Goodbye Dr. Johnson, Hello Fawn

Fawn fell back on her butt as it telescoped out. They were both, each in their own away, rather amazed as it strectched on and on and finally stabilized, like a great branch of some mighty tree.

"Gunnar," Fawn said very quietly, her whole attention locked on it, "there's something about some of these size freak women. Some of them have what I call the Everest syndrome. You know, they once asked Sir Edmund Hillary why he climbed Everest and he said 'Because it's there.' I think you bring the same kind of irresistible challenge to a lot of highly competitive -- and highly horny! -- female egos out there. They're going to want to jump you because you're so -- you're just so THERE!"

"You know a lot about these size freaks."

"Mmmmm! Gunnar, I have some confessions to make -- I'm a size freak myself! In fact, that's the real reason I got into this field! And -- " She looked awfully queasy and sheepish. " -- I guess I kind of stole your case away from Dr. Cox, I just had to check you out for myself, oh, it was wrong of me, but, but ... DAMN!"

"I'm going to have to get rid of this."

"Let me take pictures of you jacking it off!" Without intending to, Fawn sounded as demanding as any drill sergeant. "Wait!" She tore through his kitchen, then came out with his biggest sandwich bags. "Let me take pictures of you pumping your jizz into this bag!"

"'Jizz' is the technical term, is it?" It was a bit awkward and even downright antisexy, rubbing plastic over it as Fawn watched, but he gave it a go. "You know ... I'm feeling awfully self-conscious like this ... and you look like you have a smoking body ... it would really help me out here if I could ... see it!"

Fawn's jaw hung even lower than before. "I'm a professional ... !"

"But you're also a size queen ... so why don't we let the professional officially leave now ... and what you do on your own time ... is all yours!"

It was exciting, how much her smile matched his deviousness.

"Say Goodbye, Dr. Johnson!" she said.

"Goodbye, Dr. Johnson."

"Wow, she's leaving in a hurry," Fawn joked. "I can hear her going down the stairs ... and now she's out in her car ... and she's driving off down the street ... far away."

So saying, she switched on his stereo. As luck would have it, Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" came on -- old, but serviceable. Gunnar watched intently as she rocked her pelvis, then reached up to her blouse buttons.