Part 4: The Salesman

Prologue

To recap what has already occurred in this series so far, the Matchmaker Bandits, Ms. White and Mr. Black, have already failed three times to 'acquire' the antique vibrator collection belonging to Dr. Mark Jennings.

In Part One, Dr. Jennings, aware of the growing reputation of the bandits knew that it was only a matter of time before they got around to setting their larcenous desires upon his collection, had custom replicas made by an overseas manufacturer.

Concerned about the length of time it would take for the vendor to manufacture the replicas; Dr. Jennings had a variety of phony labels printed by a distributor in Mexico. When the labels arrive, he placed one on each of his most prized collectables.

During their first attempt, Dr. Jennings arrived at his office to move the collection to a safe place and discovered the Matchmaker Bandits there; he convinced them that the real items were replicas.

Fooled, the two bandits left the office empty handed. Immediately after the bandits were gone, Dr. Jennings, his nurse Margo Wilson, and her lover Kent Collins moved the Jennings collection to a temporary storage facility the doctor had previously rented.

In Part Two, having set their eyes on Dr. Victoria Mercer's coin collection, Ms. White and Mr. Black decided to pay an after hours visit to her medical practice to relieve her of the collection.

Upon their arrival, the Matchmaker Bandits thought they had hit the jackpot when they discovered what appeared to be both Dr. Mercer's erotic coin collection and Dr. Jennings's antique vibrator collection. They were shocked when they discovered that not only were the coins in Dr. Mercer's collection counterfeit, but the items in Dr. Jennings's collection were replicas.

In Part Three of the series, the bandits realizing that they had once again been outsmarted, decided to pay another visit to Dr. Jennings's office. When they arrived, the only things they found in the office were a cleaning crew and an empty storeroom where the collection used to be.

Perplexed, outwitted and frustrated, the Matchmaker Bandits refused to give up and decided to make another attempt to acquire the collections of Doctors Jennings and Mercer.

Chapter One — "Penelope In My Head"

June 2006

"How long have you been doing this Lyle?" Penelope asked me. She had just rolled her nude body off of me and we were both lying there trying to catch our breaths.

I answered without looking at her; I think I had begun counting the number of different colors of specs on the stucco ceiling at the time. We both knew the only thing we got together for was the sex. Until now, we hadn't actually talked about it. I stopped counting and said, "Having sex?"

"Yes, Lyle, having sex." She said somewhat annoyed as she began running her hand gently up and down my thigh in a stroking motion.

I thought I'd be funny and said, "Oh, I don't know, ever since the first time."

"I'm serious! When did you stop looking for love and start just having sex?" Her hand was causing my deflated erection to grow once more. God the woman was insatiable.

She added nonchantly, "Don't get me wrong, it was very enjoyable. I'd like to do it again. It's just that I'm curious."

That's what I get for going out with a psychologist! Only two months and seven dates, and she was trying to get inside my head! Before I could become too outraged the pleasant sensation of blood flowing to my cock distracted me.

I started thinking about what she had asked. She was right! What's worse, she knew she was right!

That dark dirty little secret I had been carrying around for years that had lead to so many one- night stands and short-lived relationships that had never gone anywhere was finally out. I think somewhere deep down inside myself I wanted and needed to talk about it. 'How long had it been?' I thought to myself. Almost twenty years now?

As I lay there, my breathing having calmed itself, I thought back to my college days and started to recall to her when it had all began.

Chapter Two — "Refelections Of College"

September 1978

I guess it started after just after I left college.

College had been one of the most difficult times of my life. I had just struggled to finish my last semester of college in time to graduate. I had been sick for most of my junior and senior years. I almost didn't make it in more ways than one. A gall stone nearly cost me my life and had caused me to loose several weeks of school.

My girlfriend Vicky and I had been dating since the second semester of our junior year and started living together the first semester of our senior year. I could tell she was getting worried about me. She was a pre-med major and while she didn't know what was wrong with me, knew it was serious and insisted I continue going to the doctor.

So I kept going back. But the more I did, the more frustrated I got. At first, the doctor was treating me for a bad sinus infection. I guess he thought the symptoms of headache and fatique were evidence of it. That went on for several months. Then, he told me I was dehydrated and that I should drink more water. Over the next year, I became dehydrated three times and had to have I.V.s given to me to get fluids back into when my blood pressure dropped to 80 over 50.

Finally, after looking up the symptons on the Internet, I reminded him that I had been diagnosed with a gallstone about six years before; I asked him if it could be my gall bladder? He said he didn't think so but ordered an ultrasound anyway.

