'll just clean up and let you gentlemen get back to your work."

* * * * *

After Sharlene cleans up from lunch, she takes over for Paula in the store so she can eat her lunch without an interruption. She helps her aunt with a couple of other things in the store and as she goes through the house, she glances into the back yard and sees Paul and George working or taking a break.

A little later when she looks in the back yard, she notices that Paul is walking from the direction of the shop. Sharlene steps out of the house then asks, "Did George go home?"

"No, he was starting to get short of breath, so I told him to go lay down. He wouldn't go in the house because his clothes are dirty so he went into the shop and I made sure he laid down in his personal vehicle where it would be cooler than out here."

"He has a personal vehicle in your shop?"

"Yeah, it's a little two door he's wanted me to do some work on in my spare time."

Since she doesn't want to admit to or to show the concern which she's starting to feel, Sharlene says, "I'd better go check on him. Where is it?"

"It's the only personal vehicle in there, but it's against the far wall on the other side of the group vehicle."

After she steps into the shop, Sharlene finds the personal vehicle and as she walks up closer, she calls out, "George?" Through the window, she sees his arm wave and tells him, "Don't get up." She looks in the open passenger door and asks, "How are you doing?" As he wiggles his hand back and forth to indicate, 'so, so,' she grabs his hand and checks his pulse and notes that his breathing is somewhat rough. "Well, I guess you'll live for a few more minutes."

He tries to grin.

"You stay here. I want to get my stethoscope and check you over a little better."

George nods his head.

* * * * *

2147-07-36 (a2)

Sharlene quickly leaves the shop and as she goes through the back yard, she sees Paul's concerned look and says, "I think he'll be okay, but I want to get my stethoscope and check him over a little better." As she notices his relieved look, she hurries to her room, grabs her stethoscope, and goes back to the shop. She steps up to George's personal vehicle, looks in, and asks, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Little."

Sharlene sits down on the bottom of the vehicle door jamb, takes his pulse, leans across him and listens to his heart with her stethoscope, sits back up, and takes his pulse again. "Can you roll onto your left side?" When he starts to roll, she puts her hand on the back of his hip and gives him a little push to help. She places the back of her arm on the small of his back to help hold him in place, tells him, "Breathe deep," and listens to his lungs. She slips out from behind him and says, "Okay, you can roll back now."

When he lays back down again, she leans across him and listens to his heart again. As she sits back up, she takes the stethoscope out of her ears and wraps it around her neck. She leans her right elbow on his right knee and looks intently at him for a moment before she says, "I couldn't find anything clearly wrong. However, because I work on the research side of medicine and haven't worked with patients other than during my training, I can't be positive. You're already starting to look somewhat less pale, so I think you just over did it a little."

"Too much exercise . . . for a sedentary . . . old man."

She tries to tone down the sharpness in her voice as she says, "That and a bit of male ego in trying to keep up with Uncle Paul," while she doesn't want to think about why the sharpness might be there.

George's eyebrows pop up in surprise, he lifts his head to look at her, thinks for a moment, and admits, "Unintentionally, . . . but probably." As he lays his head back down, he closes his eyes. While she uses the quiet time to think, every few minutes she checks his pulse and it seems to be a little better each time. After awhile, he lifts his head and starts to sit up.

Sharlene asks, "What?"

"Drink."

Her eyes follow the direction of his outstretched arm to his drink bottle which she hands to him.

"Thank you." He slowly takes a long drink. A few minutes later he says, "Well, this is a first."

"What's a first?"

"I've never had a female doctor before . . . or one who made a house call." His voice goes to a whisper, "Or one so pretty." With a shocked look on his face, he quickly apologizes, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I said that last bit out loud."

She recovers from the surprise of his statement and the bigger surprise that she felt a warm glow from his opinion of her so the silence doesn't last long before she's able to respond, "There's no need for you to be sorry if you were sincere," he hesitantly nods his head, "and weren't just trying to get something from me." He quickly shakes his head. While she's not sure she understand her own feelings or can quickly sort them out, Sharlene decides to 'take the bull by the horns', directly looks at him, but still hesitates a little longer before she asks, "So, you think I'm pretty?"

He hesitates then quietly admits, "Yes. But I didn't want to say it out loud. . . . I didn't want to offend you."

Her surprise at the end of his statement seems to cut off the surge of feeling which she started to feel at the beginning of his statement so she asks, "Why would I be offended?"

While he occasionally pauses to grab some extra breaths, he answers, "Most women are insulted or offended if an older man, or an unattractive young man, or a poor man, or a generally undesirable man notices them."

She briefly thinks about that and as she considers some of her classmates and co-workers, she acknowledges, "That's usually true." A number of minutes quietly roll by as Sharlene debates with herself, but her need to know overrides her embarrassment so she asks, "George?"

"Yes?

"When you drove to the swamp in your pickup to get the firewood, and I rode along on, first on third-day and then yesterday?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know the gear shift was between my legs when you were backing up?"

George looks up in shock, then quickly turns his head away in embarrassment before he quietly answers, "Yes."

She's glad his turned head doesn't see her own flush of embarrassment then she briefly hesitates before she says the words, "You knew I was enjoying the sensation in a sexual manner?"

He hesitates before he barely nods his head and softly answers, "Yes."

"And when I was holding the large log for you while you cut it into firewood, you knew I was enjoying that also?"

He hesitates even longer before he quietly admits, "Yes."

As she remembers her thoughts from last night which reminded her of what others had said, there's still a little doubt even as she states what she knows is true, "And you didn't interfere."

"No."

Even as a small part of her is cringing at the direction of the conversation, a much larger part of her wants to know, so she asks, "Why?"

"Why what?"

She clarifies, "Why didn't you interfere? George, please look at me. Why didn't you interfere?"

Without looking at her, he answers, "It was your pleasure. It would have been rude and inconsiderate of me to interfere."

"Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for? I didn't do anything."

"That's what I'm thanking you for." As she's beginning to feel a little more sure of herself, she explains, "You let me enjoy sexual pleasure while I'm sitting right next to you and you didn't take advantage of me or of the situation. . . . Only a very special man would do that."

His eyebrows rise in surprise before he's able to verbally respond, "Special? You must be special to think that. Most people would call me a fool."

"That's because most people would only think of taking their own pleasure and not allow someone else to enjoy their pleasure." Sharlene gets up from sitting on the door jamb and barely hesitates before she climbs onto the passenger seat and puts her shins on the edges of the bucket seat along the outsides of his legs, sits her buttocks on his knees, puts her left hand on his right shoulder, leans over, and kisses his right check since his head is still turned away. With her right hand, she takes his chin and turns his head the other way and kisses his left cheek.

She moves his head to face hers, briefly pauses then requests, "George, look at me." Without experience to guide her, she has to rely on the growing feeling that she knows what she wants and when he finally raises his eyes to meet hers, she says, "Thank you," and before doubt can intrude, she kisses him on the lips. Although his body remains stiff under her, his lips respond to her kiss. She breaks the kiss, sits back, and says, "Thank you, George."

Since he's very surprised at what just happened, it takes him awhile to be able to respond, "Thank you for kissing me, but I don't understand why you're thanking me for not interfering when you enjoyed pleasure. It was the polite and right thing to do . . . or not do, depending on how you look at it."

"I suppose a little explanation is in order. Do you mind if I sit here?"

He hesitates before he answers, "No."

"Please relax." The part of her which can't believe what she's doing seems to be getting smaller as the rest of her says, "And why don't you put your hands up here," as she grabs his hands and places them on her jeans covered legs. "That's better. On third-day, I sat on the pickup seat backwards and leaned forward to look at the deer." Sharlene wants to be clear, but she still briefly hesitates to say the words out loud, "When I sat back up, I unintentionally sat down so the gear shift knob must have been a fraction of an inch under my pubic area. Do you understand where I'm referring to?"

He quickly drops his eyes and with a blush of embarrassment, he hesitates then nods his head.

"It was a total accident. I certainly hadn't planned it and actually hadn't noticed it until you started to back up and the gear shift knob began to vibrate and touch me. I was stunned and shocked at how good it felt and without even thinking, I started to move my hips to find out what it would feel like for the gear shift knob to touch this part or that part of my body." Her face flushes, but only a small part of that is in embarrassment since she can clearly remember how her body felt. She struggles to set the feeling aside as she says, "It was the most wonderful my body had ever felt. It was also my first truly sexual experience."

His eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Just like that kiss a couple of minutes ago, I shall remember as my first real kiss."

George's eyebrows rise even further in surprise which she didn't think was possible.

* * * * *

2147-07-36 (a3>e)

Sharlene moves her thoughts to safer ground and explains, "I didn't have a normal childhood, which in retrospect was very good. My parents home schooled me at my own academic pace which ended up being faster than my age group. I had some social involvement, but I was more interested in academics than socializing, so I avoided most of the awkward social situations which cause trouble for some young women. I started college in my early teens and didn't fully develop physiologically until after I started college and was generally viewed as a younger sister rather than as a potential girlfriend. I started medical school when most young people are starting to apply to college and again, I was seen as a younger sister.

"I dated a few times, but I quickly figured out that the males I went out with, even those who were recommended by friends, were either very immature, or had no interest in the things I was interested in, or just wanted to, well, to put it bluntly, just wanted to get into my pants for their own benefit without making any effort to make sure I might enjoy the experience. I quickly put a stop to that.

"Since I graduated from medical school and started working, my job has been my main interest and it's where I spend the majority of my time, even past normal working hours. I have a friend who I get together with occasionally, and when I can, I come here to visit my aunt. There hasn't been a lot of time for dating, and from my limited experiences and after I heard about the experiences of other women, I haven't been interested. I figured I had somewhat of a nun personality with a scientific rather than a religious orientation, . . . until I rode in your pickup.

"During that second ride in your pickup yesterday, when you backed down the lane twice, I deliberately moved my legs so the gear shift was between them. Of course, during the first part, I had to pay some attention to where we were, so I could move my leg away from the gear shift when you needed to use it to turn the pickup around. The second time you backed up, I almost didn't wait for you to get the gear shift in reverse before I slid my left leg over it and since I guessed you typically leave the pickup in gear when you park, I didn't bother to pay attention to where we were, but let the dashboard support me while I let the sensations take me away." She quickly works to set the feelings from that memory aside before she says, "It was wonderful."

Sharlene takes George's hands, which hadn't moved since she had put them on her legs, says, "You know, your hands can be more useful," and she slides them up and down along her legs. When he finally starts to move his hands on his own, she slides her hands along his arms to encourage him while his hands gently caress her outer thighs and calves, sometimes in the same direction on both of her legs and sometimes in opposite directions and she doesn't bother to hide her response, "Mmm, that's nice."

After she simply enjoys his caresses for a minute or two, she continues her explanation, "When you were ready to cut the log into firewood, I took that cloth you gave me to protect my clothes from the pitch and was going to just toss it across the log about anywhere near the end, when I saw something which struck me as familiar. It was a stump where a branch had been cut off, but it was about the same size as the knob on the gear shift. I chastised myself for acting like a fool, but when it came time to put the cloth down, I put it down and sat right over that stump, gripped the log, and let the pleasure take me away." She closes her eyes as her body wants to respond to the memory, then she again struggles to set the memory aside.

"Afterwards, when I went down to the swamp with Molly, I didn't see a thing. I sat on a rock and reviewed the whole situation. I thought about my past, I thought about the people I knew and the relationships they had. I thought about my future and what I wanted from it. And for all of that time I sat there thinking, I only arrived at two conclusions: one, if what I experienced was anything like a sexual experience between two people, I want it, and if it's not what happens between two people, I'll be selfish and just use a machine. My second conclusion was that I needed to talk to Aunt Paula about it and after dinner last night I kept her up late talking."
The silence stretches before he responds, "Sharlene, I'm very glad you were able to enjoy yourself. And I very much appreciate your trust in being able to tell me so much which is extremely personal. I'm very honored." In a softer voice, as though he's speaking to himself, he almost mutters, "I just wish . . . no."

"What do you wish?"

Because he's surprised at her question, George hesitates longer before he answers, "Well, . . . um, . . . are you sure you want to know?"

She nods her head and struggles to contain her response to what she hopes his answer will be.

"Well, I hope this doesn't sound rude or crude, . . . but I wish I had a video recording of you enjoying yourself, so I can better remember your glow of pure pleasure. It was like your face and your whole body were shouting the joy of pleasure. It was truly beautiful."

Since she didn't expect anything like that kind of an answer, she has to rearrange her thoughts in order to ask, "Really? The joy of pleasure?"

Even though he hesitates to respond for a little while, he can't keep the excitement out of his voice, "Yes, Sharlene. It was incredible. You virtually glowed. I stared at you for so long. . . . I was surprised I was able to turn away before you caught me staring at you."

"You're serious."

"Yes."

She tries to think of a way to get him to say what she had been hoping to hear, then says, "I'm not sure whether to be happy you wished to remember my enjoyment better or disappointed you didn't wish for more."

George looks at Sharlene dumbfounded for awhile before he manages to ask, "What more could I wish for?"

Since she's somewhat disappointed he didn't make the connection, she feels some of her doubts grow that maybe she's allowing her memory of the pleasure to interfere with her logic, so the answer she had been hoping to hear from him comes out with a little uncertainty, "Me?"

His hands freeze where he had been caressing her. For a long time he just stares at her in disbelief before he almost stutters, "You? . . . You're way beyond a wish. . . . You're too wonderful for me to wish for. No, find a young gentle patient man who will take the time to learn how to please you, who will do things with you, and go places with you. Someone you can share all of life's ups and downs with, someone who will laugh at your jokes and cry with your tears. Somebody with whom you can be like one person. . . . Me? No way. Even fifty years ago, I was just a boring old man and I've only gotten worse over the years. You would be better off finding a comfortable and reliable machine to help you enjoy yourself."

She's not sure what to think and it takes her awhile to get out, "You mean that?"

"Yes, Sharlene, I really do. Remember your experiences with pleasure, but forget about me."

In her confusion at the multitude of emotions which are rising up within her, it takes her awhile to be able to say, "George, I'm not sure I can forget about you."

With a sad soft voice he tells her, "Sharlene, I'm not an easy person to be around. I'm judgmental, anti-social, and extremely boring. It's usually only a short time of being around a person before I end up hurting them or disappointing them or interfering in their life or simply driving them away. It won't be long before I hurt you, if I haven't already. Forget about me. Go back to your life, your work, your friends, and your family. Forget I exist. I don't want to see you hurt and I really don't want to be the one to hurt you."

He drops his head and closes his eyes. In a quieter voice, as though he's talking to himself again, he says, "It would be unbearable if I was to be in any way responsible for you to lose that joy of pleasure." He looks up at her with tears in his eyes and tells her, "Sharlene, my best advice for you is to find a gentle young man with whom you can share your life and your pleasure for many, many years. I don't qualify. For your own sake, forget about me. But if you can't forget, remember me only as the boring old acquaintance of your aunt and uncle." He drops his head again.

She sits back and stares at the roof of the vehicle while she feels uneasy in the midst of her confusion. She's never felt so comfortable being with a man. Is he right that she should forget him? But, at the same time, if he could feel such pain at the mere possibility of her losing even the brief joy she found in sexual pleasure, that's incredible. No other man she knew or heard of would think, much less feel, that way.

She knows he's sincere, he isn't faking it to get her sympathy. She can feel the tension in his hands where they grip her legs because they haven't moved since he stopped caressing her. No wonder he's a loner and avoids relationships, especially of an intimate nature. She needs to think about this some more. When she looks back down at him, she notices a few tears drip from his cheeks.

In a little while, he glances up towards her, but not quite at her and says, "I'm sorry I'm being so emotional. Sharlene, I don't mean to be harsh with you. I just want what's best for you, so your life can be one of joy instead of pain."

She pauses to get even a partial handle on her confusion before she responds, "Thank you, George. I'm glad you can trust me enough to open up and say what you feel. But, since it's my life, maybe I should be deciding what's best for me."

As he drops his head, he mutters, "I'm sorry. Already I'm interfering with your life."

Several minutes pass in silence as they both think about what's been said.

"Sharlene, someone is going to be very fortunate to be with you. Thank you for sharing a few days of your life with me. It's been a privilege to meet you and to get to know you a little. . . . I'm guessing it's probably time for you to leave."

She looks at her watch and is surprised at how late it is. It takes her a little longer to respond, "I'm afraid so. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Are you going to need help getting home?"

"No, I'll just sit here for awhile longer. I don't think Paul will mind and I know how to lock up when I leave. I'm sorry to take you away from your family for so long."

"Don't be sorry. I'll have other opportunities to visit my family and we can always talk on the phone between visits."

"Thank you for sharing your time with me."

"George," Sharlene isn't sure what to say next then she suddenly leans over and kisses him as thoroughly as she knows how. She breaks the kiss, sits back, and barely pauses before she says, "Thank you." She scrambles out of the vehicle and almost runs to the shop door. With a single backward glance, she slips through the door and stands there for a few minutes while she tries to get her own roller coaster emotions somewhat in control.

Finally, when she thinks she can maintain an outward appearance of calm, she walks back to the house where Paula and Paul greet her with concerned expressions. She tells them, "I think George is okay. His weak spell took a bit out of him. Once he was breathing easier, we talked for awhile. I said goodbye. He said he'll rest there for awhile longer before he locks up the shop and goes home."

Paul nods his head in understanding then says, "That's a relief. I was worried and was on my way to come in and get you when you came out and asked about him. If he doesn't come out of the shop in an hour or so, I'll go in and check on him."

As she listens to Paul, Paula just looks at Sharlene and knows that several things hadn't been said, but she doesn't want to intrude.

After a quick dinner, and some inconsequential conversation, they help Sharlene load her vehicle. During the drive back to her house in 742x158, she works hard to keep her thoughts and emotions under control so she can complete the drive safely.

* * * * *

2147-08-01

When she wakes up late in the morning, Sharlene isn't sure she's ready to face the world. Her confusion from yesterday isn't as intense, but it's certainly staring her in the face. Almost as an automaton, she gets up, showers, forgets to put her headband back on, gets something to eat, empties her luggage, does her laundry, goes through her mail, pays her bills, and does whatever else needs to be done before she has to get ready to go to work tomorrow morning.

In the theater of her mind, she replays what happened on third-day, what happened on fifth-day, her talks with her aunt, and her talk and actions with George on sixth-day, over and over. She thinks about her initiation into sexual pleasure, her feeling of comfort in George's presence, his fear of hurting her, her aunt's high opinion of George, his saying to forget him, and the thoughts continue to go round and round, in and out. Underlying the confusing swirl of images, emotions, and thoughts is the comfort she feels in knowing that her aunt loves her and that George was more concerned about her feelings than his own.

There's certainly nothing about George to recommend him to a young woman or to a woman of any age, except his gentle concern and comfortable presence. She can't image spending time with him, but she can imagine being with him. From what her aunt had said and what she had read between the lines of what George had said yesterday, he had been badly hurt in the past and avoided relationships.

Does she have the emotional energy to deal with his pain and fear? Or is he worth putting the effort into getting to know him. He's obviously an old man and has some health issues. Even if she did want to get to know him, how long would he be around? Why would she want to be with someone who is so self-admittedly boring? Oh, what a muddled mess.

As the illumination fades, she wonders what's wrong with the lights until she realizes the sun is going down and it's getting late. Almost as though she's waking up, she looks around and sees that she's finished her laundry and her other chores, even while her mind was in an emotionally confused fog. She prepares a simple meal and as she sits down to eat it, she listens to some relaxing instrumental music. After she cleans up her dirty dishes and makes sure her things are set out for going to work in the morning, which she has to do about three times because her mind keeps wandering, she gets ready for bed, crawls under the covers and lays there while she stares at the ceiling . . . and stares at the ceiling . . . and is still staring at the ceiling.

As the thought finally percolates through the fog in her mind that she needs a distraction and then remembers what happened on fifth-day, she hesitates then slides her right hand under the elastic waistband of her pajama bottoms and starts to touch herself and hums in response as she explores more than she could under her jeans. She caresses the tops of her thighs, her lower abdomen, and the insides of her thighs. She plays with her pubic hair then slides a finger along her skin where one leg connects to her pubic area then moves her finger to the other side of her pubic area along where the other leg connects.

While the fingers of her right hand continue to explore between her legs, she slides her left hand under her pajama top to caress her upper abdomen for awhile before her hand finally arrives at her breasts as she moans in response. She caresses herself around her breasts and then across her breasts, stimulates her already erect nipples, and hears herself proclaim, "Yesss!!" in response to the growing pleasure

In a little while, her right hand narrows its exploring to along the tops of her vulva then a couple of fingers slip in and slightly spread her labia to slide up and down along the sides while she groans with pleasure. Her legs spread further, two fingers of her left hand gently twist a taut nipple while the fingers of her right hand again slide along the sides of her labia then move a little further. After a brief search, one of her fingers slips into her vagina and she verbally responds to the feeling of intense pleasure. Almost before her hands and fingers can stop moving, she collapses into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-02 (m>e1)

"Sharlene, welcome back. How was your vacation?"

"Hello, Mariam. It was good. Here are my ERDs from while I was gone."

"Something happened to you. What was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're almost glowing and you seem happier."

"Well, it was a good vacation. I was able to rest and relax and enjoyed some nice long talks with my favorite aunt."

"We shall see," Mariam waves the ERDs, "we shall see."

As she walks to her work space on the other side of the building, Sharlene begins to worry some about what Mariam will see on the ERDs, but before she has time to worry more, she gets involved in her own work. The time for her to go through a week's worth of email and to catch up on what happened while she was gone keeps her busy for the rest of the day.

* * * * *

Shortly before quitting time, her office phone rings and Sharlene glances at the caller ID display before she answers the call, "Hello, Mariam."

"Sharlene, do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Um, no."

"Come to my place after work. I'll pick up a pizza on the way. We've got to talk."

"Talk about what?"

"Not now. Promise you'll come?"

"Okay. Who else is coming?"

"Nobody. Just you and me. I'm leaving now. See you there. Bye."

"Mariam?" As she slowly puts the receiver down, Sharlene wonders what's going on. She's never known Mariam to be so curt and secretive. "Oh, well. I guess I'll find out in a little while." When she finishes what she's working on, she shuts down her computer, gathers up her things, and walks out to her vehicle.

She parks her vehicle at Mariam's and walks to the door. Before the chime of the doorbell dims to silence, the door opens, Mariam drags her in, closes the door, and almost accuses her, "What took you so long?"

Sharlene answers, "I had to finish what I was working on. It didn't take that long."

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter, the pizza is still in the oven."

"Mariam, what's going on?"

"Are these your ERDs?"

"Are they the ones I gave you this morning?"

"Yes."

"Then I guess they're mine. I'm sorry I didn't memorize the serial numbers. And it would be my recordings on them unless somebody forget to erase the ERDs before I used them."

Mariam assures her, "These are the serial numbers I signed out to you before you went on vacation and these are the ones you brought back. And they were new ERDs which had never been used before. Did you always have them with you?"

"Well, I always had one in my headband and the other in my luggage."

"And nobody played with them?"

Sharlene does her own assuring, "My aunt and uncle wouldn't get into my luggage and nobody else was in the house. Even if someone else did find the ERD in my luggage, they wouldn't know what information was on it or how to access it, but if they could do all of that, the recordings would be garbage, wouldn't they?"

"Yes, you're right about that."

"So, Mariam, what's going on? What's got you all bent out of shape?"

"Ding," says the timer on the oven.

Rather than answer the question, Mariam suggests, "Let me get the pizza out of the oven and get yourself a drink from the fridge."

After they eat a couple of pieces of pizza to assuage their hunger and with their drinks beside them on the kitchen table, Sharlene can wait no longer and insists, "Mariam, spill it. What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go all psycho on you, but I had to be sure these were your ERDs."

"What's so special about them? The other ERDs of mine you reviewed were so dull and boring, you threatened to review them at night because they tended to put you to sleep."

"True. But parts of these are so different I could hardly believe they were yours. Oh, most of the emotional recordings are almost flat line which is your typical profile and most of the rest are barely perceivable, which could be interpreted as half asleep or, in your case, more likely deep concentration. Nothing which would be thought of as unusual in Ms. Android, I mean you. Sorry."

"I've heard the office gossip. From what you've not said, there are some parts which are unusual."

"Yes. And to stay with the science fiction analogy, those parts which are different are like an android specifically programmed for the red zone."

"What!?!"

"When I checked your journal, nothing stood out, but when I checked the emotional recordings, it looks like you had a couple of intense sexual experiences."

As she suddenly remembers, Sharlene quietly says, "Oh."

Mariam's eyebrows lift in surprise as she responds, "Oh?! What do you mean 'oh'? Did you meet a man? What happened during your vacation? Talk to me."

"No, I didn't meet a man in how you're defining it. At least, I don't think so."

"You don't think so!?! . . . If my emotional response could be half of your response, I'll take him, even if he's as ugly as a mud fence and twice as dumb. . . . I'm sorry, Sharlene, I don't mean to pry, but your emotional responses in those situations, whatever they were, are so beautiful, so clear, and the recordings are so clean, it's incredible. You must have been almost glowing with sexual pleasure."

Sharlene quickly thinks of some way to redirect the conversation and asks, "Isn't it unusual for you to review my ERD the same day I drop it off?"

"Yes, but as your friend, I'm concerned when something changes in your life, especially something so dramatically. I could see it when you walked in this morning. I know you're a private person and I don't want to be intruding on your private life, but I've seen other people be on an emotional high from a new relationship one week and the next week, they crash and burn. And I don't want to see you go through that. I don't mean to sound superior, but I think I have a little more experience in relationship dynamics and I don't want to see you get hurt."

After she almost sighs in disappointment at her unsuccessful attempt to change the topic, Sharlene says, "Thank you, Mariam, for your concern and for telling me. What's funny is that my aunt said just about the same thing last week about not wanting to see me hurt because of my lack of experience. Actually, she said I was rather naive about some things and she's right. What did you mean by my emotional responses being beautiful and the recordings being clean?"

Mariam takes a deep breath to try to help her stay objective as she asks, "Before I answer that, do you know how we process the emotional recordings?"

"Not specifically. I heard the general outline when I sat through the introductory session for the Project, but no details."

Mariam nods her head as she responds, "Yeah, the introductory session doesn't go into any details since most people either aren't interested or wouldn't understand." She explains the basic process then says, "We think this process makes the incoming recording as anonymous as possible, so that we review the emotional recording and not the person who generated it. Remember, your case is different in that we agreed I would review your emotional recordings before they were submitted into the system."

"It sounds like you have everything covered." If she can't deflect the conversation, it's best to charge ahead so she asks, "Now, Mariam, what's got you so wound up about my emotional recordings?"

"I'm getting there, Sharlene. I think the more you understand about the process and criteria, the better you'll understand my comments about your emotional recordings."

She briefly pauses to control her frustration with not getting an answer then says, "Fair enough."

"What I did in your case was to skip all of those previous steps and directly loaded both of your week long emotional recordings from the ERDs into the review software. So your ERDs haven't been checked in and your emotional recordings haven't been loaded into the database. Nobody knows I checked your emotional recordings, so this is just between you and me. When I tell you what your emotional recordings revealed, if you don't want them submitted into the system, we'll erase the ERDs and that will be the end of it. I hope you don't erase the emotional recordings on these ERDs, but I have a few other things I'm going to try to explain before I tell you why."

"Okay."

* * * * *

2147-08-02 (e2)

Mariam takes a quick drink before she continues, "Please keep in mind that an emotional response is very subjective and there are many factors which can affect the person who experiences the emotional situation. You could take three people through a haunted house to try to scare them and one person will be no more affected than walking to their vehicle on their way to work, while the second person is a quivering wreck, and the third person is laughing themselves silly. Yet, if the first person had a bad week and went back to the same haunted house the next week, they might have to work very hard to keep from peeing their pants in fright. So, we're not measuring the emotional situation itself, but the intensity to which the person emotionally responds to that emotional situation.

"When the emotion is recorded, the intensity of the emotional response is assigned a numerical value of 'zero' through 'ten'. 'Zero' is equal to no emotion experienced and 'ten' would be an emotional response which is so overwhelming, it's lethal. People refer to being 'scared to death' in a light manner, but I've been told of some cases where a person was so scared, their heart stopped beating and they died. That would be a 'ten' on our scale. Obviously, we hope that never happens.

"In the review software, the computer does a quick scan of the entire week long recording, tags those parts with a 'seven' or higher score as an extreme emotional response and tags those parts from 'four' through 'six point nine' as a high emotional response. For most people, their emotional response to daily life is a 'three' or less so most of the recordings don't get looked at any closer than a quick computer scan. Do you remember for your first week download that you had to come in and somebody ran your recording through the computer, wrote a three section number on a piece of paper then sent you to turn in your recording along with the paper?"

Sharlene nods her head as she verbally responds, "Yes. What did the three numbers mean?"

Mariam answers, "The first number is the by-minute average, of your emotional responses for the period of your download, rounded to the nearest hundredth on the intensity scale. The second is the number of high emotional responses you experienced and the third is the number of extreme emotional responses you experienced. Do you remember what your three section number was?"

"I think it was '0.77-1-0'."

"It was that 'one' which enabled you to participate in the study. Something either very good or very bad must have happened during the period of that first download, for you to score a 'four' or higher, especially with your average score of '0.77'. I hate to say it, but for those who work at the Institute and participate in the Project, the office gossip network is very active in passing around the number from the first download. In regards to your numbers, most people guessed that your 'one' was an anomaly, a bad hair day shall we say, and ignored it. But your '0.77' only greatly enhanced your Ms. Android reputation."

"That explains what was going on around the office after that first download. I wondered what had caused the change in the office atmosphere."

Mariam nods her head as she confirms, "That was it. Anyway, during the regular process, after the first computer scan tags the high and extreme emotional responses, the computer runs a second scan to review each of those tagged high and extreme emotional responses to measure how clean the emotional response was. By clean, we mean how many other emotions were in play at the time of the high or extreme emotional response.

"Most people have multiple emotional responses occurring at the same time. For example, if someone cuts you off while you're driving your vehicle, your primary emotional response would probably be anger at the other person. An underlying emotion might be guilt for either getting angry or for not paying better attention to the traffic. Still other underlying emotions might be fear because of the wreck you were almost in, or relief for not being in a wreck, or gratitude to a deity for keeping you from getting in a wreck, or joy from remembering the party you were at last night.

"Using this example, a person's initial emotional response score might have been a 'five' on the first scan when the computer tags it. But that score is actually a total composite score of their emotional response. On the second scan, the computer will break down the composite score into the responses of specific emotions, so the 'five' score might be composed of anger at 'three', guilt at 'one', fear at 'point five', and relief at 'point five'. In that case, the recording will probably not be looked at again, but remain stored in the database. Now if that 'five' score was composed of anger at 'four', fear at 'point five' and relief at 'point five', then the emotional response would get another tag by the computer, because the specific emotional response of anger met the threshold of 'four' for a high emotional response."

Mariam takes a quick drink before she goes on, "After the second computer scan, the computer will generate a chart showing each of the separate emotions as a different colored line graphed by intensity on a time scale. The highest scored emotion will be graphed on top and the lowest scored emotion on the bottom with the scores added cumulatively so the analyst can see where the composite score goes over the defined thresholds. The chart can also be displayed so only the tagged items are shown. I usually take a look at the chart for the whole week long recording to get a feel for the general emotional response before I look at specifics.

"When the chart has been generated, the analyst will review the double tagged emotional responses and compare the emotion recorded by the ERD with what the participant put in their journal. The reason for this is that the identification of brain wave activity as related to emotions isn't perfect. In most people, a specific emotional response produces the same type of brain wave activity, but there are some variations. If there is more than one major emotion being felt, it can result in more variation from person to person.

"If we consider another hypothetical case where the chart shows an intensity 'four' score of anger, the analyst will check the time stamp for that emotional response then see what the participant had recorded in their journal for that date and time. If the journal listed that the participant was actually sitting at home watching a comedy show, then a question would be raised as to whether the computer identification of anger for the emotion was correct. But if the participant wrote in their journal that they were royally pissed off at the stupidity of the comedy show, then the anger identification was probably accurate."

Mariam pauses, "Now we come to my reaction to what was on your ERDs. Deep breath. . . . I didn't think I would make it through the explanation and keep my calm. Do you need another drink before we go on?"

Sharlene nods her head and answers, "Yes, please."

Whey they have full drinks, empty bladders, and pieces of room temperature pizza in hand, Mariam continues her explanation, "To start out, I'm going to try to keep my curiosity in check and cover what your emotional recordings showed with as much detachment as I can muster. I would also like you to hold any refutation or questions you might have until I can go through it all."

Sharlene briefly pauses before she agrees, "Okay."

"Here we go. When I ran your week long recordings through the review software, I was surprised to see several items tagged on the first scan, but I explained it to myself that you were on vacation having fun. Most people have higher scores when they're on vacation than they do during their regular work or school days. Then when most of the first tagged items were tagged a second time, I was wondering what was going on. After the second computer scan, it was my turn to directly look at the chart of the recordings.

"I only had to take a quick look to see that parts of the recordings were very different from any other emotional recording of yours which I've seen. Because of that, I cleared the recordings from the software, verified that they were the ERDs I had checked out to you, reloaded the recordings, reran the scans, and the charts were the same and they had come off of your ERDs. Before I reviewed the recordings more thoroughly, I looked up your journal entries and just a quick glance showed them to be rather non-descriptive which is typical for your usual journal entry. That's fine when your score barely makes it up to a 'one', but when your composite score goes over 'four' multiple times, your usual journal entry isn't very helpful."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, don't feel sorry about it, Sharlene. Based on your past experience, even when you recorded in your journal that you had a strong emotion, but the emotional recording didn't even register a 'three', you probably figured your numbers would never be very high which meant they wouldn't be looked at closely, so why spend a lot of time writing down what nobody was going to see otherwise."

"You're right about that."

"Since your journal didn't record any obvious strong emotional responses, I started with the composite scores which were varied. A couple of times you were experiencing multiple emotions which almost looked like roller coaster rides, first one emotion had the high score, then another, a moment later, it was a third. When I checked your journal for that time period, it simply said, 'talked to aunt'. I guessed you either had some wild discussions with your aunt or she was telling you some fantastic stories which you thought were really interesting.

"The next one I looked at also had multiple emotions and an anomaly. I've never seen anything like it. It was so unusual, I printed it out. That was on sixth-day and your journal entry was, 'checked George for possible heart attack, think he just worked too hard, talked awhile, said goodbye'. Here's the chart. It shows a sharp spike here, then a plateau of about equal amounts of fear and concern which diminishes to where the primary emotion is what I would interpret as concern. Later, the concern recedes and joy becomes the primary emotion for awhile before it recedes and several emotions start building and fluctuating and it becomes a real spaghetti mess of emotions.

"With the high composite score and the variety of emotions involved, my guess is that you felt thoroughly confused emotionally. Then, all of a sudden, the bottom drops out, the confusion drops way into the background, and one emotion stands clear, but the coloration looks kind of like the color used for joy and kind of like the color used for peace. My guess is the emotion you felt was closer to a sense of rightness, like everything is right with the world. Then just as suddenly, the confusion surges back. In a little while it recedes, then continues to diminish almost in steps throughout the evening."

* * * * *

2147-08-02 (e3)

Before she continues, Mariam takes a couple of deep breaths and a drink. "The other three events are threshold busters, as we refer to them around the office, and they have really stirred my curiosity and concern. They're what prompted my earlier cryptic comments and teasing you about a man. And they're why I don't think you should erase the recordings.

"Here are the charts from those time frames, one on third-day, and two close together on fifth-day. Both times the journal entry was, 'went to local swamp, rode in pickup with George and Molly', except the third-day entry had, 'a neighbor', after the name 'George'. The third-day chart starts with only very background emotions, then creeps up just a little, and then suddenly, almost as though you had received an electrical shock, your composite score hits a 'four point three' then settles to a 'four point one' for a couple of minutes before it recedes to background emotions which stay at about 'one point five', which is rather high for you.

"The first fifth-day chart starts out with somewhat elevated background emotions as though you were anticipating something. Then there's a sharp rise to a composite score of 'four point four' for a few minutes, a short dip, then it goes up to 'four point six' for a few more minutes before it again recedes to background emotions. The second fifth-day chart is about an hour after the first fifth-day chart. The elevated background emotions are there, then it looks like you had a brief period of confusion, then a sharp rise to 'four point seven' with slight fluctuations for several minutes, then it spikes to 'five point two' before it recedes.

"There are two things which stand up and waves flags about these three events. First, unless your brain is wired a lot differently than most people, what you experienced was sexual pleasure and from the numbers, it was strong. The second thing which waves flags, and it also applies to that anomaly on sixth-day, is how clean these emotional responses are. Remember how I said that most people's emotional responses may have one primary emotion with several other emotions often mixed in?"

Sharlene hesitates before she answers, "Yes."

"Well, in these events, yours don't have that. The other emotions which are there, are hardly measurable. What your emotional recordings show is that in these events you enjoyed essentially pure sexual pleasure. No other emotions, no distractions, nothing else. It's like you gave your all to that one emotion. I've never seen such a clean pure emotional response, especially of sexual pleasure. And from overhearing the office gossip, nobody else has either. Once in awhile, somebody has a very clean response of anger, but that's about it."

While her concern has been growing throughout the explanation, Sharlene almost blurts out, "Am I that different, Mariam? How come? What will happen to me?"

"I don't think anything will happen to you. Nobody knows except you and me."

"And George."

"George? Does he have evidence?"

As she calms down some, Sharlene shakes her head before she answers, "Just his memory."

"What's the problem then?"

"He acted like I was somehow different."

"Would he talk? Would he tell someone?"

"George? No, he would never do that."

"Then it's our secret. If George won't talk, you won't talk, and I'm not going to tell anyone, then nobody will find out and nobody will bother you. Hold it, what about Molly? Will she talk?"

Sharlene briefly chuckles then says, "Not unless someone understands barks."

"Huh?"

"Molly is a canine."

"Oh. Then I guess it's still a secret."

"But am I really that different? I thought I was having normal sexual feelings."

Mariam catches the drift of Sharlene's concern and asks, "Is that what you're worried about, being different?"

She nods her head.

"Hold it. You thought that was normal?"

She nods her head again.

"In other words, you've never . . . ."

She shakes her head.

Mariam briefly stares at her then says, "Oh Sharlene, I'm sorry. I assumed you had some experience and that last week was more special."

Her head shakes again.

"Shoot me for being an idiot. Sharlene, . . . Sharlene, I'm sorry. If that was your first sexual experience, . . ."

She nods her head.

". . . and it felt good . . ."

This nod of her head is combined with a smile.

". . . then it's no wonder you gave yourself over to the emotion and let it take you over. No wonder it was such a clean emotional experience. And with no prior experience, your body was probably anxious which would explain the high score. It all makes sense."

Sharlene asks, "I'm not weird or something?"

"Not that I can tell, but I have to admit that I seriously doubt we have a recording of the emotional response for any other young woman's first sexual experience. I don't want to sound like I'm intruding, but, uh, have you ever been abused."

"No. A couple of times as a kid I thought I was neglected by my parents, but I wasn't abused."

"That's another data point in your favor." Mariam briefly hesitates before she asks, "Have you ever had a man try to take advantage of you sexually while on a date or otherwise?"

"Well, a couple of dates tried to push the limits and paw at me, but I made it clear that was unacceptable behavior at that stage of our relationship and they backed off. . . . That emotional score of 'four' on my first ERD download was when someone tried to molest me in my driveway."

"Really? What happened?"

"I broke his arm."

Mariam's eye's open wide in surprise, "You broke his arm?"

