Birthday Valentine

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Well here it was almost Valentine’s Day…again. Jerome didn’t have a date…again. His girlfriend Linda had broken up with him…again and always around the end of January. So why did he keep rekindling their obviously disastrous relationship? She was hot and the sex was magnificent, that’s why. She’d dump him in late January, be totally cold to him until about April when she would start to warm up, then by July, things were hot again. She was as regular as the calendar! By October Jerome could feel her getting a bit chilly. Oh, occasionally there would be a hot night, but the next day, she wouldn’t call him. They’d keep dating, movies, dinner but Linda would leave him falling flat on his face, well, until she was bored and wanted to go out. In December she would light up and Jerome would feel there might be hope after all; their relationship might have a new birth! Then, the New Year would start the cold trend until…

Jerome was frustrated. Some said he was stupid to keep going back with her when there were so many other women out there. He was also told, over and over again, a woman does not have to qualify as a centerfold girl to be beautiful. Linda could easily get some nude modeling jobs, she was damn near ‘perfect’, but the definition of ‘perfect’ is never the exact same to two people. Jerome liked what he had even though it meant another lonely Valentine’s Day.

On his way to work one day, February 3, he realized it had been exactly one week since Linda snowed on his life, another blizzard. He was in a jovial mood none-the-less since, again, as predictable as the seasons so he KNEW it was coming (even if he always had that Christmas hope…every freaking year.). He walked into his OB/GYN office and was greeted by Ms. Larch, the receptionist. Ms. Larch was 57, exactly 10 years older than Jerome to the day. Both had been born on February 14th and oddly enough, they discovered that their mothers had grown up together. This was after he had hired her. Jerome was the youngest of 4 kids, Ms. Larch the oldest of 11. Ms. Larch’s parents died of exhaustion. Mom at 68, Dad at 70. Thankfully Ms. Larch was old enough (46) to help look after the youngest who had just turned 18.

Ms. Larch only had 2 kids and vowed never to have more, come hell or high water and made sure of this by having her husband get snipped and she had her tubes tied. Sadly, her LATE husband saw being snipped as a golden opportunity to screw around without fear of pregnancy. He had a heart attack at age 45 in the midst of coitus with a stripper. Ms. Larch didn’t really miss him. Well, sometimes she did.

Doctor Jerome Finkleman had a very thriving practice. He enjoyed the work and many of his friends would kid him about getting all that pussy, which he didn’t ‘get’, just examined, but all those vaginas certainly made him appreciate them, not just for the pleasure they could bring, but just what they could do. He found them simply fascinating and had since he was a kid and saw his first one accidentally when one of his sister’s friends was changing to go in their pool. He never forgot that. The vagina became a mystery to him and a mystery he swore he’d solve. It’s what steered him into that particular field when he got to medical school.

Jerome had his first appointment of the day. It was a woman of 23 who he knew worked as a stripper in the only club in the area. Jerome rarely visited those places but always felt it was nice to see “fresh vagina” in a non-clinical setting now and then, just to remind him there was more to them than simply anatomical parts of the female of the species.

When Saundre showed up, Ms. Larch was a bit chilly towards her, told her to wait and the doctor would be with her soon.

“Is there time to use the little girl’s room?” asked Saundre.

“Go ahead, I don’t care. It’s over there.” Ms. Larch replied, very coolly and motioned towards the corridor to the right of the reception desk.

Saundre did use the bathroom and exited just as Jerome came looking for her. He brought her into an exam room and very politely asked her to undress from the waist down and he would be back, but first the nurse would be in to take her vitals. After the preliminary work was done Jerome reentered and began the exam. Saundre asked Dr. Finkleman if there was some reason the receptionist didn’t like her and why was she so rude every time she had an appointment. Jerome, knowing the whole story with the last Mr. Larch’s demise felt it really wasn’t Saundre’s business but, not being able to say THAT, he simply said, “I’m not really sure. To be honest, I think you may remind her of someone she knew as a kid, but really, she’s normally very sweet. I’ll talk to her.”

