Chapter 62: Poison Ivy

October 28, 2000, Chicago, Illinois

“So, Doctor O’Shea, what do you think?” I asked as steam roiled from the rocks in the sauna.

“I think you’re in fantastic shape!”

I chuckled, “Not what I was asking, but thanks. And you are extremely sexy! I love freckles! May I also say I am VERY grateful you don’t shave?”

“You may. Why?”

“I have a thing for red pubic hair!”

I also had a thing for small breasts, which she had. She was the epitome of a ‘Steve type’ and Jessica had known I wouldn’t be able to resist. She was right, though we’d have to talk about the ‘rules violation’. But that was for later!

“But,” I continued, “I was asking what you thought about the sauna!”

“I may have to invest in one of these once I actually make some money instead of racking up debt!”

“Ever been in a sauna before?”

“No. I can’t imagine there were too many saunas in Milford!”

“My friend Melanie’s parents had one.”

Ivy laughed, “And I bet you made extensive use of it, right?”

“You could say that!”

“Your parents had an indoor pool, right?”

“Yes.”

“Ever go skinny dipping?”

“Of course. I bet you know more about me than you think, too.”

“Oh?”

“Ever hear about the guy who ran the computer dating service?”

“That was you?”

“In the flesh!”

“You graduated when? ‘80?”

“‘81. You were probably in first grade.”

“Good guess! When did you leave Milford?”

“I moved to Chicago right after graduation, though I spent my Junior year in Sweden as an exchange student.”

“There were Swedish exchange students at the High School all three years I was there. It’s like a major tradition.”

“I’m glad that tradition is continuing,” I said.

“I didn’t see a lock on the door to the sauna. How can you be sure nobody will come in?”

“I put up the ‘Privacy Please’ sign and nobody would even think about violating that.”

“No lock?”

I shook my head, “Not even on the inside. It’s far too risky. That’s why the controls for the temperature and exhaust fan are inside the sauna, too. No Never Say Never Again being locked in a steam box!”

“Never saw it. ‘Bond’ is for men who never grew up and have fantasies of abusing women.”

“Wow, this went south fast,” I said ruefully.

“What?”

“With the possible exception of Pussy Galore, Bond used his «je ne sais quoi», or ‘vibe’ to get the girls. Being an expert at seduction is NOT the same as being abusive! Well, unless you hold to some antiquated notion that women are weak and can’t resist or worse, that sex is abusive in general.”

“It’s male fantasy!”

I shrugged, “The biggest fantasy is that he’s a well-known ‘secret’ agent. That is just silly beyond belief. And besides, I beat his number before I graduated from High School.”

“Liar!” Ivy laughed. “You’re suggesting you had something like three dozen girls? In High School? Come on!”

“It’s true. As I said, the REAL suspension of disbelief is that everyone on the planet knows who Britain’s best ‘secret’ agent is, by name and by sight!”

“You slept with over thirty girls? In High School?”

“Over forty. And with one possible exception, I’m friends with most of them, or parted as friends. Heck, a bunch of them are here at the party!”

“Talk about an ego!”

“The size of Texas, but I mostly keep it beat down. Sometimes I let it out, when necessary.”

“How the heck did you manage that?”

“I was THE guy to go to for an expert deflowering. And a couple of my female friends found it amusing to arrange assignations.”

“I’m guessing the number went up from there.”

“Significantly.”

“Never had an STI or unwanted pregnancy?”

“No,” I replied.

That was truthful because Becky’s pregnancy had been unintended, not unwanted. I knew I was being pedantic, as she likely meant unintended, but it wasn’t what she’d actually said.

“And I’m the next target? The next ‘notch’?”

I shook my head, “With VERY few exceptions, Kara being one of them, I didn’t pursue girls for sex. They came to me, either on their own, or, like you, encouraged by someone who felt they’d be very happy with the encounter. I don’t keep score and only know the number because someone once tallied the list.”

“Some guy you bragged to?”

