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= = = = = = = = = =

This is one of PlanetDweller's finest stories. Within it he shows
an absolute mastery of the adult erotic fiction medium, painting
more than telling a panoramic tale of an apparently ordinary life
that circumstances, opportunity and honesty made extraordinary in
so many ways. Reading it, it's almost like you're the one there
doing the interview with Maggie and just being drawn into
encompassing timeline of her life, there with her as she projects
perhaps for the final time the incredible movie which had been
her life. Since so many of the details were based on real-life
things that involved one or more real-life people it can't help
but give you a gentle bearhug of erotic sensibility.~ ~ ~
AlphaBettaFish, curator of PlanetDweller's story archive

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1940's Gyno Nurse Petite Memoir Interview

By

PlanetDweller


{Author's notes . . . ; This interview took place several years
ago when I was a volunteer at a local rest home and just happened
to run across a Mrs. Margaret O'Connor, who had been a
gynecological nurse at an OB/GYN practice on Long Island back in
the mid- 1940's through the mid-1950's. She eventually married
one of the doctors at the practice and became a full-time
homemaker to her physician husband, they moving to North Carolina
in 1955 where he became a very well-known local physician until
his death in 1994, successfully raised three children, and had
one long-term female lover during the course of her
forty-some-year marriage to her doctor-husband, with his full
knowledge and approval. But her story and this part of my
interview with her, recorded one long summer afternoon in 1997,
is not about that lesbian part of her life; rather, it's about
certain physician-directed practices that she was the
charge-nurse for at the gynecological practice she worked for
that I found absolutely fascinating.

At first I thought she was fibbing to me about them, they seemed
so outlandish at first, I thought she had Alzheimer's or similar
but at a young age of seventy-six her mind was as sharp as the
proverbial tack and was intact but her brittle bones and two
poorly repaired broken hips were not, and further research into
the dusty archives of old nursing and medical journals at the
medical library at Duke University convinced me that she was
indeed telling the truth.

Coincidentally, a couple of years back, Richard Belzer who plays
the "Detective Munch" character on the NBC Network show "Law &
Order: Special Victims Unit" mentioned what this excerpt from my
interview with her is the subject about. It's a part of the past
that the American Medical Association had just as soon forget
about, so I offer this edited transcript to the world as part of
the historical record of medicine in America, specifically
certain physician-directed practices of gynecological nurses in a
time before said practices were outlawed by silent fiat in the
mid-1950's.~~~PlanetDweller}

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

PD: Tell us a little about your childhood, Margaret . . .

MC: Please call me "Maggie", Planet'.

PD: "Maggie" then; where were you born, where did you grow up,
how did you get into nursing?

MC: I was born in Higgins, Nebraska, in 1921. My father was a
wheat farmer who died when I was just six and my younger brother
was just one. My mother couldn't afford to hire help to work the
farm, so she sold out and moved to Chicago in 1928, where my aunt
May, her younger sister, lived with her husband at that time.
Aunt May was a secretary for the head administrator at St. Mary
Elizabeth's Hospital just outside of Chicago, in a small town
called Des Plaines. My mother needed work to support us, so Aunt
May got her a job as what now would be called a Certified Nursing
Assistant or Nurse's Aid, basically a the lowest rung on the
nursing totem pole, then and now, but it was a job. During the
Depression, it kept food on the table for us.

PD: How did your father die?

MC: My mother never really said exactly how, and it was a closed
coffin at the funeral, I do remember that. I know it involved him
being on the tractor and the tractor, one of the huge old steam
engine ones, either rolling over on him or somehow crushing him.

PD: So, your mother was a nurse, that's how you got into nursing?

MC: Yes. Eventually she took enough night classes and had enough
experience to become a Registered Nurse, which she did in 1937. I
was sixteen then. I had helped her study at night, all the while
going to high school, so by the time I graduated in 1938 near the
top of my class, I had a good book-level knowledge of nursing,
and between Mother and Aunt May they helped me get a job as what
would be now a Licensed Practical Nurse, since I knew how to give
injections properly, insert catheters, do standard BP checks, the
basics.

PD: This was at St. Mary Elizabeth's?

MC: Yes, though I did get a better job with more money and
shorter hours at a smaller but more exclusive hospital, Regency
At Lakeshore in Chicago, that was just off the southern end of
Lakeshore Drive back then, and moved into an apartment with
another nurse who worked there not too far from it, over on
Deveraux Street.

PD: Is this where you began your career as a OB/GYN nurse?