Sharlene nods her head then verbally answers, "Yes. Dad insisted that I take martial arts lessons and that's the only time I've had to use it outside of the class room or a tournament. And my next door neighbor, who is a police officer, saw the whole thing, arrested the guy for assault, and made it clear I acted only in self-defense."

"Really? That's excellent! Way to go. I would have loved to have seen that."

"You can."

"What?!"

"Yeah, my neighbor across the street was testing out his new digital video recorder and caught it all and gave me a copy."

While her eyes are wide open in surprise, Mariam bursts into laughter and soon they're both laughing. When one's laughter begins to subside to chuckles, she glances across the table and starts to laugh again even beyond the point where the tears start to flow. Several more minutes pass before they reach a point of semi-calm with only an occasional chuckle.

Mariam shakes her head as she exclaims, "That's got to be one of the best stories of girl power I've heard in a long time. I can just see the headlines in the office newsletter, 'Quiet Sharlene breaks assailant's arm in a fit of anger'."

As she feels a surge of panic, Sharlene quickly says, "Mariam, you won't tell, will you?"

"No, I won't tell. I promise I won't tell. Probably nobody would believe me if I did, but I won't. Can I come over and watch the video sometime?"

"Sure. . . . So, going back to the original subject of my emotional response to a sexual experience, you don't think I'm weird or something?"

"No. Because you haven't been abused or molested and you've proven to yourself that you can protect yourself from unwanted advances, it probably means you're not carrying a bunch of emotional garbage into your experience which could easily explain why it was such a clean experience. You must have been in a trusting situation . . ."

Sharlene nods her head.

". . . to where you felt you could completely give yourself over to the experience and not worry about being taken advantage of. Was there any coercion or expectation?"

"No."

"Now that I know all of that, I'm not surprised it was such a clean pure experience for you. You're one lucky girl."

"I am?"

Mariam nods her head and answers, "Yes. Very few females ever reach the age to where they feel free to choose to have a sexual experience without having been abused or molested somewhere earlier in life and it's usually by someone they trusted, a parent, teacher, family member, or neighbor. Even when they feel somewhat free to choose to have a sexual experience, there's usually some kind of coercion or expectation involved."

"I've seen statistics and media reports."

"Both of which are woefully under reported. Most of the time, young women don't report such events. Even when they do report abuse, it's the woman who often gets blamed. I don't suppose you've had many talks with other females about intimate matters?"

Sharlene shakes her head then answers, "Only with my aunt and a grandmother. My mom could barely be pushed to discuss the clinical elements when it applied to animals, but not humans and certainly not the emotional elements. All through college and medical school, I was several years younger than my classmates and was usually viewed as a younger sister with whom they didn't discuss such things. I overheard some of them talk, but that made it difficult for me to ask any questions. I've been working here since and I talk with you more than anyone else. I don't mean to be forward, but, uh, were you abused?"

"If we can talk about your sex life, there's no reason not to talk about mine. Yes, I was abused . . . by my favorite uncle."

"Oh, Mariam, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Sharlene. It was a very low blow to my self-image. Even though it was many years ago, and the pain is mostly gone and I've had some good relationships since then, it still affects my ability to truly trust a man with whom I'm interested in having a sexual experience or a relationship. Consider yourself very very lucky."

"I didn't realize I was so fortunate to live a sheltered life. Thank you for sharing with me." Sharlene briefly hesitates before she asks, "Can I get another drink?"

"Sure, help yourself. You've been here enough, you don't need to ask."

"I know, but I still try to be polite."

* * * * *

2147-08-02 (e4)

After a trip to the bathroom and then to the fridge for another drink, Sharlene sits back down at the table across from Mariam who is intently looking at the charts of her emotional recordings.

"Sharlene, something else is nagging me as different about your emotional recordings, but I couldn't see it past the clarity or the intensity."

With a sinking feeling, she exclaims, "Not more different!"

"As far as I'm concerned, I think you've given good reasons why your emotional response is so clean and we can make a good case for the intensity. But what has me somewhat puzzled is the suddenness of your response. In the one on third-day, you're basically at your usual background emotional level and 'boom,' you're having an intense sexual experience. In the two on fifth-day, there appears to be some anticipation, but again it's like 'boom,' you're having an intense sexual experience. All three of your experiences also have a swift downturn. That's unusual, but not unheard of."

"You mean it wasn't a normal sexual experience?"

"Usually in a sexual experience, there's a buildup, where the two people are touching each other, getting more and more excited until one or both reach climax and then the excitement gradually reduces, sometimes to the point of falling asleep, usually on his part. If you charted the experience, it would look more like a bell curve with the back end having a steeper slope."

Sharlene almost protests, "But there wasn't two people. And there wasn't any touching."

Mariam's eyes open wide and it takes her a little while to ask, "Not two people? No touching? But . . . . Let's see, you went with George and Molly to the local swamp in a pickup and George was there when you had your sexual experience and there was no touching? Where was Molly when all of this happened?"

"Sitting next to me in the pickup."

"And George was where?"

"Sitting next to me driving the pickup."

"So Molly is sitting on one side of you and George is sitting on the other side of you and you have an intense sexual experience while sitting between them and there was no touching?"

Sharlene nods her head, "Yes, that's correct."

"Was this some kind of special pickup?"

"No, it's just an old pickup."

Mariam shakes her head then asks, "How . . . ? What . . . ? You have me totally confused. I don't want to intrude, but could you tell me what happened, step by step?"

Sharlene hesitates then explains, "Well, on second-day evening I was telling my aunt about the Project and that I was feeling somewhat guilty about not having more experiences to collect emotional recordings. She didn't have any ideas, but said she would think about it. On third-day morning, she called me to the store and asked me if I would like to see some of the wildlife which live around the local swamp . . . ."

* * * * *

When Sharlene finishes, Mariam stares at her with wide eyes for awhile before she can find the words to exclaim, "Incredible! Absolutely incredible! That is, by far, the most unusual first sexual experience I've ever heard of. The odds of everything coming together just at the right time for you, is simply unbelievable or miraculous. You are one incredibly lucky lady. Maybe I'll just quit my job and take you to the casino. Oh, Sharlene, the deities are surely looking down on you in favor."

"Mariam, please quit exaggerating. You're starting to scare me."

"Sharlene, I'm sorry. I definitely don't want to scare you. And I'm not exaggerating. If anything, I'm understating the uniqueness and the wonderfulness of that beautiful accident you experienced. It's hard to restrain myself, but this really calls for the most extravagant celebration you've ever seen."

Sharlene grasps at the word, "Celebration?" and tries to distract Mariam, "That's what my aunt said George would think."

Mariam's eyes open wider in surprise as she blurts out, "What!?!"

"Yes. When I told my aunt about what had happened on third-day and on fifth-day, I said I was glad George hadn't noticed what was happening to me. She just laughed and assured me that George had noticed and had quietly cheered me on."

"Your aunt thought George would cheer you on?"

"Yes. What else did she say about him? Oh, yeah, she said, 'If you enjoyed sexual pleasure, even though he had nothing directly to do with it, he was happy for you. For him, it meant that something is right with the world.' One other thing she said which stuck in my mind was, 'George thinks that any time a woman can enjoy sexual pleasure without coercion or obligation, either by herself or with another person, it's something to be celebrated.' Later, when I questioned George directly, he admitted knowing that I was enjoying sexual pleasure. He knew it. He . . . knew . . . it. He knew it? That old fraud, he knew it! Where are those charts? How long did you say I was experiencing sexual pleasure?"

Since she's very puzzled at Sharlene's reaction, it takes Mariam a little while to answer, "Well, I think I just said several minutes. Here's the third-day chart, it looks like about three minutes. On fifth-day's chart, the first one is about four minutes with a brief dip, then six minutes."

"It's not that far."

"What's not that far?"

"I'm just thinking out load. What about the other one on fifth-day?"

"Um, just about ten minutes. That's a long time to have such a clean intense sexual experience."

Sharlene exclaims, "That old fraud, he did it on purpose. He knew I was enjoying sexual pleasure and he stretched it out on purpose. Do I strangle him or do I kiss him?"

"I . . . I don't know. I don't understand what you're talking about. What did he do on purpose?"

"I'm sorry, Mariam." Sharlene takes a few deep breaths, a long drink, and closes her eyes for a little while before she looks up and says, "Okay, I think I'm calmer now. I didn't mean to get carried away. Remember I said the first experience was shortly after George started to back the pickup down the lane to a clearing where he had firewood stacked?"

"Yes."

"Well, the first experience on fifth-day also happened in the pickup. And you were right, I was very much anticipating him backing up the pickup. Only this time, he was pulling a trailer and drove down to the clearing and unhitched the trailer. He then backed up the pickup to the main road, turned around, which is the dip in the chart, and backed it down to the clearing. The distance isn't that far from the road to the clearing. I could have easily walked it in that time. And each time, it took him longer. He was stretching out the drive so I could enjoy it longer."

Mariam looks at her in surprise before she asks, "You think so?"

"I'm sure of it. And the second one on fifth-day, well, he had a long log he wanted to cut into firewood, so to hold it steady for him, I was going to sit on it because it was too big for me to hold down with only my hands. Just before I sat down to hold the log, I saw the stump of a branch right about where I needed to sit which was the same size as the gear shift knob, I didn't stop myself, I sat right on top of it. There's no way it took him ten minutes to cut that log into firewood length pieces. He was definitely stretching out how long it took him to cut the log so I could enjoy it longer. I never did look, but I wonder what that so-called firewood actually looks like."

"You really think he worked slower, so you could enjoy it longer?"

She nods her head and verbally answers, "I'm absolutely positive. There's no other explanation. Wait until I get my hands on that old fraud, I . . . I don't know what I'll do."

Mariam looks at her for a little while before she says, "Sharlene, there's something really strange about this character 'George'. You say he sat right next to you while you had two intense sexual experiences on two different days and even drove slower so you could enjoy it longer and he didn't touch you? That's not normal. That's beyond unusual. Are you sure he's a guy? Or maybe he's some kind of pervert?"

"He may have long hair, but he also has a beard which is rather hard for a woman to grow. My aunt's known him for a number of years and she's talked to the few women who have dated George, remember this is a small community where there are few secrets, and he's definitely a he and not a pervert, at least, not in any usual understanding of the word. I'll bet that if his fellow males heard what he did, or should I say didn't do, they would classify him as a pervert."

Mariam hesitantly suggests, "Maybe he had a hidden recorder and is going to sell the video online."

"The first time on third-day was a total accident, there's no way he could have planned it. I know I'm not the greatest, but my aunt is a very shrewd judge of character. Unless my aunt's been fooled by him all of these years, George would never do something like that. Besides, he said he wished he did have a video recorder and if he had had one, he wouldn't have wanted to draw attention to the idea."

"Why would he wish he had a video recorder? Hold it, you mean he actually told you that? Why?"

"How did he put it?" Sharlene thinks for a moment before she continues, "Um, he said, 'Well, I hope this doesn't sound rude or crude, but I wish I had a video recording of you enjoying yourself, so I can better remember your glow of pure pleasure. It was like your face and your whole body were shouting the joy of pleasure. It was truly beautiful.' That's what he said."

Mariam looks at her with wide eyes then exclaims, "He really said that? Wait a minute, that's about what I was thinking when I saw your recording because your emotional response was so clean and intense."

"Actually, Mariam, earlier you said you thought I must have been glowing."

"I did? Yes, I did. And if that's what I saw from the recording, I can't imagine what George must have seen. No wonder he wished he had a video recorder. . . . Okay, Sharlene, we talked around this guy all evening. What's he like?"

Sharlene hesitates then says, "You're right. We have talked all evening and if I don't get some sleep, I'll be a wreck at work tomorrow."

"You're not getting off the hook that easily."

"Why don't you come over to my place tomorrow after work? I'll fix something for dinner or pick something up, if I'm running late at work. Then you can watch that video of my driveway molester and I'll tell you what I can about George. Okay?"

"Okay. I don't want to be too nosy, but you're not easily going to get out of this talk."

"I know. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Do I dare wish you sweet dreams?"

She responds with a slight scowl to her expression, "Good night, Mariam."

"Night, Sharlene."

* * * * *

2147-08-03 (e1)

"Ding, dong," proclaims the doorbell.

Sharlene opens the door and says, "Hello, Mariam. Come on in."

Imitating a deep voice, Mariam announces, "Hi, honey. I'm home. What's for dinner? I'm starved. It was such a hard day at the office. The boss was . . ."

"Oh, stop it. I have taco fixings ready or I can pull some extra fixings from the fridge to make a fancy salad. The drinks are in the fridge."

"Tacos sound good."

As they take their time to enjoy the meal, they chat about the office gossip, the local news, and other inconsequential topics.

After they clean up the dishes, Sharlene gets out the video of her driveway molester and provides a behind the scenes running commentary, "You can see the neighbor scans the neighborhood with his recorder. He must have heard my vehicle, because he swings the recorder towards my vehicle. . . . When I get out, he waves his arm at me so I know he's recording and not being sneaky. As I step towards my next door neighbor to talk to her, my across the street neighbor must have heard the two wheeled vehicle, because he moves the recorder to follow it. . . . The sound isn't very good, but after I defended myself, the guy starts yelling for someone to call the cops because he's been assaulted. He sees my neighbor walking across the yard and yells at her to call the cops. My neighbor says, 'It's your lucky day, I am the cops,' then she yells to her husband to call a patrol vehicle and arrests him. You can see she handcuffs him while she recites his rights to him."

When the recording ends, Mariam proclaims, "That was excellent, Sharlene, absolutely excellent. Can I see it again?"

"Sure."

After it finishes the second time, Mariam asks, "What kind of martial arts did you use? That guy is twice your size and you took him out as though he was made of straw."

"I've studied several martial arts depending on what was available when I was growing up and I try to stay in practice with a couple of them. I guess I just used whatever move was appropriate to the situation because I didn't think about what I was doing, I just did it. I suppose I could review the video to analyze the precise moves."

"So what happened?"

Sharlene explains, "A couple of weeks later, they had the guy in court. I was there as the victim and the neighbors were there as witnesses and arresting officer. The judge asked a few questions, the lawyers asked a few questions, the video recording was played, some more questions were asked then the jury was sent off to deliberate. In only about a half of an hour, the jury was back and proclaimed him guilty of all charges: assault, attempted rape, driving under the influence, driving without a license, driving an unregistered vehicle, theft of a vehicle, drunk and disorderly conduct, and a couple of others I don't remember. I think they would have charged him with being a bully if there was a law against it. After the court was adjourned, somebody overheard the guy's lawyer tell him that the next time he decided to bully somebody, he had better pick on somebody his own size because he might have a better chance."

"Really? That's great! I wish I had been there."

"I didn't want it to become a part of the office gossip, so I played it low key. When I needed the time off from work, I just told the boss I had been a witness to a crime and that was that."

While Sharlene puts the video recording away and turns off the machine, Mariam uses the bathroom then Sharlene takes her turn. They refresh their drinks and sit down again.

Mariam starts, "Okay. Tell me about George. But before you do, why did you call him an old fraud?"

"That was something I heard my uncle call him in a teasing manner and it seemed appropriate to the situation. George. . . . What to say? . . . Well, first off, I only met him a week ago, so almost everything I know about him, I heard from my aunt."

"That makes sense."

Sharlene hesitates then says, "I don't quite know where to start. I've never really talked about a man before, but I've been thinking about how to approach this since we talked yesterday. . . . I know, let me start by saying that if my aunt hadn't have spoken strongly about him being safe to be with, he's not a man who I would have paid enough attention to in order to talk about him. If I, or you, or almost any woman I know, saw him in a store without knowing who he was, we would have looked right past him and totally ignored him and hoped he ignored us. You know how when most women dress nice, they hope to be noticed by some men and not noticed by other men, even if they don't intend to do anything except be noticed?"

Mariam nods her head as she answers, "Yes. I'll admit I've done that a time or two."

"George would solidly be in the second group of men you hope don't notice you. He's not as ugly as the mud fence which you said you would be willing to take, but . . . well, to begin with, he's old."

"How old?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing he's old enough to be my grandfather."

Mariam's eyes open wide as she exclaims, "That old!?!"

"So, you want a young ugly mud fence?"

"Huh? Oh, you're right. What does age have to do with it when I'm willing to accept an ugly mud fence?"

Sharlene nods her head and explains, "Yes, he's old. He has pale skin which probably tends to burn rather than tan in the sun, so my guess is that his ancestry is northern European. He's medium height, a little overweight, with long almost white hair of a fine texture which is getting rather thin on top and a medium length beard which isn't very full. If he didn't have long hair and a beard, he would be the male equivalent of a 'plain Jane'.

"I've only seen him in work clothes and from what my aunt says, when he does 'dress up' the clothes are simple, neat, and clean, but not fashionable. If you were to look at him in regards to a career, he comes across as either a frumpy old professor from a no-name college where no one attends his classes, but he has tenure, or as a dumpy old bookkeeper who works in a dusty dingy back office of some worn out company on the edge of bankruptcy. First conclusion, there's nothing to recommend him in regards to his appearance.

"He drives an old pickup which looks like a wreck, but works fairly well and he also has an old semi-sporty personal vehicle which is in my uncle's vehicle repair shop getting worked on. My aunt says his home is large for just one person, that it's kept clean, and the furnishings appear to be chosen primarily for functionality. The yard around the home is also well kept, but simple with the only decoration being some flower beds. What did impress my aunt was his library which she guessed held several thousand books and took up about a quarter of the house. Apparently, he comes to the city here a few times a year for used book sales.

"He seems to be financially comfortable, but that's probably more due to a frugal lifestyle rather than having a stash of money in the bank. There was a rumor a number of years ago that he did have money, but there was no evidence and my aunt thinks it cropped up because he's not social and therefore, to some people, he's a mystery and those same people seem to think that a mystery person must have a stash of money. Second conclusion, there's nothing to recommend him based on his possessions."

Sharlene takes a drink before she continues, "According to my aunt, from direct experience and in talking with others in town, George isn't just not social, he's anti-social. He doesn't go to any of the town's social, political, or religious functions. He doesn't go to the movies or the nicer restaurant. When he eats out, which is seldom, he goes to a small 'home cooking' type of cafe or maybe gets a burger at a fast food joint. He hasn't been known to go on vacation, unless you count his book buying trips. In the past, George has dated a few of the single women in town a time or two, and when my aunt talked to them, the consensus was that he wasn't romantic in any of the usual meanings of the word.

"He has a nodding acquaintance with the people in town, but as far as my aunt knows, she and my uncle Paul are his only friends. And when he's not involved in all of those social activities, sarcasm intended, he sits at home and reads books for hours. My aunt said he does have a television and a computer, but her guess is that they're seldom used. Third conclusion, there's nothing to recommend him based on his social life. As my aunt has clearly stated on more than one occasion, George is a boring old man. And as my grandpa would say, 'that's it in a nutshell, and it ain't got no pretty ribbon on it neither'."

Mariam looks at her for a little while before she says, "That isn't it, Sharlene, or you wouldn't be so affected by that so called boring old man."

She hesitates before she responds, "I know. . . . When we talked on sixth-day, before I came home, he told me very clearly and numerous times to forget about him. And he wasn't trying to use some reverse psychology trick, he was absolutely sincere. Yet I can't forget about him. I admit that I don't have a lot of experience to back me up, but I've never met a man who was so considerate and gentle or respectful of a woman's person. How many men do you know would sit right next to you while you're having a sexual experience and not try to join in?"

"Um, . . . none."

Sharlene nods her head then says, "That's what I thought. Does that mean there's a special person hidden under all of that anti-social behavior? Or does it mean that I'm seeing him as a catalyst to my sexual experience? I don't know. On sixth-day, he overworked himself and laid down on the passenger seat of his personal vehicle. To check his heart with my stethoscope, I had to partially lay across him and he didn't touch me.

"Later, as we spoke, I sat on his knees . . . oh, don't look so shocked, it was a lot easier than sitting on the floor of the vehicle and it was the only place to sit in order to face him head on. Even as I sat on his knees, he still didn't touch me and made no move to do so. Later I kissed him and he actually kissed me back and I thought it was very good. Of course, I really don't have any experience by which to judge, but I enjoyed it. He probably didn't think so, because when I stopped the kiss, I said, 'thank you', scrambled out of the vehicle, and ran out of the shop."

* * * * *

2147-08-03 (e2)

Mariam proclaims with wide eyes, "Girl, you are affected."

Sharlene hesitates then almost frowns as she reluctantly admits, "I know and I don't know why, and I don't know what to do about it."

"What did your aunt say?"

"I didn't have a chance to tell her about sixth-day, although I think she suspects something more than talking went on. When we talked about what happened on third-day and fifth-day, I don't recall that she gave me any specific advice about George. Instead, she told me about her experiences with George and how he had encouraged her to face some facts which turned her marriage around.

"While she made it clear that George is a boring old man who would have driven her to frustration very quickly, she also spoke of him very positively and warmly and even admitted to coming very close to taking him to bed one time, which he refused and said she would regret it. She admitted she was lonely at the time since she and my uncle Paul had been separated for several months, and it was an emotional situation, but there was a wistfulness in her voice when she wondered how things would have worked out, if events had unfolded differently."

"From what you've said in the past, your aunt seems to be a very level headed, down-to-earth type of person."

Sharlene nods her head as she responds, "She is. And she's also much more experienced in male-female relationships than I am, yet, George still affects her. Why? He's gentle and considerate and the quiet town gossip is that he knows how to touch a woman, but from what my aunt said, nobody will admit to how far that touching went. Other than kissing him, the level of touching which my aunt said she encouraged George to do for her, was much less than you see in public in the malls around here, but my aunt remembers that touching with pleasure.

"What is it about that old man? When I look back, I know I was somewhat affected by him before he laid a finger on me. I had only shaken his hand on third-day morning and there was certainly no spark then. I guess I'm back to the choice of there's something special about him which is mostly hidden or I'm unintentionally attributing the pleasure of my sexual experiences to him, even though he really didn't have anything directly to do with them."

"Other than stretching them out so you could enjoy them longer."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Damn, Sharlene, now he's got me affected and I've never met the old fart."

"Fraud."

Mariam shakes her head before she says, "Fart, fraud, whatever. I like a good tumble in the hay, to use an old euphemism, and I know there's a whole lot more to life than bedroom games, but when I think about those charts of yours, even if the experience was half as wonderful as the recordings seem to indicate . . . ."

Sharlene interrupts her, "But he didn't have anything to do with it!"

"I know, Sharlene, and that's what bothers me."

"Me, too."

"Could it be that your subconscious mind insists that he expertly participated with your willing and joyful acceptance?"

"I don't know. I suppose if we consider the idea that we're socially conditioned to believe that the proper sexual experience involves a man and a woman and that if I, as a woman, had an enjoyable sexual experience, then there must have been a man involved who knew how to please me as a woman. I guess my subconscious mind could be attributing that capability and activity to George who was the only man in the vicinity. What games our minds can play on us."

"I don't know if that's the answer, but it seems to fit the situation."

"Yeah, it does."

Mariam asks, "So, what are you going to do?"

Sharlene hesitates before she answers, "I think I should think about it some more and talk to my aunt and see if she has some thoughts about the situation and then go from there."

"That sounds like a plan. Shall I go ahead and put your ERDs into the system?"

"No, I'll drop them in the mail. If they're as unusual as you say, . . ."

"Believe me, Sharlene, they are."

". . . then it will add another layer of anonymity to the recordings."

"Do you need another ERD?"

"I will, but I can pick one up from the front office and say I mailed the others while I was on vacation."

"Good. Maybe you ought to start downloading the recordings through the online site so nobody can connect you turning in an ERD with an unusual recording showing up a day or so later. The risk is low with as many recording submittals as we get, but downloading reduces the risk even further."

Sharlene hesitates before she asks, "Do you want to keep checking my recordings?"

"Now that I've seen what you're capable of? You bet I do, even though I shouldn't. We really aren't supposed to know whose recordings we're looking at."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. You've been checking my recordings and falling asleep over them long enough that I apparently have been considering that as the normal process."

Mariam thinks for a moment then says, "Tell you what. Why don't I make you a copy of the software so you can review your own recordings before you upload them? That way, you can decide whether or not you want to submit the recordings. And then if you want me to review them, I can go over them with you after work."

"Isn't the software proprietary?"

"Yes, to the Institute. Part of it was developed in-house and the rest was contracted out. Since you're an employee of the Institute, there's no problem. As long as you don't give it to someone outside of the Institute or try to sell it."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I know. How do you want me to get the software to you?"

Sharlene asks, "How big is it? Would it fit on a mini-drive?"

"A mini-drive would be fine. Do you have a blank one?"

"Um, yeah. Here you go."

"When do you think you'll mail the ERDs with your 'special' recordings?"

"Special? I was thinking about dropping them in the mail tomorrow morning on my way to work."

Mariam assures her, "I know it's hard for you to believe, but those recordings are very special. Let's see, if you mail them tomorrow morning, they might make it to the office on fifth-day. If people aren't spending too much time goofing off, the reviewer should get to them by second-day afternoon or third-day morning at the latest. They'll think there's a problem with the recordings and they'll run them again. When they see the results are the same as the first run, they'll probably have someone in the testing department experience the recordings. Since I didn't take them that far, I can't be sure, but my guess is that at least one of the testers and maybe more, will be able to authenticate your recordings as valid. As Madame Mariam, who sees all and knows all . . ."

"Oh, stop it."

". . . the roof will be blown off of the building no later than fourth-day at noon, hopefully only metaphorically, and by close of business on fifth-day, your Project bank account will have a significant boost."

"A few more credits wouldn't hurt."

"A FEW more credits? Sharlene, I suppose you forgot about that also."

"Well, I never figured my emotional recordings would qualify, so I forgot about it. You make it sound like it will be more than a few credits."

"If my guess about your recordings is half right, it will be more like a few thousand credits."

Sharlene looks at her in surprise before she asks, "That much?"

"The bosses really want clean intense emotional recordings. I've received the impression that they're under pressure to produce some sort of results. I've even heard some talk, somewhere between rumor and proclaimed fact that the bosses are going to raise the payment for clean intense emotional recordings, as though people can control their emotional output to make it cleaner or more intense.

"Remember basic corporate ethics, for every thousand credits they pay you for the risk you took to acquire that emotional recording, they'll probably make a profit of ten thousand credits above all of their expenses including your pay out. And then they'll pay the CEO a bonus of two thousand credits. As if he's the one who personally found you, provided you with the emotional experience, processed the emotional recording, and marketed it to the end user in a nice neat package. Greedy corporate politicians. Anyway, if I hear anything blowing through the hallways which might be related to your recordings, I'll give you a holler."

"Thanks."

"If you don't mind, Sharlene, let me know how your talk with your aunt goes."

"Rather than talk over the phone, I'm thinking about going up there this weekend for a face to face. If anything comes out of our talk, I'll give you an edited version of the highlights."

Mariam grins as she asks, "No blow by blow with all of the gory details? Or should I say stroke by stroke with all of the exciting details?"

"Mariam! I'll be talking to my aunt."

"George lives nearby."

"Yes, but I intend to avoid him until after I get things sorted out in my head. And even then, I may decide to avoid him altogether. After all, he told me to forget about him."

"Sharlene, I'm glad you're trying to put some reason and thought into the situation. Too many young women let their emotions carry them away and they end up making a mess of the situation or they totally ruin their future. Well, (yawn) I'm getting tired. I don't think it's . . . that late already? I'd better be going. It's back to the salt mines tomorrow."

"It can't be that bad. You've always said you liked your job."

Mariam nods her head as she verbally responds, "I do, but there are some nasty vibes going around the upper offices and some of the big wigs seem to be walking on pins and needles. I don't know what's going on. If I hear something which has any substance, I'll let you know."

"Okay."

"Well, thank you for letting me intrude into your life. I loved that video."

"Thank you for listening to me and giving me feedback."

"See you tomorrow, Sharlene."

"Good night, Mariam. Drive safely."

"I always do. It's the other guy I worry about. Night."

* * * * *

2147-08-04 (m>e1)

"Bleep. Bleep-bleep. Bleep-bleep. Bleep-bleep. Blee. . ."

She picks up the ringing phone and asks, "Hello?"

"Sharlene, I'm glad I caught you before you left for work."

"Morning, Mariam. What's up?"

"Do you still have those ERDs?"

"Yes, I was going to mail them on my way in this morning."

"Don't. Hang onto them. In fact, stop by the front office and pick up a couple more and tell them you mailed the other two while you were on vacation and that they should have received them. If they say they haven't, you can say the mail must be running slow."

"What's going on?"

"I really don't know. There was a message on my phone when I got home last night from one of the more considerate Institute executives who warned me that things were heating up for the Project and that when I came in this morning, I might have to batten down the hatches."

"What's that mean?"

"I didn't know until I looked it up. Apparently, on the old wooden sailing ships, the sailors would have to secure or batten down the covers, they called them hatches, over the cargo hold when they saw a storm approaching."

Sharlene asks, "Do you have any idea of what's going on?"

"Not a clue. I just have a feeling that you're going to want to secure those ERDs and if you can get a couple more, hang onto them and only use them when you suspect you might be going into a situation to have some good recordings. I'll also download a copy of the emotional recording review software for you and you can pick it up after you get in. Oops, gotta run."

"Okay, Mariam, I'll see you later."

* * * * *

It's partway through the afternoon when Paula picks up the ringing phone and asks, "Hello?"

"Hello, Aunt Paula."

"Sharlene! What a pleasant surprise. I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon."

"Cut the sarcasm, Aunt Paula. You knew I would call. But my friend Mariam cornered me and we talked for the last two evenings."

"You're right. I had expected a call sooner than this. So why did Mariam corner you?"

"Remember the emotional recording project I talked about last second-day?"

"Yes."

"Well, Mariam is one of the people who reviews the recordings and when she reviewed my recordings from last week, she saw what happened on third-day and fifth-day."

"Really? Ohhh . . . ."

Sharlene nods her head before she verbally responds, "Yeah. It was apparently so atypical compared to my normal recordings that there was no way for me to explain it away as just having a nice vacation. So I told her what happened and we discussed how my experiences were captured in the emotional recordings. And then I told her about what happened on sixth-day."

"I thought something had happened, but I wasn't going to push you."

"Thank you, Aunt Paula. Anyway, I want to talk with you about sixth-day and about what Mariam and I talked about."

"Okay. Let me get a drink and I'll be ready to listen."

"Actually, I would prefer to talk face to face."

"That might be better. Do you want me to come there?"

"No, I don't want to take up so much of your time. Why don't I come up there on sixth-day and spend the night?"

"That would be fine. You know you're always welcome here, but I know it's a long drive."

"I can handle the drive. Why don't I get up there about dinner time?"

Paula suggests, "Why don't you take pity on your poor old aunt and come up a little earlier and make dinner?"

"Okay. It's a deal. And you're not old."

"I must be old, if my young twenty-something niece wants to spend the weekend with me just talking, instead of going out and helping me paint the town red."

"Aunt Paula!"

"Yes?" she responds in a voice of pure innocence.

Sharlene laughs, "I'll see you on sixth-day. Let me know what you want for dinner."

"I'll have something thawed by the time you get here."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Sweet dreams, child."

Sharlene disconnects the call and asks herself, "Why did she tell me to have sweet dreams?"

Paula hangs up the phone as she says, "So, old George has put a burr under the young one's saddle."

* * * * *

After her dinner is cleaned up, Sharlene is surprised to hear the doorbell ring and when she opens the front door she quickly recovers from her surprise to say, "Hi, Mariam, come on in. I didn't see you at work today."

"I was there. I was just stuck in meetings all day and left a little while ago."

"Do you want something to eat? I can whip up something quick."

"No thanks. I grabbed a burger on the way over. I could use a drink though."

"You know where the fridge is."

Mariam barely hesitates before she requests, "Do you have anything stronger?"

"I think I have an unopened bottle of wine in the cupboard, but I don't know how good it is."

"That will do."

"Sit down and make yourself at home and I'll see if I can find the wine. Here it is. How much do you want?"

"Half of a glass, please."

"Here you go."

"Thanks. . . . Ah, that hit the spot. . . . Close your mouth, Sharlene."

"Mariam!"

"Special situations call for special responses. If I can have another half glass with a couple of ice cubes, I would appreciate it. I do prefer my wine to be chilled."

The ice cubes hit the bottom of the glass, "Tink. Tink."

"Thank you." Mariam sips the wine, pauses then says, "That has a nice bouquet. And it's a good brand. I didn't know you were a wine connoisseur."

"I'm not. My uncle gave it to me so I would have some available when he and my aunt come to visit. What's going on?"

"First, here's a copy of the emotional response review software and a couple of more ERDs. If anyone asks, you don't have them, period. As to what's going on . . . let me see if I can put it nicely . . . . The biological waste product is about to hit the rapidly spinning air displacement machine."

"The . . . waste . . . hit . . . . Oh."

Mariam nods her head as she confirms, "Yeah. I still don't know for sure what's going on, but the people in the upper offices are acting like somebody threw a hornet's nest through the door, a big hornet's nest. Some of them are acting like they're on the way to the guillotine and others are looking like chickens who are just coming from there. And the lawyers are rushing around muttering about lawsuits, breach, culpability, precedence . . . . I didn't understand half of it. The most frequent rumor is that somebody high up in the government heard about the Project and didn't like what they heard and threw a hissy fit. I don't know if they'll tell us anything tomorrow at work or if they'll play their political games through the weekend and say something next week. Who knows?"

"I didn't know it was that bad."

"It happened rather suddenly. You know, I wish those big wigs were participants in the Project."

"Why?"

"I think if we reviewed their emotional recordings, we would see some very clean fear and panic scores. . . . So, how's your job going?"

"What?" Sharlene takes a moment to adjust to the change in subject, then says, "Okay, I guess."

Mariam makes the observation, "You don't sound so sure."

"When I started a few months ago, I was excited about the study and what I was told had been accomplished and where it was going and how soon the information would be able to be used to help individual people with brain disorders. I thought, wow, that's ahead of what I had learned in school, they must have had a breakthrough which involved proprietary information so they hadn't released the research results yet. Add to that, it was my first job after graduation from medical school and to be able to work as a research scientist without spending years in clinical practice, I was definitely excited. But as I started doing the research, reviewing what other researchers were doing in the field, and reading the history and parameters of the study, I realized that the progress I had been told about, was what they hoped to do, rather than what had already been accomplished."

"Really?"

Sharlene nods her head then answers, "Yeah. I don't know if it was done to be deliberately misleading or if somebody was living in a pipe dream or simply had their head in the clouds. In retrospect, I should have remembered the old adage that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is."

"What's the problem?"

"There are actually two problems. The first problem is that the technology is simply not available to do what the study is intended to accomplish. The second problem is that the study parameters don't provide the necessary data to end up with a definable result. We were to study a few brain scans from a few people and identify which brain activity was associated with a specific brain disorder and do it in a short period of time. That would be like looking at the DNA of a hundred people who had moderate acne, see that they had a number of identical genetic sequences, pick two of the genes at random, and say that if we turn off those two genes, we can eliminate acne in people."

Mariam looks at her in surprise and asks, "The parameters were that bad?"

"Basically, yes. If I had written them, I would have been ashamed to call myself a scientist. There was nothing scientific about the study parameters other than some of the words they used. It was more like a marketing plan of an overly optimistic entrepreneur who had no idea what it took to build the widget he was advertising or even what the widget would do."

"I had no idea."

"Neither did I, until I took the time to dig into the documents and actually read them because some of them weren't available to read before I started. Up until then, I figured my boss knew what was going on, so I did what I was told. Studying the functions of the brain is fascinating, but after awhile, things just didn't add up to a whole number. When I sat back and tried to look at the whole picture, it seem to add up to only a fraction of a number and the longer I looked, the smaller the fraction became."

"What are you going to do?"

Sharlene pauses a moment before she admits, "A few weeks ago, I was feeling like I had failed at my first job until I kicked myself in the butt and reminded myself that I wasn't the one who wrote the study parameters. Then I worked on putting together a resume, which is hard to do with no practical experience. A couple of weeks ago, I started doing some checking around and sent some discrete inquiries to some of my professors and internship directors. And then last week was this business with George which has had me somewhat distracted."

"Somewhat distracted? That's putting it mildly."

* * * * *

2147-08-04 (e2)

Sharlene briefly pauses then continues, "Anyway, I figure if I don't hear anything back from my professors or internship directors in a few weeks, I'll expand my search. I could probably hire on at a clinic or maybe I can set out my shingle and start my own practice. If I did start my own practice, do you know somebody you would recommend as an office manager?"

Mariam quickly answers, "Yeah. Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. Why, do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Sharlene shakes her head as she answers, "Not at all. Everything I've seen you do, you've done with excellence and professionalism. You're so knowledgeable about the Project and all aspects of it, and you review the emotional recordings, I guess I assumed . . ."

"I appreciate you thinking so well of me, but no, I have no training other than what I learned on the job. Actually, my job title is Administrative Assistant. As is typical with people in my position, most of whom are women, the boss gives us a job, we do it, the boss gives us a more complicated job, we do it, the boss gives us a still more complicated job, we do it, and the next thing you know, we're almost running the company."

"I've noticed how many people rely on you and come to you with issues."

"Sometimes when we talk among ourselves, we joke about being the company mommy. And we're paid about as well as a stay at home mom. Often administrative assistants are about the lowest paid position in a company unless one of us happens to work for a company whose executives recognize our value. Even then, it's often just the executive's personal administrative assistant who receives an adequate salary. Does my being a lowly administrative assistant change our relationship?"

"No way! In fact, Mariam, my respect for you is greater. I would be proud to remain your friend."

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't I? You've been friendly to me since I started with the Institute and you've helped me in so many ways both on and off the job, why should a job title interfere? If I start my own practice and if you're willing, I would be very happy for you to be the office manager."

"Thank you. I've never had such a good relationship with a boss."

Sharlene looks at her in surprise then asks, "Boss? Who said anything about me being boss?"

"Huh? That's how it usually works. What else would the relationship be?"

"We'll just have to do things differently. I think the proper term for the business relationship would be partners."

Mariam's eyes open wide as she almost gasps out, "Partners!?"

"What else? You may not have the legal qualifications to practice medicine, but I have neither the qualifications nor the knowledge of how to run an office. How is the specialized knowledge of medicine so much different than the specialized knowledge of dealing with insurance companies, handling the finances, dealing with the patients, keeping the patients' records, managing the facility, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

"Oh my. You sure know how to throw a person for a loop."

Sharlene explains, "As a medical doctor, I may have higher costs to maintain my position such as malpractice insurance, license fees, medical association dues, and so forth, but those should be classified as business expenses. When it comes to salary based on contribution to the business, many will argue that a medical office without medical personnel is worthless. But by the same token, in this culture, a medical doctor without an office is just about as worthless.

"It would be hard for me to examine a patient if I didn't have a place to do it or a stethoscope or even a tongue depressor. And if I could make a diagnosis without them, I couldn't write a prescription or order lab tests without someone making sure I had the proper forms available. The reason I became a medical doctor was to help people, not to afford the fees to some exclusive country club."

Mariam proclaims, "If you keep talking like this, I'll set out your shingle myself."

"I'm just saying what I think is right. Not that that's how things will work out. Actually, I'm not real keen on opening up a private practice. I do want to help people with brain disorders, but I want to find the root cause and solve that, not just give them a pill which might help them to survive until their next office visit."

"I know things don't always work out the way we want, but I do like the way you think."

Sharlene takes a drink before she says, "If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to our original topic. If the big wigs, as you refer to them, of the Project are in a panic, what do you think might happen?"

