A Gift in Disguise

Who in his right mind calls me on the phone at 7 a.m. on Sunday unless it's an emergency?

"Hello." My greeting to whomever was calling was not exactly warm and fuzzy, but neither was it in-your-face hostile. After all, it could have been my mother.

"Tom, hi. It's Kim. I'm at the airport. Did I wake you up?"

I wanted to sound more civilized. Really, I did, but it was still 7 a.m.

"Hi, Kim. No, I had to get up to answer the phone anyway."

"I'm truly sorry," she said, but I could swear she snorted while stifling a laugh. "I left a message for you last night on your home phone. Did you get it?"

"I did, thanks. And I'm sorry for being so grumpy this early. I got in a little later than planned last night."

"Hot date, I hope." she said with remarkable enthusiasm.

I didn't want to lie to Kim, but I didn't want to tell her the complete truth either.

"Not exactly. A friend of my mom's has been at the University Hospital with her husband since yesterday morning. He was in an auto accident a few days ago. They had taken him to Community Hospital with a broken leg and internal injuries. The doctors at home were okay with how his leg was doing, but he wasn't progressing as well as they hoped with some of the internal injuries. He was flown by medical helicopter to University yesterday. I met her for dinner last night to help lift her spirits."

"Oh, they probably brought him to the LOIRE Center."

"Yeah, I think that's what she called it. I guess you're familiar with it."

"Oh, yes. That's the Latent Organic Injury Research and Education Center at University. I'm a participating physician on neuro-cardio cases. It's a cooperative effort with all the rural community hospitals and clinics in the tri-state region. LOIRE promotes telemedicine and medical airlifting to make advanced diagnostics available to patients of rural doctors. Patients are sent here if their internal injuries are difficult to diagnose or if they seem non-responsive to treatment. Her husband is in good hands."

"I'm impressed," I said. "But you didn't call to talk about the ailments of the folks from back home."

"No, like I said on the voicemail, there's a heavy-duty cardiology conference starting up tomorrow in Boston. It's about forty of the most specialized cardiologists from around the nation getting together to discuss innovative techniques and technology. Normally I would not have made the far end of the alphabet list, let alone the 'A' list, but one of their Monday speakers had to cancel at the last second. Apparently they'd heard or read about the surgery my team did here using microelectric current fusion, so the host called Klein and asked specifically if I could come talk about what we had done. Klein encouraged me to go.

I'll fly out today and give my talk tomorrow. Because of the short notice, they've invited me to stay Tuesday and Wednesday to participate in the conference — at no expense to the University or hospital. I'll fly back here Thursday. The conference is comp'ing the conference costs and picking up all my travel and lodging expenses since they dropped this on us at the last minute."

"Sounds like you're getting a well-deserved good reputation. That's really neat. Kind of a bummer, though, not giving you much time to prepare a talk and all."

"Well, it'll be the same talk and PowerPoint presentation I've been giving to the local medical community. I just haven't made time to write it up and submit it to the appropriate medical journals for consideration yet.

By the way, Tom, I had a heart-to-heart talk with Klein last week about our project, yours and mine. I wanted to make sure he and Keller didn't over-hype it before we've really begun the research. Please don't be offended at how this sounds, but I reminded Klein that you hadn't even received your master's degree yet. At this stage of your education and early career, it would be awfully unfair and maybe even damaging to put too much institutional pressure on you to produce. To his credit, Klein readily agreed. He's going to talk with Keller about it, too.

Speaking of your master's, have you heard anything from Marta and Jamie on their review of your draft thesis?"

"No, not exactly. Jamie is looking at it this weekend for technical content accuracy and clarity. I'll probably give her a call tonight.

Marta called, and I'm scheduled to meet with her on Tuesday to go over the findings of her computerized plagiarism review.

I really hope neither of them suggest too many changes. I'd like to drop the draft off at Keller's office Friday."

"Well, from what Jamie has said and I've seen of your work, I'd be very surprised if there was much more than a few i's to be dotted and t's to be crossed. But just roll with it, whatever they find. It'll be a good learning experience for your future writings.