MC: No. Dr. Pierce, a physician and surgeon had privileges there
and who worked out of Regency as his main base of surgical
procedures, was a well-know urologist. He recruited me to go to
work for him as his main office nurse at his practice over on
State Street, a twenty minute bus ride from my apartment, even
though I didn't have specific experience as a urological nurse.
He said no nurse was ever given specific urological training
except by a physician-urologist so he wasn't concerned. After I
earned my own Registered Nurse credentials, I was making the
princely sum of $40 a week during the Depression, more than a lot
of nurses with twice my experience and qualifications. This was
1939, mind you, and I was only eighteen.

PD: So, you were banging this Dr. Pierce, then? (Giving her a sly
grin, cracking her up)

MC: Oh, Peedy, you are a card! No, I wasn't his "side dish". He
was quite happily married with five kids. His wife and I became
friends, I babysat for them on a few occasions. Great kids, can't
remember their names now.

PD: So, when did you become this "special" ob/gyn nurse?

MC: Be patient, Darling, let me continue my story.

PD: Sorry.

MC: He encouraged me to take some advanced medical and nursing
classes at Loyola, which I did and he paid for, everything but my
books and transportation to them. I never finished my degree in
nursing, but that wasn't important to me. "The War", the "Big
One", "Dubya-Dubya-Two" came along in December of 1941, and the
following year, October of 1942, I volunteered for the Army
Medical Corps. Of course, nurses were in short supply and large
demand. Because I had specific training and experience as a
urological nurse, for most of my enlistment I was stationed at a
forward firebase hospital near Uzoal in North Africa.

PD: Sounds exciting.

MC: Well, it was what needed to be done. I really didn't like the
Army all that much.

PD: Why?

MC: Because, contrary to the myths since then, we were always
short of both supplies and equipment. Such basics as bandages,
catheters, scalpels, IV needles, steam sterilizers, even toilet
paper, things like were always being stolen both by the local
population and our own troops. More times than I want to remember
I had to reuse dirty, unsterilized catheters over and over again
for lack of a autoclave, sometimes I even had to reuse injection
and IV needles sometimes without even sodium hypocloride to wash
them out with. I did the best I could. They were our boys, and I
did the best I could.

PD: Sounds rough.

MC: It was. And I had taken a huge pay cut, too. They had made me
a captain upon my enlistment, even though I didn't have a four
year nursing degree. Because of my experience and RN status, they
made me a captain. Still flabbergasts me that they did. I was
only twenty-one. But my pay went from $160 a month to $52 a
month. There were side benefits to the job, though. I was, as the
saying used to go but would be politically incorrect to use now,
"free, white, and twenty-one". And there were so many handsome
soldiers coming through our facility. Yes, I began to enjoy the
fruits of my youth some.

PD: Uh-hummmm, yes, sounds interesting, tell me more.

MC: I was a virgin until then. A young corporal, a dead ringer
for a young Errol Flynn, had come into the hospital with a minor
gastro-intestinal shrapnel wound that had nicked his bladder also
and infection has set in. Thank goodness we had enough penicillin
and sulfa in supply right then. I knew, we all knew the invasion
of Italy would be next, and that it would be bad for our boys. I
gave him a special "going away present" that I could give only
once. He was "bought the farm" at Anzio, stepped on a land mine,
I think. His name was Bobby-something, can't remember his last
name. I miss him to this day.

PD: Sorry. Let's talk about your experiences later as on ob/gyn
nurse, okay? (She shoots a total "screw you, I'm in charge of
this interview, not you", look)

MC: No, let me finish my story, Peedy.

PD: Okay, continue.

MC: After Bobby introduced me to the wonders of love, let's just
say I wasn't averse to indulging myself. Thousands upon thousands
of GI's coming through our hospital, and maybe twenty or thirty
female nurses at most at any one time. It wasn't shooting fish in
a barrel, it was picking the best piece of fruit off of the
GI-tree that suited you then. An Italian soldier, part of the
Italian Army In Exile, Gino was his first name I think,
introduced me to both oral and anal sex, which I loved to do
after that. He was a perfect lover to show me how to both suck
cock and take it in my ass, slow and patient and gentle and all
man.

PD: Maggie!

MC: What's wrong with me saying that, Peedy? It's the truth.
Every generation thinks they discover sex for the first time in
the history of manking when they become adults, when all they're
doing is re-discovering what's been around since time began.

PD: Just kind of caught me off guard with your explicitness,
that's all, Maggie. (She laughs to the point of nearly guffawing
at me)

MC: Remember back then we didn't have "the pill" like women do
now. Any little slip could get you pregnant, and even the condoms
then weren't nearly as reliable as they are now. Once Gino showed
me oral and anal, he was only five-two but with a package the
size of a German sausage, I was hooked. Sucked a lot of cocks and
took in my ass quite a few times before my discharge, had plenty
of regular sex as well but not as much once I discovered the
other two legs of the sex-stool.

PD: So, we're up to the point of your discharge from the Army?

