The streets around Dr. Crumholtz's office were a parking lot. Roll forward two feet and stop, over and over. Perhaps an accident, or maybe just the normal rush hour traffic jam. I didn't know for sure, since this wasn't my usual stomping or driving grounds near dinnertime.

I'd just completed my second impersonation of Dr. Fleischmann, the breast enlargement/reduction specialist. The first time had been in his office, with a prospective patient. This time, it was in Dr. Crumholtz's office with Miss Perfect Tits, Case number C-19871114-002, also known as Norma, Inga's best friend. By manipulating Dr. Crumholtz, Norma got precisely what she wanted - me. Okay, I'll admit it. I wasn't disappointed either. Getting my hands on her tits was a dream come true, and fucking her on Dr. Crumholtz's desk? That was unbelievable. And for Dr. Crumholtz to apologize to me afterwards? This would have been a dream, except the exhaust fumes wafting in through the dashboard vents were all too real.

Maybe it was getting stuck next to the sporting goods store with lycra-wearing female mannequins in the window, or the dark-haired young woman who jaywalked right in front of my car and stared at me as she passed by, but the memories of my first opportunity to play doctor as a grown-up came rushing back. It wasn't that long ago, during Annie's senior year when she was on the volleyball team. Annie had no idea she was setting me up.

Annie had attended Samuel Morse High School. The boys' teams were all called The Dashes; the girls' teams The Dots. The phallic and clitoral analogies had long since played out in my mind. It was the last volleyball game of the year for the Morse Dots. It was Annie's last chance to play in a league game, having been a season-long benchwarmer. This game mattered since it was against the league champs, the Bolton Bumpers, an undefeated squad.

Annie came home, all excited. Her teammate Lore had convinced Coach Topinski to let Annie play in their last game.

"You're going to come, aren't you?" Annie pleaded. "Wait. I got you something."

Annie returned to the kitchen with a Morse High jacket. "See, your name is on the front."

Sure enough, in a vertical stack, six groups of dots and dashes spelled my first name. Or maybe my last name. I didn't know the code. "Okay, I'll shift my schedule around -"

Annie jumped at me and threw her arms around my neck. "Thank you, Daddy."

Annie's body was soft and warm. This was before Annie and her girlfriends had tricked me into having sex with her (see "Betty Boop Birthday"). We both ignored the incidental contact of our groins. Well, I mostly ignored it.

On game day, I parked in the school visitor lot and strolled into the gym way early. The teams hadn't assembled on the floor yet. However, two young ladies in opponent's colors were practicing defensive digs. One, a tall blonde, whacked the ball at her teammate, a dark haired beauty, short, with modest chest. They repeated the slamming, with Miss Dark Hair diving or squatting to field every one. I shook my head. With a back-row defender like Miss Dark Hair, the Morse Dots had little chance for a victory.

Noise, perhaps an argument, caught my attention in the opposite corner. Two women, each obviously the coach of their respective teams, were in the middle of a conversation with the referee dressed in the obligatory striped shirt. Annie ran up near them from the locker room entrance, listened briefly, and then charged across the gym floor and up the wood risers to where I sat.

"We're going to forfeit the game," she whined. "Our trainer, Dr. Ruder got called away for some emergency. The game can't go on unless there's a trainer and as home team, it's our turn to provide one."

Annie had spoken well of Dr. Max Ruder. Maxine, actually. Annie had twisted ankles and bruised, well, almost everything, in her attempts to be a committed player. "That's too bad. I wish there was something I could do."

Annie's face brightened. Her grin was wide and troubling. Before I could grab her arm, she was down the steps and across the floor to the three adult women. Annie said something that stopped their conversation, and then she pointed in my direction. They all stared, so I smiled and waved. Their discussion ended with smiles and handshakes all around. Annie's Coach Topinski patted Annie on the head.

Annie came back, not quite as fast as she'd left. "The match is on!" she shouted.

"How come? I thought you had to provide a trainer. Is Dr. Max back?"

Annie struck her shy pose, arms behind her back. This pushed her breasts forward in an unintentionally provocative way. "I told coach that you have experience as a trainer."

"What?" Maybe I'd seen a few naked bodies up close and personal, but trainer?

"No big deal, Daddy. The only thing that happens is pulled muscles or sprains. Just apply alternating cold and hot compresses. Anything more major, call a paramedic. The trainer's office is up there." She pointed to an enclosed loft space one floor up with windows looking down onto the court. "I've got to join the team pre-game. I love you." She hugged me, pressing her chest against my shoulder. "Wish us luck." I got a slobbery kiss that was half mouth, half cheek.