“I don’t believe I ever, once, discussed what I did with any specific girl with a guy, or even discussed it in a general way, unless he raised the issue for some reason.”

“Got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?”

“Not the way you meant. I learned my lesson BEFORE that happened, and let’s just say I wasn’t in my right mind. You do know Bond has a REASON why he has casual meaningless sex, right?”

“Because he can?”

“No. I suspect you never saw the George Lazenby Bond film, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.”

“No. I’ve actually never seen any of them.”

Which explained more than she could possibly say otherwise, and it called her judgment into serious question.

“Bond’s one true love was murdered by his arch-nemesis, Blofeld. It’s hinted at in later films, such as when Moore’s Bond lays flowers at the grave of ‘Tracey’. That incident is what led to him being a drunk, a gambler, and to taking extreme risks, all of which the British government exploited for their own purposes in the Cold War.”

“Oh, come on! Bond is a VICTIM?”

I nodded, “He is. The movies miss that, but the books paint a different, starker picture. He’s the ‘blunt instrument’ that MI6 can use, knowing that Bond simply doesn’t care if he dies, BUT he is also determined to live.”

“That makes no sense!”

“PTSD will do that to you,” I said.

“That’s pretty warped.”

“What? The backstory? Or my understanding it?”

“You sound like you’re excusing his behavior.”

I shook my head, “No, I’m explaining it. An excuse is only necessary if you need to justify your actions to yourself or a loved one. I don’t think Bond needs any excuses for his behavior with women, for his drinking, or for his gambling. Killing is another matter.”

“You’re a blackbelt in karate and you were carrying a pistol under your kimono!”

“I’ve never killed anyone and never intend to kill anyone. In any confrontation, I will defend myself using the minimum force necessary to protect myself, my loved ones, and any innocents.”

“So why the gun?”

“Because there have been credible threats in the past, and the house is literally wide open for anyone to walk into tonight.”

“Credible threats?”

“When you help take down an Outfit-connected law firm, the Outfit tends to be more than a bit annoyed with you.”

“How the heck did you do that?”

“The company I founded with some friends right after college makes software to support the legal profession. That firm was a customer. The story is a bit convoluted, but there was another Outfit lawyer who was exposed, and a couple of murder-for-hire plots, too.”

“Do you check for bombs under your car every morning?”

“No. Most of those wiseguys are in federal prison or awaiting trial, but there’s one guy who isn’t, and he’s a bit dangerous. But his style is using a gun, not a bomb. I also managed to piss off the FBI in the process.”

“Oh, I bet that’s fun.”

“When you show them to be completely incompetent rubes, they try to hit back. Fortunately, I’m smarter than they are and have the best attorneys money can buy.”

“That seemed to work for OJ.”

“It did. He literally got away with murder because the prosecution team was made up of incompetent rubes, and the judge was worse. Anyway, let me know when you’ve had enough heat and we’ll go back upstairs.”

“Say what?”

“Sexiness is WAY more than having red pubic hair, pert breasts, and freckles.”

“Because I don’t like James Bond?”

“That’s a symptom, not a cause.”

“Let me get this straight! You wanted to have sex with me, but I said something you objected to philosophically, and suddenly you no longer want to?”

“With a bit of deductive reasoning and inference, I concluded YOU didn’t want to. You objected to Bond’s string of casual affairs as abusive. I’ve had more casual affairs than James Bond by a longshot, so, by inference, you think I’m an abuser. And you made all of those judgments without actually having watched a Bond movie! But that’s not even the root of the problem.”

“Which is?”

“That knowing all of that, you accepted my invitation to the sauna.”

“What?! That came up AFTER we came into the sauna.”

“You vocalized it then, but you had to know I was promiscuous from everything that was said, and that tells me either your curiosity got the best of you, or you’re confused, or both. And THAT is a recipe for disaster!”

“You think you know me that well?”

“I think I can make educated guesses based on my extensive interactions with people, and not just in the context of an affair. I have a group of friends who meet a couple of times a month to discuss philosophy and while I can’t say I’ve heard and seen everything, I’ve heard and seen enough to make pretty good judgments and to know when I shouldn’t leap after I’ve looked.”