MC: Close. Just before V-E Day, I was transferred over to Kent
Army Medical Center outside of London, where I stayed until my
discharge orders finally came in January of 1946. I was glad to
get out of North Africa. A hundred degrees in the shade during
the day, below freezing at night, and locals that would dig up
our war dead to steal their uniforms off their bodies they had
just been buried in. I wouldn't trade my experiences in North
Africa for the world, Peedy, and you couldn't pay me all the
money in the world to re-live it again, either.

PD: So, how did you wind up in Long Island after the war?

MC: At my time at Kent AMC, I was still doing mostly my special
urological nurse work, though I was also running the nursing
cadre there, too. I had two English boyfriends who kept me in
nylons and I kept them in blowjobs. One was married and by then I
really didn't care. Pete was his name; nice guy, older, three
kids and proper English wife. He had been a banker before the war
and was a highly placed Civil Defence official during. I gave him
my officer's scotch and cigarette allowances since I don't smoke
or drink and he gave me antique silver and heirloom jewelry and
some wonderful English paintings, including one Turner watercolor
I still have. His come also was the sweetest I've ever tasted,
tasted like nectar. He was a vegetarian, and his come tasted like
he was.

PD: (The mike between us as we sit near each other at the small
breakfast nook table picks up my subconscious tapping of my
fingers on the table, which she notices and comments on)

MC: Patience, patience, my young friend! It was then that a
Doctor Jones also was transferred to Kent to await his discharge
too. He was a board-certified urologist who also had been in
ob/gyn protocol before the war. He was married to a former Helen
Sprungeon of the Seattle Sprungeons who had been working on
completing her own ob/gyn residency before the war and was
allowed to continue with her studies at the UCLA School Of
Medicine during the war. I think she was the third or fourth
woman ever permitted to enroll in the medschool there, which for
the time was one of the most progressive and forward-thinking
medical schools in the country. They both were originally from
Queens, and it had been their intention that once she completed
her ob/gyn residency at Field Memorial in Los Angeles, they would
set up shop in New York.

PD: So, it was with Dr.s Mr. And Mrs. Jones that you became a
special ob/gyn nurse?

MC: I wish you would quit calling it a "special" ob/gyn nurse,
Peedy. What I did back then was very routine and common practice,
had been for decades. I just did it more than a lot of nurses
because of the nature of the Dr.'s Jones' practice.

PD: I don't understand.

MC: Let me finish this part of the story. Things will make more
sense then.

PD: Okee.

MC: Dr. Jones, the male one, Phil, came to like me. Yes, I blew
him a few times but he showed me a letter from Dr. Jones Mrs.,
Helen, in her own handwriting saying that as long as he was
careful not to pick up any diseases he could selectively do so. I
gave him some anal, which he had never had a chance to do before
and loved, and had "normal sex" with him a couple of times, too.
He was a great guy, a true gentleman, but an average lover. Mrs.
Jones also had a lover, a female RN whom she worked with, that he
knew and approved of. I was fascinated by that, I admit it. I had
heard of lesbians, of course, but really didn't know what they
did or how they did it. I wrote to her point-blank and asked her
about. She replied with honesty and frankness and explicitness. I
was fascinated.

PD: So, you became his lover and her lover too?

MC: (Just shaking her head at me, takes a deep breath, then
continues) He told me as soon as he got his discharge, he was
heading out to Valley Vale, a small community on Long Island just
off a stop not far out from the city on the Long Island Railway,
to set up shop as a urologist and when his wife came out to join
him later, they'd have a joint practice together. It was their
intention to become infertility specialists.

PD: Why?

MC: Why what?

PD: Why did they want to become infertility specialists?

MC: Because he, they, had concluded that once the war was over,
with all the GI's returning home that there would be this huge
baby boom and with that, a huge number of frustrated couples that
would be having trouble conceiving. Helen, Dr. Mrs. Jones, had
been doing as much research into the cutting edges of infertility
treatments as she could during her ob/gyn residency and as her
faculty sponsor would let her. Keep in mind this was a time when
mailing, sending or even just receiving, sex information through
the mail could get you arrested, even if you were a physician.
Hard to believe but very true.  I know it must seem like the dark
ages back then to you now, compared with the knowledge and
freedom we have now, but <it was a different time back then.

PD: So, there came a time when you moved to Long Island and began
working for the Dr.s Jones'?

MC: Yes. He made me an offer to become their sole employee at
first, chief nurse, receptionist, bookkeeper, cook, bottle
washer. They had borrowed a little money from their families to
set up shop with, but it wasn't much. I went from making
captain's pay to $120 a month, still less than I was making
before the war, but that all changed fairly quickly.

PD: So, Maggie, any regrets about volunteering for the war?

