Chapter 3: Cards on the Table

I dropped Lucy off at her office after lunch and went back downtown to my hotel room. That afternoon, I purchased a box of condoms, just in case Lucy and I were going to skip the preliminaries and get right down to improving on old acquaintances. I figured that, with her being a physician (and not yet in possession of the results of my blood tests), even if she did have sex in mind, she'd want it to be protected sex.

It was a long time since I'd purchased (or worn) a condom. I hadn't been kidding when I'd told Lucy that I was no Don Juan in baseball pants. My relationships with women had been mostly long-term and had always featured a modicum of mutual trust. Accordingly, in just about every case, we had used birth control pills and had avoided multiple sex partners. The women I'd been involved with -- as much as I -- preferred going bareback.

Still, the prospect of sex with the new, improved Lucy Kendricks Morrow, even if wearing a condom were required, would not exactly be off-putting.

But, hey -- we'd only just met. High school was a long time ago and didn't really count. Lucy was making no pretense that she lacked interest, but I knew that she was a respectable woman. She was a doctor, f'chrissakes! She wasn't about to fuck me on our first date!

Get real, Billy-boy! Just stay calm, try to act like an adult, and (if we hit it off), then there's maybe going to be a Sweet Doctor Lucy in your not-so-distant future.

What I resolved to do was to take her out as many times, in the next two weeks, as I could persuade her to see me. I'd show her that I was for real. I'd show her I was not as dumb as most ballplayers, either. All I had to do was to make some use of that free college education I'd gotten for being handy with an infielder's glove. (OK, it hadn't been Princeton, but Vanderbilt University is a damned good school, and their jocks go to classes, too! I had hung in, the whole four years.)

Simple rules: Stay calm. Keep it in your pants. Be a gentleman. Every woman likes a gentleman. Even a horny woman; a woman who was willing to confess to you -- at lunch, yet! -- that she used to masturbate to thoughts of your naked body, back when she was a lonely, 17-year-old fat girl.

Billy Boy, what you need to do, you need to try to live up to this woman's daydreams! Try to be a real man. My God, Lucy has become a spectacular woman! She is tall, gorgeous, red-haired -- and hot for your body!

Do not screw this up!

And she's a fucking doctor! And you -- you goddamned animal. You were lusting after that trim little nurse who took your blood pressure and stuck a thermometer in your mouth! You were working up a hard-on for the cutie nurse, before you even knew that The Doctor was going to be somebody who... somebody who used to bring herself off when she got home from school -- to mental images of your as-yet-unseen hard cock!

OK, then, it was decided. There would be no attempted seduction tonight! Dinner. Conversation. That's it! The condoms can just stay out in the car!

Well, hell. She's picking me up. We'll be in her car. OK, I'll leave them in the hotel room. I won't need condoms.

Well, I finally put a couple of them into my wallet.

Better safe than sorry, right?

Lucy called me from her car on her way to get me, and I was standing in the hotel's main entrance doorway when she drove up in her Mercedes SUV at 8 sharp. Her house, back in the direction of her group's medical practice, wasn't that far from downtown Baltimore. I estimated that Lucy's period of medical residency had ended less than three years ago. Today, she was likely still paying off big tuition-related debts and trying to establish herself in private medical practice. Young doctors, I knew, usually were far from wealthy.

Still, her house was small but handsome, and was located in a lovely suburban neighborhood. It was the kind of place I would be looking to buy, if I managed to get established in Baltimore. Maybe I'd ask my Realtor to look for something in this part of town first.

Dinner was Italian. Ziti Carbonara, it was -- another high-calorie main course that seemed to me to be an alarming challenge to Lucy's weight-control campaign.

But I had to admit the woman seemed to know what she was doing. She'd already warned me that she loved good food, and plenty of it. It was a part of her life that hadn't changed all that much, she said. I could only imagine what an intense exercise regime was required, to make such pleasure-eating possible. I was no stranger to exercise myself, but I feared that, if I were ever to experience the kind of long-term weight problem that Lucy once had, I'd need to become extremely careful about what foods I consumed. I wasn't at all certain I'd have enough energy, or enough hours in the day, to work it all off via the exercise route.

It turned out that Lucy had underrated herself as a cook. Sure, it was a simple dish, but the sauce was delicious and the ziti was cooked to precisely the correct consistency. Even her salad was perfect, and, laden as it was with olives, very Italian as well.