While I was waiting for the ultrasound results to come back, I became sick as a dog until in desperation I went back to see the doctor and got stuck with his physician's assistant.

She tried to treat me for a pulled muscle in my back. She wrote me the perscription for muscle relaxers and, as I walked out of the office that day, I remember thinking what an absolute idiot she was.

I knew the moment she gave me the perscription I would never take them. I didn't know what was wrong with me at the time, but I did know it was certainly not a pulled muscle. I also knew that most likely the muscle relaxers would either mask the symptoms or just make things worse.

That Saturday I ended up in the emergency room again. I was working part time at a pizza place when it happened.

I had been struggling the whole day and remember thinking to myself that all I had to do was to move the last cart full dough I had prepared into the refridgerator and then, I could sit down and just relax for the next hour while I answered the phone until I left.

The cart was loaded, the door to the refridgerator was open, I was breathing heavily and struggling hard to push the cart inside the refridgerator when I suddenly felt the need to lean against the closest wall and close my eyes.

I vaguely remember someone asking me if I was okay and my mumbling something back to them just before they pushed a chair under me.

The next thing I remember was a paramedic asking me to try and lay down on the gurney for them. Some time later, everything was a fog at the time so I'm not really sure, the same paramedic was telling me that I needed to be taken to the closest hospital. He wanted to know if it would that be okay? Imagine that, I was in bad enough shape that they needed to get me to the hospital to save my life and he was worried about my health insurance!

Six hours, an I.V. and a perscription for what I was told was nausia medication later, I was on my way home. The doctor had told me to see my personal physician first thing Monday morning. I still did not know what was wrong with me.

I didn't have any nausia, so I didn't take the medication he had. About six hours after being discharged, I was back in the emergency room again seeing a different doctor. The first thing she asked me was if I had taken the medication that I had been given. Of course, I told her no that I didn't see the need for it as I was not nausious. As they were giving me another I.V., she explained to me that I was having another gall bladder attack and that the medication would help. She told me to see a surgeon first thing Monday morning.

It really does help when you run into a compentent physician!

I went back to my apartment, now knowing what the medication was actually for. The medication helped but not enough and the rest of the weekend was hell for me. At about 4:00 Monday morning the last of the mediation they had given me was wearing off. By the time I was in the surgeon's office at 8:00 a.m. that was fit to be tied and about to pass out.

As soon as the nurse took me to the back, Dr. Rogers came in to examine me. He took one look at me and said, "Let's get you over to the hospital so we can get that thing out of you."

"When? I asked.

He looked at me as he put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Right now!"

Fifteen minutes later I was being directly admited to the hospital.

It took them three days to stablize me enough to take out the damn thing.

The day after my surgery, Dr. Rogers came in to check on my status and told me that the report from the physican who had read the ultrasound said the stone was small and not a problem. Dr. Rogers said the report was wrong, while the stone was small, it was moving in and out of the bowel duct. A week later I was back at school and dealing with a postoperative infection. It seems that a stick that was left in which was supposed to have been taken out got infected. To make matters worse, the antibiotic I was given didn't work on me. I was not allergic to it, it just didn't like me. Needless to say, I developed somewhat mixed feelings about doctors after that.

Even after everything that happened, the absolutely amazing thing is that somehow, despite fatigue and general bad feeling of being constantly at death's door, my grades didn't drop and I graduated on time.

Vicky, also, had just graduated from the University of Birmingham after which she applied to Emory University Medical School in Atlanta. If she were accepted to Emory, it would mean that she would be moving to Atlanta in the coming fall and leaving me behind.

I had also just graduted and was to begin working for my father for the next four years in his pharmacutical supply business. It seemed only reasonable, after all to try and own my own way through college. My parents had raised me until I was eighteen. They had no obligation to send me to college. Why should I expect it like they owed it to me? I had become a man and it was my responsibilty to make something out of my life.

And so, there we both were, standing there impatiently as she held the envelope neurovously in her hands, both of us experiencing a mixture of joy and dread for we knew that its contents would change both of their lives forever.

"Go ahead honey, open it!" I told Vicky. While secretly deep in my heart I hoped she had not been accepted.

Her hands shaking, she tore open the envelope and carefully removed its contents, a single piece of paper. She looked at it for several seconds, taking in the words that were on the page and then looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, "I've been accepted Lyle."

As tears trickled slowly from my eyes, I took her in my arms and held her as I whispered into her ear, "I'm so happy for you. Now you can finally have what you've always wanted."

We both went our separate ways shortly after that. To this day, I wonder if Vicky knew they were not tears of joy.