MC: None. I know I helped saved the lives of hundreds if not
thousands of our boys. That's all the mattered to me, then or
now. As I was saying, he got his discharge in November of 1945,
and I got mine in January of 1946. The Army sent me all the way
out to Ft. Bliss for my formal discharge. I stopped in Chicago to
spend a week with my mother before going on to Long Island. Aunt
May had died during the time I was gone. She left many nice
pieces of furniture and some family heirloom china and silver to
me. I already had two trunks full of nice things from my friend
Pete that a couple of "friends" in the Quartermaster Corps had
allowed me to ship back home, despite the usual prohibition to
most GI's of doing so. Dr. Mr. Jones, Phil, had warned me that
the place we were all going to move into at first was a tiny
three-bedroom house, so I put all but one trunk and three
suitcases full of my things into bonded storage, kissed my mother
good-bye and left for Long Island and my new life.

PD: Did you have any idea you would be doing what you ended up
doing, Maggie?

MC: Well, yes, and no. As I mentioned earlier, clinical female
masturbation had been used for decades by the medical
establishment to treat a wide variety of various "female
problems", men excluded (we both laugh at that joke), from
post-coital pain to dyspareunia to . . . "

PD: Maggie, what's "dyspareunia"?

MC: It's a catch-all term of sorts, but mostly then and now was
taken to express a condition described in layman's terms as
"pelvic congestion", which you can take to mean bad PMS-type
pain, indeterminate sometimes localized sometimes general pelvic
pain not related to infection or other chronic medical condition
or to menstruation, a feeling of heaviness and bloatedness all
the time, and even heightened libido and desire, which wasn't
considered necessarily a good thing by the "male" medical
establishment back then, would all come under that umbrella term.

PD: So, you would clinically masturbate women patients to relieve
their "dyspareunia"?

MC: Yes, that and for post-coital pain, for some myometrial
conditions, and even for dysmenorhea …

PD: (I think I shot her another "speak English, please" polite
look at this one)

MC: . . . which is painful menstruation, and even for vulvodynia
which was almost unheard of and undiagnosed then because few
physicians really paid much attention to what we women said, but
we, the Dr.s Jones', were way ahead of their time.

PD: What's?

MC: Vulvodynia is a non-specific, non-agentable, non-infectious
condition of the female genitals, specifically the outer labia
but also going into the vaginal canal, where the patient
experiences a wide variety of unpleasant sensations, including
but not limited to extreme burning sensations, extreme itching,
random stabbings of non-specific pain, soreness to the touch
sometimes, sometimes a non-infectious-related discharge that no
one knows the origin of, but mostly, just a lot of burning and
itch and pain.

PD: Sounds wicked.

MC: It is.

PD: So, clinical masturbation was used to treat that as well?

MC: When all other topical and internal treatments failed, yes.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Would you like to hear more of
the story?

PD: By all means, Maggie, please.

MC: Dr. Mrs. Jones, Helen, didn't come out until the following
June. With her expressed permission, Dr. Mr. Jones, Phil, and I
became regular lovers for that time period. It was understood by
all that if I became pregnant, he would give me an abortion,
despite the fact it was a felony to do so back then. I didn't get
pregnant. We were careful, and I gave him lots more oral and anal
sex than vaginal, except when I wanted a good old-fashioned
screw. Like I said, his cock was average, and he was an average
lover at best. Most of our time was spent getting their office
ready and when that was complete, our first ad announcing
formation of their practice in the local paper in March brought
in a total of fortry-seven phone calls, of which twenty-nine
booked appointments. We were on our way. Their, the Dr.s'
assessment about the demand for their services, if anything had
been too conservative. Dr. Phil had to "bootleg" a bit, since he
wasn't officially FACOG certified but tried to stay within the
spirit of the AMA's regulations. He was a physician after all,
could do anything he basically wanted with patients.

PD: So, please describe some of your typical cases.

MC: Let me finish up about how things eventually wound up. When
Dr. Mrs. Jones finally came out to Long Island, my physical
relationship with Dr. Mr. Jones officially ended that day, except
for the once-a-month maybe twice or so blowjob that he had become
spoiled on and which she didn't want to do, thought it was
unwifely and unfeminine for herself to do to her husband. That
was a common attitude for many women of that day. I know she
thought me a bit of a tart if not a slight whore for not just
doing it but admitting to actually enjoy giving them, let alone
my occasional penchant for anal sex, but she never spoke
negatively about it to my face, and in fact she and I became
friends, fast friends. Yes, one Sunday in late August of that
year, 1946, Phil had made an appointment to have an interview
with the membership committee for the nearby prestigious Black
Woods Country Club, which he was immediately accepted into a week
or so later, and gave Helen and I total privacy for the day.

PD: Yes, I'm listening, getting a little hard-on actually.