On a more pleasant note, I'm taking my toy with me to Boston. I've got to have something to do for four nights in my hotel room all alone. And in case you're concerned, I've put it in my checked luggage. I don't want those creepy airport security people seeing it on x-ray and then taking it out for closer personal inspection by everyone at the security checkpoint."

"Have a safe flight, Kim. I hope your talk goes well. Have fun with your new toy. Jamie and I are eager to hear what you and Lorraine think of them. You do know that Jamie is already working on making coloration and temperature improvements for the next version, right?"

"Yes, she told me. She also told me how much she appreciated your input into making it better. She has more respect for you than you may know. Now, I've really gotta go get on the plane."

After Kim and I finished our conversation, I got dressed and walked to the corner store to get the Sunday paper. I had a leisurely brunch while reading the paper.

About 11 a.m. my phone rang. It was Sharon Madison.

"Good morning, Tom," she said very brightly. "Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Good morning, Sharon. Sure, I'm just sitting here reading the paper and sipping orange juice. Alone." I threw in the "alone" to reassure her I could speak freely.

Taking my cue, she responded, "I'm still at the apartment, also alone. I see when you left yesterday you found the envelope I left for you. Have you loaded it up to your computer yet?"

"No, I was beat when I got home last night. I swear your sexual stamina and energy have increased since the first time we. . ."

"oh, it has!" she interrupted. "My body is still tingling this morning, thanks to you. I'm sleeping better, too. It's like I'm back in my late 20's or early 30's again.

I hope you'll find time to load up the teleconferencing software today. I'll call you from home tonight about 7 if that's okay to make sure you didn't hit any snags."

"No, I'll be alone and have it loaded and hopefully working by then. But Sharon, you said you'll call me from home? Does that mean Leonard will be going home today, too?"

"Yes and no. We got some very good news this morning. The results from Leonard's tests came back. All he's going to need for the internal injuries is bed rest and some relatively benign medication. The medical helicopter will take him back to Community Hospital today. They'll watch him overnight, and if all goes well, tomorrow he'll be discharged to go to the Petersen Rehab. They plan to keep him there for awhile to get the bed rest and observation he needs for the internal injuries and to get him on a physical therapy regimen for his broken leg.

That means I'm going to be all alone for several nights. Unless a certain hunky young man with a magic cock gets some software loaded into his computer so he can at least give me some virtual company."

"Too bad it's only virtual company," I replied.

"Don't be too hasty in that, Tom," she answered rather enticingly. "If you have a decent sound system hooked up to your computer, the effect can be rather remarkable."

"But I live in an apartment, so ..."

"Stereo headphones with a lip mic, Tom. I shouldn't have to tell that to an electrical engineer!

Then again, it might be entertaining for your next door neighbors to hear something other than the sound of quiet studying coming from your place. And the long, low roar you make when you cum inside me has certain very exciting qualities to it.

Well, I've got to head over to the hospital to get Leonard ready to be discharged to Petersen tomorrow. We'll talk tonight though?"

"Count on it!" I responded.

"Oh, I am, but don't get your hopes up for anything more tonight than making sure the software works. After last night and today, I doubt that I'll have the energy for much of anything other than a good night's sleep." Then she disconnected.

Since the draft of my thesis had been completed — at least until after Jamie's and Marta's proofreads — I found myself with a couple hours free time.

I usually avoid the University pool on Sundays. It is always too crowded with families for serious swimmers to do laps effectively. But I decided today that getting in an extra workout would be a good use of my time even if I couldn't go at my usual pace.

The pool was crowded, though not as much as I expected. I did manage to get in a few more-or-less complete laps, then just do some leisurely short sprints as space permitted. Though I wasn't as exhilarated as with my usual Tuesday and Thursday workouts, I was refreshed. Any workout is a good workout.

I climbed out of the pool and was walking toward the dressing room to shower and change. I wasn't really paying much attention to anything else.

"Tom!" I heard a woman's voice call out. I looked around, not sure where the voice had originated nor recognizing it, either. "Tom! Over here!"

I looked toward the sound's source and saw a young woman waving to me. When you're not expecting to see someone you know and don't associate her with a particular place, your mind sometimes doesn't quickly register recognition. Finally, it clicked.

