You can't trust me.

He could have gone back to the country. Once attaining his medical degree, he could have gone back home. Sure, there wasn't much excitement or romance waiting for him there, and his practice would certainly have been little more than slinging antibiotics at runny noses, maybe the drama of an occasional tractor accident, not exactly the type of thing one spend twelve long years of one's life studying the intricacies of surgery to look forward too, still.... It would have been better than this.

"We have to call the police," Sherry, the hospital's Of Counsel stated. "End of story. We have to."

"No, look, we can't," Robert, the hospital's chief administrator countered. "Neither of them want to, and they're not exactly...."

"Exactly what?" Sherry asked.

"Well, put it this way - they're both responsible adults."

"You were going to say 'sane'."

"No, I was going to say 'common'. And they're not. They're a very prominent couple in the community. Widely respected at the university. Hell, you see them on those national T.V. talk shows all the time! You know what kinds of problems they could cause for us, for our hospital, if this leaks? If we call in the police? No. Just fix them up and send them on their way. We can do that, yes? Virgil?"

His turn now. Virgil scratched the stubble on his lip. Another long day.

"He's stable. And the appendage is safe. But it'll require multiple surgeries to reattach... it. Her injuries are superficial and she can leave any time, but he'll be around for a good while still," Virgil explained. "Unless he chooses not to have the surgery. In which case we can hook him up to a tube and send him away right now."

"A tube?" Sherry glowered at him. "Are you joking?"

No, Virgil thought, If I were, I'd've suggested hooking him up to a hose. But his visible response was merely a shrug.

"So these surgeries...?" Robert said. "Can we do them here? I mean to say, do we have the knowledge and equipment? Or is would they be better performed at, say, Boston? Or Bangor?"

"Trying to dump the problem won't make it go away," Sherry snapped. "If we don't call in the police now - right now - tonight! This will come back to kick us in the ass." She tugged off one of her high heeled shoes and scratched the bottom of her foot. It was just shy of midnight and tack was in short supply after such a long day.

"Virgil?" Robert pressed. "Shouldn't we transfer him to another hospital?" He nodded his head while asking the question, eyes wide, prodding for the 'right' answer.

Virgil leaned his head back and sighed. "Why don't we just transfer them both to a different planet?"

 ***

Earlier that evening.  

Doctor Mary Higgenbothem entered the house and, after settling her briefcase and coat in the hallway closet, heard the unmistakable sounds of sex coming from the study. Discordant moaning, grunting, and cries of "Fuck me! Oh, fuck me! Fuck!" floated down the hallway.

She took her time removing her flat shoes and tugging the bands from her long, black hair. She checked herself in the mirror over the foyer shelf. No allusions - she wasn't lovely. Her nose was big and hooked, her eyes were deep set and had a washed out grey color that would never be described as vibrant. Her face was long and her thin lips had, through the years, settled into a permanent frown. Nevertheless, she did have a pleasant olive tone and smooth skin and her hair.... Her hair was luxurious, black as pitch, and fell past her waist.

Enough. Time to see what was happening in the study.

She padded through the house and stood in the doorway to lay eyes on her betrothed - Professor Louis Higgenbothem - as he studied pornography displayed on the high definition computer monitor. He sat in the leather chair, holding his spectacles with the earpiece resting on his lip, the other hand on the mouse. His brow furrowed and the trim, silver hair of his sharply trimmed beard glowing in the digital light.

"Working hard, dear?" Mary asked.

"Mmmmm," he answered, barely acknowledging her presence.

She watched a girl on the screen take a penis from behind while flogging her mouth against another stiff one pressed against her face. Making sounds of pleasure that were obviously fake.

Mary grunted and turned to leave, but Louis called for her - "Wait. I do want you to see something."

Mary came to his side and crossed her arms under the slight swell of her breasts. "Yes? Well?"

"Here," Louis clicked a few times and the screen changed. Another girl on her knees, lips wrapped firmly around the shaft of an erection, her head working like the connecting rod of a steam train's wheel rig.

"Yes?" Mary huffed.

"Wait for it...."

Suddenly, from off-screen, the man reached down and slapped the girl's face. Hard. She winced, pulled away, but then smiled, laughed, and started sucking again.

"There!" Louis exclaimed. "What do you think of that? And I assure you, this isn't an isolated aberration. I've seen plenty such occurrences during my studies. Well? What do you think? Did you need to see it again?"

"No," Mary said. "And I really fail to see the significance. 'Slap and tickle' has a well and long established roll in American sexuality."

"...'and tickle?'" Louis said. "I hardly think that qualifies as an act of playfulness. Look if I increase the size, you can actually see a welt rise up under her eye."

Mary leaned forward and inspected the screen. "Yes.... I see."