Chapter Three — "Inside Penelope's Head"

June 2006

Penolope had laid there silently listening to me while I recounted the past to her. Her eyes were fixed upon me intently the whole time as though she were peering into my very soul to find the truth of my words.

When I was done, she said to me, "You never got over her did you?"

"No, I guess not." I confessed.

"How did it make you feel when she left you?" Penelope asked. It was as if she seemed already to know what I was going to say.

I said after a moments of thought, "Angry I think."

"Why were you angry?" She inquired.

At first, I didn't know how to answer her. It took me a minute of reflection before I could, "I because she had left me. And I guess I was angry at myself for letting her go."

"What did you do about it?" She asked.

Half of me was wishing the conversation would end; the other half wanted to talk about it when I said to her, "What?"

"I said, what did you do about it ... your anger? How did you ever resolve it?" She replied.

That question I didn't want to answer; but I had a feeling she was not going to leave it that way. "I don't think I ever have. At first, I started out trying to have a relationship, but none of the women I dated could I have loved the way I loved Vicky. One day, I just gave up on the idea of finding love again and started having meaningless sex. I found myself getting involved in relationships that I knew had no future. I stayed in them until I couldn't take it any more. I think in some way I was trying to punish myself for letting Vicky go."

"You must be very unhappy Lyle. Haven't you suffered enough?" I could almost hear the pity in her voice when she said it.

I remained mute.

"Have you tried to find her?"

I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate as she had moved her hand from my leg and had begun slowly stroking my now fully erect member, "Over the years we lost track of each other. The last I heard, she had become a doctor and was practicing somewhere in Atlanta. I simply assumed she'd gotten married and moved on with her life."

"What did you say her name was again?" She asked as she began running her tongue along the length of my engorged penis.

She had just taken the head of my cock into her mouth and was swirling her tongue around it. Fighting to maintain my concentration, I said, "Victoria Mercer"

"Is she full figured with blond hair, blue eyes and about 6'0" tall?" Penelope asked as she began licking her way down from the tip of my penis to its base.

"That's the way she looked the last time I saw her." My cock had begun tingling electrically for she had started rolling her tongue around the head of my penis once more.

"Do you happen to know what kind of doctor she wanted to be?" She asked just before taking me in her mouth and beginning a slow bobbing motion up and down my cock.

When her head reach the crown of my manhood, I barely grunted out the words, "She talked about becoming a urologist. She said there was more money in specializing than in family practice."

As she held my manhood in her hand and stroked it slowly, she lifted her head and looked at me to say, "I know for a fact that there's only one urologist in Atlanta named Victoria Mercer and she's not married."

"How do you know that?" I asked intrigued.

This time, Penelope was the one who remained mute for she had once more taken my cock into her mouth and was bobbing her head up and down its length. After about a minute, she raised her head again and said, "You might want to considered looking her up? Even if nothing comes of it, perhaps you might find some closure."

Feeling the stirrings of orgasm building in my loins, I struggled to say the words, "After the lifestyle I lived, I don't think she'd want me."

"You'll never know if you don't try, will you?" Penelope said, as she expertly paused her oral attentions long enough for me to be pulled from the brink of orgasm.

While she slowly stroked and teased my cock, I said to her, "Suppose she rejects me?"

"Then I guess you'll face that when the time comes, won't you? Speaking of cumming, I want this thing inside me!" And with that, she climbed atop me and in a single action took me inside her and started grinding her pussy around my cock as she began fucking me wildly.

When I was leaving that evening, she said to me, "If Vicky doesn't want you Wyatt, you can come to me anytime you want until you find the one you're looking for."

Pulling out of her driveway, I couldn't help wondering what her therapy sessions were like. One thing I did know, Penelope had given me plenty to think about.

Chapter Four — "No Regrets"

September 2007

To the outside observer, at forty-four, I had it all. I graduated at the top of my class from the University of Birmingham and was immediately accepted by Emery University Medical School.

Within four years of finishing my residency, I had paid off my student loans; and, two years later had opened my own practice.

At first I tried family practice, but I began to tire of it so, a few years back I decided to switch to urology. From a financial perspect it had been a good move. But even now there are times I miss it.

It did take long before my practice had been so successful; my investments so well placed that I could retire to a very comfortable lifestyle of travel and leisure and never have to worry about working again. But if I really did have it all, why was it that I was laying in my bedroom, under the dimmed lights above my bed, trying to cry myself to sleep again. Perhaps it was because for almost twenty years, I had lived alone with only a pet dog to keep me company?

Yes, I did have everything, everything that is except the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world, a man to love me. Not because I'm some hideous hag. In fact, I'm been told I am actually quite attractive.