I prayed that the game would proceed with no injuries, that Annie would play well, and that The Dots would win.

The two Bumpers players were still practicing. Annie walked in a curved path, coming close to them. Miss Dark Hair glanced at my daughter, who thumbed her nose at her opponent. The tall blonde whipped her arm. Like a bullet, the ball smacked into the dark-haired girl's stomach with a 'hap.' Miss Dark Hair went down and curled into fetal position. I could hear the moans of pain across the gym.

The Bumpers' coach ran out to her injured player. She looked at Annie, who struck her innocent expression. The Bumpers coach waved me over. What did she want from me? Shit! I'm supposed to be the trainer. I half-jogged over to the coach and two players.

"Well, what are you standing there for?" asked the Bumpers coach. "Help her up."

"Not until I find out what's wrong. It might be improper to move her." I'd heard such things on TV, and I figured they'd be credible even if I wasn't. "What happened?" I asked.

"You saw! That blonde twerp distracted me on purpose." Miss Dark Hair was breathing hard.

"You've just got the wind knocked out of you," I said with authority. "You'll be fine."

"I don't care," said Coach Bumpers. "Take her to your office and make sure that's all that's wrong. If she's okay, get her back before the game starts. I don't want to file a protest, that you disqualified my best player on some trumped up medical diagnosis."

What a bitch! If I wanted The Dots to win before, now I wanted the Bumpers to lose, and lose big.

Her blonde teammate helped her up, she and I on each side of Miss Dark Hair. We got two steps before Coach Bitch was hollering. "Where do you think you're going, Stephanie?" The blonde froze. "The trainer can handle Maggie. You stay here and warm up with the team." From the corner of my eye, I saw both teams at opposite gym entrances prepared to take the field of battle.

The lone human crutch, I wrapped my arm around Maggie. Crossing the gym floor was easy compared to assisting her up the stairs to the training room. My hand, on the far side of her torso, kept slipping up. The result was a series of strokes of my hand along side her breast. Completely unintentional, I told myself. Her hand was on my waist, fingers tucked into my belt.

A single room occupied the space at the top of the stairs. We paused outside to read the sign, "Doctor Max Ruder."

Maggie was still taking deliberate breaths, deep ones. Her breasts rose with each inhale. "My dad's a plumber."

What did that have to do with her injury, anything, or me? "That's nice."

I helped Maggie into Max's office and up onto the examining table, one hand under each armpit. "Why don't you lie down? Now, where does it hurt?"

Maggie pulled her shirt up and pointed to a spot low on her abdomen, below her belly button. "Here, just above my females."

My palms were damp and clammy. Was I supposed to touch her there?

"Well? Examine me. Coach doesn't like to kept waiting," she said. "Besides, you've seen female parts before."

She believed I'd administered The Dots squad. Gently, I sampled her lower belly with my fingertips.

Maggie giggled. "What are you doing? Don't tickle. Press harder. The pain is deeper, like it's inside me." She pressed my hand into her flesh, sliding lower in the process, under the elastic waistband. "My trainer massages my bruises."

I pulled my hand off. "How about a heat pack, to relax your muscles?" I fumbled through Dr. Ruder's cabinets, looking for one. Finally, in a drawer, hot and cold packs. I removed one of each. Annie had said alternating. I read the directions and squished the hot pack. It got warm immediately. I placed it on Maggie's lower stomach.

"I don't feel anything," she said. Without hesitation, she lifted her hips, grunted, and slid her shorts and panties to her knees. "There, now you've got access."

No shit! Her pubic area was raised, with dark curly hair running between her thighs. I slid the hot pack onto her naked skin.

"Ouch! What are you trying to do, burn me? Get a towel."

I felt completely incompetent. I snatched a towel from a stack on Dr. Ruder's side table and laid it across Maggie's stomach before replacing the hot pack.

"Oooh, much better." Maggie took a cleansing breath. Her legs relaxed, separating. Oh oh! A hint of flesh peeked out from her dark bush.

"Maybe if you massage me," Maggie suggested. "That's what the other trainers did."

Other trainers? "Have you had this before?" The old punch line, 'Well, you've got it again' flashed into my brain. "I mean, is this a recurring injury?" Perhaps this was more serious than I could handle.

"Not often, just sometimes. Digging means you have to be quick. I know where I need to be to get the ball, in my head. Sometimes I can't get my body there. Know what I mean?"

I nodded, having no concept of Maggie's mental or athletic process.

"It's dripping." Maggie picked up the hot pack.