MC: (She laughs approvingly at my joke) Keep in mind that I had
been "just" Dr. Phil's nurse for the time until then. I hadn't
done any clinical female masturbation techniques on our patients,
not at all. Helen wanted to make sure they had the proper
clinical and documentation protocols in place before I began
doing so. So, the premise of that Sunday was that she would teach
me how to clinically masturbate female patients, using proper,
detached clinical form and technique, and then after that they
would begin incorporating that more into their treatment
modalities, especially for infertile couples.

PD: Pardon me, but hu?

MC: Yes. It was Dr. Mrs.'s belief that "pelvic congestion",
dyspareunia could be a cause of infertility in women, when all
other reasons had been ruled out. Actually, I had seen Dr. Phil
clinically masturbate maybe a handful of women patients during
the couple of months the practice had been going, but I didn't do
any, he didn't show me how to do so clinically, and I was just
doing as I was told to do, as is and was the job of a nurse, any
nurse.

PD: So, you and Mrs. Doctor were at your shared home in Long
Island on this Sunday, and the premise was she was going to teach
you the proper techniques of clinical female masturbation.

MC: Yes.

PD: Were you excited?

MC: Yes, I have to admit I was. I was hoping that this "training
session" would lead into something more with her. Something maybe
not romantic but at least sexual. Remember, I knew about her
lesbianism or bisexuality, she had written me letters telling me
bits of what she did with her female lover that she had to leave
behind in California once she moved east to be with her husband.

PD: Did it?

MC: Did it what?

PD: Lead to something more.

MC: You know it did, Peedy (she and I softly laughing). In her
bedroom, she had me strip to the waist and pulled out two
old-style Oster massagers, the kind with the big electric motors
and those flexible spring-type series of metal bands that held
the oscillating motor to the back of your hand in place, the
vibrations being transmitted through the hand proper to the area
being massaged. She said when doing what we then simply called
"clinical massage" it was important to relax the patient first,
so most of the time unless she or her husband indicated not to as
a contraindication, the patient would be relaxed with a massage
to the face, neck, chest, and breasts.

PD: Uh-hu?

MC: When she touched my breasts with her hands pulsing with those
massagers, there was a look of pure lust in her eyes but she kept
her composure at first at least. She massaged my face, neck,
upper chest and then played with my breasts for a while, working
my nipples expertly. Yes, I became excited. I had been hoping she
would introduce me to lesbianism.

PD: And you weren't disappointed.

MC: Peedy!

PD: Maggie! (Laughing, we trading touches of arms sitting near
each other)

MC: I was on my period right then but she said that clinical
massage was a treatment for dysmenorhea too and I needed to
become comfortable clinically touching female patients during
their periods and "normally" and the best way to do that was to
learn from experiencing. I took off my skirt and sanitary
panties, then my sanitary belt and pad. She examined my pad in
detail before I laid down on the bed. She asked me if had any
cramping or passed any large clots during my period. I told her
no, not usually, some mid-cycle cramping but little during my
actual period. She felt of my soiled pad, examined my menstrual
fluid on it. She told me that my flow indicated to her that my
reproductive system was normal and healthy and I shouldn't have
any problems getting pregnant, once I found a husband to marry.
Then she began her genital massaging of me, but not before
getting a medical shaving kit from under the bed and a pan of
water from the bathroom and giving me my first pudendal shave,
explaining that the wire coils of the massager would grab and
yank pubic hair out by the roots if not careful and the easiest
thing to do was simply shave the "affected" area.

Putting a cloth Chux clinical towel underneath my tail as I lay
back on the bed before she shaved me and then finished up, she
still clothed, she touched me both clinically and un- clinically.
Those old Oster massagers made such a racket, let me tell you.
One of them massaging my breasts, her other Oster-powered hand
touched my clit and I had a revelation.

PD: "Revelation"?

MC: That I wanted her to become my lover, and I also wanted her
husband to me my lover too, more than he had been. I wanted us to
become what you would now call a permanent threesome. I wanted to
have his child, and wanted to be her lover. I wanted to be with
both of them, always.

PD: Did that happen?

MC: No. Well, yes, a little, but no, it really didn't. I also had
the revelation that I loved the touch of a woman and would never
do without it again. She would be in clinical mode one minute,
telling me exactly how and why to stay on a patient's clitoris
for maximum efficient use of clinical time for maximum orgasmic
results, and then the next minute be giving me this "I want you
so badly!" look as her fingers would slip inside me, the massager
giving me sensations I never knew I could feel before.

PD: Sounds hot!

MC: Yes, it was. I thought I fell in love, was falling in love
with her, but I wasn't. I found out over time that the feelings I
was feeling for her then  was a common manifestation even when a
patient was heterosexual, feelings for the nurse who was treating
her.