With my blonde hair and blue eyes, at 6'1" in height, people that remember seeing those old German War II era propaganda posters depicting the ideal Arian woman in movies might have thought me to be the full figured 'Amazon' that had posed for them.

Full figured or not, I was in good shape. But then it could be no other way. I eat right and workout regularly.

In fact, working-out is one of the few pleasures I have. I'm usually so tired when I'm done that I forget for a while how lonely I am.

Most of the women I know told me, "Vicky," that's my nickname, "you should have a baby. It will give your life meaning" but I had seen enough of delivery rooms to know that was not for me. No, I just don't think loneliness is a good enough reason to bring a child into this world. I do know that whatever gene it is that makes a woman a mother, I didn't seem to have it; and, in my mind, that effectively rules out adoption.

But the awful loneliness, no amount of sex ever seemed to make go away. And trust me, I tried. For a while, I was dating almost anyone who asked me out. I finally stopped after I had to litterly beat one asshole off with 'The Club' I used to lock my steering wheel.

He had seemed like a pretty nice guy when he asked me out. When he we suggest we do something retro and go the old Starlight Six Drive Theater, I thought he might turn out to be an interesting date. It was interesting right up to the point he pulled out a bottle of cheap wine and asked me if I wanted a drink just before he downed half of it in one gulp. Then, he proceeded to summarily start trying to rip my clothes off.

I'm not sure if the synapse to his brain were firing properly before I hit him, but I'm sure from the number of stitches he required after his head met 'The Club' they were firing at a much slower rate because he seemed much more docile.

That soured me so much on dating that I just quit it entirely and began to focus totally on work. But work wont get you through those long lonely nights when all you want is a nice warm body next to you holding you while you sleep.

On a conscious level, I have always tried not to regret the decisions in my life that resulted in negative consequences. It just seemed to me it's like not appreciating all the good things came after the bad things but would not have happened without them. It's like drawing a line from point 'A' to point 'B' and then, after you decide you didn't like part of the line, erase it and wonder later why you can't get from point 'A' to 'B' again.

Having said that, there is one thing that happened in my life that I often wonder that if I could go back in time and do it all over again would I do the same thing.

When I think back to that fall in 1978, I try to recall the good things in the past. Like the time my boyfriend Lyle took on a part-time job so I would not have to worry about my half of the rent and could devote more time studying.

Shortly after starting a job at a pizza place, he started getting ill. The doctors just couldn't seem to put their finger on the problem. He was killing himself trying to go to school all day, work all afternoon and then study at night. When I begged him to quit the pizza job, he refused. I tried to tell him I would get another student loan but he said that if I did, he would drop out of school and never talk to me again.

Too this day, I still remember the feeling of horror when I received the call one Saturday from the Emergency Room telling me he had been taken there by ambulance.

Even after the doctors finally discovered a gallstone and removed his gallbladder, Lyle forced himself to go back to work with a bad postoperative infection. He must have loved me so much to push himself that way!

I knew he was obligated to work for his father to pay off his college education when he graduated. I knew he had no choice and could not come with me. In my heart, I knew that it was not tears of joy he was shedding when I opened the acceptance letter from Emory. Still, I walked away. And I have been miserable every day since! And, no amount of success, money or sex has ever made it go away.

I now know that fate only allows you so many chances at love and each day that goes by makes only serves to remind me that time is running out. I hope and pray I did not foolishly pass waste my only opportunity for love and fate is merciful enough to grant me just one more chance.

Chapter Five — "The Appointment"

It was almost six o'clock on a Friday afternoon when I pulled up to the Westling Hotel parking lot.

After checking in at the front desk, I went to my room on the 70th floor, opened my suitcase, and decide to take a cool shower after the long hot drive.

Ten minutes later, as I stood there wrapped in a towel in front of my window enjoying the sparkling colors of downtown Atlanta lights as they danced on the glass, I noticed my own reflection in the glass.

There was a visible line on my 5'10" tall frame from the surgery scar. It had been before the days of laparoscopic surgery. It was a battle scar left over after the surgeon had a fight with my gallbladder back in college. Needless to say, my gall badder didn't stand a chance as the surgeon had come to the fight with knives!

The potbellied, frumpy body I had back then was long gone now having been replaced by almost chiseled muscular body. It was the result of twenty-two years of practicing Ju Jitsu and Aikido and for the last three years Krav Maga.

The short curly red hair, freckles and pale skin had made me the object of more than one "Howdy Doody" joke when I was younger. As I stood there, for the first time in my life when I looked at my own reflection, I realized that I very much looked like a younger version of my father.