Saundre was on the “B” team at the strip club. At thirty five, she still looked fantastic, but at 35, she was no longer “A” team material in the eyes of club owners. But, since she had worked at Le Club du Nude (a really horrible name) for about 12 years and was essentially the matron of the girls, the owner Kurtköy Escort kept her around. Truth was, Saundre was also a writer and had actually had several mystery novels under the name “Elizabeth LeClerk” published. She just loved the thrill of teasing guys at the club and she liked the pocket change it brought her; $800/week. When she talked about it, she’d say, “Not bad for an old dame working part time, eh?” As good as she looked, it was her charm that made her most of the money, and plus the days shifts often brought the older guys who liked to avoid the younger, cruder guys and who preferred the more mature ladies. Thirty five was considered mature, forty, old. No one over forty worked there.

Jerome did all the usual examination routines and assured Saundre that she was as healthy as ever and there were no concerns. He asked if she had any and Saundre simply said, “Doctor, my vag is my money maker, ok, well these too,” she said cupping her quite lovely, though fully covered breasts, “and I am always concerned about my vag.”

“That’s the start of the path of good vaginal health. Ok, I’ll let you get dressed now. Did you want to make your next appointment now or wait?”

“I’ll wait. I don’t think I want to talk to that woman again just now.” Meaning Ms. Larch.

Jerome said he understood and reiterated he would speak to her.

When Saundre left and the waiting area was clear, Jerome sat down with Ms. Larch. “So, Ms. Larch, you are a lovely and pleasant person. Everyone comments on how friendly you are.” Ms. Larch just nodded, smiling a bit. “I was wondering if you could be that pleasant to ALL of our patients.”

Ms. Larch thought for a moment and then asked, “Aren’t I?”

Jerome very politely pointed out to the lack of pleasantness she always seemed to show Saundre, telling her he could understand why she might hold any resentment but making it clear that Saundre was not the girl who, as Ms. Larch would put it, ‘killed’ her husband. “She’s a nice kid; cut her a break, will you?”

Ms. Larch squirreled up her face in thought. After a few seconds she said, “I will try. I know, SHE didn’t kill my husband, but Doctor, she’s 35, she should be doing something besides stripping and killing husbands.”

“That wasn’t her. I don’t think Saundre killed anyone. Well, she’s killed a few off in her books, but…”

“What books?” Shot back Ms. Larch in obvious surprise.

Jerome knew Saundre’s secret (Saundre’s ACTUAL name was Marybeth Stanford and it was all over her insurance forms, but everyone was so used to calling her Saundre…) and had promised not to blab. He immediately wanted to scamper off and hide but before he could, Ms. Larch grabbed his hand, “She WRITES? Writes what? Mysteries? I LOVE mysteries. You can’t be serious. Strippers are not that bright. What’s she written? If she’s killed people in her books, she must write mysteries.” And then Ms. Larch’s mind went back to the reason for her initial dislike of Saundre and added, “or ‘How To’ books.”

Jerome just rolled his eyes. “Ms. Larch, strippers are people. Not all are smart but far from all are stupid. What I mean is, it’s like any other profession, you have smart, you have dumb, you…hell, I’ve met some doctors that could barely tie their own shoes. Didn’t make them bad doctors per se, but, what I mean is…” He was rambling and he knew it.

“Be nice to Saundre, would you please?” and he got up to leave.

“But Doctor Finkleman, what does she write?”

“Children’s books.” And he went back into his office and closed the door.

The next day was February 7 and Jerome had only three appointments, 9 a.m., 1 p.m. and 4 p.m., lovely way to totally screw up a day with them so spaced out. Between the appointments he got caught up on paper work and at eleven o’clock he decided it would be his treat for lunch. He ordered Chinese for Ms. Larch, Mrs. Lincoln (the part-time retiree who helped keep the files in order), Julie and Shannon the RNs who worked for him, and of course himself. “No special occasion, just, well, shouldn’t I treat you guys now and then? You keep this office working.”

As he was leaving for the evening, Ms. Larch stopped Jerome and said that Saundre had called and wanted an appointment. Ms. Larch ‘very politely’ informed her that they were closing for the day but she could fit her in tomorrow at 3. “Would that work for you?” she had asked. So, Jerome would see Saundre twice in as many weeks and Ms. Larch did assure him she was as ‘sweet as candy’. Then she asked again what Saundre wrote. Jerome thanked her, said he’d see her tomorrow and complimented on her politeness then, brushing off the question, hurried out the door.

As three o’clock approached, Jerome made a point of secretly hiding near the reception area to monitor Ms. Larch’s behavior towards Saundre. Saundre came in and he watched as Ms. Larch looked up, studied the arrival and stood. “Well, WELCOME. How are we today? Glad you got her a little early. Kurtköy Escort Bayan Doctor Finkleman is free since the last patient left about fifteen minutes ago. Please, have a seat and I’ll just let him know you’re here.”

