"Frankie felt tears welling in his eyes. "Helen, it's hard to believe youare so accepting. I think I married the perfect woman."As they ate, they sipped their wine and Frankie listened to Helen talkabout her day. She talked about her patients and the staff she workedwith. There was a pause then Helen put down her wine. "Well, how big was he?"Frankie giggled. He nodded and held out his hands spreading them apart. The two laughed together.In the morning, Frankie slipped out of bed, wrapped a robe around hisnightgown and went downstairs to make a cup of coffee. They had a latenight and Helen didn't have rounds until late. She announced that she wassleeping in after they had finished making love last night.Frankie sometimes felt like his life was a dream. He never quiteunderstood how everything worked out so well in his life. It was almost asif he lived in a novella and someone was deciding his fate. Well, hethought, thanks to whomever was writing the story because he had nocomplaints.He. .)Anyway, that night I'd lapped with a few other dancers while waiting for Sara to appear. Turns out some guy had hired her to put on a long, drawn out pissing-and-masturbation show in the theater's 'shower stage.' Since the customer was determined to choreograph her entire performance down to which fingers to stick up her ass while rubbing her clit at a specified tempo, she hadn't been able to get within arm's length of an orgasm. Accordingly, when I ran into her fresh from the shower show, she was squeaky clean and horny as hell."Dude, you GOTTA eat my pussy -- like NOW!" she said, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me off to the most dimly lit of private rooms. "Are you sure?" I asked, knowing full well that at that point in the Cinema's existence, any instance of what was euphemistically known as 'specials' was grounds for immediate dismissal. As much as I wanted to munch the little whore's linoleum (like her rug, but cleanly shaved), I didn't want to be the catalyst for her.
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