`Terry?' I called neutrally.
`I can't,' she said from inside the bathroom.
`What?'
I said loudly.
She came out fully dressed, her eyes red and the lipstick on her lower lip completely chewed away. Standing stiffly
halfway between the bathroom door and the bed she said: `It's been a mistake. I'm not who you think I am.' `Then who are you?'
`I'm - I'm nobody.'
`Oh no, Terry, you're wonderful, whoever you are.'
`I'm - but I can't go to bed with you.'
`Ah Terry,' I said and started to get out of bed when I saw by her facial expression that she might run. Sitting up, I
said: `Well then, who are you?'
'I'm - I was sent here as part of a - an experiment of the Columbia Medical School.'
`No!' I said; flabbergasted.
`Yes. I'm really just a college girl, a pretty innocent college girl, I guess. I wanted to do the experiment the best I
could, but I can't.'
`My God, Terry, that's incredible, that's wonderful. So was I.'
She looked at me blankly.
`So - were - you - what?'
'I was sent here as part of an investigation into the nature of human sexuality conducted by the Columbia Medical
School. I'm Father Forbes of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.'
She stared at my bulky, nude torso.
`I see,' she said.
`The quirks of fate have sent together two innocents!' I raised my eyes to the ceiling briefly; it responded with a swirl.
`I've got to go,' she answered.
`My child, you can't go. Don't you see there is the hand of God in this. Have you ever given yourself to a man?'
`No, Father, and I must go.'
`My child; you must stay. By everything that is holy you must stay.'
I rose with stately dignity from the bed and with a look of great fatherliness and agape; arms outstretched in welcome,
I approached Miss T.
`No,' she said and held up one arm limply.
I never hesitated, but embraced her fully and fatherly, stroking her hair with one hand and her back with the other.
`My sweet child you are my salvation. Had I sinned with a prostitute I would be forever damned; the woman would
have been acting selfishly and I would have been a cause of her sin. But sexual congress with a Catholic girl giving
herself against her will, and thus unselfishly, is to liberate you from sin and me from corruption.'
She stood stiffly and unyielding in my loose embrace. Then, she began crying.
`I don't believe you're a priest, I want to go home.'
She huddled and sobbed against my upper belly.
`In domine Pater incubus dolorarum; et filia spiritu grandus magnum est. Non solere sanctum raro punctilios insularum, noncuninglingus variorum delictim. Habere est cogitare.'
She looked up at me.
`But why are you here?'
`Manes Patri, manes Patri. For you, my child, that we may come together in a love spiritus delicti et corpus boner.'
`You're so strange,' she said.
`This is a sacred moment. Go, and come.'
When she came out of the bathroom a second time two minutes later she was modestly holding a towel against her belly, but exposing two cheerful, round little pink breasts.
I threw back the covers on her side and she hopped in, a ten year-old child hopping into bed with her teddy bears.
Terry Tracy fulfilled her spiritual duties, my friends, with admirable warmth, poise, obedience and skill: Too much skill. When I had difficulty penetrating her at first, I encouraged her to baptize the uncircumcised child with the sacred water of her mouth and this she proceeded to do so devotedly that it was some several minutes before I recalled my central quest. By that time I was too spiritually primed to exert any pressure without the likelihood of my achieving immediate and complete divine grace. She sympathetically consoled me with her hands and then lowered her sacred mouth over the trembling child, bathing it: she spoke in tongues. I was groaning with total incoherence and indignity as one gets during such emotional services when I felt the Holy Spirit ascending. I tried to withdraw the uncircumcised child from the holy temple and whispered `Stop!' but the angel did not cease her ministrations. The nebulae, the child and I all exploded at once in a divine fusion of feeling: I plunged away in her mouth. After ten or fifteen seconds during which I was completely out of the mere world of mortal men, I returned from my spiritual journey.
Her mouth and hands were still warmly engulfing my penis and balls as if nothing had happened. I lay still for another half-minute and then putting a hand on Terry's hand I said 'Terry.'
She raised her head from me for the first time in three or four minutes, but without even turning to me she swung her behind around much nearer me and said Touch me: Oh please touch me.'
When I put my hands between her legs and began to stroke and poke, she pressed back fiercely. This time I slid a finger inside the appropriate and proper opening. Her mouth was trying to swallow a relatively relaxed and thoroughly baptized member. She rolled over and for the first time made a groan. Of sorts: it sounded distinctly like one of disappointment.
I was feeling depressed, guilty, angry and inadequate, but being the dice man playing the professor-priest- customer I merely rolled away from her and told her that it had been delicious.
She didn't say anything. We lay in silence for ten minutes. I was determined to ram home to victory as soon as I could rally my red army back into the peninsula, but for the time being all I could do was lie there and feel inadequate. I didn't even wonder what she was thinking.
`Can you try again?' she said.
We turned toward each other and fell into a passionate half hate embrace, until she clawed at my shoulder to tell me I was squeezing too tight. After a few minutes of love play I lifted her up on to her hands and knees and invited myself to try to enter from the rear. We placed the dragon's head at the mouth of the cave and tried to encourage him to enter.
It was like pushing a dog down the cellar stairs for a bath. We pressed again. A marvelous thing happened: my dragon suddenly sprung past the outside barrier and plunged in a full three-quarter inch. She screamed and fell forward. I began to apologize, but she got immediately back on her knees and was groping back between her legs: a steering committee. After a few more charges, the dragon had disappeared deep into the cave and seemed to be nuzzling contentedly at her stomach. My big hands manipulating her easily at the waist, I felt the present experience was well worth the wait. It was magnificent. The apartment doorbell rang.
For a moment both of us were so intent on the pleasure of my filling her insides that the noise didn't register. When it
did, she raised her head like a deer smelling a rifle and said: `What's that?'
Stupidly: `The doorbell.'