“Seriously?”

“Care to take a simple test to prove if I’m right or wrong?”

“Sure. Give it a shot.”

“What do you think of participation trophies?”

“They’re a great way to build kids’ self-esteem.”

I shook my head, “We are completely incompatible.”

“Come, on! Because I think self-esteem is important in kids?”

“My eldest throws them in the trash for good reason. Let me ask you this - should someone get into medical school or successfully Match just because they tried hard?”

“Of course not!”

“So, if you set kids up for thinking they’re rewarded simply for trying, then expose them to the real world, what do you think is going to happen?”

“Nobody thinks they deserve to get into medical school just for trying!”

“Don’t bet on that one,” I said. “We learn by losing and by making mistakes. Rewarding losing sends exactly the wrong message. Let me be blunt - participation trophies are a form of child abuse.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Would you go to a doctor who received their license despite receiving failing grades in medical school?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s what participation trophies are.”

“Bullshit!”

“As I said, we are fundamentally incompatible.”

“It’s just fucking, you idiot!” she declared, exasperated.

“Do you see the self-contradictions in your actions versus your beliefs? That’s the real issue I have. You think Bond is abusive for having casual sex, but you want to have casual sex. You think participation trophies are a good idea but you’d never accept the philosophy behind them when it comes to medical licensing.”

“So you only have sex with people with whom you philosophically agree on everything?”

“No, but YOU raised the issue by saying Bond was abusive. That set off warning bells so I investigated.”

“And why is that an issue if you just want to fuck?”

“Because if you wake up tomorrow, or next week, or whatever, and decide this was abusive, you’ll hate me and possibly yourself.”

“But that could happen anyway!”

“Yes, it could, but when the warnings signs are there, only a fool ignores them.”

“So much for relaxing,” she said, sounding very frustrated.

“I think it’s best we shower and go back to the party,” I said.

Ivy looked daggers as me, but didn’t say anything, so I turned off the power to the heater and turned on the exhaust fan. We put on robes and took turns showering, then dressed and went back upstairs. I went over to Kara and Jessica.

“What happened?” Jessica asked. “She looks pissed.”

“She wandered into the minefield and couldn’t escape.”

“Which one?”

“I mentioned a Bond movie and she made the statement that he was abusive towards women. I explained Bond’s past and his obvious PTSD, and it spiraled out of control from there, including her asserting the value of participation trophies.”

“The only deadly sin in your book besides hypocrisy and prejudice!” Kara smirked.

“Yes, but it’s more the contradictions between her actions and her thoughts. She doesn’t want to hand out medical licenses simply because someone goes to medical school, but participation trophies are a good thing. She thinks Bond is abusive for having casual sex with so many women, but wanted to have casual sex with me despite knowing I had been with a lot of women.”

“Sorry, Tiger,” Jessica said. “I had no idea!”

“The funny thing is, if she hadn’t made that statement about Bond, we’d never have gone down that path. We were on our way to doing exactly what we went downstairs to do and she threw it away. And Jess, can we please agree to not waive the rules without prior discussion?”

“That factored into it, too, didn’t it?”

“It made me wary,” I said. “And probably influenced my behavior. And before you apologize, I’m not upset. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“So she turned out to be ‘Poison Ivy’?” Kara asked.

I chuckled, “In a matter of speaking. Maybe the Ensign will get lucky. She’s dancing with him again.”

“Steve?” a female voice from behind me said.

I turned to see Sophie, who I had only seen briefly earlier in the evening.

“Hi,” I said, and then intuiting her reason for coming to me, I said, “Would you like to dance?”

She smiled and nodded, so I took her hand and led her to the middle of the floor to dance to Love Me Tender by Elvis Presley, which told me this was one of Jesse’s tapes, as he’d suddenly become a big Elvis and Frank Sinatra fan. Unsure just how close Sophie wanted to dance, I held my arms out and she stepped close and put her arms around me with her hands on my shoulder blades. I wrapped my arms around her and she put her head on my shoulder and we began dancing.