The thought caused my mind to drift back to the odd smile on his face when I told him I wanted to try an Atlanta route for a few months. For some reason I didn't understand at the time, he had that same smile when he called me into his office that Friday and handed me the new client list I was to have.

My stomach roaring like a lion in need of a feast made me realize that I had been so preoccupied with preparing for the trip I completely forgotten to eat lunch.

After dressing, I decided to grab my laptop bag so I could begin going over my new route during dinner.

The hotel is 73 stories high with the Moon Beam Restaurant located on one of its top three levels. The only way to get to the Moon Beam, other than taking the fire escape, was to go back down to the lobby and take a dedicated elevator there back up to the top.

Five minutes later I stepped of the elevator feeling almost claustrophobic and was greeted by an over bubbly hostess.

After the hostess had seated me, a rather cute young waitress with somewhat large breasts for her size came to my table and took my order. I remember thinking as she walked away, 'I wonder how much those puppies cost her?'

I then opened my laptop bag and took out my route book in hopes that I might have time to familiarize myself with my new customer's locations before she came back with my meal.

When I opened it, my eyes were instantly drawn an entry on the first page that had been circled with a large pink highlighter. There was a sticky note attached to the page with my father's handwriting on it. It read, "Don't let her get away from you this time son!" and it was signed, "Dad." The name circled on the page was "Dr. Victoria Mercer, MD." I immediately understood that odd smile on his face!

That night, as I lay on my bed trying to find the rest of sleep, the last thoughts going through my mind just before I drifted into its embrace were of Victoria and how I might be received by her after all these years.

When I awaked the next morning, after I showered and did all the normal things one does in the morning to prepare for a workday, I called her office to arrange an appointment to see her.

I was told by the receptionist, "Dr. Mercer sees new vendor representatives on Thursday after 1:00 p.m. Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

Somewhat disappointed, I made an appointment for 4:30 p.m. that Thursday and then promptly went to the Mac Chuckles restaurant across the street for an all too unsavory breakfast of "Mac Something" with eggs. Afterward, I made a mental note to myself that two things would have to be first on my 'to-do' list after getting an appartment, finding a gym and somewhere healthier to eat.

I made a quick courtesy call upon the Atlanta office of my father's business and then proceeded upon my route.

The week went rather well. On Tuesday, I was extremely lucky and found a furnished studio apartment to rent from a woman whose son was working on a fishing boat in Alaska and wouldn't be back for three more months.

The next day I discovered there was even a gym nearby. The rates were not the best, but after almost four days of sitting in waiting rooms, over priced hotel food and cheap greasy fast food, I was glad to have some way to get rid of the toxins that had to be building up in my system.

With each hour day, I became more excited by the prospects of seeing Vicky once more until finally when Thursday arrived, I realized I could almost think of nothing else.

Having finished the rest of my scheduled route early that day, I could have tried to squeeze in one more customer but decided not to.

One thing I had learned is that you just can't count on a doctor's 'schedule'. Not that it's their fault, mind you. Between being on call for emergencies and patients showing up late, and walk-ins, its amazing they ever get anywhere on time. No, this day, I did not want to be late.

Despite being ahead of schedule with my route, the Atlanta traffic was so thick that I was almost late for my appointment anyway.

With five minutes to spare, I got out of my car and walked leisurely to towards the lobby entrance as the hot afternoon sun beat down on me. Despite the heat, I was lucky enough to reach the cool air-conditioned shelter of the lobby before I began to sweat.

The waiting room was packed like a sardine can with patients and after checking in with the receptionist, I found an empty seat and settled down for what I knew was sure to be a long wait.

Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, when there were only two patients left, the receptionist came out and said to me consolingly, "I'm sorry Lyle, Dr. Mercer had an emergency and is running way behind schedule. We're running late and since it's already way past closing, she's going to need to reschedule you for next week. Since you've waited so long, I'll be glad to put you first on the list if you'd like?"

My heart sank but what could I do? After I told her that would be fine, she asked me to meet her at the reception window and she would add me in the schedule.

Five minutes later, disappointed, I headed out the door.

I was about to open the door when suddenly I heard the concerto voice of a young woman from behind me, "Lyle!" She said. "Lyle!" Once more. I turned just as she was catching up with me.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Mercer's nurse, Maggie. She says to tell you if you can wait about another twenty minutes that she will be able to see you today." Maggie looked at me expectantly, "What shall I tell her?"

"Tell her that will be fine, take all the time that she needs. I'm not going anywhere." I wondered if I should have said that last part as soon as had left my mouth.

The nurse smiled cheerfully and said, "Would you like me to have the receptionist bring you something to drink while you wait, a soda or juice perhaps?"