Mariam hesitates a little before she answers, "Well, I'm just guessing here . . ."

"I understand."

". . . but I can think of a couple of scenarios. One, the scope of the Project may change, probably significantly, which may be good or bad, I don't know. Two, the Project gets defunded. If that happens, either the Institute will try to find new funding, or they'll divert some internal funds from other projects, if they think the Project is valuable enough to keep it going, or they'll disband the Project."

"Mariam, do you think the Project is worthwhile?"

"One of the stated objectives of the Project is to provide positive emotions to traumatized people in order to help them overcome the emotional effects of their trauma. In that case, I think the Project should be continued. One of the rumored objectives of the Project was to provide negative emotions like fear to the military so they could transmit those emotions at the enemy."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Like I say, it's just a rumor. But if it's real, then no, I don't think the Project is worthwhile. I guess, in my opinion, it depends on how the recordings from the Project are to be used as to whether it's worthwhile or not."

Sharlene shakes her head then says, "I've heard of psychological warfare, but transmitting the direct emotion of fear at the enemy is taking it to a whole new level. Wow, that would have never occurred to me. . . . Let's see, if the scope of the Project changes or if the funding source changes, then the odds are in your favor, that you and the other people on the Project will keep your jobs."

"Yes, you're probably right if we just look at statistical odds."

"But if the Institute closes the Project, then you and the others are out of a job unless they can transfer you to another project within the Institute."

Mariam thinks for a moment before she answers, "Theoretically, yes. Practically, no. Typically, when a project is closed, the people related to that project are let go, which is a supposedly polite way of saying fired, unless there's an in-process project which is understaffed. In that case, a person might be transferred. If a new project is funded whether it's a day or a year away, the hiring process will start all over and people will be hired for that project. They may be the same people from the previous project, but between projects, the Institute doesn't want to keep them on the payroll, so they're on their own. About the only people who might be transferred to a new project is the project management. The Institute may move a manager to a new project or they may promote a junior manager to oversee a new project."

"Interesting." Sharlene summarizes the idea, "It sounds like they use the excuse of 'economics' to not keep the workers on the payroll, but they use the excuse of 'experience' to keep management on the payroll."

"I've never heard it put quite like that, but too often that's the reality."

"I'm curious, if they shut the Project down before its intended conclusion, what happens?"

Mariam thinks for a little longer before she answers, "That depends. If the Project was internally funded, then it stops, the people are sent home, and that's it. If the Project was externally funded and the Project was stopped by the Institute, usually they'll pay a fine and that will be it. The sticky situation is if the Project was externally funded and was stopped by the funding agency. Then there are usually lawsuits with each side accusing the other of breach of contract."

"I imagine that can be rather messy."

"Very messy, especially if meticulous records weren't kept which document every step of the Project or of the relationship between the contractor and the funder. Too often an executive of the funding agency will be at some party and ask an executive of the contractor whether they can do 'x' on 'y' project and the contractor will say 'yes'. Then in court, the funding agency claims the contractor was told to do 'x' on 'y' project and the contractor will say they were only asked if it was possible to do it. Of course, there's no documentation or recording of the conversation, so it's the word of one person against the word of the other."

"Yuck."

"Sharlene, I've never heard it put so succinctly."

"Do you have any idea of what happens to the 'stuff' of a project when it's shut down? I imagine the computers, desks, copiers, office supplies, and so forth would be reabsorbed by the Institute or stored for other projects. But what about the specialized equipment and software or the data and intellectual property associated with a project?"

"Usually that's decided by how the contract was written. Sometimes, the funding agency retains the rights to all of it, in which case, it gets boxed up and sent to them. More often, the funding agency was only interested in the results or the final product, so everything else belongs to the contractor. If the contractor thinks it might have value in the future, they'll probably store it. If they don't think it will have value, they'll destroy it. In rare cases, if the contractor doesn't want to work on the project, but thinks somebody else might, they'll try to sell it."

"If, if, if. I'm beginning to think that the scientific element of a project is less complicated than the legal and business elements of a project. I had been led to believe that the legal and business elements were to support the scientific element. It almost sounds like the scientific element is the excuse for the legal and business elements to be functioning."

"You've already answered the 'why' to that."

Sharlene looks at her in surprise then asks, "I did?"

"Didn't you say the parameters of your study were written more like a marketing plan than something scientific?"

"Yes. I guess I'm a little slow, because I don't understand."

"I wouldn't say slow, just inexperienced. It's really quite simple. The legal and business elements of a study or project are important, because they're about money. The scientific element is only about knowledge."

As her blank expression turns into a somewhat shocked awareness, Sharlene bursts out laughing and Mariam soon joins in. When her laughter has settled, Sharlene proclaims, "Oh, you're right. You're so right. I guess I've been in the ivory tower world of academia too long. I had forgotten the importance attached to the business side. Thank you for setting me on the straight path."

"I don't know about it being a straight path, but you're welcome."

"You're right, it's not a straight path. I don't remember whether it was my dad or my grandpa who said something about when you combine business with legal elements, Attila the Hun begins to look like Francis of Assisi."

"That's good. Oh, the time."

"I'm sorry I kept you up so late."

"It's not your fault, I did just as much talking."

"I guess we can be partners in taking the blame then."

"Partners. . . . I do like the way you think. Thank you, Sharlene."

"It's the least I can do for somebody who's been such a good friend."

"Give me a hug, friend. Thank you. I'd better be going, tomorrow may be a rough day."

"If you want some company tomorrow night, call me and I can come over to your place or you can come here. If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll be going to my aunt's on sixth-day and probably won't be back until first-day evening."

"Are you going to talk about George?"

"Yes."

"Good luck, Sharlene. If I hear something definite, I'll let you know. Good night."

"Night, Mariam."

* * * * *

2147-08-04 (e3)

"Ding, dong. . . . Ding, dong. . . ."

As he hurries to answer the door, George loudly says, "I'm coming," while he wonders who would be at his door at this time in the evening and hopes they don't get impatient enough to ring the doorbell again. As he opens the door, he's surprised to see, "Paula?"

"Hello, George."

"Does Paul . . ."

"Yes, Paul knows I'm here. He says hi."

"Hi, Paul. I'm sorry. Please come in. Would you like something to drink?"

"Iced tea would be fine."

"One iced tea coming up. Please sit down. . . . Here you go."

"Thank you."

"How have you been, Paula?"

"Oh, knock off the social politeness, George, I'm not in the mood."

"I'm sorry. What's up?"

"Sharlene called and said she wanted to come up and talk to me on sixth-day about what happened last sixth-day."

He seems to deflate as he says, "Oh."

"What happened between you and her on sixth-day? And don't go defensive on me, George. I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm worried about her. What happened?"

"I'm concerned about her also. You don't want to hear her side of the story first?"

"Not this time."

"Okay." He hesitates before he starts to talk, "Let me see if I can remember this right. . . . You know I overworked myself and Paul helped me to my vehicle to lay down. In a little while, Sharlene came in, checked my pulse, left for a bit, and came back with her stethoscope."

"I knew that much."

"When she came back to my vehicle, she listened to my heart, had me roll on my side, listened to my lungs, had me roll back flat, and listened to my heart again . . . I think. I don't remember for sure. I was kind of out of it, because it wasn't until later that I realized she must have laid across me to be able to listen to my heart while I was laying back in the vehicle seat. I don't think I touched her, but I don't know, because I don't remember her laying on me, I just figured out that she probably had to."

Paula assures him, "It's okay, George. I understand that you won't remember every detail."

"Thank you. She thought I was okay, that I had just overworked myself while trying to keep up with Paul. I don't know how long we sat there in silence, but after awhile, I noticed she was sitting on the floor jamb of the vehicle door and leaning her elbow on my knee and checking my pulse every now and then. How long she had been sitting like that, I don't know. After awhile, I started to get up to get my drink, but she handed it to me before I could get it.

"Sometime after I had my drink, I said something about it being the first time I had a female doctor. I thought to myself that she was pretty, but I must have actually said something because she heard me and asked me straight out if I thought she was pretty. I had to answer yes, but that I hadn't wanted to say it out loud and offend her because most women would be offended if an undesirable man noticed them. She agreed with that. . . . Um, . . . did she tell you . . . what happened . . . on third-day and fifth-day?"

"Yes."

"She . . . she . . ."

"George, it's okay. Please tell me."

"She asked me if I knew the gear shift knob was . . . between her legs. I said 'yes'. She asked me if I knew that she enjoyed it in a . . . a . . . sexual manner. I said 'yes'. What could I do, Paula? I couldn't touch her to stop her. I didn't know what to do, so I just carefully backed up the pickup to the clearing and when I stopped the pickup, I got out of it as fast as I could and walked around the clearing."

"George, it's not your fault. You didn't plan it, you didn't cause it, and being who you are, you couldn't stop it. It happened."

He drops his head and hesitates before he admits, "But I'm guilty of it on fifth-day."

"Did you force her or coerce her?"

"No."

"Then how are you guilty?"

"I prolonged it."

Paula asks, "How did you do that?"

"By driving slower."

"Why?"

"So she could enjoy it longer."

"And the log she held while you cut it into firewood?"

George hesitates again before he admits, "Yes. I prolonged that also."

"How?"

"By cutting smaller lengths of wood so it took longer to cut it up."

"So she could enjoy it longer?"

"Yes."

"Does she know you prolonged it for her enjoyment?"

George pauses then says, "I . . . I don't think so."

"That wasn't talked about?"

"No."

Paula looks at him closely as she asks, "Did you touch her during any of that on third-day or fifth-day?"

"No. I swear I didn't."

"I believe you George. She said you didn't. I wanted to make sure she wasn't so far under the influence of her emotions that she didn't notice. What happened next on sixth-day?"

"Um, . . . this is hard, Paula."

"I know, George. But for Sharlene's sake, I need to know because she'll want advice, whether she directly asks for it or not."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out before he explains what happened as far as he remembers it until he gets to, "When she finished telling me a little about her background and how the experiences affected her, I told her I was glad she enjoyed it and that I appreciated her trust in being able to tell me something so personal. And then I opened my mouth and muttered something about a wish. She asked me what I wished for."

He hesitates again before he says, "Oh, Paula, you'll probably hate me for this, but I told her I didn't want to sound rude or crude, but that I wished I had a video recording of her enjoying herself so I could better remember her glow of pure pleasure."

"Did she?"

Since he's confused by her question, he asks, "Did she what, Paula??"

"George, I need to understand what happened to Sharlene. She was enjoying her first sexual experiences and it seemed to you like she glowed with pleasure?"

He pauses then says, "Yes."

"Did you say anything else about it?"

He delays before he answers the question, "I told her that it was beautiful because it was like her face and whole body were shouting the joy of pleasure."

"George, before you go on, I want to thank you for telling me. I know this is hard for you. You probably feel like you're confessing to a mother that you took advantage of her darling little girl."

He nods his head.

"I'll admit that a small part of me does feel that way. But Sharlene isn't a little girl and I know you didn't take advantage of her. If anything, she took advantage of you and the situation for her own personal pleasure. She told me it felt wonderful, but I didn't realize it had such an impact on her."

"But . . . uh . . . does she have a basis for comparison?"

Paula shakes her head as she says, "I strongly doubt it. It was her first experience and she's not likely to talk to other women about their sexual experiences. What concerns me is that if it was so wonderful, how disappointed will she be in a sexual relationship with another person? If she enjoyed it enough to want more and nobody can help her to that level of enjoyment, she could ruin her life by hopping around searching for it or she could give it up as hopeless and end up being a bitter old woman."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"How did she respond to your statement?"

George pauses even longer before he says, "That's where it gets stickier."

"Stickier?"

"I'm afraid so, Paula. I said what I thought without thinking of the possible consequences and probably made matters worse."

"Spit it out, George."

He nervously swallows and hesitates before he answers, "She asked me if I was serious about seeing her joy of pleasure. I said, 'yes'. Then she said she didn't know whether to be happy I wanted to remember it better, or disappointed I didn't wish for more. I blurted out, 'What more could I wish for?' She said, 'Me?'."

Paula's eyes open wide in surprise then she exclaims, "Oh, dear."

He nods his head then continues explaining what happened, "Yeah. I froze. Then I told her she was beyond a wish, and that she was too wonderful for me to wish for. I told her to find a young gentle patient man who will take the time to learn how to please her, someone she can fully share her life with. I told her not me because I was just a boring old man and she would be better off with a reliable machine.

"I told her to forget about me. She said she didn't think she could forget about me. I told her I was judgmental, anti-social, and extremely boring and it wouldn't be long before I hurt or disappointed her. I told her to forget I existed, that I didn't want to hurt her and that my best advice for her was to find a gentle young man with whom she can share her life and pleasure. I didn't qualify for that and for her own sake, she ought to forget about me.

"After several minutes of silence, I told her I didn't mean to be harsh with her, that I just wanted what was best for her so her life could be one of joy instead of pain. She said that since it was her life, she should decide what was best for her. After several more minutes of silence, I told her that someone was going to be fortunate to be with her. I thanked her for sharing a few days of her life with me and that it had been a privilege to know her.

"She realized it was about time for her to go. I said I was sorry for taking her away from her family. She told me not to be sorry, that there would be other opportunities to visit her family. I again thanked her for sharing her time with me. Then she leaned over, kissed me, said, 'Thank you,' and left. I stayed in my vehicle for awhile longer before I felt strong enough to get up, then I locked the shop, got in my pickup, and came home. I hope I didn't hurt her."

"Thank you for telling me. No, I don't think you hurt her. I think her emotions were more in a state of confusion because when she came in from the shop she appeared more distracted or dazed."

"Paula, I know I'm no prize. You know I'm no prize. And I'm certainly not a prize for an intelligent young woman like Sharlene. I'm afraid that somehow she associates me with her . . . enjoyable experiences, but I didn't cause them. And if she wanted more based on an incorrect association, she'll be greatly disappointed. Can you convince her to forget about me?"

"George, relax. I don't know what Sharlene is feeling. She probably doesn't know what she's feeling. She's strong willed enough in a quiet way that I wouldn't be able to convince her to forget about you if she's decided otherwise. She's going to have to come to her own conclusions. I just hope that her remembrance of her pleasurable experiences don't cloud her reasoning abilities. George, based on what you just told me and what Sharlene told me last fifth-day, I do have a couple of things I want to say to you."

"Paula, I'm sorry I've caused . . ."

* * * * *

2147-08-04 (e4)

Paula interrupts him, "Stuff it, George. Listen to me and listen to me good, old man."

"Yes, ma'am."

"There's not a single thing for you to be sorry about. In fact, you should take extreme pride in your behavior last week. When my innocent pretty little niece accidentally experienced her first sexual pleasure, you didn't take advantage of the situation and for that you're to be commended.

"And then, when she took advantage of your trust and restraint and planned her second experience of sexual pleasure and you admittedly drove slower just so she could enjoy it longer and you still didn't touch her or take advantage of her, I doubt if there's another man on this planet, my dearly beloved Paul included, who would have shown such restraint unless they had absolutely no interest in females. And then she climbs onto your lap in a cramped little personal vehicle on sixth-day, acting like a little minx."

"Don't chastise her. I doubt if she knew how it might have been viewed."

"But that's just the problem, George. She didn't know. If it had been almost any other man, he would have interpreted her actions as an open invitation and would have taken advantage of her. She could have easily been emotionally scarred for life. At the least, she would be distrustful of men which would add a layer of difficulty to any future relationships."

He hesitates before he says, "You're probably right."

"You may not be the knight in shining armor who most women dream of having, but you're a man of integrity and honor who is worthy of trust, respect, and gratitude. I'm very happy I can trust you with Sharlene. If anyone was going to be around when Sharlene experienced her first sexual pleasure, I'm glad it was you. I wish those fancy boys and rich men who women flock to, were half the man you are, because if that was the case, the fate of women would be greatly improved."

It takes him several long moments to be able to respond to the praise, "Thank you, Paula. I only tried to do what was right."

"I know, George, I know. I just hope Sharlene can understand how great the gift is which you've given her. It's very rare for a woman to be able to let herself fully enjoy her first sexual pleasure in a trusting environment with no coercion, no obligation, and no strings attached. No matter what the future holds or what her relationships might be like, she'll always be able to look back at that experience and remember what pleasure can be like. It's sad for me to say this, but I envy her."

She pauses to take a drink and thinks for a little while before she says, "George, I have a question for you and you're not going to like it."

He hesitates then asks, "What is it?"

"Would you want to be with Sharlene?"

His eyes pop wide open in near shock and it takes him some time before he can blurt out, "Paula!?!"

"George, I don't want your objections, I don't want you saying it's not the right question, I don't want your 'any man' opinions. For once in your life, think only of what YOU want, pretend there are no other considerations, now just answer the question: would you want to be with Sharlene?"

He drops his head and delays a long time before he answers in a voice which is barely above a whisper, "Based on what little I know about her," he pauses longer before he admits, "yes."

"That's what I thought, but I wanted you to admit it. Did you hear yourself?"

"Yes."

Paula nods her head, "Good. I think that when I talk to Sharlene on sixth-day I want to see if I can encourage her to open her eyes to the awareness that pleasure also comes with responsibility and paying attention to others. After all, she can't just keep asking you for a ride in your pickup whenever she wants to have sexual pleasure. And don't you tell me something like it doesn't take much gas. You're a man. How long are you going to restrain yourself while a pretty young woman sits right next to you while she enjoys sexual pleasure?"

He hesitates then admits, "I don't know. I barely restrained myself from touching her as it was."

"Even barely restraining yourself is exceptional and I can't say how very proud I am of you or how thankful I am that you've done so. But I'm also practical and I know that every man has his limits. That's what Sharlene needs to understand. She may understand the clinical side of male hormones, but I doubt if she has any idea of what affect hormones can have on a man's behavior, especially when confronted with a sexy woman who is enjoying herself just inches away.

"George, let me make something clear. I'm very concerned about Sharlene. I'm happy she's found enjoyment in sexual pleasure, but I want her to be aware of her situation so she doesn't get herself into trouble. I'm also concerned about you. You've been a good friend who has helped me through some tough times and you've been wonderfully gallant and considerate towards my niece. I don't want to see her blindly tempt you past your limits. It may damage her, but I'm afraid it would destroy you and I'm selfish enough that I don't want to lose my friend."

"Thank you, Paula."

"I agree with you, Sharlene needs to find a gentle young man with whom she can share her life and her pleasures. I don't know if she knows of any possible candidates or how long it might take her to find one. Nor am I aware of someone I can introduce her to. Hopefully, she'll take some time to think more reasonably about her situation and maybe the power of the emotions will have died down by sixth-day.

"Maybe with some thought, she'll back off on any possible desire to pursue sexual pleasure. She's in so much danger of being very hurt if she doesn't find the right person. My intent on sixth-day is to listen to what she has to say about what happened between you two last sixth-day. I'll listen to what her subsequent thoughts and feelings have been and what she thinks she might want from her future.

Paula takes a drink before she goes on, "I'll also try to help her realize that pleasure also carries with it responsibility and that with another person it needs to be mutual. I'll try to point out that if she wants to be selfish and think only about her own pleasure, then she should limit herself to receiving pleasure by touching herself or by mechanical means. Unless I hear something from her which is totally unexpected, I'll try to convince her that she needs someone with whom she can spend years, even decades with, someone she can really get to know, even if she has to wait for what might seem like a long time to find the right person. I'll try to point out that I'm not trying to run or even interfere in her life, but that what I say is out of concern for her, and that I don't want to see her make the mistakes many other women have made."

He sighs with a tone of relief before he says, "Thank you, Paula. I hope she listens to you."

"So do I. But I can't force her to listen. She may have already made up her mind, I don't know. But, George . . . George, if she comes to you . . . oblige her."

He stares at her in shock and it takes him long moments to verbally react, "Paula!?! . . . Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes, George. . . . Yes, . . . I do know what I'm saying."

"You want me to . . .?"

"I want you to do as she asks. Treat her no differently than you treated me when I asked you to touch me. But only if she comes to you and asks you."

He almost stutters, "I . . . I would never force her."

"I know."

While he still can't believe what Paula said, he protests, "But she's your niece. She's like a daughter to you. She's so young."

"Yes, George, she is like a daughter to me. I trust you to be gentle with her, to not push her beyond what she asks for. And what has age got to do with caring or sharing pleasure with another person? You spent time with Rachel when she was so lonely after she was widowed and she's about Sharlene's age."

He hesitates to say, "She knew what she was asking for, just as you did."

"And you're concerned that Sharlene doesn't know what the consequences are. You're afraid she'll have romantic 'knight in shining armor' expectations. You're afraid she'll expect the experience to be smooth and coordinated and that it will end up being clumsy and fumbling because you can't meet her expectations and then she'll be hurt or disappointed."

He barely nods his head before he quietly says, "Yeah."

"Excuse me George, but how is she to know, if nobody teaches her?"

It takes him some time to get the words out, "But, Paula, why? . . . Why me?"

"Because, George, you won't force her. Because you won't go beyond what she asks. Because you're gentle and considerate. Because I want to break the cycle of coercion, obligation, and expectation which women live under in regards to their sexuality, even if it's for only one woman. Because I want my naive little niece to thoroughly enjoy sexual pleasure in a trusting and safe environment. Because, my boring old man, I think you're creative enough to keep it interesting."

He shakes his head in disbelief or is it fear or maybe it's partially something else entirely. After awhile he proclaims, "Paula, you lay a heavy burden on me."

"I'm sorry, George, I really am, but for her sake, I do lay the burden on you. I hope, for your sake, that she doesn't come to you. But if she does decide to come to you, I want to possibly reduce the shock to you before she stands in front of you and tells you herself."

"It's going to be hard to deal with the guilt that somehow I influenced her, even with your permission."

"I know it's going to be hard for you. . . . George, you can refuse her."

He thinks for a moment before he responds, "Yes, I suppose I can. But if she's desperate enough to come to someone like me, what kind of trouble would she get into, if I sent her away? If something bad happened to her because I refused, that guilt would be . . . too much. . . . Paula, you've got to convince her to wait, or look somewhere else, or something . . . ."

"I'll try, George, but all I can do is try. If she makes up her mind, I can't force her to change it. Like I said, I hope she doesn't come to you, but I wanted you to be warned that it's a possibility."

"Okay, Paula. . . . I guess I should thank you that you care enough about me to warn me. . . . Damn. Sharlene has got to be smarter than that."

"Smart can't always convince emotion."

"I know. I know."

"I don't mean to dump this on you and run, but I do have to work tomorrow."

"I'm sorry I kept you."

"You didn't keep me, I stayed. Will you walk me to my vehicle?"

"Okay."

"George, are you going to be okay?"

He sighs before he answers, "I don't know. I'll probably survive. You sure know how to shock an old man."

"Give me a hug. . . . Thank you, my friend. . . . Good night."

"Night, Paula."

* * * * *

2147-08-05

She answers her ringing phone, "Hello?"

"Hi, Sharlene."

"Hey, Mariam. What's going on?"

"Craziness. I haven't said anything to anyone except you and I know you haven't talked, but rumor has worked its way down through the ranks and now everybody's in a panic, except maybe the janitors."

"I overheard a couple of people on my side of the building talking about some upset on your side of the building."

"Yeah, there are still no real details, just a bunch of accusations which only fuels the rumor mill. The scope of those accusations makes me think the Project is going to be defunded. Last night you asked if I thought the Project was worthwhile. I replied that one of the objectives was to provide positive emotions to help traumatized people overcome the emotional effects of their trauma."

"I remember."

Mariam goes on, "The more I've thought about that, the stronger I feel about it. I thought back to when I was abused and how it would have been great to have had some positive emotional feedback after that. Many other people have faced all kinds of trauma and have had to somehow stumble through and some of them didn't make it to the other side. In regards to helping the chronically depressed, I don't know if the science is right, but to provide them some joyful brain wave examples might help them to rewire their own brain wave patterns.

"And then I got to thinking, could there be a use for the negative emotions? I decided, yes. Some people who get easily upset have to go through anger management classes. What better way to learn to control one's own anger than to learn to control the feeling of anger of someone else when it's piped in brain waves. If a person can control the feeling of anger when they don't feel anger on their own, that might help them to control their own feeling of anger when it hits them. I know I'm not saying this very clearly, but maybe you can somewhat figure out what I'm getting at."

Sharlene responds, "I think so."

"Then I thought about training. We know that some firefighters feel fear before they go into a burning building to rescue people. And we know that they practice going into controlled fires. But the fear they feel going into a training situation probably isn't the same kind of fear they feel when they go into the real situation. Suppose we could provide the feeling of fear during training. It might make the training seem more realistic. As they learn to control their fear during training, it might increase the control over fear they have during the real event."

"That makes sense."

"I really think the Project is going to be defunded. So I gathered up all of the information I could find about which suppliers provided the Project equipment, the electronic sensors, the headbands, the ERDs, the batteries, the software developers, and whatever else I could find. When the Project goes down, it can be restarted with new management and direction without having to start from scratch."

Sharlene hesitates before she asks, "Wouldn't that present some legal issues?"

"That's one of the big sticky points. The other big sticky point is funding. One way to reduce the legal issue, is if the Institute wanted to unload the Project, then it could be legally purchased including all rights to concept, data, software, even participant recordings. The only problem is finding an investor who would be interested in the benefits the Project could provide, rather than the profits it might or might not produce."

"To the best of my understanding, investors don't usually put money into businesses which have no hope of making at least a little profit, unless you want to run the Project as a charity."

Mariam hesitates then says, "I suppose that's an option. I still think there's a way for the Project to make money, but I haven't come up with any ideas along those lines. Well, I just thought I would let you know what the latest news is, or isn't, however you want to consider it. Are you still going to your aunt's tomorrow?"

"Yes, in the afternoon, it ought to be an interesting talk. Are you doing anything special tomorrow?"

"More meetings."

She's so surprised at that answer that it takes Sharlene a couple of moments before she can respond, "On sixth-day? Things must be serious. How many golf courses are going to lose money because all of those executives aren't out there on sixth-day morning?"

"You've got that right. And don't forget all of the juicy details. I look forward to hearing about them on second-day."

"I don't know about juicy details. You might have more than me. But, yeah, we'll talk on second-day."

"Night, Sharlene."

"Good night, Mariam."

* * * * *

2147-08-06 (a>e1)

As she steps in the door of the store, she says, "Hello, Aunt Paula."

"Sharlene! I'm glad you made it. How was the drive?"

"Long and boring."

"Put your things in your room and come on back. . . . How are things going in the city?"

"Kind of crazy."

"What's going on?"

"The Project I told you about that I was participating in and that Mariam is on the staff?"

Paula nods her head as she verbally answers, "Yes."

"Apparently there's some big blow-up with the government or the funding source which has the executives all in a panic. The fear, somewhere between rumor and fact, is that the Project will be defunded and they'll have to shut it down and those people will lose their jobs. Mariam's kind of stuck in the middle since she's one of the most knowledgeable about the day to day function of the Project, but not one of the executives who knows what the fuss is all about. So she has to give them information without having any idea of what the consequences might be."

"That's not good. How's she handling it?"

"Not too badly, but the stress level is pretty high for her right now. I think she'll be okay, upper management relies on her and to the best of my knowledge, she has a good reputation with the rest of the Institute. I have more concern about some of the other staff, but I really don't know what the job market is like for their capabilities."

"Well, I hope things work out for everyone." Paula pauses then asks, "Is there anything more about your job?"

"No more than I told you last week. I haven't heard anything yet, but I hadn't expected to either. What did you want me to fix for dinner?"

"There's some thawed hamburger in the fridge which should give you a range of options."

"How about spaghetti? That's pretty quick and easy, and it gives Uncle Paul an excuse to have a glass of wine."

"You're right about that. In that case, why don't you run down to the grocery store and pick up some sourdough bread to go with it. That's not something I stock here."

"Why not?" Sharlene points and asks, "Isn't there room over there between the engine oil and the beer?"

Paula tries to frown and grin at the same time as she responds, "Oh, go on with you."

"I'll be back soon."

"I hope so, I'm getting hungry."

* * * * *

About a half of an hour later, Sharlene hears, "Mmm, something smells good."

She quickly turns then says, "Uncle Paul, get out of there."

"What'cha making? Ah, spaghetti. Oh boy, where's the wine?"

"Uncle Paul, sometimes you're too predictable."

"I love you too, young lady. If men weren't so predictable, then women couldn't claim to read our minds and then where would the world be. Come here and give me a hug."

"Yes, sir."

As they hug, he whispers to her, "I'm glad you're here. Paula's been on pins and needles wanting to talk to you. I try to keep my nose out, but I think she's real concerned about you. She worries a lot. You're a smart young lady and I think you'll do whatever's right."

"Why, thank you, Uncle Paul. I appreciate your vote of confidence," she whispers back and kisses his cheek.

While his eyes are lit up in response, Paul breaks the hug and in his normal voice, asks, "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"No, thank you. I'd better get the table set because dinner is just about ready and Aunt Paula is probably about ready to close the store."

Paula steps in from the store and announces, "Not about to, just did. Paul, please pour me a glass, too."

* * * * *

After he pushes his empty plate back, Paul takes a last swallow of wine, and says, "Thank you, Sharlene, that was good. Paula, do you think we can hire Sharlene as a cook."

"Why, she uses most of the same recipes that I do."

"But doesn't it taste better when someone else makes it?"

"You're right about that. Okay, Sharlene, you're hired. The pay may be lousy, but the hospitality is good, I least I hope so."

"Of course, the hospitality is good. I feel like this is as much my home as any place I've been."

"I'd better clean up before I have thirds and you ladies can have your talk."

"Paul?"

"Paula, you've been anxious to talk to Sharlene all week. So talk. I know how to take care of dirty dishes."

"Thank you. Uh, Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Can you take care of opening the store in the morning? We may be up late talking."

"Sure, love."

"Thank you."

* * * * *

2147-08-06 (e2)

After they take a few minutes to make bathroom trips and get fresh drinks, Sharlene sits down across the table from Paula who starts the conversation, "Before you tell me what happened on sixth-day, I want you to know that I talked to George on fourth-day evening and asked him about what happened on sixth-day. I'm afraid I was a bit rough on him to get him to talk. I said I wasn't accusing him of anything, but that I was worried about you and I just wanted to know what happened.

"I'm telling you this because I am worried about you and I don't want you to think that I went behind your back, or that I'm prying into your personal life, or that I'm comparing your story to George's. I'll tell you that I'm also concerned about George. He's been a good friend for several years. I don't want to see either of you get hurt. There. That's my spiel. Now it's your turn."

"Thank you for your concern. I do appreciate it, because it tells me how much you care about me. I'm glad you care about George. I think you've been a good friend to him also. Before I start, I think I need to say that last week was both the most wonderful and the most confusing week I can remember."

"From what you told me last fifth-day and what I saw on your face before you left on sixth-day, I can believe that."

"Okay. Last sixth-day. Let me start from where I grabbed my stethoscope and went to check on George. I took his pulse, leaned across him to listen to his heart, had him roll to his side so I could listen to his lungs, rolled him back, and listened to his heart again. I didn't intend to lay on him, but it was the only way I could reach far enough to listen to his heart. Later, when I thought about it, I was surprised he hadn't tried to touch me."

"I don't think he was aware you had laid on him at the moment. He told me he figured it out later that it was probably what had happened."

"Oh. I wish I had known he was that unaware. He was probably worse off than I thought. Does he have any family around?"

"No."

"That makes it difficult. If something happens to him, he needs a medical power of attorney so someone can speak on his behalf if he's unable to make his wishes known." Sharlene gets out her phone and starts punching keys.

Paula asks, "Who?"

"That doesn't matter as long as it's someone he trusts and knows what he wants done. A living will is also a good idea although it can't cover all circumstances. I don't mean to sound morbid, but it wouldn't hurt for you and Uncle Paul to have such documents prepared. They can be changed at any time and it doesn't take a lawyer to complete them. There, I've just sent a copy of the documents and instructions to your email. I would appreciate it if you can get a copy to George. I didn't mean to interrupt the conversation, but I didn't want to forget. When you saw him on fourth-day, did he seem okay to you?"

"Yes. But I'm no doctor."

Sharlene nods her head as she responds, "I know. In many ways, neither am I. I have the generic training, but I have no experience with the medical needs of older people. I guess he took longer to recover than I thought he would. At least, I hope that's what it was. Anyway, . . ."

* * * * *

". . . And that's what I remember happened between George and I last sixth-day."

"Sharlene, thank you for telling me. I also want to thank you for trusting me enough to tell me such personal things. I care about you and I care about George. I don't think either of you would intentionally hurt the other. But I do want to reduce the risk that either of you might hurt the other through a misunderstanding. Now that it's been a week, how are you feeling?"

"Still confused. My emotions don't feel like I'm as much on a roller coaster, but I still don't know which way to turn."

"Fair enough. I'm going to get some more iced tea. When I come back, I would like to hear about how your conversations went with Mariam."

"Okay. I need some more tea, too."

A few minutes later, Paula restarts the conversation, "What did you talk to Mariam about?"

"A lot of things, but when I look back, it started on second-day morning when I arrived at work and handed Mariam the Emotional Data Recorders from last week. About the first thing she did was ask me what happened and said I was almost glowing and seemed happier. I said something generic about it being a good vacation. While I walked to my desk, I worried about what she might find, but I soon got busy and forgot about it. Near the end of the shift, Mariam called and said we had to talk and told me to come to her place after work. I could tell something was bothering her, so I went."

After Sharlene tells her aunt about part of the conversation with Mariam, she goes on, "I told her that when I questioned George directly, he admitted knowing I was experiencing sexual pleasure. Right then it dawned on me, but to confirm my suspicion, I grabbed the charts Mariam had printed out which showed the intensity of my emotional responses graphed on a time scale. What I suspected was right there. Aunt Paula, do you know what George did?"

"What did George do?"
"When he was backing up the pickup while I was enjoying sexual pleasure, he drove slower so I could enjoy it longer and then when I held the log for him to cut firewood length pieces, he took longer to do the job, so I could enjoy that longer also."

"Yes, he did."

Sharlene stares at her aunt for several moments before she blurts out, "What?!?"

Paula nods her head and explains, "When I talked to him on fourth-day, he admitted going slower so you could enjoy it longer, but he wasn't sure if you had noticed."

"I hadn't noticed and if Mariam didn't mention how long each experience was and I had that information bounce around in the back of my head for awhile, I wouldn't have known. Then I told Mariam about what happened on fifth-day and pointed out that the distance traveled in the pickup was the same all three times, yet it took longer each time, which proved he was going slower on purpose and I'm positive the purpose was so I could enjoy it longer."

After she tells about the rest of the evening's conversation, Sharlene concludes, "I said it was late and needed some sleep before going to work in the morning. She said I wasn't going to get off the hook that easily, so I invited her to my place for dinner on third-day. And that's a good place for me to take a break and get another drink."

Several minutes later, Sharlene resumes the conversation, "When Miriam asked what George was like, I didn't really know how to approach the subject since I had never really talked about a man before, but I had a day to let my mind sort through the data. About the first thing I said to Mariam was that I had only met George a week before so almost everything I knew about him, I had heard from you."

Paula 'accuses' her, "Thanks, girl, blame me, will'ya."

"Well, it's the truth."

"I know. Go on with your story."

Sharlene does then concludes with, "When I finished, Mariam said, 'Girl, you are affected.' To which I replied, 'I know and I don't know why and I don't know what to do about it.' When she asked what you had said, I told her that I hadn't had a chance to tell you about sixth-day. I also couldn't remember whether you had given me any specific advice about George. I'll confess that I told Mariam some of what you told me about your experiences with George."

Paula looks sharply at Sharlene and proclaims, "What!?! You're pushing the limits, girl."

"I know and I'm sorry if I'm breaking any confidences, but I saw no other way to let Mariam know that I wasn't just some starry eyed dreamer with a first puppy love experience. I know you don't like to admit it, Aunt Paula, but George still affects you. Even while you were making it clear that George is a boring old man who would drive you to frustration, you still spoke positively and warmly about him.

"I told Mariam what you said about the town gossip, that George knows how to touch a woman, but nobody would admit to how far that touching went. I told Mariam that until sixth-day, neither of us had touched the other except to shake hands on third-day morning when we were introduced and there was certainly no spark then. Even before I accidentally touched the gear shift knob, I was comfortable in his presence. I'm not sure why, but I think he affects me more than just as a comfortable presence.

"As we were finishing our talk and since she knew I was coming to visit, Mariam teased me about George living nearby. I told her that I intended to avoid him until I could get things sorted out in my head. I reminded her that he had told me to forget about him. She said she was glad I was trying to put some reason and thought into the situation and that too many women let their emotions run away with them and totally ruin their future.

"Anyway, that's what I talked to Mariam about. Towards the end of my narrative, I hope I wasn't too confusing about what I told Mariam and what I was currently feeling. I'm real sorry, Aunt Paula, if I betrayed your privacy in telling Mariam some general things about your experiences with George."

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I'm very happy you can trust me. From what you've said about Mariam, I doubt that she'll go tell other people. And if it helped you to explain what you were feeling, then it's okay. Even if word somehow got back to Paul, he would probably shrug it off and say, 'So, George is Paula's friend, and if that's the help she needed to come back into my life, I thank George.'.

"When I recommended that George be your guide to the local swamp, I had no clue that it would open up such a big can of worms. Such an unbelievable fluke of an accident has ended up with you being all confused, me all worried, George not knowing which way to turn, and Mariam looking for an ugly mud fence. Why don't we call it a night, think about it some more, and then tomorrow we can talk about where you think you might want to go from here."

* * * * *

2147-08-07 (m1)

After breakfast is cleaned up, Paula sits down at the table with her and summarizes, "Sharlene, you've had a couple of topsy-turvy weeks between what happened in George's pickup, your talk with him on sixth-day, and your talks with Mariam and I. I can understand you being confused. I also understand that you enjoyed your sexual experiences and are interested in more. And unless I'm misunderstanding something, the question confronting you is, where do you go from here."

"That's it in a nutshell and why I wanted to talk to you for several reasons. I believe you care about me and have my best interests at heart. In many ways, you've been like a mother to me and my best friend at the same time. You're more experienced in male-female relationships and have talked to many more women about those relationships than I have. And you know George."

"Do you have any idea about how you want to talk about the issues? Separately, together, or in what order?"

"I've thought about it a little and it seems to me there are two basic issues and one question. One issue is sexual experience, the second issue is George, and the question is, are they related? Do you see something that I'm missing?"

"From a broad perspective, I think that covers it. How do you want to handle it?"

Sharlene pauses in thought before she says, "I suppose if I deal with the sexual issue first, depending on which direction I go, it might resolve the other issue. Would that be okay with you?"

Paula nods her head as she answers, "That would be fine. So, what are your thoughts?"

"I understand that I didn't have a normal sexual experience in that it wasn't with another person, but beyond that, I have no experience or really any past discussions to form a judgment or comparison. Then the questions start to come up: Was the pleasure I experienced a normal level of sexual pleasure? Can that level of pleasure be experienced with a person? Can that level of pleasure be maintained with a machine? How do I touch another person sexually and am I willing to do so? How do I let another person touch me sexually and am I willing to let them?

"I'm not interested in one night stands to find pleasure, nor am I interested in a legally binding relationship for the sake of pleasure and I don't know someone who I'm interested in forming a relationship with, so what's the middle ground? Was the accidental experience of sexual pleasure so unexpected and novel that it caught me off guard and will turn out to be a passing fancy with no staying power? I just don't know."

After a brief pause, Paula suggests, "Why don't I give you a few opinions, not necessarily in the order of your questions, toss out some thoughts, and see what didn't get covered or generates new questions."