"So," Louis turned off the computer. "What do you think?"

"Yes, I can see where this would add to your thesis on the dehumanization of sexuality."

"No no no!" Louis came to his feet. "Let's start with the assumption that we are already living in a society where sexuality has been devalued, agreed? Okay, then this is something different. Yes, playfully striking a lover during a sex act is, as you say, established; but slapping her mouth while your penis is occupying that space? Doesn't that indicate a form of self-flagellation? Even in play, striking a penis or testicles with any significant force subverts eroticism. Yet these men strike at themselves with reckless abandon! And the women.... As you say, slap and tickle, but that type of activity is usually confined to the buttock and hips. What sort of sexual pleasure does a woman derive from taking a blow to her face? Well?"

Mary raised a finger, a point of consideration, "Of course, we do have to take into account that you have been watching actors at play."

"But the welt!" Louis countered.

"Actors have long suffered for their art."

"Yes yes yes!" Louis paced the room. "And therein lies the problem. Any thesis I derive from these visuals is subject to that argument. Damn it!"

"Perhaps....," Mary started, then said. "No. Never mind."

"Yes? What were going to say? Please, you know how I rely on you to focus my thoughts."

"I was about to suggest an experiment."

"You mean?"

Mary removed her glasses and set them on the table. "For this to work," she explained, "You will have to be committed to the character. You understand?"

Louis placed his own eyeglasses next to Mary's. "It won't be easy."

"I should hope not. I, as well, will be occupying an uncomfortable mental place."

"Indeed."

"So? You self-loathing example of a dehumanized male appendage? Are you ready to treat me like a whore?"

***

Now

"Professor Higgenbothem won't press charges," Robert explained, "Doctor Higgenbothem won't press charges. We have signed statements from both of them attesting these facts. So what's the problem?"

"Jesus!" Sherry exploded. "Are you so fucking dense? No, now she won't press charges. With two black eyes looking like a raccoon that just got caught tipping over a trashcan. Now he won't press charges, doped up on morphine with his motherfucking dick on dry ice in a Styrofoam cooler. What about tomorrow? Next week? When she's been wearing Audry Hepburn sunglasses like some punching-bag trailer trash to avoid the probing questions? Or him? Two weeks from now when he's been watching his piss collect in a bag while waiting for his wee-wee to start working again? If we don't get a police report on this incident tonight, we are in deep shit later. Trust me. I am, after all, a fucking lawyer."

Well past midnight now and all tact was long gone and blown away (no pun intended).

Robert scowled and turned his attention to Doctor Templeton. "Virgil," he said, "help me."

Virgil laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Sherry demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Virgil said. "I was just regretting a past decision. Did you know that I was accepted into the Castle Rock school of veterinary medicine? Stupid me. I decided on John Hopkins instead."

Sherry grunted. Robert shook his head.

"What can I say?" Virgil flung his hands in the air. "Can I sew Professor Higgenbothem's penis back on? Yes. Can I do in a dark, secret room hidden away from all eyes with an absolute guarantee of secrecy? No. My name is Doctor Virgil Templeton, not Doctor Miguelito Loveless."

"What?" Sherry sneered, obviously annoyed by the attempted levity.

"Nothing," Virgil replied.

"End of the day - you let these two get away with... whatever this is," Sherry aimed an accusatory finger between Robert's eyes, "You will be righteously portrayed in the media as a spineless, pencil-neck, republican twerp selling out any and all moral convictions in a desperate attempt to collect and hoard money. I didn't create this world, I'm just explaining it to you. You let these two perverts skedaddle from here Tweedledee-Dee - let them go back to teaching our precious children - and when this story breaks -and it will break -, you'll be painted as a despicable corporate-man. Worse than Hitler. You're choice."

Robert rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Why don't you both.... leave. Go home. I'll make a decision soon."

Virgil stood up and held the door open for Sherry. The left together, side by side.

On their way to the elevator, Sherry asked, "I haven't had a thing. You want to grab some tacos? I know an all-night place."

"Okay," Virgil said.

"What a day, huh?" Sherry said, pushing the button for the elevator.

"Yeah," Virgil agreed.

They stood in companionable silence until the cab arrived with a 'ding'. The door opened to an empty box.

The door closed behind them and Sherry rested a hand on Virgil's arm. Then she threw her head back and started laughing. "Doctor Higgenbothem bit Professor Higgenbothem dick clean off! Ha!"

Caught up in the moment, Virgil couldn't help but crack a smile. He chuckled; and he rarely chuckled.

"Oh!" Sherry wound down, wiping her eyes. "Oh, goodness."

Before the elevator doors opened, Sherry gave Virgil's arm a squeeze. "Don't worry," she said. "I did get a law degree, but I was never much for higher education."