PD: Maggie, why didn't things work out between you three? I mean,
sounds like they didn't.

MC: I don't want to talk about it, that, anymore, Peedy. I will
say that, like I mentioned before, that during the time I was
with them as their head nurse, I did give him monthly blowjobs
when Helen was on her on own period and wouldn't let him touch
her, and she and I would end up usually in bed as lovers a couple
of times per month, usually once during her period when she
wanted sex but didn't want to give her husband any and then
another time or two, no particular pattern. All that ended up
doing was making me frustrated, because the two of them more or
less dictated to me when we, they individually, would have sex
with me.

PD: But you mentioned the three of you having sex together?

MC: I don't want to talk about it.

PD: Okay. Please continue about your clinical masturbatory
practices, Maggie.

MC: Oh, that reminds me, here, here are my notes I've been
working on for you; is this okay? I'm getting a little tired now,
Peedy. Why don't you take these home, read them, and then I'll
see you tomorrow for a while, you can ask me some follow up
questions. Okay?

PD: Okay, sure, Maggie (me kissing her on the cheek as a friend)

{Author's notes . . . the following are edited verbatim
transcripts from some recollections of some of her clinical cases
and miscellaneous thoughts that she handwrote in a spiralbound
notebook for me. Her thoughts tend to jump around a bit, so
please bear with me.}

+++++++++++++++

After Dr. Helen Jones finished my impromptu training in how to
use clinical massage to treat a wide variety of what were then
euphemistically called "female conditions" under her and her
doctor-husband's direction, almost ninety-some-percent of work
within their infertility specialized practice became clinical
massage.

My first patient was a new English war bride, can't remember her
name, but I do remember her face and body. Her GI husband had
married her in 1943 while stationed in England. Lots of English
women did that, for lots of reasons. Some married GI's hoping to
be brought to America, some were hoping their husbands would be
killed in action and they could get their GI pension, some
because they actually loved them. It was never my place to
speculate on motivations why. It was my place to treat my
employers' patients as best I could.

Oh, that's right, her name was "Maggie", just like mine, how
could I forget that?

She had only been to a doctor once in her life before, when she
was a child. She had never been touched clinically before, never
had a routine gynecological exam in her life. I think she was
twenty-four or five. She had come to Dr. Jones' practice because
she and her husband had been trying to get pregnant since they
first got married, with no luck of course.

Her first gynecological exam by Dr. Mrs. Jones made her very
upset. I had to give her a shot to calm her down enough so the
doctor could finish her exam.

In the room with me, this was a week later, she was calm. She
didn't want to take off her bra at first but I explained why, I
thought Helen had given her the spiel during her first visit but
I gave it to her again anyway. I removed her bra for her and then
massaged her breasts with Oster massager-clad hands. She relaxed.
I pulled on her nipples some with the massagers going, she
smiled. I cupped each breast with both vibrating hands and she
relaxed more. I had her finish undressing and put on a gown and
lie down on the exam table, feet in the stirrups. Using a
standard exam drape that stretched across the table along her
waistline she should couldn't see exactly what I was doing, this
was standard gynecological protocol for decades until very
recently, I took the massager off of my right hand as I stood
next to the exam table and began massaging her with clitoris and
vagina with my left hand which still had a massager on it. She
relaxed more. I massaged her breasts more with my bare right hand
as the Oster did its work atop my left hand on her pudenda, her
legs wide open in the stirrups. She orgasmed within ten minutes,
the first time she had ever had one in her life. I massager her
for the full twenty minutes called for by Dr. Mrs. Jones, my
patient Maggie having two more orgasms during that time. For the
next three months, she became a twice-a-week patient of mine, and
during the fourth month, she being "late" the third month, it was
confirmed that she had indeed become pregnant, after trying as
hard to become pregnant as she could with her husband for the
past three years.

It was patients like Patient Maggie that soon spread word about
Drs. Mr. & Mrs. Jones far and wife to the communities all up and
down Long Island and into New York City proper.

I need to sress that clinical massage was only one aspect of the
treatment protocols for infertility that Helen and Phil used. Let
me discuss this a little further.

Typically, when a couple would first come in, the doctors would
see them as a couple, Dr.s seeing them couple-to-couple. The very
first question they would always ask was: "do both of you really
want to have children right now?" A blunt question, almost rude,
but necessary to ask. If the answer was "yes", then they would
ask the following question, and I'm serious that they would ask
it this way, asking the wife always first: "please describe how
you and your husband have intercourse, in exact detail." This
would offend many couples, but it's surprising the number of
couples that didn't know that the man's penis needed to go all
the way inside the wife's vagina during intercourse and stay
there through his orgasm and for a few moments afterwards. This
was the 1940's and early 1950's and many people, even married
couples, were much more ignorant sexually than a lot of ten year
olds are now.