"I would really appreciate it."

"I think the first thing for you to consider is that there is no normal when it comes to sexual pleasure. Some people really like sex, some people think it's okay once in awhile, some people barely tolerate it, and some won't touch it with a ten foot pole. Then you can question those responses as to whether the response is a reflection of their personality, or they're lying for whatever reason, or they had an experience, either positive or negative, which changed what would have been their response. So forget normal.

"On that basis, you really can ignore the enthusiastic responses of both Mariam and George and don't tell them I said so and save your objections. I'm sure they were sincere, but what was their basis for comparison? How many data points does Mariam have of a mature woman having her first sexual experience? How many women has George observed enjoying sexual pleasure by themselves? I'll bet the numbers to both of those questions is really small, if not zero."

"You're right. I never would have thought of it that way."

Paula takes a drink before she goes on, "The only thing that matters is whether or not you enjoyed it. You said you enjoyed what you experienced. My guess is you will continue to enjoy sexual experiences as long as something bad doesn't really hurt you along the way. Will you be able to enjoy that level of pleasure over the long term with a machine? Most likely not.

"As humans, we often get in ruts and feel safe in ruts, but we don't always have fun in ruts. The same applies to sex and as far as I know, they haven't made a machine which can provide the variety of sexual experiences that another person can. Touching yourself can provide more variety than a machine, but not as much as being touched by another person.

"In regards to sex with another person, too many people think there is a right way and many wrong ways to enjoy sex. Personally, I think bed hopping runs too high a risk for disease or for getting hurt by someone who's violent or wants to exert control rather than give pleasure. So I stay in my comfortable rut of enjoying sex with a loving partner.

"Whether the relationship is long term or short term, when it's between two caring people who mutually seek to please each other, there's no wrong way to enjoy sex. It's a matter of asking the other person how they want to be touched, and if they don't know, then it's a matter of experimenting. If I touch you like this, do you like it? Yes, do it again, or no, don't do it again, or try it again, but do it softer or harder.

"As far as you being able to achieve the level of pleasure you experienced with another person, I think there's a high probability you can enjoy that level of pleasure as long as it's in a relationship like I described. Will it constantly be at that level? Again, most likely not. You can't climb a mountain every day. Then there might be a time when you think you've hit the moon, just don't expect it all of the time. After a long stressful day, you probably won't want to handle a mountain, but some gentle touching, caressing, and cuddling can work wonders to take the stress away.

"Now, as far as you being willing to touch and be touched, I think you've already demonstrated that you're willing when you had George touch you and you kissed him on sixth-day. How far your willingness will go with another person, I don't know and you don't know. Only time, patience, and experimentation will answer that question.

"Even your willingness may change over time. You may say, 'no,' to being touched in a particular way and then several months later you may say, 'try that one again,' and find that you enjoy it. Every person and every sexual partnership is different." She briefly pauses to give Sharlene a chance to think about what she's said before she concludes, "That's a fairly quick view of my thoughts on the subject. Does that generate any thoughts or questions?"

"I noticed that when you spoke of a relationship between two people, you seemed to avoid the word 'marriage'. Was that deliberate? And if so, why?"

Paula nods her head as she says, "You're right, I did avoid the word 'marriage' on purpose. I'm happy being married to Paul and I married him with the intent of being able to grow old with him. Even though you know it, I want to specifically point out that he's not my first husband. In spite of our going into our marriage with our eyes open and our desire to stay with each other, we had enough differences that we were separated for several months. Many marriages fail or the people end up being miserable, because they either had no idea of what they were getting into, especially young people, or they go into the marriage with expectations the other person doesn't know about.

"I don't know how many times women have said something like, 'after the marriage, I'll get him to change'. Or how many times men have insinuated or even said, 'after the marriage, she'll have to do what I want'. Both are a recipe for disaster. Some people, usually the male, aren't as much interested in the caring relationship as they are in the physical elements of marriage which soon become dull without the caring. Other people, usually the female, will use sex as a bait to snag the security of a partner and when they're hooked and the tie is knotted, then it's 'we don't need to do that anymore'.

"I've known of a number of cases where two people lived together for several years and were apparently happy. Then they decided to get married and within a couple of years they were divorced or stayed miserably married. Usually, it was because one or both of the partners expected there to be some change in the relationship or in the other person, once the marriage ceremony was over. Just because a person says 'I do' in some ceremony, it isn't going to change them or their personality. Who that person was before the ceremony, is the same as they'll be when they walk out of the ceremony. I doubt if anyone goes into an intimate relationship, whether it's marriage or not, being completely open and honest. We all want to gain something of benefit to ourselves from the relationship and we all feel like we have some skeletons in our closet which we want to remain hidden."

* * * * *

2147-08-07 (m2)

Paula takes a quick drink before she goes on, "Frankly, I doubt if any two people in a relationship are completely compatible, there are just too many areas of potential conflict: politics, religion, finances, sex, children, entertainment, employment, friendships, cleanliness, and so on, and so forth. I don't advocate people going into a relationship thinking it's only temporary. We don't do that with our friends, why should we do it with our lovers, especially when a lover should be our friend with whom we have more than friendship. Nor do I advocate people staying in a relationship where the caring has died. People change over time, the dynamics of relationships change over time. If a relationship changes enough, those involved should have their eyes open and separate as friends before they grind the relationship into the ground and separate as enemies.

"When a relationship turns sour or breaks up, the ones who are hurt the most are any children who might have resulted from the relationship. And because they've been hurt by the people they most trusted, they don't know what to do about the hurt, and very seldom does anyone help them deal with the hurt. Then those children grow up to be the next generation of relationships which are damaged before they even begin. Most people should never have children, but most of those who do get married will, sooner or later, decide to have children, whether by mutual agreement or upon the insistence of one, and what was a partnership becomes a three ring circus.

"And how often do those children end up having the day cares or schools raise them. Why do people bother having children if they're not going to raise them? Too often it's the religious, cultural, or social security thing to do to have children. And instead of adopting children from already broken homes or broken societies, most people are selfish and want their own 'flesh and blood' children, yet are too selfish to consider, much less do, whatever sacrifices might need to be made in order to raise their own children. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off on a tangent and get on a soapbox to do it."

Sharlene stares at her aunt for a little while before she exclaims, "Wow! You certainly answered that question. Don't be sorry about your tangent and soapbox, Aunt Paula. What you said made a lot of sense, and a lot of it I had never thought about before. That's a big part of why I like to talk with you and learn from you. You've observed people and their relationships and you've thought about what you've seen. And I can learn from it. Hopefully, I'll remember enough of it to avoid some of those issues.

"There's another part of the sex issue I wondered about. When I was sitting next to George in his pickup and was enjoying sexual pleasure, I had no thought of anything, other than how good it felt to me. I understand there is, to some degree, a stimulation factor in observing another person or other people enjoying sexual pleasure. When I asked George why he didn't interfere or take advantage of me, he said it would have been rude of him to interfere in my pleasure.

"When I talked to Mariam about it, she thought that for George not to touch me on those occasions was highly unusual, questioned whether he was even male, and said she didn't know of any other man who wouldn't have touched me. The more I've thought about it, the more I've wondered, how much danger was I putting myself in when I was only thinking about my own pleasure, or was I safe because George wasn't affected?"

Paula nods her head before she answers, "I'm glad you thought about it and asked the question, because that's one of the things I've been very concerned about. Often, with an initial enjoyable sexual experience, a young woman is so wrapped up in the enjoyment, she forgets about or ignores any possible consequences. To put it bluntly, you put yourself in a lot of danger when you thought only of your own pleasure. George was affected and you should consider yourself very very lucky it was George instead of somebody else who was in the pickup.

"Most men, and even some women, would have considered your enjoyment of sexual pleasure as an open invitation for them to join in on the fun and they would have tried to take it to a higher level. And then you would have been offended and tried to put them off which could have generated a violent response. Or you would have regretted it later and wanted to tone it down or stop the relationship, while the man would want to, at a minimum, retain the level of relationship which he thought had been established and expand it.

"When I recommended George as your guide, I knew he was absolutely trustworthy at what would have been the normal situation of driving there, viewing the swamp, and driving back. I knew George knew how to keep his hands to himself, but I was surprised when you described what had happened and that George didn't touch you. I'm also glad you recognize the selfish nature of your pleasure. Sexual pleasure is meant to be between consenting adults. If you're going to enjoy sexual pleasure by yourself, do it in private, don't tempt any potential observer because you don't know their breaking point and you'll get yourself into trouble.

"To continue with the bluntness, the breaking point of most men is a lot lower than you might think. When I directly asked George how long he could restrain himself from touching a pretty young woman who was sitting next to him and enjoying sexual pleasure, he responded that he didn't know and that he barely restrained himself from touching you. He wouldn't say and I didn't want to embarrass him more by asking, but after he got out of the pickup, he probably masturbated to relieve his own sexual tension."

Sharlene drops her head then says, "I'm really sorry. I had no idea."

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty and George told me not to chastise you, . . ."

"Really?"

Paula nods her head before she continues, ". . . but I want to make you aware of the potential consequences and of the responsibilities involved in sexual activities. When we talked last week about sexual pleasure without coercion or obligation, I was referring to obligation from an external source. As a partner in a sexual relationship, you should have the responsibility of an internal obligation to help your partner share in the pleasure. Not 'what does he want from me', as in 'I had better give it or he won't try to please me', which is the perception of a threat. Instead, your thought should be more along the lines of, 'if I was him what would I want', as in 'I like him and because I like him I want to do something nice for him', which is the perception of giving a gift. Sexual pleasure should be a two way giving of gifts.

"There are times, by mutual consent, when one person may be the recipient of more pleasure than the other, but that shouldn't be the expected normal situation. If one partner thinks the other partner is being selfish, the first partner will start making less of an effort to please the second partner, which often starts a downward trend. If both people are making an effort to please the other person, an upward trend will often occur which will enable both partners to receive more pleasure than the one selfish partner ever could. Does that make sense?"

Sharlene pauses then says, "Yes. Since I've never had a sexual experience, much less a sexual partner before, I never thought about these things. I hope I haven't offended George with my selfishness."

Paula shakes her head then says, "No. George wasn't offended, but he was very concerned that if you were interested in more sexual pleasure without understanding the potential danger and consequences, you might be very hurt. And he didn't want to see that happen to you."

"George is something else. From what you and Mariam have said, from what's written in books, and from what I've overhead in conversations, George isn't a normal man."

"That's true, but we should hold off on talking about George. We're trying to deal with the sexual issue first."

"You're right. Sometimes it's hard to separate the two issues since the experiences kind of tie them together."

"I know. Do you have any other questions or concerns about the sexual issue?"

Sharlene thinks for a little while before she answers, "Not that I can think of right now."

"If and when you do, and if you want to talk about it, let me know and we'll talk. So now it's time to step back, review your feelings, go over your talks with Mariam, George, and myself and see what kind of conclusions you come up with in regards to the sexual issue. Remember, depending on what you decide, it can be changed at a later time. But, for now, you need to decide where you want to go from here. And while you work on that, I need to take a break and get another drink."

* * * * *

2147-08-07 (m3)

Since she wants to give Sharlene some more time to think about the whole situation, Paula takes over in the store to give Paul a break. When they're back at the table with fresh drinks, Sharlene says, "I know a few minutes, hours, or even days won't be enough time for me to fully reconcile my various thoughts on the sexual issue. I guess I can try to summarize my thoughts and maybe I can somehow assign a priority to them and, with your help, try to figure out which way to go."

"That's fine, but I want to make something clear, whether I can stick to it or not. I have no intention of telling you what to do, although I seem to be doing a lot of it. Basically, I wanted to point out my concerns and some possible problem areas which you might not have thought about and be a sounding board for you. Whatever you decide, it will have to be your decision and I'll do my best to support you. And when you make a mistake, and don't think you won't because we all make mistakes sooner or later, I'll try to be there to help you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and go on."

"Thank you, Aunt Paula. I know that's your intention and I appreciate your love and support. I don't know what I would do without being able to talk to you about these things. It adds a real level of comfort to know that you're here for me. My thoughts about the sexual issue are, number one: I really enjoyed what I experienced in George's pickup and when he was cutting that log. If I worked at it, I think I could live my life without more, but there would very much be something missing from my life which I would regret and be unhappy about. So, yes, I want more experiences of sexual pleasure.

"Thought number two: I think you're right about receiving sexual pleasure from a machine becoming dull over time, although I may have to use a machine until I can establish a trusting relationship of an intimate nature with someone or even between relationships, if that happens. That leads to thought number three: since I want more sexual pleasure and I don't want to rely on a machine, or on just touching myself, I need to find someone to establish a relationship with. An added element to the human interaction is that when I had George caress my legs while we were talking, it wasn't directly sexual pleasure, but it was very pleasant. I also want more of that touching and I know I can't get that from a machine or from myself.

"Thought number four: I need to find a male. At this point in my life, I can't wrap my mind around the idea of an intimate relationship with another female. A male whom I can trust, who will be gentle and patient, who will listen when I say, 'yes,' and when I say, 'no', and with whom I can share my life and my pleasure. I know that no matter who I have a relationship with, I'll be disappointed to some degree. I guess it's a matter of choosing in which areas of life or a relationship I can handle the disappointment. At the same time, I need to stay aware that I'm probably disappointing them as much or more than I'm being disappointed. I think George was probably right that I should find a gentle young man who will be patient with me, and with whom I can share my life and my pleasure which leads to the next thought.

"Number five: How long will it take me to find a man with whom I want to even try to have a relationship with? And where do I look? I have virtually no experience with that. From what I understand, a lot of women seem to find men at bars, taverns, parties, dances, and those kinds of group social environments, but I don't feel comfortable in those places. Other women find a man in church, but that's not my cup of tea either. From what I've read and heard about dating services either locally or online, the descriptions people give of themselves are often lop-sided or downright lies. Another place women meet men is in college. Well, I didn't have any luck there, not that I really tried since I didn't meet anyone who really interested me. I guess that narrows it down to a chance encounter or a recommendation from family or friends.

"The more I think about the concept of 'husband hunting' as some call it, the less I like about it. So much of the process is dishonest with each person trying to impress the other person instead of taking the approach of being who they are and if the other person doesn't like them, that's fine, they'll find someone else or do without. From what little I've observed, it seems like hunting for a relationship and turning that person into a friend is much more likely to fail than finding a friend who blossoms into a relationship. The more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to go buy a good machine until someone happens to come along. I think that covers my thoughts on the sexual issue at this point in my life. As time goes by, I'll probably come up with more. Aunt Paula, does any of that make sense?"

"Yes, it makes a lot of sense. I also agree with George about you finding a young gentle patient man. And I agree with you about the difficulty of finding such a person. They're just not stocked in the local department store. I think George was somewhat optimistic, which is unusual for him, about you being able to find such a person, not that they wouldn't be attracted to you, but they're rare and are often already taken 'out of circulation'. Too many times, after a gentle patient man has entered a relationship, he's discarded because he wasn't good enough or exciting enough or whatever and he ends up being very hurt and lonely and avoids future relationships."

"Like George."

"Yeah, you're right, like George."

"So do you think I've covered the sexual issue and it's time to move on to the George issue?"

Paula pauses to consider that before she nods her head and answers, "Probably so. How do you want to handle that issue?"

Sharlene thinks for a little while before she shakes her head and says, "I really don't know. Over the last week and a half, we've talked off and on about what kind of person George is and although I haven't spent but just a few hours with him, everything I've seen, agrees with what you've said. On the positive side, he's gentle, patient, considerate, trustworthy, comfortable to be with, and, compared to most men, he won't take advantage of a woman. On the negative side, he's a boring old man who, like I passed on to Mariam, has nothing to recommend him in regards to appearance, possessions, or social involvement which are the main factors most women look for to attract them to a relationship.

"When we talked on sixth-day, at least for some of the time, he seemed to accept my presence, maybe that was just the male in him liking the attention of a young female. As the conversation continued, he was almost petrified that somehow he might hurt me, disappoint me, or cause me harm. I think he didn't want to run that risk to such an extent that he insisted I forget about him. Or am I misunderstanding what he said and how he said it?"

"No, I don't think you're misunderstanding. He really doesn't want to run the risk of hurting you, or any woman." Paula pauses before she asks, "Do you remember in your conversation on sixth-day, when George went into what we might call 'panic mode' and insisted that you forget about him?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to him just before that?"

"I said I wasn't sure whether to be happy he wanted to remember my pleasure better or disappointed he didn't wish for more. He wondered what more he could wish for. Then I said, 'Me?'."

"Why did you say that?"

* * * * *

2147-08-07 (m4)

Sharlene thinks for a little while before she admits, "I really don't know, but I really did feel some disappointment. When he reacted, I had a brief thought that maybe he didn't think I was experienced enough for him, but he immediately made it very clear that he didn't think he was good enough for me. When George muttered something about me being pretty and I questioned him about it, he pointed out that women are usually offended when an apparently undesirable man notices them. He knows he fits in the group of undesirable men, yet, from what you said that he said, he wants to touch women, but this conflicts with his respect for women and fear of offending them, so he firmly believes he's not good enough for a woman to want to have a relationship with him and, as a result, he's afraid to hurt or disappoint them.

"That's probably a part of why he lives as a boring old man, to reduce the constant awareness of the internal conflict and to reduce the possibility of a relationship which will cause pain to either partner. You know, after I had thought back on that conversation a number of times, it dawned on me that the disappointment I felt was real, because as the conversation led up to that point, I was seeing George not as a boring old man, but as a man who I was comfortable being with, who I wanted to be with, and who I wanted to like me, because he was gentle and patient and considerate and respectful. I saw him as a male friend who I wanted to be touched by and who I wanted to touch."

She suddenly stops, stares with wide eyes, then exclaims, "Aunt Paula!?! What am I saying!?!"

While she watches her closely, Paula gently asks, "Yes, Sharlene, what are you saying?"

"I . . . I . . . I don't know . . . I do know . . . I . . . I'm confused."

Paula waits for awhile before she asks, "Do you see George as someone you desire sexually?"

"George?" Since she's somewhat startled by the question, Sharlene thinks for awhile then answers, "I don't think so, but I'm the last person for you to ask. I don't even know what it feels like to desire someone sexually. I've heard other women talk about men as 'they're cute', or 'I bet they're good in bed', or other such statements and when I look at the men in question, I think to myself, 'oh, why?' They may have a pleasant looking face or a nice smile, but they don't ring any bells for me. When I look at George, he doesn't ring any bells for me either."

"He was concerned you might subconsciously hold him positively responsible for your sexual pleasure. And he was afraid he wouldn't be able to personally live up to your expectations."

"I have no idea about whether he could meet my expectations in that way. Mariam and I did discuss the possibility that I was subconsciously thinking he was involved in my pleasure. The more I've thought about it, the more I think I've separated George from my feelings about enjoying sexual pleasure. For now, I have to say that I don't see George as a sexual partner."

"How would you describe George? Not his appearance or his personality, but based on your feelings, how would you describe him?"

"Humm, . . . I think I see him as a friend who I want to hug. I know it sounds silly, but when I think of George, sometimes the mental image I have of him is of a life size teddy bear who I want to cuddle and be cuddled by." Sharlene's eyes open wide as she realizes what she said and feels somewhat panicked and quickly asks, "Aunt Paula, is there something wrong with me?!? Why do I feel this way? I don't even know him. I don't know how he thinks about politics, religion, finances, entertainment, and so many other things which can be divisive in a relationship. What's going on with me?!?!?"

"Sharlene, calm down, relax, take some deep breaths . . . that's better. No, there's nothing wrong with you. I'm going to hate myself and I wish I could lie to you, but I won't. You're right when you said that George still affects me. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because my mental image of George is very similar to yours."

Sharlene is so surprised that it takes her a several moments before she's able to ask, "Really? Like mine?"

Paula nods her head then verbally answers, "Yes, really. He's a friend I want to hug. I confess that whenever the situation is even semi-appropriate, I take advantage of it and hug him. And the other women who I've talked to and who have spent time with George, say very similar things. I wish you didn't have those feelings for the sake of both of you, but there's nothing wrong with you for having those feelings. I guess the next question is what are you going to do about those feelings? But before you answer, I need another drink."

A few minutes later, Sharlene looks up after she takes a sip of tea and says, "Aunt Paula, there's another thing I just remembered. When I kissed George the second time on sixth-day, just before I ran out of the shop, that showed up on the emotional recording chart which Mariam had printed out and she referred to it as an anomaly compared to what was just before and just after on the chart. She described it as several emotions building and fluctuating until it became a spaghetti mess of emotions. Her guess was that I felt thoroughly confused emotionally. She went on to say, 'then, all of a sudden, the bottom drops out, the confusion drops way into the background, and one emotion stands clear, but the coloration looks kind of like the color used for joy and kind of like the color used for peace. My guess is the emotion you felt was closer to a sense of rightness, like everything is right with the world. Then just as suddenly, the confusion surges back.'

"I didn't admit it to Mariam, but when I kissed George that second time, it felt completely right. For all of the thinking I've done and all of the talking I've done with you and Mariam, my feelings are still confused about George. Or do I have a clear feeling about George, but am unwilling to admit it. It's weird. I know he doesn't fit any of the standards of a desirable man, yet when I'm with him, I want him to cuddle me. I don't know. . . . I just don't know."

Paula assures her, "It's okay, Sharlene. It's really okay. You're human. You're allowed to have confused feelings. I think you've probably talked about it enough for now. Take your time. It doesn't have to be resolved today or tomorrow or even next week. Sometimes when a person has confused feelings, if they can step back from the feelings for awhile, one morning they wake up and they're not confused any more. Sometimes there's still a little doubt, but the feeling of a direction to go is clear. It will take some time. Now, why don't we get some lunch fixed, you can take a walk with Molly this afternoon, then take a slow drive home and get a good night's sleep."

"Thanks, Aunt Paula," Sharlene gives her a hug, "you're a jewel."

* * * * *

2147-08-08 (a)

Early in the afternoon, the doorbell rings. While he grumbles at the interruption, George puts his book down and starts to walk towards the front door. As the doorbell continues to ring, he hollers, "I'm coming," and is surprised to see, "Paula?" when he opens the door.

"Hello, George."

"Does Paul . . ."

"Yes, Paul knows I'm here. He says hi."

"Hi, Paul. I'm sorry. Please come in. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you. This is just a quick visit. When I talked to Sharlene over the weekend . . ."

"How is she?"

"Just fine."

"I'm sorry I interrupted you."

"That's okay, George. When she laid on you on sixth-day to check your heart, she thought you were being gallant in not touching her. I told her you weren't aware she had laid on you, but had figured out later that's what must have happened. She was real concerned that you weren't aware. When she found out you have no family nearby, she interrupted the conversation and downloaded medical power of attorney and living will forms and insisted that I bring them to you. Here they are. She was concerned that if something happened to you, you had identified someone you trusted who could make medical decisions for you if you were unable to communicate your wishes. She also wanted Paul and me to fill them out."

"I was aware of the documents, but I figured if something happened to me, I would be alone and by the time someone found me, I'd be gone." He hesitates before he asks, "She was concerned?"

"Yes, George, she was."

"I don't know whether to be happy or disappointed she would want me to drag my life on."

"In this case, be happy. She thinks very highly of you, but is still confused about her own feelings. The things you and I had talked about on fourth-day, she was already considering them. She also realized she was being selfish in enjoying her sexual pleasure and hoped you weren't offended by her selfishness."

"No, I wasn't offended, especially when I found out it was her first time." He pauses then asks, "Did she know I drove slower so she could enjoy it longer?"

Paula nods her head as she answers, "Yes, she figured it out and was amazed you would do something like that for her and not try to take advantage of her."

"As long as it didn't hurt her or make her mad. I was concerned that if she figured it out, she wouldn't be pleased and would think I was some sort of voyeuristic dirty old man."

"George, you're a man, therefore there's some voyeurism in you. Like I told you on fourth-day, you didn't plan it and you can't be blamed for responding as a male. There are a number of females who would have responded to Sharlene's behavior more aggressively than you did. You've been very good in your behavior towards Sharlene and again, I thank you. Now give me a hug, because I do need to get back to the store."

"Uh, Paula, would it be okay to put you and Paul down as my medical power of attorney?"

"We would be honored."

"Uh, what about Sharlene, since she's a doctor and all, and knows the options?"

"Yes, George, her too."

"Okay, I'm sorry to delay you."

"Bye, George."

* * * * *

A couple of hours later, Paula sends an email: "Sharlene, just a quick note to let you know I gave the medical power of attorney and living will forms to George. He knew about the documents, but figured if something happened to him, he would be alone and by the time someone found him, he would be gone. He asked if he could name Paul, you, and I as his medical power of attorney. I said yes. I hope that's okay with you. Love, Paula."

A few minutes later, Sharlene responds with an email: "Aunt Paula, thank you for your note. Yes, it's okay with me. I'm not sure what his medical wishes would be. I have the impression it would be along the lines of, leave me alone and let me die in peace. Love, Sharlene."

A few minutes later, Paula answers by email: "Sharlene, your impression is pretty close to the truth. We talked around the subject one time and it was more like, if medical science can restore me to my health before the accident, illness, or whatever, then fine, do it; otherwise, let me die in peace. Love, Paula."

* * * * *

It's late in the afternoon at Sharlene's work space when she hears, "Knock, knock."

She looks up and says, "Hello, Mariam."

"Are you busy this evening after work?"

"No."

"Why don't you come over to my place? I need to talk, but I don't want to do it here."

"Okay. Is there any particular time you want me to come?"

"Whenever you get off of work. I'll probably just pop another pizza in the oven."

"Are you okay? You're usually not this subdued."

"Yeah, I guess. I haven't gotten much sleep with the stress and all. Well, I'll see you later."

"Bye, Mariam."

* * * * *

2147-08-08 (e1)

"Bing . . . Bong . . ." the doorbell announces.

Mariam opens the door and says, "Hey, Sharlene, come on in. I just took the pizza out, so put your things down and come eat."

After dinner is cleaned up, they sit back down at the table. Mariam takes a drink, looks across the table, and asks, "Before I talk about the Project, how's your job going, Sharlene? You haven't seemed very enthusiastic lately."

"Well, I'm strongly thinking about quitting."

"Is there a particular reason?"

"As I told you last week, the study was claiming as accomplishment what they hoped to arrive at. I'm afraid it will take years to get to where they claim to be and much sooner than that, somebody's going to start asking some serious questions. I really don't want to be associated with a failed endeavor, especially when I'm not the one who set it up for failure."

"I think the questions are going to come a lot sooner than you think. I don't usually give this advice, but if you can afford to be without a job for awhile, you might bail out before you get caught up in the fall out."

"Is it looking that bad?"

"Oh, yeah. How's the termination clause on your contract written?"

"I was looking at that earlier. Either party can terminate the contract immediately upon written notification which contains a reason for termination."

"You certainly have reason."

Sharlene nods her head, "I think so. In fact, I already have most of it written up. When I was doing my digging into the history of the study, I documented everything I found. I may end up with a long winded reason for termination, but I think I've done a good job of keeping to the facts and not making unfounded accusations."

"When do you plan on submitting it?"

"I was thinking of giving a two week notice as most jobs want."

Mariam hesitates before she suggests "If I was you, I would take advantage of your immediate option, as long as you have the reason all written up. Do you have any idea of what you plan to do afterwards?"

"I thought I would check around locally to see if anything is available. I really don't want to make a major move again so soon, especially since I really enjoy visiting my aunt. And you've been a good friend who I would miss if I moved away."

"Thank you. I was going to say 'don't be a stranger' if you quit working at the Institute."

"I don't intend to. You have my phone number and while I'm thinking of it, let me write down my personal email address and my aunt's address and phone number. I figured I would stick around here for a few days to check out the local market then spend some more time at my aunt's."

"How did your talk with her go?"

"Good. We talked a long time about the whole situation, but didn't come to any real conclusions, because I'm still somewhat confused about my own feelings."

"I'm glad you're taking your time to consider it. You've had a wonderful safe start to your sexual experience. It's better to take some time to figure out which way you want to go and what's best for you and your future, rather than to jump whole hog into something you're not sure about. I probably would have jumped in and driven the poor man off, if what you say about him is half true, or been disappointed in the results."

Sharlene says, "Enough about me. What's going on with the Project?"

"To put it simply and bluntly, the main funder of the Project was the military and they were upset the Project hadn't shown any progress in what they wanted accomplished and had been told could be done in fairly short order. Some politicians got wind of the military being upset and after a brief investigation, they were upset with the military for funding the Project and at the Project for misleading the military. After they questioned the Project working managers who showed that the Project was doing what the Project was intended to do, all eyes turned to the Institute management, who, it turned out, had sold everyone an empty bill of goods.

"So the Project is defunded as of the end of this week with the requirement that all participants be contacted and turn in their equipment and any emotional recordings they might have. The Institute is responsible for helping all of the employees of the Project to find new positions either within the Institute or outside. The Institute is also responsible for securing everything associated with the Project and selling the entire Project to some other organization, supposedly to offset the military funding to a small degree. I think the point of selling the Project is more to punish the Institute than to recover much funding."

"That's about what you figured might happen."

Mariam nods her head as she responds, "Yeah. I was suspicious the Institute management might try to bail and run, but they're under too much scrutiny to make sure their responsibilities are met."

"At least the employees won't be left to hang while the executives saunter off to their vacation homes. What about you?"

"I'm one of the few people who have been tagged to stick around and secure everything related to the Project and then transition it to whatever organization purchases it. If the new organization and I agree, I stay with the Project. Otherwise, the Institute has to keep me employed until they help me find another position."

As she feels her worry diminish, Sharlene says, "I'm sure glad you're not going to be dumped out onto the street. It sounds like, for once, someone is watching out for the interests of the employees."

"It's a refreshing approach. There's still some stress, but we didn't have that large of a staff to begin with, so it should be fairly doable for everyone to find new employment. One of the reasons I thought you ought to quit soon is that when the Project is bundled up and packaged for sale, I'm sure questions are going to be asked about the other Institute activities. From what you found out about the study you're working on, it won't be long before it's looked at more closely. The more activities which are questioned and shut down, the more people there will be looking for jobs. I figured it wouldn't hurt to give yourself a head start on the rush."

"Thank you. I really appreciate your concern. What about you if you don't follow the Project to a new organization?"

Mariam answers, "I'm not too worried. Companies are often looking for administrative assistants. I've kept my resume online and have had a number of interview requests over the months. So far I've been happy working at the Project, so have politely said, 'maybe later,' to the interview requests."

"That's good to know. So you're basically sticking around to package up the Project and teach the new organization the day to day operation of it."

"That's right. There will also be a couple of technical people chosen to handle that side of the operation, but I don't know who they're going to be."

Sharlene asks, "Do you have any idea how long it will take to get everything settled?"

"I'm guessing it will take at least a couple of weeks for all of the participants to be contacted and most of them to get their equipment turned in. Then probably another two weeks for the inventory to be completely documented and verified. I would imagine that by then, the necessary information will be put together and the Project will be advertised."

"Do you have any idea of who might be interested in picking up the Project?"

Mariam shakes her head as she answers, "Not really. From what I understand, there are only a few companies who are doing brain research and, of course, a number of universities, but they all strongly rely on outside funding. I suspect that when the news gets out about the Project and its funded purpose, as opposed to its stated purpose, there won't be much interest shown in it when it's put on the market. If the military and politicians are more interested in punishing the Institute than in keeping the Project going for its stated purpose, then other organizations may be looking more at the equipment to use on their own study or project and discard the software and emotional recordings."

"Have you heard any rumor about what price they'll put on the Project?"

"No. And I probably won't for awhile. The lawyers are still arguing over what's meant by everything associated with the Project. The Institute is arguing that only the specialized equipment, proprietary software, emotional recordings, and legal rights are included. The government is arguing that everything budgeted to the Project is to be sold, including all computer hardware and commercial software, desks, copiers, office supplies, and so on. If the Institute lawyers win, my guess is that only some organization who wants to continue the Project will be interested in buying it. And I'm not going to hold my breath for that. If the government lawyers win the discussion, then the equipment will probably be looked at by a number of companies who hope to get a bargain to use for their own purposes."

* * * * *

2147-08-08 (e2)

Sharlene pauses before she asks, "Do you think the continuation of the Project is important?"

"Yes. I would like to see the stated purpose accomplished. Of course, collecting the emotional recordings won't have any value without being able to transmit the emotion to someone else and I don't know what progress has been made in that area."

"Is there someone who is working in that area? I had the impression they were collecting the emotional recordings in the hopes of turning it over to some other group who would, in the future, be able to transmit it. But that doesn't make any sense. Why collect the data, if you can't use it?"

Mariam nods her head as she responds, "Yes, there's another group who is working on the transmission side of the Project. So far, they've somehow managed to stay in the background, but I don't know if they've made any progress."

"Wouldn't they have legal rights to the emotional recordings? Without the recordings, they wouldn't have anything to transmit. And if some other organization were to purchase the Project, once they tried working on the transmission side wouldn't it be an infringement on the work of that other group?"

"Those are some good questions and I don't know the answers." Mariam looks at her more closely then says, "This is more than idle curiosity. What are you getting at?"

Sharlene hesitates to say what she thought about, "After we talked last week, some of what you said about funding the Project if it could be bought out started bouncing around in my head. I might know someone who knows someone who might be interested in investing in something which helped people, but they wouldn't want to be just throwing their money away. They would have to be presented with a viable business plan as well as a definite investment amount. I also know someone who might know an attorney who could possibly help put together a solid contract, but that part is a little more iffy. I haven't talked to any of the people, but I wanted you to know there's a possibility the Project could possibly go forward, assuming the Institute has to sell it and if agreements can be reached."

"That would be wonderful. Where are they located? How do I get in touch with them?"

"Slow down, Mariam. Wouldn't it be a conflict of interest for you to be contacting them?"

"You're probably right. I shouldn't get so excited. But if they contacted the Project and were put through to me, then I could tell them about the Project."

"Unless someone overheard and thought you were either hiding or revealing the Project's secrets. I think we need to find out about the transmission side before I can sell the idea of the collecting side of the Project. Then any public documents about the real purpose of the Project can be forwarded without there being a conflict."

Mariam assures her, "I can find out about the transmission side. I can safely bet that we're going to have to put information packets together about the Project in order to forward them to any prospective buyers."

"I'm sure the people I'm thinking about will want to keep everything legal and above board. I've heard that in negotiations, an encouraging or disparaging word can change the enthusiasm with which a negotiation is conducted. From what I've heard about the possible investor, they'll want to remain anonymous, at least until everything is settled and have a lawyer as a go between. If I can get in touch with the lawyer, maybe I can give them a heads up. If the investor and the lawyer agree, then when the Project goes on the market, they'll be ready to investigate it and maybe make an offer."

"That sounds great, but you've never expressed a great interest in the Project before."

Sharlene hesitates before she admits, "I know. But before, I had hoped the study I was working on was viable. Since I've come to realize that the needed technology is still years away to be able to truly study the function of the brain, and assuming that emotions can be transmitted, the Project offers a step in the right direction for helping people with emotional brain disorders."

Mariam holds out her hand and shakes with Sharlene as she declares, "Welcome to the defense of the Project. I would really appreciate it if you can talk to the investor and the lawyer you're thinking about. And I'll find out about the transmission side."

"Most investors aren't interested in pure research and few are interested in charity, especially in areas which are medically related and should be handled by insurance. We talked some about using the emotional recordings in anger management therapy and training for firefighters. Are there any other commercial uses for emotional recordings?"

"I can imagine some people might want a dose of joy or happiness now and then."

"That's a good idea." Sharlene hesitates before she asks, "Do you know anything about putting a business plan together?"

"I've helped with a couple. Hold it. I do know somebody who has helped put together a bunch of them over the years."

"Do you think they might be willing to help you put together one so I can pass it on to the investor?"

"He'd better, or I'll threaten to quit visiting."

Since she puzzled by that answer, Sharlene asks, "Why would you do that? Who is he?"

"My dad."

"More power to the dads."

It's Mariam's turn to be puzzled so she asks, "Why do you say that?"

"The person I know who knows someone is my dad."

"Actually, Sharlene, its power to the daughters who know how to get their daddies to do what they want," which, of course, is followed by laughter.

When the laughter has diminished, Sharlene says, "I guess we have a plan to go forward."

"Yeah. I almost feel like we're a couple of little girls secretly making fantastic plans in the school yard."

Sharlene almost sighs as she adds her own activities to the plan, "I guess tomorrow I'll turn in my notice of termination and clean out what little I have at my desk."

"Make sure you have a copy of your notice of termination and all of your documentation. You'll also want to clean out your email account."

"Mariam, do you want my Project equipment?"

"Have you downloaded your emotional recordings onto your computer?"

"Not yet. Do I need to?"

"You might want to in case we can think of a commercial use for it."

"I didn't think of that. Okay, I'll get it downloaded. Shall I just bring in everything tomorrow and give it to you?"

Mariam nods her head, "That would be fine. Before you leave tomorrow, make the rounds. You may not have been very social, but people respect you and would like to have a chance to say goodbye."

Since she's surprised again, Sharlene asks, "Really?"

"Yes, really. I'll let you know what I find out so you can pass it on to the potential investor and lawyer."

"I'll try to remember to tell you when I'm going to be out of town. Even if I get busy and forget to tell you, you can always call."

"Will do."

"Good night, Mariam."

"Night, Sharlene."

* * * * *

2147-08-09

It's the middle of the morning when Robert answers his ringing phone, "Hello?"

"Hi, Dad."

"Sharlene! How's my little girl?"

"I'm doing fine. Do you have time to talk?"

"Give me a minute to finish my talk with Klara and you can have all the time in the world."

"Finish your talk with Klara, but ask her to stay, I would like to talk with her also."

"Okay. Let me put you on hold for a minute or so and then I'll put you on speaker."

"Okay."

About a minute later, Robert announces, "We're baaaack. And Klara is with me."

"Hi, Klara."

"Hello, Sharlene. How's the rat race in the field of medical research?"

"I think the rats are going to win this round."

Robert asks, "What's up, kiddo?"

"I quit my job."

"What happened?"

"You might call it a case of false advertising."

Robert chuckles then reports, "You should have seen Klara's eyes light up at that. So tell us about it."

"When I interviewed for the job, they said they had made a recent breakthrough and were ready to move on to apply the knowledge to help people. I did some research and talked to some other people in the field and everyone believed a breakthrough had been made, even though nothing had been published due to proprietary information. After several months, I realized that the breakthrough they claimed was what they hoped to achieve and they weren't anywhere near ready to really start helping people. When I turned in my notice of termination with my documented reason for termination as per my contract . . ."

"Good girl."

"Thanks, Klara, . . . my boss sadly shook his head and figured it was coming, he just didn't know when. He told me that the marketing approach had been pushed down on him and his boss by the Institute management."

"Sharlene, would you please send me a copy of your contract, any documentation which you received when you were first hired, your notice to terminate, and your documented reason for termination."

"Okay. Is there any particular reason why?"

Klara explains, "Depending on the documentation, you may have a case. Besides, your old man is trying to put me out to pasture and I could use a challenge."

"Dad?"

"I'm not putting Klara out to pasture. She knows there's not enough work to keep her and her staff busy and she's been talking about retiring rather than laying off one of her staff."

"Your dad's right, but he can't be the only one around here to get away with teasing."

Robert asks, "I take it that's not why you called."

Sharlene answers, "No. I didn't think about my job situation as having the potential for a real case. I used the term 'false advertising' more as a type of situation rather than as a legal definition. What I wanted to talk about was a project at work where one of my friends works."

"Would that be the Emotional Data Recording Project at the Institute for Psychological Responses?"