We danced quietly and she didn’t move away when the song ended, and my assumption about the source of the tape was confirmed when Strangers In The Night by Frank Sinatra wafted from the speakers. Jesse was dancing with Kelly, which didn’t surprise me at all, and he winked at me. I winked back then turned so I wasn’t looking his direction.

“I thought about our talk,” Sophie said quietly.

“And?”

“I don’t want to be a virgin anymore, and I want you to be the one to ‘solve my complaint’.”

She was quoting Becka when she’d offered to relieve Bill of his virginity during our Rap Session sauna nine months previously. Given what I’d said to her, and the fact that she was asking several weeks later, I didn’t see how I could refuse her. But I also didn’t want to rush things.

“If that’s what you truly want, and you’ve had a recent STI test, then come by the house tomorrow afternoon around 2:00pm and I’ll help you on your way to becoming an adult.”

She shuddered and squeezed her arms tightly around me, then whispered, “Thank you.”

We finished our dance and I went back to where my wives were standing and asked them to dance again as We’ve Got Tonight, a Bob Seger song which was one of Jesse’s favorites, began playing.

“I know that look, Snuggle Bear!” Kara smirked as the three of us swayed together.

“What look?”

“The dazed look in Sophie’s face! She asked you and you agreed.”

“Perhaps,” I replied evenly.

“But you told her not tonight?” Jessica asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon. I figured being close to midnight tonight wasn’t a good idea.”

“So the itch from the ‘Poison Ivy’ can be soothed with Balm of Sophie?” Kara asked with a smirk.

Jessica and I both laughed and shook our heads, then kissed Kara’s cheeks.

“I have two other cheeks that could use kissing,” she offered suggestively. “And two other lips!”

“You hussy!” Jessica teased. “This is only our second dance!”

“Once our guests leave, we’ll see about those kisses, but Jess needs to get some sleep, too.”

“It’ll be worth being tired!” Jessica exclaimed.

October 29, 2000, Chicago, Illinois

“Are you going to be OK, Jess?” I asked as we walked to the hospital on Sunday morning. “You only got about three hours of sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, but YOU need to take a nap when you go back home.”

“I’m feeling OK,” I replied.

“Yes, but you’re still recovering from your ‘carbohydrate hangover’.”

“I think I’m past that. It usually lasts about ten days at the outside.”

“Just take a nap, Tiger; better safe than sorry.”

“OK. What about waiving the rules?”

“Not to be a bitch, but you waived the rules at NIKA unilaterally a number of times.”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you could have refused to even consider Ivy, too.”

“Also true.”

“So it wasn’t REALLY unilateral, was it?”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t. That said, the problem is similar, and much riskier, actually. What happens if something goes wrong with her training and she complains you forced her to sleep with your husband or you’d flunk her? And that whatever it is that went wrong was due to the stress of having been sexually assaulted?”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Jessica answered ruefully.

“At NIKA, making that claim stick would be more difficult because of how we document everything and the fact I’m removed from the hiring process, but we’d have to pay it off. But you can’t buy your way out of trouble the way I could have. And I have a Board of Directors and the Club to back me and provide cover. And, if push came to shove, I could walk away to save NIKA. You don’t have those things, AND you have the whole incident with the cover-up of Al being your dad. It’s WAY too risky, Babe.”

“Did you think about that last night?”

“No, that just came to me this morning while we were dressing. Oh, and I do have to cuddle a daughter or three before I take my morning nap.”

“Given I want you alive tonight, I suppose that’s OK! I hadn’t thought about it this way, but maybe it’s a good thing you and Maria Cristina won’t be sleeping together next year when she’s in my anatomy course. Well, most likely.”

“Something that could present similar problems, though the fact we’re paying her tuition over and above what her scholarships and grants cover could be a problem if someone thought there was favoritism.”

“Ask her.”

I chuckled, “I have, and so has Birgit. She told both of us that she expects you to grade her tougher than anyone else!”