They would give them a diary to keep a record of all things
sexual, times they had intercourse, times they had oral or anal
sex, times each one masturbated either alone or together, the
start and stop dates of her periods, any douches she used and
when, any medications they were taking, things like that. Then
they would interview them alone, separately, with Dr. Mrs. Jones
interviewing the wife and Dr. Mr. Jones the husband. It would be
then that issues negatively affecting the marriage would often
come out, such as one partner confessing they really didn't want
to have children right then but that the other partner was really
pressuring them to cooperate and have some. A lot of times, it
was as much clinical psychotherapy as it was infertility
treatments.

If at that point there were no issues that needed resolving first
such as issues of sexual education or one partner secretly
sabotaging the couple's efforts to become pregnant by use of
tried-and-true birth control methods which often didn't work but
often did such as Lysol douches after sex or secretly using an
illegal vaginal diaphragm barrier, then the couple would be given
a complete, and I do mean "complete", physical exam. This entire
process would take several visits usually.

On occasion I would be asked by Dr. Mrs. Jones to serve as a
"model" so she could show her patient my genitalia up close. I
didn't mind. Especially if a patient had vaginismus or otherwise
had a vagina with constriction "problems" meaning it was hard if
not impossible for her husband to actually penetrate inside her
vagina with his penis, Dr. Mrs. would demonstrate the use of 
"clinical dilators" or a series of non-vibrating dildos of
different sizes, from pinkie-finger size to "full size" on me,
and the doctor would leave the exam room and I would do normally
a clinical massage followed by further hands-on instructions to
the patient with the set of dilators which we would give them for
her to use at home.

The physical exams for husband and wife would be a typical
thorough exam, with some special twists added. Almost without
exception, Helen would examine the wife, Phil the husband, and I
would often assist with both exams. She would check for any signs
of vaginal trauma, vaginal bruising, vaginal adhesions, to make
sure intercourse could be accomplished fully, a more detailed
exam than a typical gynecological "grope". Of course she would do
swabs and check for syphilis and gonorrhea, the two main sexually
transmitted diseases of those days then. She would massage a
patient's breasts and nipples, looking for "sexual flush"
response, or have me do it under her direction. She then would
place a bare finger inside the patient's vagina and keep it there
for a while, not moving it, until she felt the patient become
lubricated, and make a note of how long it took. She would often
have a patient masturbate to orgasm under her watchful eye,
unless a patient objected to doing that for religious or moral
reasons. She would then check for vaginal "pH" or
acidity/alkalinity, she believing that an important factor in a
lot of cases of infertility, the wife's vagina needing to be
slightly acid and the husband's sperm slightly alkali for maximum
possibility of becoming pregnant, a too-acid vaginal mucosa
definitely being a problem too with a surprising number of
infertile couples.

For the husband, Dr. Mr. Jones would do a "finger wag" and
massage the patient's prostate until he obtained the necessary
involuntary ejaculatory response, at which point he would collect
a sample of the patient's semen and I would "do a count" to make
sure there was enough volume of sperm, that the sperm had
motility required to make it to the fallopian tube and make his
wife pregnant, and that there weren't many deformed sperm. I
would also check for sperm acidity/alkalinity. He would then
clinically masturbate the patient for a moment or two to make
sure the foreskin was loose and flexible. He then would have the
patient look at a collection of what would be called now "hard
core pornography" while sitting there nude in front of him in the
exam room, to make sure the patient exhibited an erectile
response to nude female images, i.e., to make sure the patient
wasn't homosexual by nature. Crude method, yes, but it was
cutting-edge for its time.

If all things checked out okay, then they would be given specific
instructions on how to maximize their chances of becoming
pregnant. For the wife, it would be no douches, ever, also she
was to wear loose-fitting panties, no use of tampons,
masturbation whenever she wished but no less than twice a week
either clinically at the office or at home, reduction of eating
of red meat to ensure proper vaginal pH, drinking of lots of
water and no caffeine drinks such as coffee or Coca-Colas. For
the husband, they would try to make him quit smoking if he did
since smoking always negatively affected sperm motility, he could
increase his coffee and caffeine consumption, he was never to
masturbate, ever, saving all his sperm reserves for intercourse,
and since almost no couples back then ever made love during the
wife's period, they were to totally abstain for sex during her
period and for seven days afterwards, yes it sounds "Jewish" but
that places first coitus for the month right at her mid-cycle egg
release for maximum chances, and they were to have intercourse
strictly with the husband on top and the wife on bottom, pillows
underneath her elevating her tail high and she staying like for
one half- hour after his orgasm so his sperm would "pool" at her
cervix and hopefully make their way "home". There were some other
miscellaneous things they would have them do but that's what I
remember at the moment.