Since she's startled by the question, it takes her a few moments to answer, "Yes. How did you know, Klara?"

"I thought I remembered that was where you worked. Sharlene, when a funding scandal that big gets out news travels at light speed, and we lawyers are all over it like a flock of vultures on a fresh carcass. So what's up?"

"My friend handles most of the day to day administrative functions of the Project and told me that the government lawyers are going to force the Institute to sell everything related to the Project. Apparently what 'everything' means is currently being debated by the lawyers. My friend suspects that when the Project assets are sold, that the Project itself will be discarded. We both think the Project has some potential for helping people once we can get some answers to a couple of technical issues. I requested that my friend ask about the technical issues and she's going to start working on a business plan.

"What I wanted to talk to you about is using some of my money to buy the Project, if we can get some positive answers to the technical issues. Klara, I also wanted to talk with you about an appropriate lawyer to go over the details and handle the negotiations if we go that far. I don't know what the legal requirements are. If you can, I would love to have you. I told my friend that I knew someone who knew someone who might be willing to invest if all of the factors lined up. What I didn't tell her was that I would be the investor. That's why I suggested she work on the business plan. I want to be the anonymous investor who negotiates only through a lawyer."

Klara responds, "Robert, she's got her stuff together. Sharlene, unless I find out something later which interferes, I'm on the case. Have your friend or yourself send me whatever is released publicly. I may get it from another source, but I would rather have two copies than none. I'll send you an email with a drop box address to send it to. I'll also need the address, phone, and fax numbers for both the Institute and the Project office. Do you have any idea of competition for the Project?"

"Not me. My friend thinks that if the lawyers agree the Project assets are only the proprietary items such as special software, intellectual property, and emotional recordings, there will be few, if any, competitors. If the lawyers agree that the Project assets include the functional items such as computer hardware, commercial software, desks, copiers, and so forth, she thinks there will be more competitors who hope to snatch up a bargain.

"Klara, please keep track of your hours and I expect to pay the going rate. My reason for keeping the Project going may be a personal desire to help people, but I'll probably have to approach it like a business. It may not be a big profit maker, it may not even be viable as a business, but that's the direction I think I have to approach it from. . . . Dad, you haven't said anything for awhile. What do you think?"

"It's your money, kiddo. If it means that much to you, go for it. I like your thought process. Keep it up. Klara can help you ask the right questions, so listen to her. Actually, I'm having fun sitting here and watching Klara. She looks twenty years younger."

"Sharlene, help me, your daddy's trying to flirt with me. Dirty old man."

Sharlene chuckles then says, "I don't know about you two. Sometimes I wonder who the adult is around here."

They all laugh.

* * * * *

In the evening, a noise interrupts, "Bid-dup . . . Bid-dup . . . Bid-dup . . ."

"I've got to get that ring tone changed. Hello?"

"Hi, Mariam."

"Sharlene, what's up?"

"I just wanted to touch base with you and let you know that we have tentative approval from an investor and a lawyer on the case."

"You're kidding. That was FAST."

"I was lucky and caught them in the same place at the same time. I only had to tell my story once and they bounced it back and forth. Of course, it's contingent on what we find out about the transmission of the emotions and the Project's viability as a business venture. What surprised me is that the lawyer already knew about the funding scandal with the Project."

Mariam asks in surprise, "Already?"

"Yeah. How did she put it? 'When a funding scandal that big gets out, news travels at light speed, and we lawyers are all over it like a flock of vultures on a fresh carcass'."

"That's great. I already like this lady."

Sharlene explains, "I gave her the address, phone, and fax numbers for both the Institute and the Project office. She also wanted me to send any publicly released information about the Project to her business drop box. I don't have that much here and I won't feel comfortable walking into the Institute and asking them for it. They'll probably think I'm going to sue them or something. Can you send her the information?"

"Sure, we send out information all of the time. Just let me have her address and I'll send it out as soon as I can in the morning."

"That would be great. As I thought, they want to make sure it all stays above board and legal. If you think there's information the lawyer or investor might want to see, but you're not sure if it's publicly released, you can tell her about the information and who you think might have it and let the lawyer do the digging for the information."

Mariam asks, "How are we going to pay for a lawyer?"

"I have a little money saved. If we can convert the Project into a business with the investor's help, then the lawyer fees will be considered a business expense and the new company can pay me back. If we can't convert it into a business, then I'll consider it as a lesson learned. Don't worry about that part.

"In regards to the business plan, I've never worked on one, so I don't know what's really involved. If you can send me a list of things which need to be considered, maybe I can help in that way. We can also send the draft to the lawyer. She might have some questions we didn't think about or she may have a friend or two who can help with it. I don't know about you, but this is completely strange territory for me and I'll take any help I can get."

"I understand. What are your plans now that you're not coming to work every day?"

"I thought I would stay here for the rest of this week, then go camp at my aunt's next week and I don't know from there. I haven't asked my aunt yet, but she's made it very clear I'm welcome there."

"What's the 'George' situation like?"

Sharlene briefly hesitates before she says, "I still have rather confused feelings about that. Add to that quitting my job, the Project going down the tubes, and thinking about starting a new company based on the Project. I think I need some long quiet walks in the forest and some time to figure out what I want and how I want to get there."

"Give me a few more days around here and I might want to join you on some long quiet walks in the forest. Actually, it's not that bad. Sometimes I like a little bit of uncertainty and excitement. Not all of the time, but once in awhile. It kind of keeps the ol' juices flowing."

"Ugh. I don't want to dump it on you, Mariam, but you can have it. Well, I didn't mean to talk your ear off."

"You didn't. Sharlene, I really appreciate you calling about the investor and the lawyer. You've given me new hope. The business plan and all of that are just details which will get worked out. To use your words, don't worry about that part."

"Okay. Let me know if I can help with something."

"Will do. Thanks, Sharlene. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"Goodbye."

* * * * *

2147-08-15 (m1)

It's been a very pleasant week so far with Sharlene helping in the store and fixing the evening meals, then sitting around chatting or watching a movie. "Imagine," Paula thinks to herself, "a medical doctor tending the cash register in a little country bumpkin convenience store. Well, she'll find something. Maybe she'll buy up that project she's talked about. Then she'll probably wish she had nothing more complicated to run than a cash register. Sharlene is just being herself, but business from young to middle aged men has sure picked up. I doubt if she even notices them. She hasn't said anything, but I'll bet George isn't far from her mind. Oh, well, come on now, pay attention to the customers."

"Excuse me, is it okay if the dog comes in?"

Paula looks up towards the voice, sees a man standing in the door with Molly just behind him, and answers, "Sure, she's a good canine."

"Okay." The man steps in and holds the door for Molly who steps around to behind the counter and sits down next to Paula.

"Hello, Molly. What's up?" Paula gives her a quick pet.

The man picks up a few things, brings them to the counter, Paula rings them up, and requests, "9.57, please."

He hands her a ten credit note.

She says, "And 0.43 in change," while she hands it to him. She puts his purchase in a bag and says, "Thank you, sir. Have a good day."

"You too," and he walks out of the door.

Before Paula can turn, Molly gently grabs her wrist and pulls her around the counter. "Okay, Molly, I'll follow."

Molly releases her wrist and dashes to the door. Paula opens the door, Molly dashes out, looks back, runs a few more paces, looks back, and says, "Woof". Paula starts to follow. Molly runs a little further, looks back, and more insistently proclaims, "Woof!" Paula starts to run then stops when she recognizes that Molly is headed to the path which leads to George's house. Paula tells her, "Molly, I'll get Sharlene and meet you at George's." Molly turns and runs without looking back. As she runs back past the shop, Paula yells in, "Paul, watch the store. Molly says something's wrong with George."

Without waiting for a reply, Paula runs through the store to the house behind and hollers, "Sharlene, get your kit, Molly says something's wrong with George." In a moment, Sharlene comes out of her room with her medical kit and as they go out the front of the store, Paul comes over to watch the store. They get in Paula's vehicle and almost before Sharlene can close the door on the passenger side, Paula has the vehicle in gear and with a squeal of tires, she's racing towards George's. Paul checks the house and the store to make sure there are no customers, puts the closed sign out, locks the store, runs back to the shop, locks up, and follows in his pickup.

As Paula slides her vehicle to a stop next to George's house, they see him in the back yard while he leans on a rake. Sharlene shoves open the door of the vehicle with her medical kit in hand and steps out just as George collapses. She barely hesitates in surprise before she yells, "George!!!" and runs towards him. Paula calls Emergency Services, runs after Sharlene, and sees Molly arrive and stay out of the way to the side.

A quick check reveals that George has no pulse. Sharlene pulls a powered breathing mask with oxygen cylinder out of her kit, slips it over his face, and turns it on to pump air into his lungs at a measured pace. As soon as she sees the breathing mask is working, she rips open his shirt and starts CPR in rhythm with the breathing mask. When she hears Paula talking to Emergency Services, Sharlene gives instructions, "Tell them we have a cardiac arrest, there's a physician on the scene, and that we need airevac at emergency speed."

Paula relays the message, is quiet for a moment then says, "They said about fifteen minutes."

"Okay, stay on the line and ask them to transfer your call to the pilot so he can be talked in."

Paula relays the message.

Paul pulls up and runs over.

"Uncle Paul, find something to make a big 'X' in the back yard, plywood or flat boards which won't be blown away."

Paul goes into George's garage and finds eight sheets of plywood he can lay out in a big 'X' with a large rock in the middle of each one.

A few minutes later, while they're waiting for the airevac, Paula hears Sharlene mutter through gritted teeth while she pants for breath from her efforts, "Come back, George. . . . Don't you dare . . . die on me. . . . You haven't . . . touched me."

When he's done and steps closer, Sharlene asks, "Uncle Paul, . . . do you or George . . . have something . . . to signal with?"

"I've got an old flare gun in my truck. I think it will still work."

"Get it."

A few minutes later, Paula reports, "The pilot thinks he's just a few miles out."

"Uncle Paul, . . . the flare gun."

He pulls the trigger and a red flare shoots into the sky.

Paula speaks up, "We just fired a red flare. The pilot sees it. We're in the back yard behind the house below the flare."

Paul climbs the ladder he had set against the house earlier and stands on the roof waving a white towel.

Paula yells over the noise of the rescue vehicle, "The pilot sees Paul, he sees the 'X', he's coming down."

In a moment, the vertical landing air mobile rescue/evacuation vehicle sets down in the back yard and two paramedics jump out, run over and quickly set up their cardiac electrical shock machine. As soon as they're ready, Sharlene leans out of the way as they try to shock George's heart to beat on its own. One of the paramedics listens a moment to his stethoscope and shakes his head. Sharlene resumes CPR and tells them, "Again, . . . higher."

One paramedic nods to the other, they adjust the controls and wait a moment for the electrical charge to build. Sharlene leans back, they try a second shock, the paramedic listens to his stethoscope, "Feeble."

"Have you got . . . a thumper?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Get it."

The paramedics run back to the rescue vehicle, pull out a stretcher and a mechanical CPR machine, and run back to George. While one of her hands monitors George's weak pulse, Sharlene turns to Paula and asks, "Are you still . . . on line . . . with the pilot." When her aunt nods her head, Sharlene holds out her other hand for the phone, "Pilot?"

"Yes."

"This is Dr. Schmidt . . . with the patient. . . . What's your . . . return location?"

"Community Medical Center."

"How much further . . . to University Medical Center?"

"Five minutes at emergency speed."

"Are you . . . authorized?"

"I can be."

"Do it . . . please."

As she hands the phone back, Sharlene tells her, "Aunt Paula, I'm . . . going with him. . . . When George is . . . out of danger . . . I'll have Mariam . . . drive me back . . . for my vehicle."

Paula says, "Call us when you can," and quickly hugs her.

Sharlene gathers up her kit and follows the paramedics back to the rescue vehicle with George on the stretcher. Since the paramedics are available to monitor George, Sharlene leans back, closes her eyes, and catches her breath.

Paula and Paul clean up the yard and make sure George's house is locked up before they drive back to the store in their separate vehicles. Molly hops into the back of Paul's pickup without him noticing while each of them wonder if their friend is going to be okay.

* * * * *

2147-08-15 (m2>a1)

When they arrive at the medical center, the paramedics hustle George into the emergency room where they do a scan and find one of his main arteries is mostly blocked which caused his heart to weaken due to the extra work of forcing blood past the blockage. The emergency room doctor looks at the scan and reports, "We could do a bypass, but I'm afraid his heart is pretty weak. We might have to do a transplant, but I don't know if he'll last long enough to find an available transplant or an artificial one and get it here."

Sharlene suggests, "Do a Thompson bypass and get some protostemcardiavive."

"That's experimental."

"It's his best chance."

"Who are you?"

Without a pause, Sharlene lies a little, "I'm his physician and his friend. Do you know the Thompson bypass?"

"Yes, I assisted with one last month while training on the procedure."

"Get the drug ordered on emergency shipment, I'll authorize the expense, it should be here in two hours or less and let's get started on that Thompson bypass."

Just then a nurse steps up and says, "The patient is slightly awake."

Sharlene quickly steps back to the examination table, grabs his hand, and asks, "George?" He smiles slightly at her voice. "Your heart is rather weak, I think your best chance is a new procedure and an experimental drug. Do you authorize us to do it?" He nods his head. She turns to the emergency room doctor and asks, "Is that a clear enough expression of the patient's wishes, Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Okay, George, you relax and we'll take care of you." With another slight smile, he slips back into unconsciousness.

"Doctor, order the drug. Nurse, prep for heart bypass surgery. Where can I get changed to assist with the surgery?"

The emergency room doctor stops the nurse, turns to Sharlene, and proclaims, "This is highly irregular."

"If you wanted regular, you should have been an accountant!"

"You talk a good game, but I need to see some identification before I go farther."

Sharlene pulls out her medical license with neuropsychiatry and neurosurgery endorsements, "Good enough?"

"Okay, it looks good, but we'll need to verify it."

"Verify all you want, after we save that man's life," she points to George.

"Nurse, go ahead and start the prep. I'll get the drug ordered and you," the emergency room doctor pokes a finger at Sharlene, "had better be right or there'll be hell to pay."

"I'll pay hell, you just worry about doing the procedure right. Nurse, where can I prep?"

"In here, Doctor."

Before she preps, she pulls out her phone and after she dials the number she recognizes the voice which answers, "Uncle Paul, this is Sharlene. Do you know if George filled out the medical power of attorney form?"

"Yes, he did."

"Do you know where it is?"

"Paula has a copy of it."

"Can you have her send a copy to my phone? I'll pass it on to the medical center here when I find out what their number is."

"She's driving down and bringing it with her. She also threw some clothes in a couple of pieces of luggage for you and George."

"Oh, bless her."

"How's George?"

"Pretty weak. We have to do surgery right away and I'm going to try an experimental drug. If it works for George, he should be okay. Tell Aunt Paula when she gets here that she may have to wait before I can see her."

"Will do. Good luck, Sharlene."

"Thanks, Uncle Paul."

* * * * *

As they finish sewing up the incisions in George's chest, Sharlene turns, "Excuse me, Nurse, can you please see if the drug the Doctor ordered has arrived?"

A moment later, she answers, "Doctor? The ER desk says they just received it by jet courier and it should be passing through shortly."

"Ding."

"That should be it."

When she receives the drug vial, Sharlene quickly reads the directions and says, "That's what I thought I remembered. Okay, I'll need a 10 cc syringe and the scanner." The emergency room doctor observes as Sharlene injects 2 cc of the drug directly into the heart muscle in five different locations. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I don't know your procedures here, but the patient should stay under ICU observation for at least 24 hours. By the way, that was a good job you did on the Thompson bypass."

"Thank you."

"If you don't mind, I would like to take a closer look at the piece you removed."

"By all means, Nurse, please give the extracted portion to Doctor . . . I'm sorry, in all of the excitement, I didn't catch your name."

"Schmidt, Sharlene Schmidt."

"Benjamin Singh." They nod to each other rather than shake hands with bloody gloves.

"Here you go, Doctor Schmidt."

"Thank you, Nurse." Sharlene looks closer at the removed portion of artery with a comparatively large bulge on one side. "This is weird. Doctor Singh, have you ever seen an artery with a bulge like this?"

"Not that I can recall."

She picks up a scalpel, carefully slices open the bulge, and feels something hard just under the surface. It takes her a moment to get over her surprise and say, "I'll be damned, he was shot."

The emergency room doctor briefly stares at her then exclaims, "What!?!"

"I saw an old scar on his chest, but I didn't think anything about it." Sharlene picks up a probe and gently pulls out the metal.

"What is that?"

"It's a .22 bullet. It must have had just enough momentum to lodge in the artery wall then tissue grew around it which blocked the artery. I wonder how long it's been there." As she slides the bullet back into the bulge, she asks, "Doctor, do you have a pathology lab here."

"Yes, but you might want to have the forensic lab look at that and that's located in the quadrant capital."

"That's an idea, but from the scar, my guess is the statute of limitations might have run out. I wonder if the patient even knows it happened. Maybe he does know and doesn't want to pursue the matter. If your pathology lab can date the injury, then I can send it on to the forensic lab in my name and they won't bother you if they want to pursue an investigation."

"That's okay with me." He pauses then says, "I want to apologize for being obstinate earlier."

Sharlene assures him, "Doctor Singh, you have nothing to apologize for. Instead of being a bull in a china shop, I should have introduced myself, shown my credentials, and saved both of us time and stress."

"Nurse, send this to the pathology lab and see if they can determine the age of the injury and send the report to myself and Doctor Schmidt."

"Sure, Doctor. Doctor Schmidt, where can I have the lab send your copy of the report?"

"It would be best to send it to my phone. Thank you, Nurse." They go to clean up then Sharlene asks, "Doctor Singh, when will they move the patient to the ICU?"

"We'll check after we get cleaned up. Anytime you want to assist in surgery, let me know. You've got good hands and your sutures are some of the best I've ever seen."

"Thank you, Doctor. Actually, I felt a little rusty. I'm on the research side of the house and haven't had any opportunities since medical school to, shall we say, get my hands dirty."

"So, what was your hairiest operation?"

"My first."

Doctor Singh nods his head, "It often is. If you don't mind telling, what happened?"

"I had to do an emergency appendectomy in the middle of a jungle clearing with a switchblade knife, a pot of boiling water, a small fishing hook, ten pound test fishing line, and no training."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was. I didn't know it at the time, but somebody video recorded the whole thing."

"How did you happen to be there?"

Sharlene explains, "I was on an engineering internship on one of my grandfather's construction projects in the Southeast Asian quadrant. Before we went, we had to take a first aid class taught by a paramedic and were given an extensive manual which covered much more than was taught as first aid, things like childbirth and appendectomies. We were in a remote village, ten hours by rough road to the nearest medical clinic, and the radio was on the fritz. The patient was the construction team leader and the anesthesia was a bottle of smuggled whiskey Grandpa had confiscated.

"While the locals held down the patient, Grandpa talked me through the operation from the manual and showed me the drawings. When I finished the last stitch, I fainted dead away and Grandpa had to finish clipping the stitch, doused the incision with whiskey, and bandaged the wound. As soon as they had things cleaned up, we were put in a cargo vehicle and driven to the nearest clinic. The doctor there looked at the wound, cleaned the whiskey off, sterilized it, re-bandaged it, said he couldn't have done it better and sent us on our way."

"I assume your patient survived."

"Yes. We email each other occasionally. In fact, he makes a big joke of the whole thing. When he works with a new crew or a new intern, he says, 'I just tried to kiss her once,' pulls down the top of his pants, 'and look what she did to me'. Of course, since I didn't know what I was doing, he's got a scar about eight inches long, but he sure likes to show it off."

"That's got to be one of the best first surgery stories I've ever heard. I assume you have a copy of the video."

"Yeah, somewhere. I didn't like seeing it the first time, but Grandpa wanted to play it for the family, for customers, almost anybody he could. The one good thing to come out of it was that the first aid kits Grandpa insisted the crews take were much better equipped. . . . Nurse, do you know when the patient will be moved to the ICU?"

"We're getting ready to do that now, he'll be going to room 304."

"Thank you, Nurse. Thank you, Doctor Singh. I'd better go see if my aunt made it here okay and then I'll go see that the patient gets settled in the ICU. It's been a pleasure working with both of you."

"Thank you, Doctor Schmidt. If you ever get bored with research, we could use another good doctor here."

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * * * *

2147-08-15 (a2)

When Paula sees her come out of the emergency room, she rushes over and asks, "Sharlene, how's George?"

"I think he'll be okay. They're going to take him to the intensive care unit in a little while. I need to get something to drink and then we'll go see that he gets settled in. Excuse me, Nurse, where can we get a cup of tea?"

"The doctor's lounge is down this hall through the second door on the right and the cafeteria is at the end of that hall."

"Which would be quieter at this time of the day?"

"The doctor's lounge.

"Thank you, Nurse."

"You're welcome, Doctor."

They step into the doctor's lounge and while they fix their tea, Paula asks, "What happened to George?"

"He had a major blockage to one of his arteries and his heart became weak while it had to work harder than normal in order to pump the blood past the blockage."

"What did you do?"

"I was rather pushy and insisted on doing a bypass operation right away which usually isn't done in an emergency room setting, I'm surprised they didn't throw me out on my ear."

"Doesn't heart bypass surgery take a lot longer?"

Sharlene nods her head as she answers, "Yes. It involves opening up the entire chest cavity. There's a new technique for dealing with a localized blockage like George had which is far less invasive, takes less time, and the patient recovers from more quickly. Basically, a couple of small incisions are made between the ribs, the artery is clamped off above and below the blockage, the blockage is cut out and removed, and assuming that the blockage was small enough, the artery is sewn back together, and the chest incisions are sewn closed. In George's case, I also had an experimental drug flown in which helps to rebuild the heart muscle."

"Is it safe?"

"The new technique is safer than regular bypass surgery and the drug is basically safe. The worst side effect of the drug which has been seen so far is that it doesn't do anything."

"Sharlene, is George really going to be okay?"

"I won't lie to you, Aunt Paula. Almost anything can happen in medicine. Barring unforeseen circumstances, and if the drug works for George, he should recover completely and might even be healthier than he's been for several years."

"What caused the blockage?"

"That's the curious thing, it was a .22 bullet."

Paula stares at her briefly before she almost explodes, "What!?! Somebody shot George?!?"

"Calm down, Aunt Paula."

"How can I calm down? How can you be calm? Somebody shot George!!"

"Aunt Paula!! Stop it!! It happened a long time ago."

"A long time ago? How long?"

"I don't know, several years I guess. You'll have to ask George, but not before he's fully recovered. He might not even know. He might have thought he got bit by a big bug or something."

"How do you know it was a long time ago?"

Sharlene explains, "Just before we operated on him, I noticed a small scar on his chest which was quite old and barely visible. It takes a long time for that to happen. Also, there was tissue growth completely surrounding the bullet which also takes a lot of time. Apparently, the momentum of the bullet was just enough to lodge itself into the wall of the artery and seal itself there. Over time, tissue grew and surrounded the foreign object and that blocked the flow of blood through the artery. Once George is feeling better, we'll need to do some more tests to check his blood flow and so forth, but from what I saw around the blockage, George doesn't appear to have a big cholesterol problem and his artery seemed to be in good shape."

"You seem awfully calm about all of this."

"It's called putting on the professional persona. I know I'm going to break down and cry my heart out about almost losing George, but I really want to be away from here before that happens. Let's go see where they put him."

As she steps out of the doctor's lounge with Paula, Sharlene sees the emergency room nurse and asks, "Nurse, I hate to keep bothering you, but can you tell us how to get to the ICU?"

"It's no bother, take the elevators there to the third floor, turn right, and the ICU will be right in front of you."

"Thank you. I'll be there for a little while in case the paperwork is looking for me. If I'm not there, you can reach me at this number at any time," as she hands over her personal card with her contact information.

"Okay, Doctor."

They're able to find room 304 in the ICU easily and as they step in, they see a nurse is getting the monitors hooked up. Another person is also there with a lot of papers and asks, "Doctor Schmidt?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me do the paperwork on the patient? Apparently it wasn't done when he came in."

"I'm afraid I was in too much of a hurry and didn't take the time to worry about the paperwork. Okay, what do you need?"

"Identification, insurance, medical history, um, bluntly, everything."

"Where are his personal effects?"

"Um, still on him."

Sharlene slightly blushes, "Oh, my, I guess I was pushy. Why don't you step out of the room and, Aunt Paula, can you help this young lady start on George's paperwork? Nurse, can you help me get the patient's clothes off?"

The nurse looks at her in surprise and asks, "You want me to help you? You don't want me to do it myself?"

"Wouldn't be easier for the two of us to do it?"

"Yes, but you're a Doctor."

"So bloody what!" Sharlene takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I get so tired of hearing that as an excuse to avoid helping a fellow human."

The nurse looks at her a moment longer before she says, "You are different."

"I suppose I had better get his boots off before his pants or I'll be thought of as stupid as well as different." After his clothes are off and put in a bag for the purpose and a gown is put on him, Sharlene takes his wallet out of his pants then announces, "Please observe, I'm removing his identification and insurance card and not any money. I don't want people to think I steal from old men who can't defend themselves." Sharlene steps out of the room, hands George's identification and insurance cards to the person who is filling out the paperwork, and hands the wallet and clothing to her aunt.

She walks over to a nearby sink, takes a few deep breaths then ritually washes her hands. When she's done, Sharlene steps back to the young lady who is filling out the paperwork and says, "Put me down as the secondary insurance. And if either the primary insurance reneges or this facility overcharges, I'll sue both for every penny they think they might earn for the next twenty years."

She turns and steps back into George's room where she picks up one of his limp hands to hold it while she carefully checks the monitors then she takes his pulse the old fashioned way to verify the accuracy of the monitor. Without consciously thinking of why she might do it, Sharlene brushes his hair back and kisses his forehead. As she steps out of the room, Paula hands her the vehicle keys and tells her, "I'll stay with George. My vehicle is parked in front of the emergency room. There's a hotel across the street. Go."

"Thank you, Aunt Paula." Sharlene makes it all of the way to the hotel room, locks the door, and throws herself on the bed before her professional persona completely slips away and she cries her heart out before she falls asleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-16 (m1)

Hours later, Sharlene wakes up and feels rather grungy from having slept in her clothes. She's anxious to see George, but she knows she can't take care of him if she doesn't take care of herself first, so she goes out to the vehicle, gets the luggage her aunt had packed, goes back to the room, showers, gets dressed, cleans out the room, turns in the key, gets something to eat at a nearby fast food restaurant, and goes back to the hospital. As she walks in, she dreads what kind of response there might be to her emotional outburst. She does her best to avoid eye contact or speaking to anyone until she can slip into George's room. Sharlene sees that Paula sitting on a chair next to his bed, so she gives her a quick hug, and asks, "How's he doing?"

"Ask him yourself."

She stands up, takes his hand, feels a slight squeeze, and returns it while she says, "Hey, old man."

"Hi, young lady."

"You're flirting already and you don't even have your eyes open. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Does anything hurt?"

"My chest is a little sore."

"That's to be expected. Your pulse is looking good. Now don't run off. I want to take a look at your chart. I'll be back in a little bit." Sharlene kneels in front of her and says, "Aunt Paula, I'm sorry I ran out on you yesterday."

"Don't be sorry, child. We all have our limits and you met yours yesterday. The important thing is that you recognized it and did something about it." In a quieter voice she adds, "You did stir things up a little, but I noticed a lot of the nurses are trying to hide smiles." In her normal voice, Paula suggests, "You'd better go check that chart or George will think you forgot all about him."

"Thank you, Aunt Paula." Sharlene steps over to the nurse's station and asks, "Excuse me, can I please see the chart for George Greyson in room 304?"

"Certainly, Doctor Schmidt . . . and I say bravo!" as the nurse hands her the chart.

"Huh?" As she looks up and around, Sharlene sees smiles, a thumbs up, an 'okay' sign, and asks, "What's going on?"

"Doctor Schmidt?"

Sharlene turns and sees the nurse from the emergency room and says, "I'm sorry, I never did thank you for your assistance yesterday in the emergency room and I apologize for never asking your name."

"That's quite alright, I'm Arlene Wilcox." She holds out her hand.

As she shakes the offered hand, she says, "I'm pleased to meet you Nurse Wilcox. Please call me Sharlene."

"If you can drop your title then so can I."

"All right Arlene," she sets the chart down and gives her a hug, but doesn't see Arlene wink to the other nurses. "You really were a big help yesterday. Thank you. So, what's going on?"

"Too often, the doctors and management think this is only a business and forget what the business is and who the customers are. When you came in yesterday and demanded treatment for your patient, NOW, it was like a refreshing breeze in a desert."

"I didn't mean to cause a fuss."

"We could use more of a fuss like that. It's too easy to forget that the patients are people with a large load of their own fears and concerns, especially here. The management interest seems to be only in how many patients, as a number, can be treated in a certain period of time and using a definable set of supplies. Instead of us being able to say, we were able to ease the fears of patient Jones, make them comfortable and because they felt good, they recovered faster and went home healthier."

"Except that those aren't objective, definable, and measurable tasks or goals."

"You got it."

Sharlene shakes her head as she says, "And they wonder why people don't trust the health care system."

"Exactly."

"Arlene, I wish there was a way to fix it, but all I can do is make a fuss about my patient and hope other doctors make a fuss about their patients. If enough doctors make enough fusses, we might see some change, but I'm not going to hold my breath."

"I know, Sharlene. I don't expect you to fix it all. But we want you to know that we appreciate your efforts. You give us at least a sliver of hope that things can change and for that, we thank you."

"If it weren't for you and your fellow nurses, we doctors would be like a fish out of water, trying to blow bubbles. We probably couldn't find a tissue to wipe our own noses. It's you who deserve our thanks and our heartfelt appreciation." As she turns to each of the staff, she bows and says, "Thank you."

After the nurses either smile or bow back or, in one case, giggles, Sharlene shakes herself then says, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your work." She turns to the nurse who had handed her the chart and asks, "How's the patient in room 304 been doing?"

"It's all in the chart, Doctor."

"But what's your assessment?"

"My assessment?"

"Yes. Look, I've been out of medical school for less than a year and that time has been in medical research, not treating geriatric patients. So, what's your assessment?"

"Well, from what Arlene said when he came in, he looked like a goner. Whatever treatment you gave him seems to have helped. Since he's been here, his heartbeat seems to be getting stronger, but that's not something we can actually measure, so I can't say for sure."

Sharlene nods her head as she says, "Thank you. That's what I needed to know. I know we don't measure the intensity of the heartbeat, but that's one of the defining factors of the treatment he received. Um, does the heart monitor used here retain the heart activity in memory for a period of time?"

"If it does, we haven't been told how to access it. It prints out as it goes and the print out is put in the chart."

"Okay. Thank you, Nurse. I'll be in the patient's room with the chart in case anyone is looking for me."

"Okay, Doctor."

Sharlene steps back into George's room and suggests, "Aunt Paula, why don't you go sack out in the hotel for a few hours? You've been awake a long time, and I don't want you to fall asleep while you try to drive home. Here's your vehicle keys. I'll stay with George."

"Okay. You're probably right. I'll see you later."

"And get something to eat while you're at it."

"Yes, 'mommy'."

Since George is asleep again, Sharlene starts going through his chart, page by page. She's grateful Paula had driven down because her aunt had completed much of the paperwork regarding George which she couldn't have answered. She also notes that her aunt has included his Medical Power of Attorney form. George's medical history is rather sparse, either he's been fairly healthy or her aunt didn't know much of his medical history.

When she sees that her aunt had put her down as his physician, it causes her to smile and then she wonders if George even has a regular physician. Among the paperwork is a response form for the experimental drug she had requested which she completes as well as she can and sets it aside to be transmitted. She makes a note of some of the tests which she wants done to get a better idea of George's health in general and of how well the treatment is working for him.

* * * * *

2147-08-16 (m2>a)

When the only paperwork remaining to be reviewed in the chart is his vital sign reports, heart monitor printouts, and physician and treatment notes, Sharlene goes to the nurse's station to transmit the drug response form and order the tests. Back in George's room, she fills out the physician's note section and has to get up twice to request more paper from the nurses as she writes down everything she can remember which happened from Molly's agitation, to arriving at George's, through the surgery, until the present. Although many would scoff at Molly's role, some might acknowledge her contribution.

When she's finished with the physician's notes, she checks on George who is starting to stir. As Sharlene holds his hand, he settles and a faint smile crosses his face. When he tries to moisten his lips with his tongue, she holds the straw from the cup of water to his lips and watches him quickly drink. She pulls the straw away and tells him, "Slowly, George," and sets the cup aside. He gives her another slight smile in response.

A minute or two later, he croaks out, "Drink?" and she holds the straw for him again as he more slowly drinks, swishes the water around in his month, swallows, pauses, and does it again, "Thank you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"You've been sleeping all day and you're still tired? I don't know, George."

He partially grins as he responds between breaths, "Some mad scientist . . . has me locked . . . in a dungeon . . . draining my life . . . essence away."

After she laughs at his explanation and following grin, she 'accuses' him, "George, you've been watching too many old movies."

Sharlene hears a knock on the open door, turns, and sees someone step in with a food tray who asks, "Is the patient ready for some food?"

She turns to George who nods then she turns back and answers, "Yes. What do you have?"

"Clear liquids, broth soup, and flavored gelatin."

"That sounds about right."

They elevate the bed to enable him to sit up and as they get the tray set up, they hear George softly, but clearly say, "Where's the meat?"

Sharlene laughs and the aide shows a shy grin and says, "I'll be back for the tray later."

"Thank you." Sharlene turns back to George, "Do you think you can feed yourself?"

He tries to lift a hand then sadly shakes his head.

"Well, I'll give it a try. The last time I tried feeding someone else was my baby doll and she was very cooperative. I wonder how you'll compare."

He just grins.

"Before I start, let me get a napkin under your chin. Do you want the broth first?" He nods and she begins to slowly feed him, interspersed with sips of lemon-lime soda water. When he's finished, except for the small container of apple juice which they save for later, she wipes his face after only two slight spills.

"So, you have the patient eating out of your hand already, eh, Doctor?"

Sharlene quickly looks towards the door then says, "Come in, Doctor Singh. George, this is Doctor Singh who operated on you in the emergency room."

George tries to raise his hand, but fails then says, "Thank you, Doctor. . . . It's nice to meet you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Weak. . . . It's better than . . . six feet under."

"If it weren't for your young friend here, you would be. It didn't occur to me to do the treatment Doctor Schmidt requested." Doctor Singh turns to her with a slight bow and says, "Doctor Schmidt, thank you for kicking me in the metaphorical butt. Hopefully, next time I'll think a little more outside of the box about what's appropriate to the patient's individual situation. Do you have his chart?"

"Yes, it's over there. I haven't finished going through it. It took me some time to write up the physician's notes. I still need to review the heart monitor printouts. I'm going to have to do some manual comparisons to get an idea of heart beat strength."

Doctor Singh glances through her physician's notes and remarks, "You're certainly thorough in your notes. Ah, heart beat is good and steady, nice rhythm . . . heart beat strength?" he looks up at her.

"Yes. It's one of the defining factors for the success of the experimental drug. It's a measurement of the height of the spikes of the heart beat over time. It's been shown on every heart monitor for decades, but apparently nobody's bothered to even measure it or to see if there was a change to it except by eye-balling it."

"How did you find out about it?"

Sharlene explains, "One of my intern supervisors was a friend of Doctor Kohwalski who with Doctor Kahwahsohkoo developed the drug. My supervisor insisted we stay current with the literature because he believed it would revolutionize the field of cardiology."

"I'm glad you knew about it." He notices George nod his head, "And it looks like your patient is too. Thank you again, Doctor Schmidt," he turns to George, "and I hope to see you on your feet soon."

"Thank you."

A couple of minutes later, Sharlene notices that George is having a hard time keeping his eyes open and suggests, "It looks like it's about time for another nap."

George nods his head.

"Let me move the tray and lower the bed. How's that?"

He nods his head again.

She pulls the blanket up to cover his chest. When she sees him try to say something, she holds one of his hands and leans over.

"Sharlene," he whispers, "thank you."

She kisses his forehead and whispers back, "You're welcome," and watches him drift off to sleep with a slight smile.

Sharlene goes back to his chart and reads through the treatment notes and vital sign reports. She makes sure the heart monitor printouts are in date/time order then begins to measure the spikes on the printouts for the first ten heart beats of every hour. The heart beat strength from just before and just after the surgery are the same. Although the blockage had been removed, the heart muscle was no stronger.

When she finishes measuring her samples, she reviews the data and notices that there's a slow but steady increase in heart beat strength since the surgery. While she realizes that her measuring technique leaves something to be desired in terms of accuracy, she puts the first sample after the surgery next to the last sample printed, lines up the zero line and sees the spikes on the last sample are recognizably higher than on the first sample.

She asks the nurses at the desk to keep an eye on room 304 and that no treatment other than simple bodily care and vital sign recording is to be given without her direct approval then asks where the copy/fax machine is. Sharlene makes a copy of the chart and sends it to her email then she makes a copy of the first and last heart monitor samples and sends that to her phone. After she gives the chart back to the nurses, she checks George's monitors, sees that he's still asleep and sits down to compose a brief message to send with the heart monitor samples to the email address on the experimental drug response form. When she realizes there isn't much else she can do at the moment, Sharlene sits back and relaxes for what seems like the first time in days.

* * * * *

2147-08-16 (e1)

Several hours later, Paula returns just as Sharlene finishes feeding George another clear liquid meal and asks, "How are you doing, George?"

While he's still speaking softly, but without the labored breathing, he answers, "Sharlene seems to think that with some more practice, I might be as cooperative as her baby doll at being fed."

Paula chuckles then says, "That's good, George. I wouldn't want you to go through life being outclassed by a baby doll." She turns to Sharlene who is cleaning his face and asks, "So, what's the doctor say?"

"Considering his previous condition, he's doing quite well. He's still weak, but gaining in strength. I had a scan done earlier and the surgery seems to be healing nicely. The experimental drug I used seems to be doing its job since his heart is getting stronger according to the heart monitor. I've ordered a number of tests, some have been started and I should see the results in the next few hours, others will have to wait until he can be moved."

Sharlene directly looks at each of them before she continues, "I want you both to realize that at any time, everything could fall apart. The surgery was a new procedure done by a couple of relative novices and the drug is experimental and has only been used a few times. Assuming that nothing goes wrong, and the indications are positive so far, you should be on your feet and out of the hospital in a few days. I'll want you to be under close observation for a month or so after that. If everything is still looking good, you should be able to resume your normal life and will probably feel better than you have for the past several years."

George asks, "What does under close observation for a month mean?"

"Normally, that would mean an extended care facility or a nursing home," as she notices his grimace, she clarifies, "but in your case, it will probably mean that you stay at my place for awhile or we go and stay at your place."

It takes him a little while to absorb that surprise and respond, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"You're not imposing. I made the suggestion, didn't I?"

"Uh, yes. But what about your job?"

"I quit last week."

"How are you going to live?"

"George, part of my history I didn't tell you about a couple of sixth-days ago when we talked is that I'm adopted. My biological parents died in a vehicle wreck on the way to the hospital for me to be born. My biological father's brother and his wife adopted me and raised me. Aunt Paula is my adoptive mother's sister. Although my biological parents had a substantial life insurance policy which was to be used for my care, my adoptive parents never touched it. So I can comfortably live for awhile without worrying about a job."

"Uh, what about . . ."

Sharlene interrupts him, "George, you have one responsibility: get better. Do you have any objection to staying with me or me staying with you other than you feeling like you're imposing or interfering?"