"Bethany! Hello. I didn't expect to see you here."

Bethany managed the restaurant Sharon and I had eaten at the night before. Bethany is also the receptionist/screener at Harper, the members and guests only sex club about 90 miles away.

According to Sharon, Bethany is 35, but with her petite, tight body in the sleek one-piece swimsuit she was wearing, she didn't look to be more than 25 or 26. She no doubt noticed how I was eyeing her when I walked closer to talk with her. At the same time, neither did it escape my notice that she was similarly paying very close attention to my tight and unintentionally but unavoidably revealing competition trunks.

"Nor I you. I have a workout class on Sunday, and after that I usually come over here to swim and relax. It helps soothe the workout bumps and bruises. I haven't seen you here before, though. Are you usually here on Sunday?"

"No, hardly ever. I usually only come here on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons when it's quiet and not so crowded."

"I've finished my swim, Tom. If you're finished, can I buy you a cup of coffee or a soft drink over at the SUB?"

"That would be nice. Let me go shower off and get dressed, and I'll meet you out in front of the pool's main entrance. It'll probably be about fifteen minutes. Okay?"

"Perfect!" she said with a bright smile as she turned and walked toward the women's dressing room. I watched her walk away. Given the stirring I was feeling inside my swim trunks, I decided it would be very wise for me to make a beeline for the men's dressing room. Even though she was a foot shorter then me, her taut, slender body in that swimsuit was causing my imagination to run erotically wild. At that moment I was wishing I had a towel for cover.

After showering and dressing I walked from the dressing room through the hallway toward the front door. Bethany was already there.

The student union building was less than a block away. We just made small talk about the new construction on campus and the weather while we walked. She was as easy to talk with as she was to look at.

The SUB is on a hill overlooking the soccer fields. We both ordered lemonade, then sat at a table near the window. Being Sunday, there were several informal soccer games going on.

Bethany and I talked for the next hour or so. Nothing serious, mostly the kind of getting-to-know-you stuff people exchange on a first date which I suppose this technically had become. I was pleased, and I hoped she was too, about how easily we could talk about a lot of things without any mention of her restaurant or the Harper club or even Sharon. It seemed as if she could converse easily on almost any subject. We were getting along quite well, I thought.

Her cellphone made some sound that got her attention. She looked at the screen and had a somewhat surprised look.

"Four o'clock already? It seems like we just got here. I'm sorry, but I've got to go home and get ready for work. I wish we had more time."

"Bethany, I'd like to see you again — apart from your work, that is. Could I call you and see if we could work something out, maybe go to a play or something?"

"I'd like that very much, Tom," she said with her smile brightening the entire room. "I've got kind of a tough schedule evenings and weekends, but I'm absolutely certain we can arrange something."

She wrote down her telephone number on one of her business cards and handed it to me.

"That's my private cellphone number, Tom. Usually the best time to reach me is during the day, early afternoon between one and three is best."

She walked closer to hand me the card. As she did, she stood on tiptoe, put her hand on the back of my neck, and pulled my head down gently to give me a light peck on the cheek. Then she left to go to her car.

Unexpectedly seeing Bethany and being able to spend a little informal time getting to know her better definitely put some spring in my step during the walk back to my apartment.

I got home about 4:30, tossed a load of laundry in the washer, and sat down to load Sharon's software into my computer. It loaded up quickly and without a hitch.

Sharon said she would call after 7 p.m., so I decided to call Jamie and see how she was coming on her content review of my thesis.

"You must be a mind-reader, Tom," she said after we exchanged greetings. "I was just about to call you. I've gone over your thesis."

"And ...?" I asked.

"I'm very impressed, and I'm sure your thesis committee will be, too.

To tell you the truth, Tom, now I wish I had read it before sending a copy to Marta. I've read enough of your writing to know this is yours, not someone else's disguised. Not that I really expected anything else."

"So you think my committee will approve it?"