Saundre was torn between elation and suspicion. To herself she thought, “I wanted her more polite, but this is ridiculous. She’s phony-ing it up for me. I just know it. What the hell is with this woman?” But Saundre just nodded and smiled and sat down.

Jerome came out and brought Saundre into an exam room and asked what was going on that she needed another appointment so soon. Saundre explained that the afternoon before she had placed a small sheepskin blanket on the stage intent on rubbing herself into it. However, she accidently stepped on it instead of OVER it and it slid causing her to slam her vagina onto the floor. “I finished the set, but it wasn’t fun, believe me. I just want to see if there’s any damage.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the emergency room?”

“Doctor, this is not something that I like to talk about with just anyone, you do understand, right? First off, it’s kind of an intimate problem and secondly, it would be like you screwing up a birth. You would just prefer to discuss mistakes in your profession with as few people as possible. Do you get my meaning?”

“Yes, I guess I do,” replied Jerome and he proceeded with the exam. Finding no real issues and since Saundre wasn’t in any pain anymore (she had iced herself when she got home) he cleared her and sent her on her way.

Saundre didn’t get out of the office when Ms. Larch said, “So, you write? What do you write? I’m a big reader.”

“Oh, uh,” Saundre was taken aback. This was not something she liked spread around. She had used and old picture with a bit of a disguise for all the dust jackets and this woman didn’t even know what she wrote, so…. “Oh Doctor, you told.” Saundre thought to herself and then out loud to Ms. Larch, “I write poems. They’re not very good but I’ve had a couple published in Europe. Gotta go, thank you.” And she scurried off.

February 9th was a peaceful Sunday. Ms. Larch went to Services as always and said a prayer that her late husband was burning in Hell, then said another asking for forgiveness for the first prayer. Being single and feeling like her husband had abandoned her in the worst possible way only made the upcoming Valentine’s Day seem a tougher thing to face, especially since it was her birthday. Some years she looked back and smiled, some years she looked ahead and smiled. She had dated several times since her husband’s death, but only one time had anything come close to serious. She loved her kids, the oldest, Steven was in the Air Force, a Captain stationed in Alaska and her younger son, Philip was a successful and well respected clerk at the grocery store on the west side of town. He lived comfortably with Ms. Larch and generously paid the electric bill. At 31, she knew he was destined for great things…or potentially skid row once she died and he would have to provide entirely for himself.

Ms. Larch, none-the-less, enjoyed her life. She participated in plenty of activities with friends, and an occasional date with some guy from either her church group or the local senior center. She even got ‘nookie’ now and then, but nothing to write home about. As she drove home from church she saw Jerome walking along the side of the road. She pulled over and asked if he needed a ride.

“No, I’m good. My car broke down yesterday at Temple and I’ve decided that walking will do me some good.”

“Don’t be a fool, its 25 degrees out. Get in this car!” she ordered with such forcefulness, Jerome was in the car before she finished the sentence saying, “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” As she drove him home, he had to remind her of what turns to take, they talked about their upcoming holiday.

“You know, I’m not doing anything. You’re not doing anything. Why don’t we go out to dinner, my treat,” suggested Jerome.

“You know something that might be a nice thing. Sure!” said Ms. Larch, “But you HAVE to call me Shirley.”

“Shirley I will,” said Jerome as they approached his house. “And you will call me Jerome. I should have my car…I had BETTER have my car back by then, so I will drive. See you tomorrow at work?”

“How do you intend to get there?” asked Ms. Larch, knowing that this stubborn son of a gun would walk.

“I’ll make do.” Came the vague answer indicating he either didn’t know or would walk.

“I’ll be here at 8 on the nose, or there abouts.”

He agreed and it was settled.

The big day finally arrived. Ms. Larch had truly begun to look forward to their evening out. She always liked Doctor Finkleman . He had a nice manner to him and he was kind of cute, but then again, he was just a kid; and her boss, so Ms. Larch put any romantic notions right out of her head. She had forgotten all about Saundre and what she wrote. It was no longer one of her beloved Escort Kurtköy mysteries, just a forgotten item on her long list of the passé. Julie and Shannon had overheard Jerome and Ms. Larch talking and thought it was sweet they were going on a date and not a bad idea.