He hesitates then says, "Um, no, nothing I can think of right away."

"Then don't worry about it. Aunt Paula, do you have anything to add?"

"Paul and I would be willing to help."

"I know you would and I appreciate that, but you have the store and the shop as strong obligations on your time and right now, I don't have any obligations on my time. I didn't intend for you to take the time to drive down. I'm very glad you did, otherwise I probably would have caused a much bigger fuss than I did."

George asks, "You caused a fuss?"

"Maybe I'll tell you about it later."

"Okay."

As she turns back to her aunt, Sharlene says, "Now that things have settled down, I'm inclined to encourage you to go back home. As long as I can keep to a relatively even keel, I can sack out here. If the need arises, I can impose on Mariam to bring me some clean clothes from home." She hugs Paula, "I'm thankful that you've been here, but I don't want to impose on you and your obligations any longer."

"Okay. Why don't you go get something to eat while I visit with George. Here's the key to the vehicle so you can get your luggage and the one I packed for George. When you come back, I'll go on home."

"You're going to drive home at night?"

"I prefer night driving, there's less traffic. Now, go get something to eat."

"Yes, ma'am."

After Sharlene steps out of the room, Paula steps over to hold his hand as she asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. This morning, I couldn't even lift my hand from the bed. Now I can get it up about halfway. Your Sharlene is one little firecracker. Earlier, the doctor who operated on me stopped in and thanked her for kicking his butt. He told me that if they didn't use the treatment Sharlene requested, I would be six feet under. I had the impression that Sharlene did more than just request the treatment."

"That was my impression also."

"Thank you for coming, Paula. I certainly didn't intend to interfere in your life like this. Paul will probably be worried about you."

"I called him before I came back. He's okay. He's worried about you. Apparently, some of the neighbors and customers saw the rescue vehicle go over and when Paul told them what happened, they all send their best wishes and hope you get better."

"Thank you. I never thought of this as a way to stir up the community. . . . Paula, do you know what happened? One minute I was working in the yard, the next thing I know, I woke up here."

She explains what happened and when she mentions the flare gun, he interrupts to ask, "That old thing? Did it work?"

Paula nods her head as she answers, "Yep. When the pilot thought he was a few miles away, Sharlene told Paul to fire the gun and a red flare shot up into the sky. . . ."

When she finishes the story, George looks a little stunned then shakes his head and says, "So Molly figured something was wrong. How that canine does it, I'll never know. And you guys believed her. I can get Molly a big juicy bone, but how can I ever thank you and Paul and Sharlene?"

"We're friends, remember? If something happened to one of us, you would have done the same. Just keep being the good friend that you are. And give me a hug whenever I ask."

He squeezes her hand as he tells her, "Paula, as long as I'm able, I'll give you a hug anytime you want. That's not very selfish on your part, because whenever I hug you, I get hugged back. And I always like your hugs."

"Thank you."

"How am I ever going to thank Sharlene? I couldn't respond, but I think I remember hearing some of what went on in the emergency room. If I heard right and remember right, she put her career on the line for me. I may have just been a patient, but it was still me she was doing it for."

"George, I don't know how else to say this, but she wasn't doing it for you as a patient, she was doing it for you as a person."

His eyes open wide in surprise and it takes him a little while to get out a single word, "Me?"

Paula nods her head as she answers, "Yes, you. I'm sure she would fight tooth and toenail for any patient she had. But I heard her scream your name when you collapsed, I heard her telling you not to die as she pumped on your chest for the entire fifteen or twenty minutes it took the rescue vehicle to get there. I don't know how she did it even while I stood there and watched her the whole time. I saw her almost lose it emotionally over the idea of you dying."

As she watches him stare at her in disbelief, Paula nods her head again and assures him, "Yes, you, you boring old man. It's not what either you or I wanted. It's not what Sharlene recognized as being the wise thing to do. But I expect you to keep your promise to be as kind and gentle and obliging to her as you were to me when I was lonely. I love that little girl as if she were my very own. If she truly wants to be with you, I'll support her and even encourage her, because I know you're a kind, gentle, and caring man. But so help me, George Greyson, if you intentionally hurt her, I'll hunt you down."

"I hope you do. I have no intention of hurting her." He shakes his head then says, "I just can't imagine why she would want to be with me."

"Even if she did explain it, I doubt you would be able to understand it. Please don't try to rationalize it. Accept her presence and her attention as a gift. I know you don't think you deserve such a gift. Most often we feel like we don't deserve the pain which life dumps on us. Well, this is one time when you're going to have to accept a positive gift which you don't think you deserve. And don't destroy the gift by insisting that you don't deserve it. Accept it and enjoy it. It may last a short time, it may last the rest of your life. I don't know. Live today. Forget about yesterday. Forget about tomorrow. Ignore what society says. Be yourself. Let Sharlene be herself. As long as Sharlene wants it, be yourselves together.

"Sharlene's family may wonder what she's doing, but her immediate family will support her as long as they're sure that it's her choice. And if it truly is her choice I'm sure she can make it very plain. If she wants me to, I'll back her up. I don't know what else to say. You've been a wonderful friend to both Paul and I. We wouldn't be happily married if it weren't for you. Stay a friend. Be a friend to Sharlene. If she wants more than friendship, be more than a friend. She was a miracle baby. She's a gift to her adoptive parents. She's been a gift to me. Let her be a gift to you."

He hesitates then says, "I'll try, Paula. I may need you to tell me a few more times. . . . I never would have imagined. . . . It's beyond comprehension."

"I told you, George, don't rationalize. Accept it."

"Thank you, Paula."

* * * * *

2147-08-16 (e2)

As Sharlene enters the hospital room after eating a late dinner, she sees her aunt sitting next to the bed holding George's hand. She goes around to the other side of the bed, holds his other hand, and he squeezes it. In a moment, they hear his soft voice, "I must be in heaven, two lovely ladies holding an old man's hands."

"Aunt Paula, does he always become romantic when he's overexerted himself?" As they chuckle, George grins and squeezes their hands again.

"Now that you're back to keep an eye on him, I'll hit the road." Paula leans over the bed, kisses him on the cheek, and tells him, "Get better, old man."

"Thank you, Paula."

Sharlene asks, "Do you need any gas or food money?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Did you want me to call Uncle Paul for you?"

"No. I'm going to get something to eat before I drive. I'll call him just before I hit the road."

"Call me when you get home." Sharlene gives her a hug. "Thank you for coming and helping me when I lost it."

"I'm glad I was here. Call me if you need me back or just want to talk."

"Thank you so much, Aunt Paula. Drive safely."

"Be patient with George. He's slow to open an undeserved gift."

Sharlene is puzzled by her statement so she looks at her and asks, "What?"

"You'll know what I mean at the right time. Don't ask. Trust me."

"Okay. I love you, Aunt Paula."

"I love you too, child. I'll call you when I get home."

"Thank you. Bye."

Sharlene turns back to George, checks the monitors, and sees that he's fallen asleep. She checks the time, steps away from the bed to reduce the possibility of disturbing him, takes out her phone, and dials a number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mariam."

"Hey, Sharlene, what's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know I'm back in town, but I'm not at the house."

"Where are you?"

"At the University Medical Center."

"Are you okay?"

Sharlene automatically nods her head before she responds verbally, "I'm fine. George had a heart attack and I had him flown here where they're more likely to have the latest equipment instead of somewhere else."

"Is he okay?"

"We had to do an emergency surgery and I used an experimental drug, but so far, the signs are good that he'll make a full recovery."

"How are you handling it?"

"Okay. My aunt drove down and helped me through the roughest part. Things have settled down, so she's driving back home tonight."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Thank you for the offer, Mariam, but, no, I'm doing okay. I may impose on you in a day or two to bring me some clothes from my house. I'll wait a little while and see how it goes."

"If you want me to come over earlier or sit with you, let me know."

"Thank you." After a pause, Sharlene asks, "How are things going with the Project?"

"Almost everyone is gone. Just a few of the participants haven't responded so we're almost done verifying that part of the inventory. I don't know if they'll pursue the remaining equipment or write it off as wear and tear."

"Have you heard anything on how they're going to define the Project assets?"

"That's still at the rumor level, but it seems to be leaning towards the Project definition rather than the government definition."

"What about the transmittal side?"

Mariam answers, "I was able to track down the head of that group and he was real open. Apparently, the government is insisting that it's a part of the original Project, so it's going to be a part of the package. They've been having success with the transmissions, but only for strong clean recordings.

"The person receiving the signal has to be fairly calm and in a receptive state and then they can feel the emotion. They tested it by having the person calm themselves, then transmitted an emotion and had the tester write down the emotion they felt. After a calming period, they transmitted a different emotion and had the tester write down that emotion. They've done it with several emotions and testers and when the clean emotional recording originally scored at least a four, they were close to one hundred percent accurate. Below a clean score of four, the accuracy dropped off real quick."

Sharlene asks, "How are they transmitting the emotion?"

"That's the good part. They're using the same headband, they just have the signal from the recording go in the opposite direction. Apparently, the sensors or whatever's in the headband can receive or transmit."

"Have they been able to verify electronically what the receiver is feeling or determine the intensity they felt?"

"No. They haven't figured that one out. Apparently when they tried a person with a headband transmitting and a headband receiving, the signal went directly from one headband to the other, without recording the person's response."

"Since the receiving person identified the correct emotion that means the process works, they just don't know at what intensity."

"That's it."

"It sounds like everything is moving in a positive direction so far. If we keep getting positive feedback, and the investor buys in, and the lawyer can get us exclusive rights, we'll need to set up a new company with all of the structure that entails. Mariam, would that be a part of the business plan or would it be something different?"

"I'm not positive on that part. If I remember right, I've seen it go both ways."

"The big question, with drum roll as my dad would say: what do we call the new company?"

"That's a good question."

"It's just something which has been bugging me off and on. I'm getting tired of calling it 'the former Project' in my head."

"I can understand that."

"I didn't mean to take up your whole evening, but I did want to touch base with you."

"I appreciate you calling, Sharlene. Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks, Mariam. I will."

"Take care of George and we'll talk to you later."

"I intend to. Bye."

Mariam hangs up her phone and wonders, "What did she mean by she intends to take care of George?"

As she disconnects the call, Sharlene questions herself, "Why did I say I intend to take care of George?"

* * * * *

2147-08-17

George's condition continues to improve and since he's out of immediate danger, he's moved from the ICU to the surgical recovery floor. While he takes a nap in the late morning, Sharlene contacts a local cardiologist who was recommended by the organization which is overseeing the use of the experimental drug. They had also requested that she send further updates. For lunch, he receives soft foods and is able to feed himself. He had enjoyed having Sharlene feed him, but he doesn't want her to view him as an invalid.

In the late afternoon, the cardiologist, Doctor Karlson, stops by and reviews with Sharlene what had led to the treatment and what the results are so far. Doctor Karlson looks up from the chart and says, "In my opinion, Doctor Schmidt, you made the right decision. Any other treatment option I can think of would have led to your patient's demise. How did you know about the drug?"

"One of my intern supervisors is a friend of Doctor Kohwalski. My supervisor insisted that we stay current with the literature because he believed it would revolutionize the field of cardiology."

"How is your patient responding to the treatment?"

"Apparently, quite well. According to the heart monitor print outs, his heart beats are becoming stronger which indicates to me that the drug is working. Here's a comparison of the heart monitor from right after the surgery to about twenty four hours later."

Doctor Karlson nods his head, "That's a very clear improvement. It's a shame these heart monitors aren't programmed to measure heart beat strength without resorting to cut and paste methods. Yet this is the very type of evidence which Doctors Kohwalski and Kahwahsohkoo will need to get the drug approved. I assume you forwarded this information to them."

Sharlene nods her head as she clarifies, "I forwarded it to the email address listed on the experimental drug response form and in their response which requested I provide additional updates they recommended I contact you for consultation."

"Do you know who signed the response?"

"Just a moment." Sharlene looks up the reference and answers, "It was Doctor B. Snow."

"Barry. He'll make sure that Doctors Kohwalski and Kahwahsohkoo see this. Can you forward a copy of this to me and include me in on your future updates?"

"Of course."

"Doctor Schmidt, it's been a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to hearing how your patient improves."

"Thank you, Doctor Karlson."

Just as he's about to step out the door, Doctor Karlson turns back and says, "Um, something puzzles me. I understand that you specialized in neuropsychiatry and that you've been in research since graduation."

"That's correct."

"Then how did you end up with a cardiac patient?"

"I was on vacation visiting my aunt when her neighbor," she points to George, "had a cardiac arrest. I was there and since I'm still on vacation, I decided to remain on the case. It's been a good opportunity to learn about a lot of other aspects of medicine which I would never see as a researcher."

"I can see that. Lucky for him you were there. I hope you enjoy your learning opportunity."

"Thank you, Doctor Karlson, I intend to."

* * * * *

2147-08-18

Today, the heart monitor continues to show stronger heart beats and as a result, George's heart rate begins to slow correspondingly since each heart beat can push more blood through so it has to beat less often to maintain the same blood flow. He's now able to eat the regular hospital food, although he's not sure it's much of an improvement over the soft food diet. They take out the catheter, for which he's immensely grateful, even if he's rather shaky as he walks to the bathroom the first time.

In the middle of the morning, with the aid of a walker and with Sharlene on one side and a nurse on the other, he slowly walks down the hallway and back, but is soon asleep after getting back in bed. Most of the tests which Sharlene had ordered have been performed and have come back with clean or positive results. As she had guessed, he doesn't have any significant medical issues other than the blocked artery he had.

After lunch and following some time to rest and to let his meal settle and the hallway congestion to reduce, he takes another walk with the walker and is able to go carefully rather than slowly and makes two trips before he's tired enough for another nap. While he sleeps, Sharlene calls Mariam and asks her to bring over three sets of clean clothes.

When she sees Mariam step into the room, Sharlene gets up and sets the bag of clothes down so that she can give her a hug as she says, "Thanks, Mariam. I really appreciate it."

Mariam glances at the old man in the bed and says, "So, that's George."

"Yeah."

She looks sharply at Sharlene and remarks, "He still affects you."

"I'm afraid so. I know, he isn't much to look at, and he really is a boring old man. But, yes, he still affects me."

"What happened?"

Sharlene shakes her head and answers, "I wish I knew. I was doing a pretty good job of keeping him out of my mind. For the few days I was visiting my aunt, I never asked about him, and if his name came up in casual conversation, usually by Uncle Paul, my internal reaction seemed to be their nice old man neighbor. Aunt Paula avoided the subject, probably to see which way I was leaning. But when I saw him collapse, something snapped. The best way I can explain it is that my heart said to my head, you've been boss for all of these years, now it's my turn to get a word in edgewise.

"It's like one of those situations where you've tried to think of all of the options and variations and there doesn't seem to be one right answer. One day you wake up and you feel like option 'D' is the right one. You can still see all of the pros and cons of the options, but you know option 'D' is the right one. That's about where I'm at now. Will it turn out that option 'D' is the right one in the long term? I don't know. But it's the one I'll go with until something comes along to clearly convince me that I'm wrong."

"Good for you. He may not be my cup of tea, but if you're happy with him, then I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Mariam. It's nice to know that you don't think I'm a total fool."

"Sharlene, if being affected by a boring old man is the worst trait you have, then you're ahead of the rest of us. So, when do you introduce us?"

"I think he would be uncomfortable meeting someone new in his current condition. If his progress continues, he should be able to leave in two or three days. Because the medical treatment he was given is new, I want to keep him under observation for awhile, but he doesn't need to be in the hospital. I figured I would take him to my place. Maybe if I have some time to find out who he is, I might not be so affected by him."

With a bit of a leer in her voice, Mariam suggests, "Well, that's one way to find out who he is."

Sharlene shakes her head as she says, "No, his body isn't well enough and I'm not sure I want the relationship to go that far. I need to talk to him and listen to him, to find out who he is and how he thinks. I'm sorry I reacted to your tease. I guess I don't quite fully accept the idea that he affects me and I'm still trying to figure out why."

"I'm sorry I teased in you that way. You're still somewhat confused, aren't you?"

"Yeah, my brain is still telling me that this doesn't make sense."

"Well, maybe having him at your place for a few days will be a good thing. Maybe he leaves the cap off of the toothpaste. Maybe he belches after meals. Who knows?"

"That's right. Why don't we tentatively plan on having you over for dinner on fifth-day after you leave work? If something comes up for either of us, we can call and revise it."

"That sounds good."

"Thank you for bringing my clothes over."

"Not a problem, Sharlene. I'll see you on fifth-day."

"Bye, Mariam."

* * * * *

2147-08-19

Since George is now able to move on his own, the last of the tests and the scans which Sharlene had ordered are done in the morning and early in the afternoon today. Since he's tired after climbing in and out of various scanning machines and going to different departments, even though most of his travel was in a wheelchair, he naps in the later afternoon. While he naps, she reviews his heart monitor print outs and sees that his heart beat strength appears to be still growing, but at a slightly slower pace. She prepares another comparison copy, sends it to her phone, and after she attaches a brief message she forwards it to the growing list of people who want updates.

She picks up some food from the cafeteria and eats it while he's eating his dinner. She has to laugh as he tries to trade parts of his dinner for parts of hers. After the meal is cleaned up, she calls Paula and fills her in on George's progress then steps out of the room while George talks to Paula. He's still awake, so he tries to watch the television, but soon turns it off in disgust at the stupidity of what is considered to be entertainment.

They chat for a little while about what they like in movies since she never had much time and he doesn't take the time to watch much television. A little later, he starts yawning, so she checks his monitors, turns down the lights, makes sure he's covered, and settles herself on the daybed in the room. She thinks about doing some more research, but decides to do more thinking and contemplating about who she is, where she's been, and where she thinks she might want to go in the future.

* * * * *

2147-08-20

Other than three walks in the hall where Sharlene has to remind George to use the walker instead of carrying it, she insists that he rest as much as possible. After the busy day yesterday, she's concerned there might be a delayed reaction to the activity. By the middle of the afternoon, it appears there isn't going to be a delayed reaction because he's getting fidgety from the inactivity. She helps him into a wheelchair and rolls him down to the gift shop where he picks up a book.

Once she gets him back to the room and in bed, he immediately settles down with his nose in the book and is lost to the world. Except for a trip to the bathroom and to refill his drink, he doesn't re-emerge until dinner is delivered. He insists that she get something from the cafeteria and waits for her so they can eat together.

After dinner is cleared away, she asks, "George, you were somewhat restless today. How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to get out of here."

"You were doing real well on your walks. Did you feel any dizziness or significant weakness?"

"No. I don't think I'm strong enough to walk a flights of stairs, but on the straight and level, as long as I take my time and pay attention to what I'm doing, I feel fine. If I take longer walks, I may need a cane for awhile. I haven't felt dizzy in the head, but I've noticed that my coordination is a little off, probably due to a lack of strength."

"I'm glad you've been paying attention. I may be a doctor, but I have no experience with post-operative or geriatric patients. I've been doing a lot of reading about the subjects, but that doesn't compensate for a lack of experience."

George looks at her in surprise then says, "Imagine, a humble doctor. And one who admits they don't know everything. What's this world coming to? Young lady, you're a new experience in my book too."

"Now, George, you weren't listening very well. I didn't say I didn't know everything, I said I didn't have experience." She mockingly shakes a finger at him as she tells him, "You'll just have to clean your ears out and listen better."

While he humbly nods his head and tries to keep the grin off of his face, he answers, "Yes, ma'am. I fully agree, ma'am. Whatever you say, ma'am."

Sharlene steps up to him and takes his head in her hands with a grin on her own face and says, "Oh, stop it, you silly old man." She kisses him on the forehead, "Thank you for making me laugh." She pulls her chair closer, sits back down, and holds his hand. "Now, back to the subject, do you feel strong enough to leave and move around a house on your own with maybe just a cane?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any objection to leaving the hospital tomorrow?"

"Not at all, I would have been ready today, but I don't have any clothes and you don't have transportation."

"I figured I would rent a vehicle until I can make arrangements with my aunt and uncle to get my vehicle. You do have a few clothes in the luggage which my aunt grabbed out of your closet before she drove down. We still have your clothes from when you collapsed, but before I started CPR, I didn't take the time to undo the buttons on your shirt. I'm afraid there may be a few scattered around your back yard."

He looks at her in surprise then asks, "Really?" After a moment's thought, he says, "That's a story which needs to be told to the local paper."

Sharlene is truly puzzled so she asks, "Why?"

"I can see the headlines now, 'Young woman rips shirt off of old man to get at his body'."

"George!!"

"Maybe I can get my picture on one of those gossip tabloids with the headline, 'She wanted this body.' They'll sell millions. Hey, I don't need clothes to leave the hospital, my adoring fan club will protect me from the moral police."

She laughs at the picture his words paint before she finally gasps out, "Stop it."

He just grins at her.

"Okay, I'll see about getting you released tomorrow."

"Should I call my fan club about arranging transportation?"

"No, I think I can manage that."

"That's probably for the best. I doubt if my fan club has a driver's license."

Sharlene chuckles then asks, "Alright, George, who's your fan club?"

"Why, Molly of course," which brings on more laughter.

Semi-seriously she asks, "George, I've never heard that you could be so silly."

"Oh, yes. It's just an aspect of my personality which usually stays hidden."

Suddenly, she's very serious, "Do you have multiple . . ."

He shakes his head as he answers, "No, I don't have multiple personalities. Some people might think so since they only know me as a depressed boring old fuddy-duddy, which I am most of the time. Usually the only people who are willing to accept my silliness are young children."

"Are there some young children with whom you can be silly?"

There's a definite sadness in the tone of his voice as he answers, "Not for the last few years."

"What happened?"

George pauses before he explains, "I had volunteered with the local library to help children who were having difficulty learning to read. There were some standard books and materials they used. As I became more familiar with some of the kids and what they liked, I looked for supplemental books which dealt with subjects they were interested in and encouraged them to take the books home and try to read them. By matching their interests and giving them books slightly under their reading level, they experienced success which often encouraged them to try harder. I enjoyed doing it for several months and the kids seemed to like it because they came back with smiles instead of acting like their parents forced them.

"One little girl I worked with had problems learning how to read. I think she had a slight learning disability and wasn't ready to start reading, but her parents wouldn't hear of it. She loved animals, almost any kind, so I found the simplest and silliest books about animals I could and she memorized several of them. At some point, the memorization of what the words were, meshed with the shapes of the letters combined into words and her reading abilities skyrocketed. I think she gained a whole grade level in just a few weeks. She was also a very loving child, and would give a hug and a kiss on the cheek at the end of each session.

"One day, the little girl's mother arrived a little early and saw her daughter hug and kiss me and the ceiling blew sky high. She accused me of abuse, of child molestation, and before you knew it, I was arrested and hauled off to jail. Luckily, the police chief knew of me, I think his daughter was also in the program, and basically said, 'let's investigate before we accuse'. He told the arresting officer to go back and ask for witnesses to the supposed crime. He even talked to his daughter who said that the girl in question hugged and kissed almost everybody.

"The arresting officer came back and apologized to me and said that many other volunteers and staff had witnessed the supposed crime and said that I had done nothing wrong. So the charges were dropped and I was released. The mother insisted that at the very least I was a dirty old man just waiting for the first opportunity to molest a child. I saw no reason to subject myself or anyone else to that level of paranoia, so I never went back."

"Oh, George, how sad. . . . You miss working with the children, don't you?"

"Yeah, it was fun to be silly with the kids. Then when the light went on as they connected those squiggles on the page with words, it was wonderful. To see a child who hated to read, turn around and begin to devour books, words can't describe the feeling as whole new worlds opened up before them and their imagination soared. More often than not, their interest in learning turned around."

Sharlene briefly hesitates before she asks, "Did you have any children?"

"Yes. That's a long story and I don't think I want to start it this late in the evening."

"Okay. I don't want to be prying."

"You're not prying. It's a natural question. Since you're offering to take me into your home and to watch over me, you have every right to know who I am and how I might affect your life style. I feel both guilty and grateful. I'm an old man who is very set in his ways, but as a guest in your home, I want to be as small an intrusion as possible. If I do or say something which bothers or offends you, please be blunt and tell me.

"I'm very poor at picking up on hints. I would much rather be clearly told I'm doing something wrong than have you be upset because you think I'm ignoring or rejecting hints that I'm doing something wrong. I've caused a number of problems with relationships because I didn't recognize a hint or because I misunderstood it."

"I understand. I've had some problems along those lines myself, although when people realized I didn't understand, they usually tried to clarify what they were trying to communicate."

George pauses before he says, "I don't mean to be offensive, but that's what happens when you're on the positive side of discriminatory behavior."

"What do you mean?"

"Most people will make an extra effort to work at building a relationship with someone who meets the criteria of the type of person they want to relate to. If a person doesn't meet the criteria, they won't make an extra effort, sometimes they won't make any effort to begin with. Four of the major criteria are young, female, attractive, and successful. You meet those four criteria, so people will make an extra effort to relate with you."

Sharlene asks, "Do you really think so?"

"Oh, yes. I've observed it on numerous occasions. I've read of some social psychology studies where identical twins were put into situations of meeting new people. One of the twins was dressed up and the other had a 'bad hair day'. They would even have them leave the situation, swap appearances, and return. In almost every situation, the new people would make more of an effort to relate to the dressed up twin."

"I'm sorry, George, my question wasn't very clear. What I meant was, do you think I'm attractive?"

"Huh," as his mouth drops open in surprise. He shakes himself and since he's unable to believe she had even asked the question, he asks his own, "Attractive!?! Sharlene, have you looked at yourself in a mirror?"

"Every day."

"Oh. . . . I'm sorry. . . . I'm not sure that's a subject I'm ready to deal with right now. . . . Can we discuss it later when there's less chance of being embarrassed from being overheard?" He waves his hand towards the open door.

She hesitates then answers, "Yeah, you're probably right. We can talk about it later. It's getting late enough that you ought to get some more sleep."

"I should probably finish my drink. Did you want to talk about something else, or should I disappear into my book for a little longer?"

"You've given me some things to think about, so why don't you read for awhile. One quick question with a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer, do you think I'm attractive?"

He pauses before he answers, "That's hardly a simple question, but the answer is, 'yes'."

"That's what I thought from your reaction. Thank you for clarifying."

"Thank you for asking for clarification."

In a few minutes, George finishes his drink, finishes a chapter in his book, goes to the bathroom, and after he gets settled back in bed, he says, "Good night, Sharlene."

"Good night, George."

* * * * *

2147-08-21 (m1)

With a lot of help from the nurses, since Sharlene is unfamiliar with their paperwork procedures, they get George ready to be discharged. While the last of the paperwork is being prepared and copies are made of his chart and test results for her files, she gets the keys to the rental vehicle she had arranged to be delivered to the medical center. When she's back upstairs, she's able to sign the last of the paperwork, sees that he's dressed, picks up their possessions, and walks back down while an aide pushes George in a wheelchair. It's a quiet drive and when they arrive at her home, Sharlene goes to open the door and comes back to the vehicle to help him. He walks slowly and holds on to her more to help with his balance than for support.

Inside the front door, she has him sit down on a chair there and says, "One of the rules I'm trying to establish in my home is no shoes." She kneels down to take his boots off. "Often I forget, because I didn't grow up that way, but it's something I'm trying. Are you up to a quick tour?"

"Yes, if you don't mind me holding on to you for balance or leaning on the walls."

"When you walked from the vehicle, was it comfortable for you to lean on my arm?"

He hesitates to admit, "I felt somewhat awkward. I think it was because of our height differences. But if you held your arm up higher, it would probably be uncomfortable for you. Would it be okay if I put my hand on your shoulder and we can see how that works?"

"That would be fine. Are you ready?"

"Yes. . . . Uh, I think I need a little pull to get off of the chair. . . . Okay, thank you."

After the tour, Sharlene leads him to a recliner love seat in the family room area which is open to the kitchen and dining area and asks him, "Are you ready to sit?"

"Yes. Do you have a side you usually sit on?"

"This side."

"Then I'll sit on that side, if it's okay."

She assures him, "You can sit on either side."

"I want to keep my imposition as small as possible and if you usually sit on this side, then that side is fine for me. Actually, I have something similar at my place and I usually sit on that side, so we can both sit on our usual sides." He appears to think for a moment then says, "I suppose if we get bored at some point in the future, we can do something really novel and switch sides."

"Oh, sit yourself down. Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, please."

She looks in the fridge and announces, "I have iced tea, fruit juice, milk, and water. Oops, forget the milk. I thought I had taken care of that before I went to my aunt's."

"Iced tea, please."

Sharlene empties the last of the milk down the sink and rinses out the plastic container before she tosses it into the recycle bin. After she pours two glasses of iced tea, she hands one to George and sits down on the other side of the love seat.

He takes a small drink and says, "Mmm, that's good. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You can set your glass on the side table next to you."

"Oh, thank you. You have a nice place here."

"Thank you. Go ahead, George, you can say it," she imitates a deeper voice, "it's mighty bare in here, isn't it?"

He gives her a bit of a grin before he verbally responds, "I was a little surprised. Then, I thought, maybe she throws wild dance parties and furniture would just get in the way. But I didn't see a disco ball hanging from the ceiling or colored lights or six foot tall speakers, so maybe that's not the explanation."

"Actually, I've only been here a few months and I haven't decided on what kind of decor I want to go with. Other than my aunt and uncle and a friend from work, you're the most entertaining I've done. Uh, what's a disco ball?"

"I must be dating myself. Although I have no direct experience, I understand that it was a rotating ball make up of many small mirrors which was hung from the ceiling to reflect the lights in many directions and was used in clubs or at dances. Do you mind if I lean back?"

"George, make yourself comfortable. Relax. I ought to get the things in from the vehicle before I forget about them. While I'm doing that, here," she hands him her mobile phone, "why don't you call my aunt and let her know you're here now."

"Um, I'm not sure how to operate one of these things."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sharlene points as she explains, "This button turns it on to active status and this button brings up my most frequently called numbers. Aunt Paula is number two. Just hit the 'two' button and it will automatically dial her number."

"I think I can handle that." He punches the appropriate buttons then waits for the call to be answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Paula."

"George, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good. Sharlene got me discharged from the medical center this morning and brought me to her place."

"Good for you. Excuse me for a moment while I ring up a customer. . . . Okay, I'm back. That was Dahwede. He said to say, 'hi,' and hopes you get better soon."

"Thank you, Dahwede."

"So what does Sharlene have you doing?"

"Nothing yet. We've only been here for a few minutes. Just long enough for a quick tour and a drink. She told me to call you and let you know we're here, while she brings in the stuff from the vehicle. Paula, thank you very much for packing some clothes for me. I wasn't looking forward to being arrested for indecent exposure in those things the medical profession calls gowns."

"You're welcome and I know what you mean. Sometimes I think people delay going to the hospital, just so they don't have to wear those things."

"I appreciate you locking up my place for me. Do you think you can pick up my mail every couple of days or so? I don't want it sitting in my box for long."

Paula assures him, "That's already been taken care of. When the mailman delivered our mail last third-day, he asked Paul if he knew who the rescue vehicle was for. When Paul told him, he volunteered to drop off your mail at the store instead of in your box. We'll hang on to it until you get back. Or if you'll going to be there for awhile and need to pay bills or something, we can either bring it down or send it down."

"Thank you, Paula. I should be okay for a couple of weeks. I don't know how long it'll take the medical center and insurance company to get their bills sent out. I don't want their bills to get mislaid."

"I can understand that. Is she available?"

"Just a moment and I'll check." He sets the phone down, turns his head, and asks, "Sharlene, are you ready to talk to your aunt?"

"Let me get my shoes off."

"She'll be here soon. I really appreciate you and Paul helping me and looking after my place."

"George, consider it pay back for getting us back together."

"I was just trying to be a friend."

"That's all we're doing."

"Okay. Here she is." He hands the phone to Sharlene.

"Hello, Aunt Paula."

"Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?"

"Fine. I'm just a bit tired."

"I can imagine. So, how's George doing?"

"Very well, considering what he went through. I haven't checked all of the literature, but people who go through the surgery we did on George, usually take a couple of weeks before they're ready to leave the hospital. That George is doing well enough to be released in one week is quite unusual. How much is due to George's body and general health and how much is due to the experimental drug I used, I don't know. I think both played a role, but there's no way to objectively determine which contributed how much to the outcome."

"Whichever way it was, I'm very glad you knew about it and have been able to watch over him. Thank you. Oh, I'd better cut this short and talk to you later. One of the local construction crews just pulled in and they'll keep me busy for several minutes. Give George a hug for me. Bye."

"Goodbye."

George looks up as Sharlene returns to the room and says, "That was short."

"She had a bunch of customers pull in and is going to be busy with them."

"It must be the local construction crew on their morning coffee break. Some of them seem to forget where things are from day to day which keeps your aunt busy telling them where things are."

"That's who she said pulled in. Oh, sit up a minute."

"Okay. Why?"

"Aunt Paula told me to give you this," Sharlene hugs him.

"Mmm, thank you to both of you."

"Do you think you're ready to pick up the discussion we delayed from last night?"

Since he doesn't know which part of their conversation she's referring to, he asks, "Discussion?"

"About whether you think I'm attractive."

"Oh." George hesitates since he's afraid to talk about such a subject, but he finally says, "I suppose. . . . I'd better use the bathroom first and maybe get a refill on my drink."

"Are you going to need some help?"

He swallows nervously and can't seem to express himself coherently, ". . . uh . . ."

Sharlene explains, "The nurses helped you at the hospital. I helped undress you and put the gown on you after your surgery."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Well, . . . I suppose you can help me walk there . . . and then if I needed more help, I can holler."

"Okay. Can you get up from there okay?"

"Let me try." He puts his feet on the floor, holds onto the arm of the love seat, and pushes up while he pivots his body around so his legs are straight and his torso is bent over the arm of the love seat and with a bit of a push, he stands up straight and proclaims, "Ta-da."

"Very good. I doubt if I would have thought of doing it that way. Now, how did your hand on my shoulder work for you last time?"

"Real well, I thought. Was it comfortable for you?"

"Yes. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

A couple of minutes later when George steps out of the guest bathroom, Sharlene notices, "I guess you didn't need any help."

"Almost. I forgot that a typical home toilet is lower than the hospital variety."

"Well, let's get you back to the other room, I'll get you a new drink, then I'll take my turn down here."

"Okay."

* * * * *

2147-08-21 (m2)

When they're both settled on the love seat, Sharlene returns to the subject by asking, "How do you want to approach the discussion?"

"Um, before we do, I guess I have a question for you."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Uh," George looks away from her and pauses before he says, "I feel somewhat embarrassed to talk about this subject. I don't recall ever talking about this with anyone, so I don't know if I'll say something offensive or embarrassing to you. That's obviously not my question and I'm not intentionally stalling. Let me apologize up front if you feel that something I say is embarrassing or offensive. That's not my intent. I'll try to say what I think is true even though I'm not sure how that will come across or sound."

He briefly pauses then says, "Here goes. First a pre-question statement: at my age, most women appear attractive to me." He turns towards her, "Sharlene, my question to you is: why do you care whether or not I think you're attractive?"

She thinks for a little while before she answers, "That's a good question and I'm not sure I can give you a good answer. For many years, I didn't care about being attractive and have never particularly thought I was attractive. Some fellow female students who were considered attractive often had more attention than they wanted. Yet they also seemed to act and dress in a way which appeared to be designed to attract attention. That not only confused me, but it also encouraged me to avoid such behavior.

"When we talked a couple of weeks ago on sixth-day, you said you thought I was pretty. That encouraged me to think about the whole subject of beauty or prettiness or being considered attractive. How is it defined? Who determines it? Does it matter? Is it important? And a lot of other questions. Along with the questions, I realized that I'm comfortable in your presence, and of the males I know, you would most likely give the subject some serious consideration and try to give me an honest answer without trying to color your answers to impress me or to coerce me in some way."

Since he's surprised at what she said, it takes him a little while to respond, "Um, thank you. I'm glad you feel comfortable with me, but I'm not as virtuous as you make me sound. I can be quite selfish, and I enjoy being with you and looking at you."

"Not too many people would admit to being selfish. Why did you ask me if I had ever looked at myself in a mirror?"

He hesitates then asks, "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror and compared what you saw with the attributes of well-known attractive women?"

"It's been awhile, but the first thing I noticed, is that I'm not as rounded or curvy or however you want to say it, as they are."

"True, was there anything else?"

"I don't dress as revealing as many of them do."

"From what I've seen that's also true. What else?"

Sharlene thinks before she responds, "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder why they're considered so attractive."

"I'll agree with you there. How would you view yourself on an attractiveness scale of one to ten with one being least attractive and ten being most attractive?"

"Maybe a six, at the most."

"Be thankful for your sheltered upbringing. You would probably be embarrassed if you knew how many people avidly watch you."

Since she doesn't understand what he means, she asks, "Watch me? Why?"

"Because you're so attractive." George drops his head, hesitates, then says, "I'm sorry, Sharlene, I don't mean to embarrass you or offend you. And I'm not saying it to enhance your ego or to gain some advantage over you." He looks back towards her, but not at her as he suggests, "Ask your aunt if there was a change in the customer profile last week while you were helping in the store. I'll bet you almost anything there was an increase in male customers last week in your aunt's store, and she noticed."

"I never thought that I was particularly attractive."

"And that's part of why you're attractive."

"Huh?" She looks at him for a little while before she says, "That doesn't make any sense."

George pauses before he tries to explain, "Let's assume for a moment, that you're a typical woman. Before you object, thankfully, you're not a typical woman and we can discuss that at another time. A typical woman who thought she was particularly attractive would either try to enhance her attractiveness to acquire more attention or would downplay her attractiveness to avoid unwanted attention. Because you don't think of yourself as particularly attractive, you don't artificially try to enhance or downplay your attractiveness. You allow yourself to be you. You're real. Many people are attracted to the artificial, the overdone, the attempts at plastic perfection, but many other people are attracted to a real natural beauty, like you."

Sharlene asks, "By artificial, do you mean like when Aunt Paula was separated from Uncle Paul and she started dressing nicer to attract men to date?"

He hesitates in surprise before he asks his own question, "She told you about that?"

"Yes. She also said you didn't like it."

His eyes open wider in surprise before he can respond, "She told you that, too?"

"Yes."

George pauses before he says, "What your aunt did in dressing up was quite mild compared to what a lot of other women have been known to do. Frankly, it didn't matter whether or not I liked it, it was her life. In my opinion, she was starting to play a game or to take on a role, instead of remaining the wonderful person she already is. Too often, when people try to build a relationship on an artificial image, they end up with artificial results.

"A long time ago, I heard of a young man who was attracted to a pretty woman. One time, he bluntly asked her, 'If I marry you, what will I wake up to in the morning?' Her reply was equally blunt, 'What you see is what you get.' She didn't put on an artificial appearance. In contrast, I knew of a teenager who wouldn't even let her family see her until she had put her makeup on in the morning. If her older sister was any indication of how that teenager looked, she didn't need an ounce of makeup, but she thought she did."

"So part of my attractiveness is just being myself and not trying to change my appearance through makeup or fancy clothes."

He hesitates again before he explains, "In my opinion, yes. I suppose there are times when wearing makeup and fancy clothes is appropriate, but when a relationship is built on a false appearance or a false personality, many problems result. I don't know how much of it is cultural or genetic, but a human male is attracted to feminine beauty.

"If an individual male is attracted to what he defines as a beautiful female whose appearance has been enhanced with makeup to 'movie-star' quality, they get along, date, get married, then he wakes up to find a 'plain Jane' in bed with him, he'll be disappointed and wonder how else he had been deceived. There are also ways in which males will put on a false appearance to impress females, such as to act romantically, or wine and dine her, when he would prefer to watch sports.