Over a second, after-dinner glass of (Italian) wine, Lucy asked me if I was ready for dessert.

"I don't think I could take in another ounce," I said. "That dinner was magnificent!"

"What I have in mind isn't very filling," she said. "But if you want to wait until later, that's fine. You wouldn't mind, would you, if I went ahead?"

"By all means," I said.

She led me -- not to the refrigerator -- but to a plush couch in the living room area. Seated beside me, Lucy unceremoniously unzipped my fly.

Well. There had already been a strong hint that "dessert" might involve something along these lines, but I had dismissed that possibility earlier. Surely not.

Oh, yeah! Surely not -- not!

Lucy expertly fished out my hardening cock and held it, with a gentle grip, in her left hand. "You've got a beautiful penis," she said.

Beautiful wasn't a word I was accustomed to using in describing my male appendage. To me, it was, like all penises, a somewhat silly-looking instrument, albeit one entitled to enormous respect for its pleasure-providing capabilities.

Still, I could understand that Lucy, and perhaps other women, might consider it beautiful. After all, from a strictly clinical standpoint, a woman's vagina and the surrounding territory is every bit as ridiculous-looking as a cock. Nevertheless, I, for one, certainly thought that a woman's pussy was beautiful.

Lucy had the advantage. She'd seen my penis several times that morning in its more-or-less natural flaccidity (augmented, slightly, by the impure thoughts I had been having during the examination). Now, she was seeing it pretty much as hard as it ever got. Her quick, self-assured moves while taking it out, squeezing it gently, and admiring it so avidly had made certain of that.

Then, she put it in her mouth.

Oh, God, I love fellatio! I mean, did you ever run into a man who didn't like having his cock sucked? It's probably the most universally-held opinion in the history of all mankind.

I mean, think about it. A guy is always gonna love it when his girl takes him into her mouth. It almost doesn't matter, how skilled or unskilled she is. It's the thought that counts!

Here's a woman who cares enough about your sorry ass to give you head. If a female is willing to take that -- let's face it -- nasty object into her mouth, and risk its going off while it's in there -- well, hell, man -- this woman likes you!

I don't mean to suggest that it's unimaginable that a woman would do such a thing. And I concede that she might take pleasure in doing it. After all, many men (most men?) thoroughly enjoy going down on a woman. Speaking for myself, I am disappointed whenever a woman wants me to skip cunnilingus -- or even if she cuts it short, demanding that we proceed to the next lovely step -- namely sexual intercourse!

I mean, sure, it may be flattering that she's so hot for your cock that she'd skip over a sure-fire tongue-induced cum. But still. My view is that, as absolutely fantastic as good straight fucking can be, there's something damned special about eating pussy, and I, for one, don't like to miss out on it. That ain't just foreplay, man. That's good eatin' in its own right!

But I digress.

If a man can take pleasure in cunnilingus, why cannot a woman similarly enjoy -- and even crave -- having a hard cock in her mouth? It may sometimes seem unbelievable, but many a woman will swear that it's true.

I just hope it is true! It would be real nice, wouldn't it? If it were true? Because, God knows, every guy likes to have his cock sucked! Hell, even a guy who like other guys likes to have his cock sucked! It's got to be close to a 100% consensus of the whole goddamned male sex!

Sara Lee numbers, I'm talking!

Anyway, I loved fellatio, but, evidently, not any more than Lucy did. She may have been a woman with a limited sexual past, as she had told me, but, oh God, she could suck a cock! It was such a loving act, and being performed by such a gorgeous woman, that I quickly found myself approaching orgasm.

"Lucy! Lucy! You'd better stop now, or I'm going to..."

She did stop, but only for a moment, so that she could respond to my words. With her hand still gripping Little Billy, gently but firmly down low close to the root, she licked her lips, smiled up and me, and said, "Go ahead and cum! I want you to. I want to taste you!"

Now, let's face it -- whether or not a woman actually likes sucking a cock or whether she's just faking it, any woman who tells you she likes the taste of semen is just fucking lying! At very best, cum is a somewhat scummy, off-salty-tasting bit of flavorless, ill-textured liquid.

Whipped cream, it ain't. It's like Pepto-Bismol, only without the peppermint flavoring.

And -- at worst -- a mouthful of it will make a fastidious young woman want to go off by herself somewhere and barf.