“Maybe you two can hook up and both get some much needed loving!” Julie had suggested to Ms. Larch who only laughed at the thought saying, “We have a PROFESSIONAL relationship, a friendship and we share a birthday. That’s all, you silly girl.” And she had meant it.

By 5:15 every patient had been seen, everything had been filed, Julie and Shannon left with a wink and a wave to Ms. Larch and it was time to head for dinner at Den Store Fisk (The Big Fish) a local Norwegian restaurant. It was something ‘different’ that neither had tried before. They sat and talked and ate various Norwegian cuisines, starting with fiskesuppe and just spiraling onward into various delicacies.

They indulged in some Norwegian vodka as well, Ms. La….SHIRLEY indulging just a tad more, but she could hold her own and was actually holding up better than Jerome.

Shirley, in the midst of conversation suddenly remembered the little mystery she had been trying to solve last week. She saw Jerome just a tad tipsy and thought to herself, “Why not ask him NOW while his defenses are down a bit.” Then she slowly steered the conversation in the direction of Saundre. As she loosened Jerome up, she proposed a toast to their birthdays. “Here’s to two wonderful people who share a wonderful birthday. Though we’re both alone on this very special day, we are NOT alone as we have each other!”

Jerome, now on his third, toasted right with her. Shirley was on her fourth and not even feeling it. “Tough old broad” she thought to herself.

They sipped at the very smooth drink and Shirley said, “So, I’ve been thinking, you really make a good point about Saundre. She seems like a nice kid and she’s always nice to me. I’m really going to clean up my act and without sarcasm. I’m not going to be bitchy again with her. You said she writes, right?”

“Yup, I did,” answered Jerome. Things were just a little fuzzy but not bad. He was usually a wine drinker so this vodka, which was SOOOOO smooth was slightly (hic) more than he was used to. “She’s pretty good too. I’ve read a couple of her books.”

“Really. I love to read, maybe you could recommend one.”

“Well, ever read ‘Killed by No One’? That’s Saundre. She’s pretty damn good at those mysteries.”

Shirley almost caused a scene when she exclaimed very loudly, “SHE’S ELIZABETH LE CLERK! NO WAY!” Then she caught herself and in a much quieter voice said, “no way. Come on Jerry…”

“Jerome.”

“Jerome. There is no way in hell she’s Elizabeth Le Clerk. Why the hell is she stripping? That’s…no, no way. You’re feeding me bullshit and telling me its caviar.”

“Nope, it’s true. Twelve books, 4 of them best sellers but all successful.” Then he had the revelation that he was not supposed to tell anyone and his head fell forward. “shit” he muttered.

Shirley was beside herself. She KNEW her favorite author, and she had treated her favorite author like crap. She then let her head fall forward and muttered, “shit.”

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. I cannot be trusted with a secret. I should quit drinking. I am a loser.” Jerome was not pleased with himself.

Shirley reassured him that it really wasn’t his fault, that she had sort of manipulated him. He didn’t feel any better. She decided that she had to make it up to him. “You know something?” Shirley began, “I’m going to do something crazy. Tomorrow, you and I are going right down to that club where Elizabeth LeClerk works and…”

“WHAT?!? No, why? What…why on Earth would you suggest that?” Jerome was suddenly very alert.

“I don’t know for sure. Maybe to ask her why she does it? Maybe because now I’m curious about my favorite author’s private life. Maybe because now I’m curious at how she looks naked. I have no frigging clue! It’s an impulse thing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind but right now, I say we do it.” Shirley was very insistent.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Couldn’t there be ethical questions? And seriously, I don’t want her knowing you know what only I am supposed to know, you know?” He was alert, but his speech was still a bit off. Shirley was in no mood to argue and simply put her foot down, both really and metaphorically, sadly onto Jerome’s instep under the table. He let out a howl which definitely got everyone’s attention. The waiter brought the bill and asked that they pay and leave since between the loud talking and now this, they were becoming a bit of a nuisance.

Shirley brought Jerome home, got him tucked away and then took his car home. Not only did she manage to provide herself some transportation, but now he couldn’t go anywhere until she came to get him in the early afternoon to take him to that club.

After a very good night sleep, Shirley woke up feeling spectacular. She showered and put on some nice business casual clothes (not knowing what attire was proper for a lady in a strip club) and called Jerome. He answered and sounded pretty good. “I wasn’t that drunk so no, I don’t have a hangover.” Was what he claimed.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32