"Personally, I don't like makeup on a woman. I don't like the feel of it and what little I've overheard women talk about it, they don't like the feel of it either. They appear to think that the enhancement benefits outweigh the unpleasantness of wearing it. I have to admit that some women can use makeup very well to work with their natural features as a gentle, natural appearing enhancement. The problem is that most women either think they have to have makeup when they don't need it, or they don't know how to use it and end up making themselves look cheap or detract from their natural beauty."

"I never thought about it from that aspect before, but as I think about some of the women I've known, you're right. What else is a part of my attractiveness?"

George pauses in surprise before he asks, "You really want to know?"

Sharlene nods her head as she verbally answers, "Yes, because if I know what elements contribute to me being considered attractive, then maybe I might want to do something about them."

"Okay. . . . In my opinion, there are two main aspects to a woman's attractiveness. One is internal, her personality, and the other is external, her appearance. For almost all men, the initial attractiveness is to a woman's appearance. Usually, a person's personality isn't as obvious as a person's external appearance and for many men they don't look beyond the appearance.

"If we could somehow objectively measure the internal and external attractiveness of individual women, count the number of women with each combined measurement, and graph it, I'm guessing we would probably see a rough bell shaped curve. Most women have some combination of a pleasant personality and a nice appearance. Not as many women have a 'plain Jane' appearance with a wonderful personality or a beautiful appearance with a grating personality. And then there are a few who are unattractive with a personality to match and a few others who have a wonderful personality with an appearance to match."

"I assume that from your earlier comments you would consider me in the last group."

"Uh, . . . yes, at least based on what little I know about you."

"Why did you hesitate?"

George hesitates some more before he answers, "It's one thing to talk about feminine attractiveness in the abstract. It's quite another thing to talk about a female's attractiveness when she's sitting just inches away from me."

"Take your time then." Sharlene curls her legs under her and turns her body to face him on her side of the love seat.

"Oh, my."

"What's the matter?"

George drops his head and hesitates before he responds, "I guess I'm having trouble believing you're willing to allow me to remain in your presence. Most women don't want anything to do with me. I suppose that's another part of your attractiveness. Somehow, you're able to overlook the old, boring, depressing, and unattractiveness of me. I'm not sure what's left after that."

"You're kind, gentle, and trustworthy."

"That doesn't mean much in this society."

Sharlene assures him, "It means a lot to me. You've also demonstrated that you won't take advantage of me and those attributes combine to make me feel comfortable being with you."

He hesitates then restricts his answer to, "Thank you."

* * * * *

2147-08-21 (m3)

Sharlene takes his right hand, sets it on one of her jeans covered legs, and moves it along her leg. That makes the situation more difficult for him even as she says, "I can see this is difficult for you. Imagine that you're with a male friend who can't see very well. You notice me in a distance as I'm walking in your general direction. How would you describe me to your friend?"

"Humm," George leans back and asks himself, "how would it go?" He closes his eyes as he tries to make himself unaware of what she has his hand doing or of her close presence. A few moments later, he says, "Jerry. There's a woman, coming from the right. She's small and slender with just enough curve to her hips to be clearly female. Her movements are graceful and she seems to flow almost more than walks. She's dressed simply in jeans and a long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Oh, look at her hair. It's long and black, probably past her waist, and it flows and waves and sparkles in the sun. She has a nice proportion to her shape with long legs for such a little lady. Chocolate brown skin tone, it must be natural, a tan wouldn't be that nice of a shade.

"She has an extremely beautiful face with delicate features and a slight Asian shape to her eyes. Wow, what a smile. She could light up a room with that smile. It appears as though her skin has a real smooth complexion and is probably like silk to touch. I don't see any makeup. Amazing, she's a natural beauty. Big beautiful dark eyes you could sink into.

"Jerry, she winked at me! No, she probably winked at you. You were always good with the ladies. No, she doesn't have globs of fat pushing out of her chest straining her shirt. I said she was nicely proportioned so she's small there also. What a woman! More like a dream than a woman, wow!!" He goes quiet.

After a couple of minutes and while she notices the dreamy smile is still on his face, she says, "George?" When he doesn't respond after awhile longer, Sharlene speaks a little louder, "George?"

"What?" He opens his eyes, looks around, sees her, exclaims, "Oh!" drops his head, covers it with his hands, and seems to shrink in on himself.

"Where were you?"

He hesitates before he answers, "On a park bench with Jerry watching people walk by."

"Who did you just describe to Jerry?"

He hesitates longer then says, "You."

"You have a vivid imagination."

"Not really."

"That's how you would describe me?"

"Yes." He lowers his hands from his face, takes a drink, and leans back without looking at her.

"I'm going to have to go look in a mirror again."

"Ask your aunt or your friend."

"They would recognize that description as applicable to me?"

"I think so. I may have been a little subjective with some of my statements, but I tried to give an honest description of how I see your external appearance."

Again, she takes his right hand, sets it on her jeans, and moves it along the outside of one leg up to about the middle of her thigh and then does the same on her other leg. A couple of moments later, she says, "I don't see myself as you described me, but without additional data, I'll have to accept it as valid for now. What about the second aspect of a woman's attractiveness? Does that apply to me also?"

He pauses before he admits, "Yes, at least in my opinion. It's obvious that I hardly know you and there are elements of your personality I don't know anything about. What I've seen of your personality only adds to your attractiveness. One of the first things I liked about you was your lack of pretentiousness. You were introduced as a medical doctor, yet you were dressed down-to-earth in jeans and a shirt and insisted that I call you by your given name. That told me you were humble enough to treat other people as your equals, regardless of their social or economic status and what I've seen since then only supports that initial observation.

"It also told me that you're a real person who doesn't try to impress others by either your appearance or your social status. Since then, you've demonstrated that you're kind, gentle, and generous. I'm still amazed at your kindness and generosity towards me. It's altruistic since there's nothing I can do in return and even if there was something I could do for you, many other people could do it better.

"While we were at the medical center, you were often in the role of a competent professional, while at the same time you were warm and considerate of everyone around you. You thanked people, you said 'please', you apologized when you thought it was needed. I overhead some and others told me directly how much they liked to work with you. Since most of them were women, they weren't distracted by your physical appearance as most men would be. And while they recognized your physical appearance, they didn't see it as a threat to their own attractiveness as will often happen with women, because they recognized that you were nice to everyone. Not in the dippy, do-gooder sense, but in the sincere 'I care about you and want to work with you or help you' sense.

"You also appear to have a sense of humor and have given hints of a playful nature. You didn't seem to be offended when I acted silly and you even participated a little. That sixth-day when we talked in my vehicle, I was shocked that you were willing to touch me and be touched by me. When I saw your interaction with your aunt and even the staff at the medical center, I received the impression that you restrained yourself from touching, because it's not considered 'professional'. From that I guessed that you're inclined to hug and touch others, not strictly for selfish motives, but because you're warm and sharing. I assume that as a child you gave a lot of hugs to the loving adults who were around you."

"Yes." Sharlene puts her drink down and after a bare moment of hesitation, she partially gets up, turns around, sits on his upper legs, leans her side onto his chest, and requests, "Hold me."

Since he's extremely startled by her move, George hesitates for quite a while then he slowly puts his arms around her before he asks, "What's the matter?"

"You kind of scare me with your description of how wonderful you think I am."

Because he wonders why she would want him to hold her when he scares her, it takes him a few moments to respond, "I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you or scare you." As he continues to hold her close with his right arm, he takes the risk of rubbing her back with his left hand in a hopefully comforting manner.

Apparently she's not offended, because she snuggles closer then sighs, "I know. . . . It's just that . . . I've always known I was somewhat different and internalized it as somehow bad. So I've always thought I wanted to be normal. Yet when I observed what was considered normal behavior, I couldn't bring myself to do it, especially as I got older. Thankfully, I had a sheltered upbringing which protected me from a lot of age group peer pressure, even while I sometimes felt left out. To have you think of me as wonderful, I don't know how to live up to that."

"Don't. Don't try to live up to that, or anything else. I don't think you're wonderful because of what you might become. I think of you as wonderful because of who you are, as yourself, at least as much as I know about you. Just keep being yourself."

Even though it seems like the natural thing to do, George hesitates since he knows he's taking a bigger risk and kisses the top of her head as he would if he were comforting a child. A few moments later he tries to expand on his explanation, "You don't need to live up to, or live down to, anyone else's expectations. If somebody doesn't like you for who you are, walk away from them. There are many other people who will like you for who you are. . . . Since we met, have you tried to do anything to make me think you're wonderful?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing for you to live up to. It might be wise of you to be less than wonderful, so I'll get out of your life, but I don't think you ought to change who you are in response to me, either positively or negatively. If you want me out of your life, just say the word."

"No, George. Just hold me."

Since he's again surprised by her request, but is selfishly unwilling to pass up such an opportunity, he says, "Gladly," and gently tightens his arms around her.

* * * * *

2147-08-21 (a)

Sometime later, somebody's intestines rumble, Sharlene looks at the clock, starts to sit up, then snuggles back into his arms. She leans her head back a little, kisses his cheek, says, "Thank you, George," and snuggles closer.

"You're welcome." He feels like he must be in some sort of a fantasy dream and he kisses the top of her head again before he says, "I can honestly say it's truly my pleasure."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not overly, but it might be wise to eat."

"Is there anything in particular you do or don't like to eat?"

"You mean besides hospital food?"

Sharlene chuckles then answers, "Yeah."

"I'll try almost anything at least once. I don't like the bitter vegetables such as broccoli or cauliflower. Probably anything you would fix for your aunt and uncle would be fine with me or something simple like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Is there anything I can help with?"

"No. I'm not even sure what I have available to fix. You can let me up now."

Even as he quickly releases her, George can't believe he hears himself say, "What if I didn't want to let you up?"

She sits up, turns towards him with a warm smile, puts a hand on his cheek, and tells him, "I guess I would have had to 'suffer' from your wonderful hug a little longer." She gets up and starts to look in the kitchen.

After he takes some time to recover from her continuing surprising statements, George asks, "Is it okay if I try to make a trip to the bathroom?"

"You don't need to ask permission. Will you need some help?"

"If you don't mind me leaning on your walls, I think I can make it."

"You can lean on the walls. Be sure to holler if you need help."

After what seems like a few anxious minutes to her, he's back. She asks, "Did you have any problems?"

"No. I probably moved slower than I had to, but I figured I would rather be safe than sorry."

"That was probably wise. Go ahead and sit down at the table. Anywhere is fine. Would you like some more iced tea to drink?"

"Yes, please."

Sharlene brings a couple of sandwiches and some washed grapes to the table, gets them refilled drinks, and sits down at the end of the table nearest to where he's sitting on the side.

When he's finished with his meal, George takes another drink, and says, "That was good. Thank you."

"Are you sure you had enough?"

"Yes. With my sedentary life style, it doesn't take much to fill me up," as he pats his upper abdomen.

"As your doctor, I ought to tell you to lose some weight."

"As your patient, I'll admit that you're right. At least you're not like most doctors in acting like the pot which is trying to call the kettle black."

Sharlene pauses a moment before she says, "I've heard that saying a few times, but I'm not sure I understand it."

"When I've been to doctors before and they told me to lose some weight, I would look at them and see they were more overweight than I was. Many decades ago, when people would cook over an open fire, a pot would soon become black on the outside from sitting in or above the fire. A kettle would get black on the outside for the same reason, but since the kettle wasn't usually on the fire for as long as the pot, it might be a little less black."

"So, it's a response to those who insist that others do as they say, but not as they do."

"Exactly."

"Is there a reason you haven't made an effort to lose weight?"

He pauses then admits, "Partly because it is an effort, partly because I'm lazy, partly because most exercise is boring and doesn't have any immediately obvious benefits, and partly because I didn't care."

"I'm not sure I understand the last one."

"Why should I put a lot of effort into an activity which may have some theoretical future benefit, when I'm just going to die anyway?"

"So you can live longer."

"I don't mean to be offensive, but why? So I can tell those worms six feet under while they're turning my body into fertilizer that I read another book?"

"That's rather cynical, George."

"That, young lady, is another of my endearing traits, right along with boring and depressing. Until I met you, if a tree fell on me, I would have welcomed it with open arms. I just didn't have quite enough courage or whatever it might be called to pull the trigger myself."

Sharlene pauses before she asks, "What do you mean, until you met me?"

"Well, since I don't want to intrude on your life, nor do I think I deserve to be near you, I was curious to observe you from a distance and see what you did with your life. It's interesting to see what a young person with potential will do with their life. Most of the young people I've watched over the years, have either moved away, or their family didn't want me around. I figured that since you're on good terms with your aunt and uncle and they haven't given any indication of moving away even as they put up with me being around, then maybe I could follow your life from a distance for awhile."

Because she's surprised at his answer, she asks to confirm that she heard correctly, "You figured the only reason you had to go on living, was to follow my life from a distance?"

"Yeah. That's about the extent of it."

"What about helping others?"

"Remember my story about the little girl in the library reading program? That wasn't the first nor the last time I tried to help others and it turned out that my help wasn't wanted. One of the very few times I've been told that my help was appreciated was when I kicked your aunt's butt, metaphorically speaking, and told her to go back to Paul."

"Aunt Paula may not have liked what you told her, but she was very glad you did."

"And I've been happy they've worked out their differences. They seem to be doing well together."

"George, will you hold off on welcoming that falling tree for awhile and help me?"

He asks in surprise, "How can I help you?"

"I'm not exactly sure at the moment. I have some ideas bouncing around in my head and, call it a woman's intuition if you want, I think you can be a great help with at least one of those ideas."

"Well, I suppose I can try to help you if I can."

She lays her hand on his arm, "It'll mean being closer than watching my life from a distance."

He hesitates then lays his other hand on top of her hand and says, "Sharlene, I'm selfish enough to want to be close to you. I don't want to impose on you or intrude in your life. I certainly don't deserve your attention. As long as you can tolerate me being around, at whatever distance you chose, then I'll be happy to help you."

"Thank you, George. . . . I'd better get these dirty dishes taken care of."

"Can I help?"

"For the next few days, the only help I want from you is for you to rest and regain your strength. In a few days, I may have you start on some simple exercises. Depending on how you're feeling and how you progress, we may take some short walks. Will you work with me?"

He hesitates a moment in surprise that she would want to help him before he answers, "Yes."

"I'll need to go to the grocery store sometime in the next day or so. Is there anything you need?"

"I don't know. I haven't looked at what your aunt packed for me. As far as food goes, what we had for lunch was good. I generally don't eat breakfast and whatever you usually have for dinner, will most likely be fine for me."

"Let's go see what my aunt packed for you and figure out what you might need. Then I want you to rest, either on the love seat or on the bed for awhile."

"Can I help with the expenses?"

"No, I can easily handle them. Save your money for the medical bills. And if you have trouble with them, let me know. I ordered a lot of tests and an expensive treatment, and I'm more than willing and able to help you pay for them."

"Okay." A little later, he can no longer keep his eyes opens so he reclines his side of the love seat and takes a nap.

* * * * *

2147-08-21 (e1)

Sharlene cleans up after dinner then they move to sit on the more comfortable love seat. She briefly pauses then says, "George, earlier today, when you described my physical appearance, I said you had a vivid imagination and you said, 'not really'. What did you mean by that?"

"A number of years ago, there was somebody where I worked named Jerry who was partially blind. He considered himself to be a lady's man. If he heard about a new female at work, he would ask others to describe her. The only imagination I used was to put Jerry and I on a park bench together and have you as the person who was being described."

"You also said something about the person you described as not having globs of fat pushing out of her chest and straining her shirt. Were you referring to a woman's breasts?"

He hesitates then answers, "Yes."

"Why did you call them globs of fat?"

"Well, other than the milk glands and ducts, that's what they are, aren't they?"

"Basically, but I think there's more to the story than that."

He hesitates longer then says, "I'm not sure it's an appropriate topic of conversation between an old man and a young woman."

She directly looks at him and clarifies, "George, you're not just any old man and I'm not just any young woman. I'm not trying to embarrass you. I'm a fully trained medical doctor and could talk circles around you regarding the physical functioning of a woman's breasts. But in regards to how a woman's breasts are viewed in society and especially how males perceive them, I'm rather ignorant. In the short time I've known you, I've learned a lot about the real world which nobody else was willing or maybe able to tell me. For a little while, try to set aside the idea that I'm a young woman and educate me."

"I'm more concerned about embarrassing you. Women generally don't want to discuss the subject of breasts with men, especially since they're considered a part of a woman's sexual mystic."

"I'm aware of that, but I still want to learn what you can tell me."

He sighs then says, "Okay. Jerry was a somewhat stereotypical male who liked large breasts on a woman. It didn't matter much what the rest of her physique was like, as long as her breasts were large. Other men I've known wanted skinny women with large breasts. I always thought that was odd. They didn't want fat on her hips, belly, or buttocks, but they wanted fat on her chest. The few times I said something along those lines, I received some strange looks, but no argument."

"Do you have any idea why so many men like large breasts on a woman?"

"Only some guesses. Psychologists would probably explain it as suggesting that a man is looking for a mother figure. Historically, it may have been considered that a large breasted woman was better able to feed a multitude of children and was thus considered to be a symbol of fertility. Or it might be that a large breasted woman is more noticeably a woman, or maybe just more noticeable. One of the problems with large breasts being noticeable is that sometimes the men don't look any further. I don't find large breasts attractive, yet I have a hard time not noticing them. I may not understand why men like large breasts on women, but I have a harder time understanding the women who want large breasts."

She asks, "What do you mean?"

He pauses before he answers, "Over the years, I've overheard or directly heard from women with medium to large breasts and they almost invariably complain about them being in the way, causing unwanted attention, getting hurt, or causing balance problems, particularly through puberty or after a mastectomy. They also complain about having to wear a bra and how uncomfortable they are. At the same time, it isn't comfortable for them to go without a bra, either because of the unwanted attention or from the sweat buildup and skin problems which can be caused by a large breast when it lays on the chest. Yet, it's amazing how many of those same women will do almost anything they can to somehow display their globs of chest fat to the admiring male populace. And many of those methods of display can't be comfortable.

"On one hand, I've kind of felt sorry for women with large breasts. On the other hand, it's hard to feel sorry for the women when they deliberately go through surgery to increase the size of their breasts, or when they stuff, shove, or squeeze their breasts uncomfortably to display them. I guess that's more than the story behind the 'globs of chest fat' comment. The first few times I said it, it was an attempt to open the eyes of some men and to demystify, I guess you could say, the female breast. If they didn't like fat on other parts of a woman's body, why would they like fat on her chest? Like I said, all I received were some strange expressions, like how could I not see that fat in one place was different from and better than fat in another place."

Sharlene shakes her head as she says, "That's more than I've heard from women with large breasts. There's nothing like living a sheltered life to not even know such things about my own gender. I've heard some women talk as though their breasts were their only positive assets and thought they had to enhance that asset."

"Probably because that's what they heard about while they were growing up or it was the only thing somebody commented on while they were going through puberty." He pauses then says, "I would like to be able to say it's a current cultural approach which could be changed through some appropriate education and positive encouragement, but I'm afraid the value of breasts to a woman's image goes deeper than that. Throughout human history and ancient literature, and even prehistoric artwork, a woman was known for bearing children with the apparent success indicators of having large breasts and large hips. It's only been in recent times that some individual women have succeeded in building a positive self-image without concerning themselves with the size or display of their globs of chest fat."

"Weren't women more modest three or four decades ago?"

"If by modest, you mean not displaying so much skin, then the answer is 'yes', but if by modest, you mean not displaying their so-called feminine charms, then the answer is 'no'. There have always been ways women found to display their breasts. One of the commercials on television when I was a kid was for a bra which claimed to lift and separate. There was also a ditty that went around among the teenagers about the tighter the sweater, the boys liked it better. Just because they covered their breasts, didn't mean they tried to hide them."

"Interesting. I always had the impression that my parents' and grandparents' generations were more modest."

He shakes his head as he answers, "No, they just weren't quite as obvious."

"George, I understand that some of the things we've talked about have been uncomfortable for you. I really want to thank you for telling me, because I've learned a lot about real life without having had to wade through it. The more I hear, the more I'm glad I had a sheltered upbringing. If I had had a more 'normal' childhood, I seriously doubt I would be the person I am now."

"Forget the doubt part, you wouldn't be. If I recall, you said you were later than your age group in entering puberty by quite some time."

"Yes. About two years later."

He winces as he says, "Ouch. If you had been in the public schools or many private schools, you would have been teased unmercifully. It would have been bad enough if you were only a few months behind the other girls, but two years! Unless you had already developed a very strong self-confidence and a very thick emotional skin, which very few girls that age have, the odds are very strong you would either have been crushed and became an introverted wallflower who trusted no one and failed at everything, or you would have outdone your teasers, flaunted yourself, and most likely ended up being seriously abused."

With wide eyes, she asks, "Would it have been that bad?"

"Thankfully, you have no idea how wicked young teenage girls can be to their peers. Young teenage boys can be bullies to their later developing peers, but girls are generally more subtle and more vicious. And if they thought you were competition for the attention of the boys, it would have been even worse."

"George," Sharlene crawls onto his upper legs, leans on his chest, and requests, "hold me."

With a little less hesitancy than before, he wraps his arms around her and says, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me. When I'm made aware of the uncomfortable realities of life, especially when I realize it could have easily been me who was directly affected by them, I want to be held. Most of the time, I can be strong and tough, until I can be by myself, then I fall apart. I'm being selfish and taking advantage of you being here, to be held when I want to be held, instead of forcing myself to be tough and wait until I can be by myself."

He squeezes her a little tighter and since the risk seems to be smaller, he kisses the top of her head. A couple of moments later, he tells her, "Anytime you want to be held and I'm near, let me know and I'll hold you. I understand the desire to be held and unless I'm unable, I won't refuse you."

She leans her head back, kisses his cheek, says, "Thank you," and lays her head on his shoulder.

* * * * *

2147-08-21 (e2)

A few minutes later, Sharlene asks, "What's the story behind your statement that you understand the desire to be held?"

He sighs then explains, "When I was a young child, I apparently liked to hug, be held, and touched. When I was five or six or starting school, I don't remember exactly when, my parents decided I was getting too old, especially as a boy, for such overt affection, so no more was given. I suppose if I was the only or youngest child, I might have taken it in stride and later acknowledged it as a part of growing up. But I was the oldest, and at that age, I really didn't understand why my younger siblings received physical affection and I didn't."

"Oh, George. Hold me tighter." While his left arm is around her back, and his right arm is around her front, he holds her left side at her waist and gently pulls her closer to him. Since she's unable to hug him from her position, Sharlene grabs his arm in front of her and holds it tighter to herself. A moment or two later, she remarks, "How sad. What was the age difference between you and your youngest sibling?"

"Ten years."

"So for ten years you watched your siblings receive the affection you were denied. By then you were a teenager."

"Yes, and a bit of a nerd. I was considered nice, but not boyfriend material."

"Did you do any dating as a teenager?"

He shakes his head then says, "Not really. I took one girl to an exhibition sporting event one time. Then a few days before I left for my civic duty service, a friend 'lent' me his girlfriend for the evening. We went bowling and then my friend left us in the vehicle for awhile. She sat on my lap, I think we maybe kissed a little and talked, but that was it. My friend and his girlfriend meant well, but it just made me realize what I was missing.

"After my civic duty service was over, I went home and occasionally attended a church some friends went to. While there, I met a young lady, she was sixteen, I think I was twenty two. After awhile, she made the first move. Even then, I was boring. Usually when I visited, we sat around with her parents who surprisingly accepted me. We did a little hand holding, a little kissing, but that was it. After a few months, she figured I wanted to be married and she wasn't ready, so we broke up on fairly friendly terms."

"I assume she broke off the relationship and you went along with it."

He pauses in thought then says, "I don't remember the details, but she initiated the break."

"What happened after that?"

"Some months later, I showed some interest in a young woman who was a little older and who occasionally attended the same church. She made the first move, we dated some, then since I thought she was the right girl, I asked her to marry me and a few months later, we were married." He explains more about how that went and ended then says, "Now you know some of the emotional baggage I carry with me. Does it help you to understand why I think you need to forget about me and find a gentle young man? Especially one without all of the emotional baggage? My success rate of relationships with women is zero. I don't want to hurt you and add you to my history of failures."

"I wonder how your life would have been different if you had been given the affection you desired as a child."

"I'll never know."

"I know. My mom's not strongly affectionate, but she always gave me a hug when I asked for it. My dad, my grandparents, some older friends, and my aunt have always been ready with hugs, even now. I can't imagine life without hugs. Oh, George, hold me tighter."

"If I hold you any tighter, I might hurt you."

"Then hold me longer."

"As long as you want."

Many long minutes later, she leans her head back and sees tears leaking from the corner of his eye. She slips her left arm out from under his encircling right arm, reaches up, and wipes the tears from one of his cheek, then the other. After awhile, she lays her head on his shoulder and idly plays with his beard.

Sometime later, she pulls up her right arm, sits up slightly, puts her hands on his head and pulls it towards her own. She gazes at him for a little while then kisses him on the lips, softly, the kiss of a friend with warmth and caring, not the kiss of a lover. He responds likewise. It's a long, gentle kiss, full of concern, support, and sincerity. When they break the kiss, she again lays her head on his shoulder and snuggles into his tightened embrace. After awhile, in the quiet of the moment, they fall asleep.

* * * * *

A couple of hours later, one of them stirs which disturbs the other. Groggily, while his arms are still snugly around her, George asks, "What happened?"

"I think we fell asleep. You can let me up."

"What?" As he realizes he's still holding her, he releases his grip as he tells her, "I'm sorry."

Sharlene sits up, turns to face him, smiles, and says, "Don't be sorry. That was the most wonderful hug I can remember ever receiving. Thank you. If we're tired enough to fall asleep here, we need to go to bed. Come on." She stands up and extends a hand to help him up.

Without getting up, he hesitates before he responds, "Um, . . . I've been concerned about that. Unless my eyes deceived me, you only have one bed."

"That's right."

"I can sleep here."

Sharlene sits back down on the love seat next to him, puts a hand on his knee, and tells him, "George, when I offered to bring you to my home, I was fully aware that I only have one bed. And I knew that if I was going to keep an eye on you so you could be quickly tended to if something medically went wrong, we would need to be in the same room, which means in the same bed. I'm not trying to tempt you or to embarrass you. We both need sleep and the bed will be more comfortable than this recliner. No more objections. Come on." She stands up and again extends a helping hand.

He hesitates then says, "Yes, ma'am." He moves the recliner to its upright position, slides to the front, and begins to lever himself up when one of his legs starts to give way.

She quickly grabs him to keep him from falling and helps him to sit back down as she asks, "What's the matter?"

"My leg's asleep."

"I shouldn't have sat on it for so long. Here stretch out your leg and let me see if I can get the circulation going again." As she starts to knead his muscles from the middle of his thigh, she says, "This is going to tingle . . ."

"Ow."

" . . . and hurt," while she moves her hands to the muscles down his leg.

"I know," he acknowledges through gritted teeth.

She stands back up and says, "Let that rest for a little while and I'll make sure the house is secure and get out your pajamas."

A couple of minutes later, Sharlene is back and asks, "Are you ready to try again?"

"I think so." With her hands close to catch him, he levers himself up and stands.

She suggests, "Both hands on the shoulders this time I think."

He faces her back and puts a hand on each of her shoulders as he says, "I think you're right."

"Okay, slow shuffle, here we go." They slowly take short steps and in order to avoid stepping on her heels, he moves his legs in unison with hers.

Halfway down the hall, she hears him softly saying, "Chug-a-chug-a, Chug-a-chug-a," she stops, puts a hand on the wall to keep from falling over with laughter just as he gets to, "Toot-toot." He looks around, leans over, and whispers in her ear, "Is this a scheduled stop?"

After a few moments to control her laughter, Sharlene answers, "No, you silly old man. You just caught me by surprise. Well, let's see if we can finish this trip. . . . Okay, sit on the edge of the bed. Do you think you can get your pajamas on by yourself?"

"I think so."

"You try while I go turn out the lights. I'll be back in a little while." She steps out of the room and closes, but doesn't latch the door. After she takes her time to give him some extra time, she comes back to the door, taps on it, and asks, "George?" She waits a few moments then speaks a little louder, "George?" When she doesn't hear a response, she opens the door and steps in. He has his pajama top on, his feet are on the floor, he's laying back on the bed, his pants are undone, and tears are streaming from his eyes. She quickly steps over to him and as she leans down, she checks his pulse with one hand and wipes his tears away with the other while she asks, "What's the matter?"

"I can't . . . I can't lift my rear without my hands, then I can't pull my pants down."

"Let me help you."

He shakes his head.

"George, I helped undress you in the medical center, I can help undress you here. I expected you would need this level of help and I'm prepared to give it. Now on the count of three, lift yourself, and I'll pull your pants off. One, two, three. Okay, now lift your feet one at a time." She kneels down to pull his pants all of the way off and sets them aside.

She stands back up and tells him, "Okay, on three, lift yourself and I'll pull your underwear off. One, two, three. Okay, now lift your feet one at a time." As she kneels back down, she pulls his underwear all of the way off, sets them aside, grabs his pajama bottoms and tells him, "Lift your feet one at a time." She slips his pajama bottoms on, pulls them up over his knees, commands, "Lift your rear," and slides them over his hips and onto his waist. She briefly pauses to see what he's going to do then she helps him sit up before she asks, "Do you need to use the bathroom?"

He nods his head.

She grasps one of his arms near his elbow, braces herself, and asks, "Are you ready to stand?"

He nods his head, pushes on the bed with one hand while he pulls on her with the other hand, and he almost makes it up, but sits back down.

After they wait for a little while, she says, "Again."

George pushes off the bed harder and stands up. With one hand on her shoulder and one hand on the wall, he shuffles to the toilet room in the master bathroom. While he braces himself on the walls, he gently closes the door. A minute later, she hears the toilet flush. He opens the door, reaches for her shoulder with one hand, leans on the wall with the other, and shuffles to the sink where he washes his hands.

He sees his denture cup and toothbrush sitting by the sink so he takes his teeth out, brushes them, and puts them in the denture cup. With her help, he shuffles to the bed, sits on the side, and lays down in a controlled fall. She helps him get his legs on the bed and as he lays on his side and curls up, she covers him. As she notices tears leak from his eyes again, she wipes them away and gently caresses his head while he tells her, "I'm sorry I'm such a burden."

"I volunteered, remember?"

Since he doesn't know what else to say, he keeps it simple, "Thank you."

Sharlene gets up, quickly gets into her own pajamas, goes to the bathroom, washes her hands, brushes her teeth, and brushes her hair. She gets into bed, slides over to behind him, leans over him, kisses his ear, whispers, "Sleep well, George Greyson," lays down behind him, and slips an arm across his side and onto his chest. He grabs her arm with both of his hands like a drowning man grabs a tossed rope, but only holds onto her arm snugly rather than tightly. In a few moments, she feels his grip relax as he falls asleep. She snuggles up to his back as though he's a life sized teddy bear and is soon asleep.

* * * * *

2147-08-22 (m1)

When she feels the bulk in front of her, Sharlene thinks she's dreaming of waking up as a child while she hugs one of her large stuffed animals, except this one is more solid. A moment later, she realizes that her arm is being lightly held and knows her stuffed animals can't do that. She quickly wakes up more fully, opens her eyes, is confused for a moment, then remembers, George. As she relaxes, she reviews yesterday, and wonders how all of that could have happened in one day. Sometime later, she feels him start to stir then he suddenly stops. Slowly, his hands explore the arm she has draped over him then he freezes and lays perfectly still.

She raises herself up on her right elbow, leans over him and greets him, "Good morning, George."

His head jerks towards her then he half stutters, "Sha . . . Sharlene? . . . What?"

She sees confusion, wonder, fear, joy, and embarrassment flash across his face.

"Bed?" He looks around, "Your bed?" then he looks back at her and asks, "I'm in your bed?"

"Yes, George."

"Did I . . . ?"

"No, George, you just slept."

"Okay." He starts to relax, but when he remembers what happened last night, his eyes pop open as he exclaims, "Oh!" He glances at her and ducks his head in embarrassment.

"Are you concerned that I helped you undress?"

He hesitates then quietly says, "Yes."

"You needed help. I was here to help. I helped."

"I was naked."

"So? You needed help. If I was the one who needed help, you would have helped me. Even if your body had responded to my nakedness, you would have done the right thing and helped me undress and dress and not taken advantage of my weakness. Please give me the same credit."

He turns his head towards her then says, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful."

"I know you don't. It's a new situation for both of us. It's going to be confusing and embarrassing. I was confused when I first woke up this morning. I thought I was dreaming of my childhood and that I was waking up while I hugged one of my big stuffed animals until I realized this one was hugging me back. That woke me up fast. When I realized it was you, I relaxed because I know I can trust you."

He carefully rolls onto his back to more easily look at her and tells her, "Thank you. I hope I can remain worthy of your trust. I don't know whether I'm more embarrassed for my sake or for your sake. I can't imagine that my nakedness was a pleasant sight, and from what you've said, I doubt that you've had many men in your bed."

"No. You're the first."

"The first?" He stares at her and it takes him some time to regain his voice, "I find it hard to believe that some kind handsome young man hasn't captured your attention. . . . Sharlene, why me? I'm a boring old man. You're a beautiful young lady with such a kind gentle spirit. Why do you want to waste all of your wonderfulness on me? I don't deserve it. You didn't have to bring me into your home. Or we could have figured out some other sleeping arrangements."

As she lays back down on her right side while she faces him, she holds his left hand with her right hand and with her left hand, she wipes his new tears and gently caresses his face in a calming manner. A moment later, she tries to explain, "It doesn't matter whether or not you deserve it. I invited you into my home because I wanted to. You intrigue me, George Greyson, and I intend to find out why. Who are you? You're more than just a boring old man. You've shown hints of your nature which are contradictory to the image you portray. When I enjoyed sexual pleasure in your pickup, you didn't take advantage of me.

"Yesterday, when I asked to be held, you held me without taking advantage of me. That was a gift you selflessly gave me. Maybe you did find pleasure in holding me. If so, it was an afterthought, not a preplanned and executed effort. For me to bring you into my home was not selfless on my part.

"Even for me to invite you to sleep in my bed was done more as a convenience for me. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and the best way to keep an eye on you, was to let you sleep here also. There was an added benefit which I hadn't considered before. I was able to cuddle with you. It's been a long time since I've been able to cuddle with one of my big stuffed animals while I slept and you're even better because you cuddle back."

He pauses to partially absorb what she's said before he responds, "Thank you for cuddling me. I don't think I've ever been held until I fell asleep. I was tired and upset at having imposed on you and embarrassed that you had to see my naked body. But to feel you holding me was such a comfort. Thank you."

"George, it truly was my pleasure. . . . It's time for me to get up, my bladder is telling me. If you want to stay here and rest longer, be my guest."

"My bladder is giving me a similar message, but I can wait until you're done."

"If you want, get yourself ready to get up, but wait until I get back. I don't want to have to pick you up off of the floor."

"Okay."

As she comes back into the bedroom, he smiles at her, drops his eyes, stares for a moment then drops his head in embarrassment. She looks down to see what had briefly caught his attention and notices that her erect nipples are obvious through the front of her pajama top.

As she steps closer, she hears him say, "I'm sorry I stared. I didn't mean to."

"You wanted to?"

George hesitates before he softly responds, "Yes."

She sits down next to him on the bed and asks, "Do my globs of chest fat interest you?"

"I . . . I didn't see your breasts. . . . To be honest, yes, they would interest me."

Since she surprisingly feels more curious than embarrassed about the subject, she asks, "Is there something about seeing a woman's nipples which affects a man?"

He hesitates some more then simply says, "Yes."

"Please tell me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He shakes his head as he remarks, "You can sure find some difficult subjects you want to hear about. . . . Okay. Among males, the 'common knowledge' is that when a woman's nipples are erect, it means she's sexually aroused. Even though I intellectually know that's not the case, it's hard for the intellect to overcome the hormones."

"So that's the reason."

Her statement puzzles him so he asks, "Huh?"

"When I went through puberty, my nipples would become erect for a multitude of reasons and sometimes for no discernible reason at all. My mom insisted that I wear a padded bra to hide them when they were erect. When I asked why, she only said to trust her and that I would be glad I did. I've worn padded bras since. Again, you tell me something I didn't know, but should have been told a long time ago." She kisses his cheek, "Thank you." She stands back up and asks, "Are you ready to try to get up?"

Since he's not sure how she can calmly talk about such a topic, it takes him a few moments to respond to her change of subject, "Yeah. I don't think I'm ready for a straight stand yet. I'm going to try to rotate and then lever myself up. Can you scoot over a little so I don't run into you?"

When she takes a step to the side, he pushes up while he rotates his body 180 degrees so his legs are straight and facing the bed and his body is bent over the bed with his arms holding him up. He sees her extended arm so he holds onto it for balance, stands up straight, and tells her, "Thank you." With one hand on her shoulder and one hand on the wall, he shuffles to the toilet room. He uses the walls for support as he steps in and she closes the door for him.

She slips out of her pajama top, gets her bra on, and just finishes buttoning her shirt when she hears the toilet flush. She steps into the bathroom as he opens the door to the toilet room, walks with him to the sink where he washes his hands and gets his teeth back into his mouth, then helps him back to the bed where he sits down.

She asks, "Do you want me to bring your clothes here?"

"Can you bring my luggage here?"

"Sure. . . . Here you go. While you pick out your clothes, I'll step into the bathroom and finish getting dressed." A couple of minutes later, Sharlene steps back out and asks, "Are you going to need help getting dressed?"

"I think I've figured out a way to do it which should be easier than I tried last night."

"Okay. If you need help, holler. I'll start fixing some breakfast. If you want help walking down the hall, stay here and I'll come back and check on you in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

As she steps out of the bedroom, Sharlene closes the door behind her.

While he's still sitting on the bed, George takes his pajama top off and gets his shirt on. He stands up, braces his head on the nearby wall which frees his hands to get his pajama bottoms over his hips then he sits back on the bed and pushes them the rest of the way off. He pulls his underwear and pants on past his knees, stands up, braces his head on the wall again, and pulls up and fastens his pants. After he sits back down on the bed, he takes a few moments to catch his breath. He slides over to his luggage, folds his clothes from yesterday and his pajamas, puts them away, and closes the luggage. After another brief rest, he combs his hair, and puts it back into a ponytail.

A moment later, she taps her knuckles on the door and calls, "George?"

"Come in."

Sharlene opens the door and steps in.

"It must be somewhat strange for a man to invite you into your own bedroom."

"There will probably be a few more strange things happen before you're fully on your own again. Are you ready for another walk?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to use one shoulder or two?"

"I think I'd better go with two this morning."

She gives him a smile as she tells him, "All aboard then and instead of chugging, maybe you'd better save your breath for breathing."

He grins back as he responds, "I think you're right."

"Okay, sit yourself at the table. If I remember right, you said you don't normally eat breakfast, but you need to build up your strength. We can work on helping you lose a little weight later. How does eggs, toast, and orange juice sound?"

"One egg and one piece of toast will be enough for me. Orange juice sounds wonderful. I stopped having it years ago and I don't remember why."

"Is there any particular way you like your egg fixed?"

"No, however you make it will be fine."

"While I'm fixing breakfast, I want you to think about some easy things you might want to do for the next several days so you don't get bored while you're resting and getting better. Movies you want to see, books you want to read, topics you want to discuss, places you want to see, or people you want to visit. I'm going to retain veto or delay power if I think it'll be too much for you, but I need to know what you're interested in."