"You'll have to give me CPR if they don't!" she responded. "There are a couple of insignificant mistakes that grad students commonly make, Tom. Actually, I was almost happy to see them, because they are the kind of mistakes a thesis committee would expect from any graduate student who had done his own work. In an odd way, they help authenticate your thesis.

But above and beyond those, it is exceptionally well-researched and well-written. Because the nanotech research is so contemporary and has not been heavily published, your conclusions are especially on point. Your thesis was written very clearly. Your committee will have no trouble understanding it even if their own knowledge of the material is relatively limited. In other words, Tom, they should feel very comfortable that they understand your material. That will make it easy for them to seem more knowledgeable than they probably really are themselves.

I seriously doubt your defense should take longer than about 45 minutes, Tom. But after reading it, I'd be surprised if your chairman and the committee doesn't waive the defense entirely.

From what Kim has told me, Klein and Keller are already looking beyond your master's. They're salivating to see what your and Kim's research produce."

"Jamie, I really appreciate your taking the time to review it for me. I owe you big time."

Her voice softened.

"You do, and I intend to collect a lot more than a quick dinner at the Burger Barn. But I'm going to have to take a rain check on collecting. Between my new DoD project and the prosthetic phallus rebuild, next week is pretty much wiped out. I want to get the next version phalluses to Lorraine and Kim as soon as possible."

"Have you talked with Kim lately?" I asked.

"Yes. In fact I think she's headed to Boston for a conference. She plans to come back Thursday. That will give me a little time. I'll work on Lorraine's first. Once I've got it where we want it, I'll start on Kim's."

"Do you need any help with the phallus?" I asked.

"You just focus on getting that thesis turned in by Friday, mister. Leave the other stuff up to me."

"By the way, I'm meeting with Marta on Tuesday. She'll go over the plagiarism review with me."

"Like I said, Tom, she isn't going to find anything. I recognize your writing. Grad student plagiarism often sticks out like a sore thumb. You were linguistically and structurally consistent all the way through. The flow of your content was also consistent.

I'm going to call it a night now. Between the projects and your thesis, it's been a long, long week."

Once again I profusely thanked Jamie for all her help, then disconnected.

Shortly after 7 p.m. my cell phone rang. It was Sharon. After hearing I had apparently successfully installed her teleconferencing software on my computer and that I had the camera and mic properly positioned on the computer, she walked me through making the online connection with her.

I was amazed at the picture and audio quality.

We talked about her husband's move back to Community Hospital and her drive home. Clearly the day had taken its toll on her energy. She looked and sounded tired, and she was definitely not dressed provocatively.

When I mentioned unexpectedly seeing Bethany at the University pool and having lemonade with her later at the SUB, Sharon she instantly and visibly perked up. She sounded and looked genuinely pleased to hear that Bethany and I had talked so comfortably together. And when I told Sharon that I planned on calling Bethany to see if we could arrange a real date, Sharon went into her matchmaker mode again.

"Tom, I've got the perfect date for you!" She sounded genuinely excited. "My real estate company is a generous supporter of the University symphony orchestra. It's really excellent. Anyway, because of that, Leonard and I have season tickets to the concerts. The season's opening concert will be in three weeks. Leonard won't be ready to travel yet, so I'll give our tickets to you so you can take Bethany. With three weeks' notice, she should have plenty of time to adjust her work schedule."

"That's very generous of you, Sharon, but I don't know if Bethany likes that kind of music. Besides, she might turn me down."

"Turn you down? Ha! You've got to me kidding me. She will move heaven and earth to spend more time with you. Remember, she and I talk quite a bit, so I know whereof I speak.

She loves the symphony, but because of work she rarely has the opportunity to attend, and when she does, it's always with people she works with. It will do wonders for her to go out with a handsome and virile young man. It'll be a perfect 'real date'. The season's opener is always a pops concert, so it won't be any heavy duty classical stuff.

The good news for you is that going to the symphony gives her an opportunity to get really dressed up, not just the usual nice business attire she wears at work. Wait until you see her looking the way she does when she really wants to impress someone. And Tom, take my word for it — she really wants to impress you. You better hang on tight to her. She is petite, but when she's dolled up, every man that can still get a woody will be wanting to take her away from you.