Dr. Sherman was usually finished by this time, but for some reason he’d lasted longer than usual. As the television kept moving up and down, now at an even faster pace, the young woman above his naked, sweating and frankly stinking body reassured herself that the good doctor was just about to finish. Dr. Sherman’s bedroom had no clocks, but she was certain she was running out of time. She feared her legs would cramp before Dr. Sherman was finished. She reminded herself that Dr. Sherman had to finish.
Wait, are you holding back for my benefit?
She considered if perhaps she had overestimated Dr. Sherman’s self-knowledge. Was his fear of reality so strong that he could delude himself to such an extent he might actually believe she enjoyed this ordeal?
Do you really think a man like you could ever give me an orgasm? I can barely notice you.
“I’m almost there, babe,” she said in a shaky voice.
She grabbed his hairy legs, and started to move her neck back and forth, as she picked up the pace.
“You can do it. I’m almost there,” she said, moaning.
She thought about all the money and how she would spoil herself when this was finally over. The adrenaline added to the excitement of her upcoming reward.
I’m almost there. It’s not far to the finish line.
“I’m almost there. Don’t give in, babe,” she said, and kept moaning.
Then she clawed her nails into his kneecaps and shook her legs as if she were spasming. She twisted her toes apart with her feet on his stomach, and then she made a loud gasping sound, followed by an even louder moan. She exhaled, pulling in her abdominal muscles and brushed her hair behind her ears.
Dr. Sherman was, apparently, finished.
“Thanks, babe,” she said. “I needed that.”
“My pleasure,” the good doctor responded in a tone of satisfaction.
She took a deep breath, and as she climbed off him, she created a strong but silent internal cough. Dr. Sherman’s moaning confirmed her strategy had been successful.
“Sorry about that,” she said, and tried her best to look sweet and innocent. “Don’t move, or you’ll get it all over the carpet. Just stay still. I’ll get you a towel.”
While she walked across the bedroom, she made sure to have her hand between her thighs, to emphasize to Dr. Sherman what was at stake. While he watched her leave the room, she felt certain the good doctor was calculating the cost of removing semen from his expensive wall-to-wall carpet. As she ran toward the bathroom, she peered into the hallway and made sure her purse was still on the console table—she noticed the envelope.
She turned the water on at the sink in the bathroom, and then quickly ran into the hallway. As anticipated, the purse snaps were so tight she had difficulty opening them, but that was also the reason she’d chosen this particular purse. A purse with a zipper would be easier to open, but it might encourage Dr. Sherman to leave the envelope inside her purse, as he’d done on a previous occasion. She’d hidden the card in one of the sleeves of the thick sweater she’d folded tightly and placed in the bottom of her purse.
Now, she gently opened the sliding door to the hallway closet, trying to make as little sound as possible, and then she placed the card between a pair of his shoes. That way, it could appear as if the card had fallen out of his jacket, and even if he’d already discovered that his card was missing, he might well have failed to see the card between his shoes. Of course, Dr. Sherman probably hadn’t noticed his card was missing. She knew he didn’t use it every day, and the card had been missing for less than twenty-four hours. But the further she analyzed the situation, the less she cared.
I only took a small amount. He’ll never notice, and even if he did, what’s he going to do about it? Call the cops? I don’t think so.
She had obviously overestimated Dr. Sherman’s intelligence. He’d almost caught her when she took the card from his jacket last night, but the good doctor was dumb enough to believe she only wanted to smell his jacket.
She took a couple of towels from the bathroom linen closet and moistened one towel in lukewarm water, before she returned to the bedroom. As instructed, Dr. Sherman was still lying in his bed covered in his own semen.
“Took you long enough.”
“What?” she responded and pretended to be surprised by the remark.
“I said, it took you long enough.” A look of annoyance stared directly at her.
“I was waiting for the water to get warm,” she said with a sad expression, and then held up the moistened towel for him to see.
“Oh, yeah…” Dr. Sherman’s look of displeasure quickly turned to a micro-expression of guilt.
She wiped away most of the semen with the dry towel, and then used the moistened towel and gently caressed his lower body, making sure his navel was free from all the nasty liquid. She noticed him staring at her breasts.
“See. No harm done. Nice and clean,” she said.
Dr. Sherman looked suspiciously at his stomach.
“Nice job, lady.”
“That’s what I do.”
She winked at him, but he didn’t notice, because he was staring at her breasts again. Suddenly, she felt a chill running down her spine, as she realized Dr. Sherman could get another erection just by staring at her.
“I gotta run, babe,” she said. “I got a taxi waiting.”
She could feel him staring at her as she bent over to pick up her garments which he’d so randomly spread across the bedroom floor. She went into the hallway and quickly put her clothes on. She didn’t bother to put on her socks or underwear, instead placing them in her purse, before putting on her thick sweater.
Suddenly, Dr. Sherman’s disgusting naked body emerged into the hallway, and as he came toward her, his sweaty feet left footprints across the marble tile floor.
“You look hot.”
“Thanks,” she said, and smiled wide.
Dr. Sherman started to laugh in his distinctive way. His laughter sounded more like a silenced sneeze than a laugh, a never-ending series of muted sneezes and gasping chuckles. She couldn’t stand his laughter, which was probably the worst of all his disgusting characteristics.
You sound like a pig gasping for air.
“I always look hot,” she added.
“I was just about to say that,” the doctor claimed. “You stole my line.”
“Snooze, you lose.”
“But I wasn’t fast on the trigger either, was I?”
“You were amazing, babe,” she said as she looked him in the eyes and smiled. “You rocked my world.”
She bent over to pick up her shoes. As she put on her second shoe, she lost her balance, causing her head to eventually collide with the closet door.
“You’re all right?”
“Yeah, I’m all right,” she moaned.
She felt a small lump on her forehead. “I’m not used to wearing low heels. And my knees are still shaking from the orgasm you gave me. So, it’s really your fault.”
Still on her knees, she turned her head around and stared directly into his naked crotch, as he seemingly had come to help her up. His distinctive laughter caused his genitals and his oversized stomach to shake right in front of her.
Can you even begin to comprehend how repulsive you are?
Can’t you see the mirror beside you?
“Is that for me?” she asked, as she stood up and then reached for the envelope, and got some distance between herself and Dr. Sherman, who answered her question with a single nod. She put the envelope in her purse without any hesitation.
“Can you help me with the taxi, babe?”
The little twitch across Dr. Sherman’s face revealed that he was slightly insulted. He knew she had an envelope with cash, and that she could easily pay for the taxi herself. But after some hesitation, Dr. Sherman went to the closet and fished out a crumbled hundred-dollar bill from his jacket. He gently grabbed her left hand, placed the bill in her palm, and closed it.