"Okay."

* * * * *

2147-08-22 (m2)

George pushes his empty plate a little ways away and says, "That was good. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sharlene cleans up the dirty dishes then asks, "You're not a big eater, are you?"

"No, I never have been. In recent years, I've been inclined to snack a little between meals and have smaller meals. I don't like stuffing myself at a single meal."

"What are your usual snacks?"

"I hate to disappoint you, Doctor, but it's not fruit and vegetables."

"I don't want to guess."

"My snacks are usually chocolate, occasionally a cookie or two."

"Well, it could be worse. Have you thought about things to do?"

"The only things I can think of that I probably ought to do is to get a shower and pick up some more underwear so I don't have to wash clothes every three days or so. Other than that, maybe stop by one or two of the local charity thrift stores for some used books to keep me out of your hair. I really am a boring old man. Do you have anything planned that I need to be out of your way for?"

"The only thing I have planned is that a friend from work is coming to dinner tomorrow night."

"I can camp in the other room for that."

"No, George. She wants to meet you."

He's so surprised at her statement that he blurts out, "Me?"

"Yes. I'll tell you why in a little while. A shower might be a bit of a problem."

"A bath would probably be easier, but I've never been very good at washing my hair in the tub."

"When do you usually shower?"

"In the morning, but without my strength, sometime besides morning or just before bed, would probably be better. Or when I won't interfere with your schedule."

"You're probably right about doing a bath other than the first or the last of the day. As for buying underwear, that would depend on how far you think you can walk at one time. The same would go for book shopping. You probably ought to save your energy for the book shopping. It would be easier for me to pick up a particular size and brand of underwear than to choose books you haven't read yet. Why do you go to a charity thrift store for books instead of a regular book store? It seems like it would be somewhat of a gamble at a charity thrift store."

He nods his head in agreement then explains, "Rather than a gamble, it's more like a treasure hunt. Sometimes that's part of the fun. You know about where to look, but you don't know what you'll find. Since I was a child, I've read a lot. I could go to a library, but sometimes I like to read older books which libraries no longer carry. I also like to have books around me. For most of my life, I couldn't afford to buy books at a regular book store. So I started going to charity thrift stores or library used book sales.

"Another factor is that I haven't been concerned about reading a book as soon as it's published. One reason is that if a book is a part of a series and I read the first book when it comes out then wait a year or so for the second book to come out, I need to reread the first book to understand the second. If I wait and get the books used, I can more easily get the whole series and read it as a group. It doesn't always work out, but sometimes it does."

"That makes sense. I like your treasure hunt analogy. Before I tell you about why my friend wants to meet you, will sitting here be fine or would you prefer the love seat."

"I would like to say where ever you want, but your love seat is more comfortable to these old bones."

"George, I want you to rest and gain your strength. If you can rest easier on the love seat, then that's where I want you."

"Can I have a glass of iced tea to sip while you tell me about your friend?"

"Of course. Do you want some help to the love seat?"

"A shoulder would be helpful."

After he reclines, she curls her legs under her, leans on the back of the love seat while she faces him, and encourages his hand to caress her legs before she asks herself, "Where do I begin?"

George suggests, "When you said a friend at work, I assume you did similar work?"

"No."

"Would it be appropriate for you to tell me what you did and why you quit?"

Sharlene nods her head as she answers, "That would help set the stage and there's nothing secret about it. After I finished my medical specialties, I was offered a position in the city here at the Institute for Psychological Responses to work on a study of what happens in the brain of those people who are diagnosed with so-called mental illnesses such as bipolar or depression. The Institute was trying to demonstrate that serious emotional or mental disorders are caused by problems within the physical, chemical, and/or electrical structure of the brain rather than resulting from a lack of correct thinking as many people believe. My job was to study brain scans of those people to identify the areas which might be or are responsible for their disorders.

"After a few months, I realized that what I had been told in the job interview and read in their literature as claimed accomplishment was, in fact, something they hoped to accomplish in the future through much research. As I dug deeper, I realized their research approach was too shallow and that the technology wasn't available to do a proper job and probably wouldn't be available for many decades. I put out a few discrete inquiries with the plan of getting out so I wouldn't be associated with a failed study.

"At about the same time, there was a funding scandal associated with the Project where my friend Mariam works. Since some of the problems found on that project were similar to those of the study I was working on. I made the assumption that if they investigated one project or study, they might investigate others so I didn't wait any longer to quit."

"That sounds like a smart move, especially since you can support yourself for awhile. It will probably avoid having your reputation drug through the mud due to someone else's failings."

"That's the way I looked at it."

"Have you heard anything more about what's happened?"

"Not in any detail, that's part of why Mariam is coming over tomorrow night."

George asks, "So why did you say she wanted to meet me?"

"Because she does. Let me give you some more background information which will help you to understand the situation."

"Okay."

"The Project which Mariam is working on at the Institute had two parts. She is working on the first part which is to electronically record strong clean emotions. The second part is to take those electronically recorded emotions and transmit them to other people so they can experience the emotion. The stated purpose of the Project is to help people therapeutically.

"For example, if a person is in anger management therapy and learns to control the feeling of anger which comes from an external source, then maybe they can learn to better control their own anger. Or for someone with depression, since we don't understand the physiological reasons for depression, maybe by using externally induced feelings of joy or peace or contentment, we can reduce the power of depressive feelings to control a person's life. The lower management of the Project, and of course the employees, were unaware of the funding sources or their purpose. They were working to accomplish the stated purpose."

"When you say 'stated purpose', I assume there was another purpose either unspoken or in the small print."

Sharlene nods her head and answers, "Yes. Apparently, one of the main funding sources was the military which was hoping to be able to project fear to the enemy and/or courage to their own troops. The military started to complain that the Project wasn't meeting its promised goals and some politician heard about it and raised an even bigger stink that the military had even funded such a project. The Project has essentially been defunded, but Mariam is being kept on to help put the Project into a saleable package.

"As a part of the agreement with the military and other elements of the government, the Institute is required to divest itself of anything related to the Project. So the intellectual and proprietary properties of the Project are going to be put on the market in the hopes that some university or research organization will want to pursue the research towards the stated purpose. I assume that any proceeds which result from the sale will be given back to the government to partially reimburse the funding.

"When I had been at the Institute for several months and getting disturbed by what I was finding out about the study I was working on, Mariam talked me into trying out to participate in the Project. My emotional response to one of the movies they used for testing was able to be recorded by the equipment, so I was invited to participate in a one week home trial. That involved wearing a headband which contained electronic sensors and a modified mini-drive which recorded the electrical output of my emotional brain waves. During that week, I had a single emotional response which was strong enough to meet their criteria so when my emotional recording was reviewed, I was invited to participate in the Project on a four week basis."

George asks, "Was that why you were wearing a headband that week I met you?"

"Yes."

"At the time I thought you wore a headband because you wanted to until I noticed I hadn't seen you wear one since that week. With your long black hair, it gave you a real Western Sector appearance."

"Actually, I was wearing two headbands. The one from the Project was a rather nondescript cloth covered headband. I wore the second one on top to cover up the Project one. A number of people at work also thought the decorative headband gave me a Western Sector appearance. It was a gift from my Western Sector grandmother when I completed my coming of age ceremony."

His eyes widen before he responds, "Fascinating. I don't want to interrupt your story about the Project, but if you're willing to tell me some time, I would be very interested in learning what your heritage is. I've been curious and have made a number of guesses since I first saw you."

"It might be fun to tell you and see how close your guesses are."

* * * * *

2147-08-22 (m3)

George takes a drink before he returns to the subject, "Sharlene, you said you had a single emotional response during the trial week. I don't want to intrude into your private life, but would you be willing to tell me what happened?"

"I can do one better, I can show you."

Since he has no idea how that could be, he asks, "Show me?"

"Yes, my neighbor across the street was playing with a new video recorder and caught the whole event on video and gave me a copy." Sharlene gets the video set up to display on the television. "Here we go. . . . My neighbor is waving at me to make sure I see that he's recording. He hears the two wheeled vehicle. . . . The guy is yelling for the cops that I assaulted him. My next door neighbor saw the whole thing, tells him it's his lucky day because she is the cops, and arrests him."

"Wow, I'm glad I've been a good boy and not tried to take advantage of you. What happened?"

"He was taken to court, we testified, the video was played, and the jury found him guilty of every charge. Somebody overheard his lawyer tell him that the next time he wants to be a bully, he should pick on someone his own size."

George laughs then proclaims, "That's rich. I didn't know you knew martial arts."

"It's not something I advertise. Dad insisted I learn, probably because I've always been small for my age. It's been fun learning new styles and moves, its great exercise, and it's a somewhat natural follow-on to the ballet lessons my mom had me take as a child."

"That helps to explain why you move so gracefully. Some people are naturally graceful, but your gracefulness seems to be a cut above the naturally graceful. You're an amazing young woman."

"Oh, George, I'm just me."

In a very natural manner, he takes her hand in his as he tells her, "And I'm so glad I have the opportunity to get to know 'just you'. The more I learn about you, the more I realize you're a marvelously wonderful person." Suddenly, he's aware of what he did, looks down at their hands, hesitates, then says, "I'm sorry, I should have asked first. May I hold your hand?"

"Yes, George, you may."

He pauses in surprise at her quick and positive response before he goes on, "So you were invited to participate in the Project for four weeks. Somehow, I'm beginning to get an idea of why Mariam says she wants to meet me."

Sharlene nods her head and explains, "Mariam and I had an arrangement that she would review my recorded emotions before turning them in to go through the normal process. For the next three weeks during which I participated in the Project, the recordings of my emotional responses were so barely measurable, Mariam threatened to use them as a sleeping aid. The fourth week of my planned participation in the Project, I was going to be on my scheduled vacation, so Mariam extended my participation to five weeks since a person is more likely to have emotional responses during a vacation than during a regular work week. She didn't hold out much hope for me based on my past recordings.

"That second-day morning after my vacation, when I turned in my emotional recordings, Mariam thought I looked happier, so she reviewed the recordings that day instead of waiting as she usually did. That evening, she insisted I go to her place and claimed we needed to talk. I've never seen her in such a state. Yes, George, what happened to me in your pickup on that third-day and fifth-day and on the log on fifth-day and even when we talked on sixth-day, showed up in bold color on the charts of my emotional recordings. They were so different from my normal recordings and apparently much stronger and cleaner than the recordings of other people that Mariam went into orbit over them."

"Since she made a big deal about them, it probably upset you."

She nods her head as she confirms, "You're right about that."

He thinks for a little while before he says, "I think I can understand a strong emotional response, I assume they attach it to a scale of some sort, but I'm not sure what is meant by a clean emotional response."

"The way it was explained to me is that most people when they experience a strong emotion, usually also have several other emotions playing a role in the background. A clean emotional response is when the primary emotion is so prominent that any other emotion felt is negligible." She repeats the examples which she's heard as a way to explain.

"Let me get my computer and show you. . . . The charts I'm going to show you are the graphs of my emotional recordings. Here's a sample of my emotional response from the first four weeks. This is what Mariam was used to and as you can see, it's pretty flat other than the one blip from the video I showed you. Then she saw this from third-day. You can see there's the one primary emotion and all of the others are barely measurable. Then she saw this from fifth-day, then this later from the same day."

"Now that I can see it graphed, I can better understand why she went ballistic. Especially since you're her friend and she wondered what happened to you."

"That's it."

Although she brought up the subject, he still hesitates before he asks, "What did your friend say about them?"

After she quickly reminds herself that he already knows the basic facts and that she trusts him and is comfortable with him, Sharlene clearly explains, "She said that unless I was wired very different from other people, I had experienced sexual pleasure and that it was intense. She assumed I was sexually experienced and that during my vacation I had a special experience with a man and said that if she could enjoy half of what I experienced, she wanted him, even if he was as ugly as a mud fence and twice as dumb. Eventually, we clarified the situation and removed the assumptions.

"She was surprised it was my first sexual experience and incredulous at the accidental nature of it and that you didn't have anything directly to do with it. She really had a problem with believing me when I said you were right there and didn't take advantage of me. I told her what little I could about you, mostly from what Aunt Paula had told me.

"Since I hadn't talked about a man before, I wasn't sure how to even approach the subject. So I tried to approach it based on what I've overheard other women say when they talked about men. George, I don't mean to be offensive in what I say, but from our previous conversations, I'm going to guess that you may not like to hear it, but won't disagree with how I described you."

"You're probably right."

Sharlene still hesitates before she says, "I told Mariam that you wouldn't be considered physically attractive, that based on your obvious possessions you're not wealthy, and that from what my aunt had said, you're rather anti-social."

He reminds her, "You didn't forget boring and old, did you?"

"No, I didn't forget those. In fact, when I said you were old, Mariam reacted when I guessed you were old enough to be my grandfather. I had to tease her about wanting a young ugly mud fence."

"Good for you."

Since she's surprised he would say that, she just looks at him for a few moments before she asks, "It doesn't bother you that I described you in those terms?"

"Why should it bother me when it's true? I've been trying to knock it into your pretty little skull almost every time we talk, but for some unfathomable reason, you still want me to be here with you."

Sharlene turns her head away as she says, "I know, George. You've tried to make me use my eyes and my logic and I really appreciate your unselfishness in doing so, especially when you admit to being selfish and want me to be with you and find me attractive. I've tried to rationalize you away. I've told myself, I don't know anything about you. You're old and won't live long. I've reminded myself many times that you're a boring anti-social old man. My aunt has tried to get me to open my eyes and use my reasoning ability. Mariam has urged me to use my brain." She turns back to him and continues, "George, in spite of all of that, I do want to be with you and I can't fully explain it. I can't fully explain it to myself." She leans towards him and requests, "Please don't send me away."

With the invitation of his open arms, she scrambles onto his upper legs and he wraps his arms around her before he tells her, "My precious, I won't send you away."

As she snuggles closer and pulls his arms tighter around her, she says, "Thank you, George."

"If you don't understand it and I don't understand it, then I guess we'll have to accept it until we do understand it or until you change your mind."

"Yes, George. Just hold me."

He gladly does.

Many minutes later after she thinks about it some more, Sharlene asks, "George?"

"Yes?"

"On that third-day and more so on fifth-day, while I was enjoying sexual pleasure, you backed up the pickup slower and took longer to cut the log, didn't you?"

He hesitates before he admits, "Yes."

"Why?"

"So you could enjoy it longer."

"Was that the only reason?"

He hesitates again then says, "Initially, yes."

"So another reason occurred to you after you started going slower?"

"Yes."

"What was the other reason?"

He hesitates yet again then almost blurts out his answer, "I enjoyed watching you receive pleasure, because I'm a voyeuristic dirty old man."

"You were sexually excited while you watched me?"

He pauses in disbelief that she didn't react. Since he wants to be truthful considering her apparently calm question, he simply says, "Yes."

Sharlene tries to assure him, "I don't mean to embarrass you, but I'm trying to understand you and even though it's after the fact, I'm trying to better understand the situation I was in. Both Aunt Paula and Mariam were surprised you didn't touch me. Aunt Paula made it very clear that I put myself in great danger of being sexually assaulted or abused by thinking only of my own pleasure and not being aware of what affect it might have on a man who was nearby and possibly observing me. If you're uncomfortable with my questions, please tell me to stop, but I would be grateful if you would answer me."

Since he hadn't expected the conversation to go in that direction, it takes him a few moments to think of an appropriate response, "I can deal with uncomfortable questions, if you think you can deal with uncomfortable and potentially offensive answers. If it will help you to protect yourself in the future, I'll answer your questions. Before you ask your questions, think about whether you can tolerate the answers."

* * * * *

2147-08-22 (m4>a1)

Sharlene briefly pauses in surprise then responds, "Oh. That puts a new twist on it."

George shakes his head as he says, "Not a new twist. Just be aware that the questions you ask may result in answers which might be unexpected or unpleasant. Your desire to know is to be applauded, but your sheltered upbringing probably left you somewhat ignorant of the potential price of knowledge. I've tried to answer your questions as honestly and as truthfully as I can, even when the subject matter hasn't been appropriate to our relationship. Your questions seem to be headed in a direction most married couples or sexual partners don't discuss."

"Thank you for warning me. Can I stay here and think about it for awhile?"

"I think it would be appropriate for you to take your time to think about it. If you want to take days to think about it, which might be wise, then 'no,' you can't stay on my lap the whole time even though I would like you to. If you can decide how you want to deal with the subject within the next hour or so, then 'yes,' you can stay here."

A few minutes later, something occurs to her, and she asks, "George?"

"Yes?"

"Earlier you called me your precious. Why?"

He sighs then says, "It was probably inappropriate of me to call you that, but you are precious to me. I don't want to see you hurt, emotionally, physically, or in any other way."

"Thank you."

Even as he continues to hold her, he finds it hard to believe that she seems content to remain sitting on his upper legs with his arms around her.

Many minutes later, Sharlene hesitates before she asks, "George?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going back to the subject. . . . How sexually excited were you while you watched me?"

He hesitates then simply says, "Very."

"You're going to make me ask the questions, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To give you time to think about whether you really want to know the answer."

In a softer voice, she asks, "George, did you masturbate after watching me?"

"No."

She asks in an even softer voice, "Why didn't you?"

"My body didn't wait."

Since she feels rather confused by his answer, she asks in an almost normal speaking level, "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

Again in a softer voice she asks, "Do you mean that your body was so sexually excited while you watched me, that you had a sexual release without touching yourself?"

He hesitates to answer, "Yes."

"Oh. . . . I was in danger."

"Yes."

"And I put you in an uncomfortable position."

"Yes."

"Can you forgive me?"

"What did you learn?"

"If I want sexual pleasure, either I actively involve a partner or I do it in private."

"Then I forgive you."

"You had already forgiven me, hadn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"When I found out that it was your first experience and you didn't know any better, how could I blame you?"

She leans her head back, turns his head to look into his eyes, proclaims, "George, you're a jewel," and kisses him, on the lips, for a long time. When he breaks the kiss to catch his breath, she lays her head on his shoulder and snuggles closer. "Thank you, George."

Many minutes later, he reluctantly says, "Young lady, I don't want to break up this hug, but my body is telling me that if I don't move soon, I'll be greatly embarrassed."

"I'm sorry," she gets up.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. How could you know until I told you?"

"Do you need some help?"

"If you don't mind walking down the hall with me, I may take advantage of your shoulder instead of getting more fingerprints on your walls."

As they slowly walk down the hall, she asks in a somewhat teasing manner, "You worry about getting fingerprints on the wall, but you don't worry about getting fingerprints on me?"

"I'm only touching your clothes and clothes are much easier to wash than walls are."

When he completes the necessities in the bathroom, George steps out and she's waiting for him. As they slowly go back down the hall, he talks softly, almost as though he's speaking to himself, "I'm wondering whether I really want to get better."

Sharlene stops, turns to face him, and asks in surprise, "Why wouldn't you want to get better?"

He pauses then admits, "Because then I wouldn't have a reason to be touching you and holding you. I'm very selfish and I've very much enjoyed all of the touching and holding we've been doing and I don't want it to stop."

She reaches up to caress his face as she responds, "To be honest, I've very much enjoyed it also and I don't want it to stop either. I'm not exactly making a case for stopping, when I'm the one who keeps getting on your lap and cuddling with you. I'm not sure which I appreciate more, you being willing to hold me or you not taking advantage of me, but letting me set the pace. Your memory must be slipping because there's something you forgot."

Since he has no idea what he could have forgotten, he asks, "What's that?"

She holds his head with both of her hands, pulls it down, and answers him, "Kissing me."

Without taking the time to verbally respond, he wraps his arms around her as their lips meet and mesh.

When he necessarily breaks the kiss in order to catch his breath, he stammers between breaths, "You just . . . convinced me . . . I need . . . to get better?"

"Why?"

"So I can . . . kiss you . . . without running . . . out of breath . . . so soon."

"You selfish old man, hug me."

"I am."

"Tighter."

"Gladly."

A few minutes later, George reluctantly releases the hug and says, "I think we need to finish our walk so I can sit back down because my legs are starting to feel a little weak."

"Let's park you at the table, because it's about time for lunch."

"That sounds good." He sits down and proclaims, "Ah, that's better." He takes her left hand in both of his, looks her in the eye, and tells her, "Sharlene, thank you very much for letting me hold you, and I definitely remember and enjoy your kisses. You're one wonderfully special lady. I may not have much strength, but in your presence, I feel like a new man." He raises her hand, kisses it, and says, "Thank you, lovely lady."

While she caresses his face with her right hand, she suggests, "Old man, you had better back off on the compliments or I'm going to have such an egotistically swelled head that I'll just float off in the slightest breeze," then she leans closer, "but I'm selfish enough to want to keep hearing them." She stands back up and says, "I'm going to resist the temptation to cuddle some more and fix something to eat. What would you like?"

"Something which is easy for you to fix."

"Alright, let me see if I can find something to throw together. Do you need a refill on your drink?"

"Yes, please."

"George?"

"Yes, Sharlene?"

"What kind of work did you do?"

"You mean when I was employed?"

"Yes."

"Office work."

She waits for him to explain, but when he doesn't, she says, "That's even less of a description than my dad gave when I was younger and asked him what he did at work."

"What was his description?"

"He said he typed emails, looked at numbers, and talked on the phone."

"He must have been a busy man. What did he really do?"

"George, you're not going to distract me that easily. I know what my dad does, I want to find out what you did."

"That kind of depends on what the job was. I had several jobs over my employment years. Although each could be said to be office work, in that I worked in an office setting and did administrative and support work for the main function of the organization, each was different. None of them were particularly exciting. When I was younger, I tried to make an effort to be efficient, thorough, and accurate, but over time, I realized how unappreciated my efforts were, so I got to where I just went through the motions. I was never defined by my job, like you are in being a doctor. My jobs were simply a means to fund my continued existence.

"In general, most of my jobs were working with information. Organizing, processing, or reporting on information, or the jobs were working with the documents which contained the information. Some examples for your entertainment: one job was managing drawings of semiconductor designs. I didn't have the knowledge or training to review the technical elements of the drawings, but I did have to review the drawings to make sure they were in the correct format and had the necessary supporting information. Then I entered the information into a database, filed them in an organized manner, both electronically and physically, and retrieved them when somebody needed a copy of the drawing.

"Another job was providing clerical support for a research and development engineering group, part of that was keeping track of the purchase orders for the supplies they needed, what was ordered, when it was ordered, when it was received, what did it cost, and so forth. Another job was to schedule preventative maintenance activities for a commercial airline's aircraft by making sure the maintenance was scheduled where the equipment, supplies, and trained people were available. Is that better than just saying 'office work'?"

"That sounds like a lot of detail work."

He nods his head as he responds, "Yes, but I doubt if it's as detailed as remembering the symptoms of hundreds of diseases, disorders, and disabilities and the effects and side effects of thousands of medications and how the preferred treatment of one problem a patient might have can seriously impact another problem the same patient might have."

"You've got a point there. You seem to have some awareness of the medical profession."

"Very little. More like being aware enough to scare me and to wonder if finding the correct solution in medicine is any more reliable than a witch doctor trying to read the entrails of a chicken."

She stares at him in near shock before she exclaims, "George!!"

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to insult you. I know there are some very conscientious doctors and medical staff who really try to do what's right for their patients. Yet, even for them, too often the treatment is more guesswork than based on scientific evidence. And then there are others who barely give their patient the time of day, much less listen carefully to their situation."

* * * * *

2147-08-22 (a2)

Sharlene pauses before she says, "I'm sorry I reacted. You may have a point. Can you give me an example to clarify your statements?"

George nods his head and verbally answers, "Sure, my own problems with depression. Does medical science know what causes depression? No. Is there a test to tell the doctor which chemicals in the brain might be out of balance to affect depression? No. Are brain scans done to diagnose or determine the type of depression? No. What happens is the psychiatrist will maybe listen to the patient, will less likely ask some specific questions, and then will write a prescription for a drug to see if it works. If that doesn't work, they try a different drug. And so on."

"I know what you mean by the guesswork with medications to treat depression. One of the reasons I wanted to specialize in neuropsychiatry was to find answers in the brain to the various so-called mental illnesses. My mom had a severe emotional shock at the time I was born and she's been sad or depressed ever since. They've tried almost every therapy imaginable and nothing helps. I'm sure something happened in her brain, but there's no way to be sure, because there weren't any 'before' brain scans or tests done in order to compare to after her shock. Do you have any other examples?"

He gives a couple of other examples and explains that unless the medical treatment is traditional and provided by a traditional practitioner, insurance will almost never cover it regardless of how beneficial the treatment might be.

She pauses in thought then says, "What little was discussed in medical school about insurance did give me the impression that they would grudgingly pay for the pound of cure, but wouldn't pay for an ounce of prevention. I suppose from the insurance company's point of view, why pay for the prevention if there's no way to be sure it will prevent the problem."

He nods his head as he responds, "I think that's part of their approach and it's valid in many cases since the causes of many medical problems aren't known with scientific certainty. Or there are a multitude of contributing factors. I don't mean to sound so disparaging of your chosen profession because I'm also quite cynical of a lot of other professions. From what I've seen and heard about you personally, you're one of the few in the medical field whose heart is in the right place of actually trying to improve the lives of your patients."

"And in the interest of trying to improve the life of my one current patient," Sharlene sets a plate in front of him and tells him, "eat."

"Yes, ma'am." Minutes later, George pushes his empty plate a few inches away, takes a drink, and proclaims, "Mmm, that was good."

"Thank you. I don't want to appear nosy, but the woman you knew who had breast cancer, you seemed to know quite a lot about the situation for someone who's so anti-social."

"She was my ex-wife."

"Why didn't you say so?"

He pauses before he answers, "When any two people meet, they form a relationship. Most of the time the relationship remains at the acquaintance level, sometimes it progresses to the friendship level, and once in awhile, it goes further than that. When I have a relationship with a person at any level, I try to make that a relationship between me and the other person without being influenced by other relationships. I usually don't succeed because somewhere in the new relationship there's a comparison with someone from an older relationship.

"You and I have a new relationship. It's not fair to you or to our relationship to be comparing it to any other relationship, either positive or negative. For that reason, I try to reduce how much I specifically refer to my past relationships. I've never heard of a new relationship where one person liked to hear the other person constantly say, 'my spouse did this', or, 'my spouse did that', either good or bad."

"Thank you for your effort to be fair. I can see how one person constantly talking about their former spouse would be rather irritating to another person they're supposedly trying to establish a relationship with. Why don't you tell me about her now and I can get most of my curiosity out of the way all at once."

"I doubt if I can satisfy your curiosity all at once. Are you sure you want to hear about another woman who shared my life?"

Because she wants to be truthful, Sharlene says, "Yes and no. Maybe I'll learn more about you."

"You probably will and might not like what you hear. I suppose it's better to find out sooner, rather than to get shocked later."

"That's right."

He pauses then tries to be somewhat objective as he describes his ex-wife's medical conditions as well as a little of her history and personality traits and how that interacted with his own personality traits. He concludes with, "I'm sure that if you asked her, the story would come out differently and probably rightly so. There are a lot of things I probably could have done better and ways in which I could have been more thoughtful. I should have never married her or anyone else to begin with, if for no other reason than I was and still am quite anti-social."

"George, scoot your chair out." As he does, Sharlene gets up and sits on his upper legs at an angle somewhat facing him and hugs him while she rests her head on his shoulder. A couple of moments later, she asks, "What am I going to do with my boring old man?"

Since he's surprised at her action and question, it takes him a little while before he can ask, "I haven't scared you off yet?"

"There wasn't much you said about yourself which you hadn't already said or that I hadn't half guessed at or could have inferred if I had thought about it."

"Well, at least you have a better idea of who I am and what affect it might have on a relationship. I still think it would be in your best interest to find a gentle young man with whom you can be comfortable and experience life together. Or even a gentle young woman."

"I appreciate your concern, but it's you who I'm comfortable with, in spite of the things about you which I may not like. I don't intend to make you change who you are or how you behave. Based on how our relationship has developed and appears to be currently working, maybe we can enhance the positive elements and allow the negative elements to recede into the background."

He hesitates before he says, "I don't mean to be a wet blanket, but we haven't had much time together. . . . I'll admit that I've been surprised at some of the rather difficult subjects we've been able to discuss without problems or serious disagreement. You seem to enjoy the hugging and kissing. . . . Well, I've heard of relationships trying to function on less than talking and touching. I guess the next question is how far do you want the relationship to go?"

"Since a relationship involves two people, shouldn't you have a say in how far it's to go?"

"Maybe you have some deep dark secret I'm not aware of which will drive me away. However, based on what I've learned about you, young lady, and to be brutally blunt about my selfishness, I would be quite happy to spend the rest of my life with you. That's why I asked you how far you want to go. And when you're tired of me, or for any or no reason, you no longer want me to be around, I'll leave."

Sharlene sits up and looks directly at him in surprise then asks, "You really mean that?"

"Yes, I do."

"You would stay or go based on my whim?"

He nods his head and simply answers, "Yes."

"Well, to be brutally blunt back, I haven't been able to decide ahead of time how far I want the relationship to go. I think I want to take it in stages. To go a little further and then reassess."

"That's probably a good approach. I don't want you to feel obligated or coerced in any manner, shape, or form. I'm not trying to dump the burden on you, but I want you to be free to choose, however you choose and whenever you choose."

"For now, George, I would like you to stick around and we'll walk this adventure together, at least for awhile."

"I certainly don't deserve your company, but I'm deeply grateful that you want me to stay for now. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I think it's probably about time you get some rest and I should make a trip to the department store. Why don't you write down your preferences in underwear and I'll see what I can find. When I get back, maybe you can try to take a bath and then we'll have dinner. How does that sound?"

"It's fine with me. I'll need to make a trip down the hall. Maybe I'll grab my book and read while you're gone." He pulls out his wallet and hands her some money as he explains, "Here, if this isn't enough to pay for my underwear and some socks, I'll pay you the difference. It's one thing to impose on you to take care of me, but I can at least pay for my own clothes."

"Okay, I won't argue with you. Are you going to need a shoulder?"

"I think I'll be okay. I managed yesterday at about this time and then felt as weak as a baby in the evening."

"It will take some time to build your strength. That's why you need extended observational care. It's too easy for a person to feel okay in the middle of the day, then push a little harder or longer than they should and be in trouble in the evening." A few minutes later, she sets her home phone next to him with a card. "Here's my home phone and my mobile phone number written out. If something comes up, call me and I'll be back as soon as I can. In any case, I should be back within two hours, but don't panic if I take a little longer. Now give me a hug and get yourself some rest."

"Yes, my lady."

* * * * *

2147-08-22 (a3)

It's about two hours later when Sharlene returns with her purchases. As she steps in the front door, she sees that George is reclined on the love seat and starts to go check on him when she hears a bit of a snore and decides to take care of her purchases before she disturbs his sleep. A few minutes later, she returns with her stethoscope, kneels next to him on the love seat facing him, checks his pulse then leans over him to listen to his heart. She sits back up, takes his right hand, sets in on her thigh, and puts her hands over his.

In a few moments, he starts to stir, settles back, sighs, and without opening his eyes he asks, "Am I dead?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"There's an angel holding my hand."

"You flatterer. How was your rest?"

"It must have been fine, because I apparently fell asleep. Waking up is a delight."

"Why do you say that?"

"For an old man to wake up and find that a beautiful young woman is holding his hand, how can it not be a delight?"

"Why is it you're more flirty when you're tired or have over exerted yourself?"

"My inhibitions haven't woken up yet. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll be my normal standoffish, depressing, anti-social, boring, old man self."

"Well, I won't give you a couple of minutes." She turns around, lays on him with her back snug to his chest, takes his arms, wraps them around her upper abdomen, and requests, "Hug me. I just spend two hours battling racing vehicles and mad shoppers and deserve a reward."

He pauses some then with a feeling like he's being somewhat bold, he leans his head down, kisses the top of one of her ears, pauses for a reaction, then drops kisses across the top of her head before he kisses the top of her other ear. He pauses then asks, "Is that a good enough reward?"

She leans her head to the side while she holds his arms in place with her left hand, lifts her right hand to the side of his face, and turns it towards hers. "It's a good start," and she pulls his head to hers. As they start to kiss, he attempts to pull her up a little. She notices that his hands have slid up her shirt to just below her bra, and she wonders to herself, "What would it be like for him to touch me a little higher," but she leaves that thought for later, as she gives herself to the kiss she initiated.

A little later, he breaks the kiss and leans back to catch his breath.

"Thank you, George, reward accepted."

"Thank you. I . . . it was entirely my pleasure. Other than racing vehicles and mad shoppers, how did your shopping go?"

"Fine. I found what I was looking for and I put your underwear and socks on your luggage."

"Thank you. Did I give you enough to pay for it?"

"Yes. I think you have some change due."

"Keep it. I know I can't repay you for all you're doing for me, but a little gas money can't hurt."

"Okay. How much time do you think you might need to take a bath?"

He thinks for a moment then says, "Good question. I might need to soak for a little while and I'll definitely need to go slow getting in and out and drying off and all. A wild guess would be an hour. . . . That seems like an awfully long time to take a bath."

"Not if you take your time to soak and are careful with every move. I would rather have you overestimate, than underestimate and rush because you feel like you're running late and hurt yourself. I wanted a rough idea, to know how long I can stay here before I send you off and put something together for dinner."

"I would be inclined to put off my bath in order for you to stay here longer, except that I'm probably getting kind of ripe by now."

"If you are, it's not noticeable. I've wondered more about myself along those lines, so I figured I would take a quick shower before bed. Change of subject, I was thinking that if you're up to it, we could watch a movie after dinner."

He briefly hesitates before he responds, "That sounds fine."

Sharlene almost chuckles then says, "You don't need to sound so hesitant. As you keep reminding me, I'm not a typical female. One of the ways in which I'm not typical, is that I'm usually not interested in what are known as 'chick flicks'. What I was thinking of, was one of the humorous marital arts movies."

"Oh, yeah, those are usually pretty good. I'm amazed that people have the strength and coordination to do the things they do in those movies. Even in my prime, I couldn't come close to those moves."

"Since I've been interested in the martial arts, I've done a little reading about what it takes to put together one of those movies. Even after they practice some of those moves multiple times, it still takes several attempts in front of the camera before they get it right. Even then, some of the moves are quite brief and sometimes it's more the skill of the editor to make it all look smooth and natural."

"I've wondered if that was the case. I've heard that about other types of movies. Sometimes it makes me appreciate the older movies where the actors and actresses had to do an entire scene without the action stopping every few seconds."

She suggests, "Or stage plays, where they have to know the entire play."

"Yeah. I've had to admire their ability to do that, but I've not enjoyed stage plays. Part of it is that I often can't hear or understand what's being said and part of it, I think, is the obvious fake quality to the set and props."

"I know what you mean. I think the performers have to be even better than their movie counterparts to make the setting either seem more real or fade unnoticeably into the background. Well, a couple of more minutes of pleasure, then I'm going to send you off to your bath."

George hesitates then decides to take a bit of a risk, so he lowers the pitch of his voice and with an 'evil' accent he slightly tightens his hug as he proclaims, "But what if I don't want you to send me off? You're in the clutches of the Mad Maniac Manufactured in Myopia and he does not allow anyone to just send him away. You shall be my 'guest', ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, for a very long time. Resistance is futile."

She moves her hands up to her cheeks and raises the pitch of her voice while she tries to hold in her laughter, "Oh me, oh my, where is my knight in shining armor. Oh rescue me, my prince."

"Your knight is no longer in his shining armor since I sprayed him with my special rust-o-matic solution which, with this special TV offer, you can get twice as much for just 19.95, that's right, two for the price of one. And as an extra bonus, at no additional charge, except for shipping and handling, we will send you, our loyal viewing customer, the horse which the knight rode in on. So call now, operators are standing by."

He joins in her laughter. After awhile, the laughter diminishes to chuckles.

"Oh, George, you're funny."

Even as he's not sure he can understand his own actions, he runs the risk of pushing it a little further, proclaims, "There is no George here. I'm the Mad Maniac Manufactured in Myopia and you are in my clutches," and tickles her.

A few moments later while she's laughing, she requests, "Stop, George."

He immediately stops tickling her and just gently holds her. When her laughter quiets, he says, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stepped outside of my bounds."

"Forget the sorry, you wonderful old man," she turns her head, pulls his down, and kisses him quite thoroughly. After she breaks the kiss to let him catch his breath, she rolls over, lays on him face to face, and tells him, "George, I haven't had such a good laugh in a long time, thank you."

She kisses him again, except that it's somewhat shorter this time since he hasn't caught his breath after the first one. She lays her head to the side of his head and lets him breathe while she kisses his neck and ear. When she thinks he has enough breath to answer, she asks, "Where did you come up with the 'Mad Maniac Manufactured in Myopia'?"

"It just kind of popped into my head."

"It sounds like a wonderful title for a children's book. . . . How did you know I was ticklish?"

He hesitates before he admits, "I didn't. I took a risk and hoped you wouldn't be too offended."

"Thank you for taking a risk. I'm certainly not offended. I'm glad you took the risk. You're a partner in this relationship. You shouldn't have to wait for my permission to do anything. That would take the surprise and spontaneity out of the relationship. And you, my supposedly boring old man, are full of surprises. You also kept your earlier promise and stopped when I asked you to. Thank you again." She kisses him.

After a couple of minutes of cuddling while they both catch their breath, he says, "Thank you for kissing me and letting me be silly."

"Thank you for making me laugh. And before I give into the temptation to keep cuddling and kissing, let's get you into the bath while I fix some dinner."

"Yes, my lady."

As they walk down the hall, with one of his hands on the wall while the other is held by her hand, she asks, "Are you going to need some help getting your bath?"

"I think I can manage. I'll just take it slow and try to think before I move."

"Okay. If you need help, holler. I mean it. I don't want you to get hurt because you're too proud to ask for help."

"Yes, ma'am."

"By the way, I picked up a sweat suit for you which might be more comfortable than jeans for lounging around in the evening. If you don't want it, I can take it back."

"No, that's fine. Sometimes I'll put one on at home during the evening. Thank you."

As they step into the master bedroom, Sharlene suggests, "Before you get into the bath, I'd better look at your surgery site and remove your bandages. Sit on the edge of the bed and take your shirt off. . . . Luckily, you don't have a hairy chest. Even though we shaved your chest before operating, the hairier the chest, the more likely hairs will have grown back. Are you ready?"

"Yes." The bandage makes a slight ripping sound as though the adhesive doesn't want to be released from the skin.

"Ouch."

"Sorry about that. The incisions are healing nicely. When you get out of the bath, pat them dry instead of rub them dry, okay?"

"Okay."

"I think they're healed enough to go without a bandage for now, but I'll try to remember to look at them later. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

He stands up and reaches his hand up to gently caress her face as he says, "I'm not sure, but I think I can manage. Now go, before I take advantage of your generosity."

Since she's puzzled by his statement she asks, "How would you take advantage of my offer to help?"

George answers with a slightly roughened voice, "By dragging you into the tub with me." He turns her by the shoulders and gives her a gentle push towards the door as he 'commands', "Now, go."

"Yes, sir."

She steps out of the room and closes the door gently behind her.

About the writer:

After decades of doing office work from which he escaped to read books and occasionally write something in the evenings or on the weekends, this writer was finally able to retire and move back to the dry heat land of saguaros, Gila monsters, and bark scorpions (while they can be a low maintenance pet, they are not amenable to leash training).

If you liked this story, please tell your friends about it and leave a review. You can also contact this writer at geoff_schultz_01@yahoo.com.