These techniques sound so primitive in light of today's medical
knowledge, I know, but this was the late Forties and early
Fifties, and when I left the practice to marry my husband and
move to North Carolina, the success rate for Dr.'s Jones'
practice was over twenty-five percent, I think it was closer to
29%, an astonishing rate of success that even more modern
infertility treatment protocols don't usually equal.

  I have to admit that an endless stream of women patients to
clinically masturbate got pretty boring pretty soon, but by the
time I quit to get married I was making about $115 a week, a
truly astonishing salary for that day. I would have masturbated
female horses for that kind of money! Of course, Phil and Helen
were making money by the wheelbarrow full, and they earned every
penny, they just were treating me fairly, considering how
integral to the practice I was.

  I've been trying to think of a couple of interesting cases to
write about, and not many come to mind. I mean, once you
clinically massage one female patient, you pretty much have done
the same to all, the procedure is the same at least.

  There was this one case. Ruth, who had been a patient of ours,
she having seemingly become infertile after having had two
children but it turned out to be a bad case of fibroids which
necessitated an eventual hysterectomy, brought her twelve-year-
old daughter Penny in for me to "educate" her about her coming
menarche and selectively about sex and such. Again, not meaning
to sound like a broken record, but this was a different time and
place, and many mothers were very uncomfortable about discussing
"the facts of life" with their own daughters even to the point
where many never discussed a ten or eleven or twelve year-old's
coming menarche with them. At least Ruth had the courage to send
her daughter to Dr. Helen and myself. I think Ruth was a friend
of Helen's, maybe a lover to her but at least a friend I think.

  First visit, I sat down with Penny in Phil's office and we read
some pamphlets about menstruation, the old "What Every Young Girl
Should Know" series by Kotex I believe, and we also read some of
Phil's marriage and sex manuals from his étagère  that were full
of line drawings of sex and sex organs and a few photos but not
many. She seemed interested but not excited.

  Second visit, per Dr. Mrs. Jones' request but not order, I took
her to an exam room where I showed her how, with me as a "model",
to properly use a Kotex and belt, had her undress and used a Miss
Deb belt and napkin set on her on, how to insert a Tampax when
she got older of course, inserting it in my own vagina while I
let her watch up close, and then with my own naked self as model
showed her how I masturbated with my fingers and then had her do
the same to herself. I did not touch her that way, had her do
herself only.

This was the only time this was ever requested of me by the
doctors, and to this day I find it odd. All of our patients were
adult women, wives. I can only recall a handful of women patients
eighteen or nineteen, and they were all married women.

  It did get to the point where I was secretly enjoying
clinically touching my patients in a lot of cases, even though
the canons of medical ethics tell you that you're never supposed
to let that happen, you're supposed to shut your feelings off and
be "professional" only, keep everything as non-emotional and
sterile as possible. Of course, by then Phil and Helen had moved
into their new mansion and I had moved into a nice rental house
not too far from the office with my female lover who was also a
clinical nurse and worked for the Jones' practice with me and was
dating men occasionally though I was still giving Phil monthly
blowjobs and Helen and I were also still lovers each month too.

  When a woman patient is very attractive and you're bisexual if
not lesbian, as long as you don't break the canons of medical
ethics and express attraction towards them while they're a
patient, waiting for their treatment cycle to end before possibly
telling them of your attraction to them, doesn't it do more harm
than good to you personally to deny your feelings to your own
self, even if those feelings are never openly expressed to the
other person?

  That brings me to Zelda. I will tell you about this case. Zelda
and her older husband by twenty-some years had been married for
ten years, she was thirty-one, and had been trying for all that
time to have kids. The problem was his, not hers, his sperm
having no life at all, very few of them and no vital motility at
all, but he wouldn't hear of it, didn't want to admit that was
why they couldn't get pregnant, so he kept sending her back
repeatedly for more clinical massage treatments.

  She was tall, long and leggy with a head full of hair that
smelled like gardenias always, not sure what kind of shampoo she
used. I was attracted to her from day one. After about two
months, knowing the specifics of her and her husband's case,
after I had clinically massaged her to her usual two or three
orgasms, desire got the better of me and I kissed her fully on
the lips. She kissed me back. I gave her oral and she gave some
in return. We could have made love right then and there all day
but my schedule was full. She told me she loved me and wanted me
but her husband was so jealous and possessive that she knew he
often had private detectives follow her around but she still
wanted me so badly so could cry. I told her not to worry, that I
really liked her a lot too and would figure something out.

  That afternoon after work, I went to both Helen and Phil and
told them what had happened, what I had done, halfway expecting
to be fired but they were surprisingly sympathetic. This was
around 1951, after we had been working together as a team for
about four years or so. Helen told me she was surprised that it
hadn't happened to me before now. Then, much to my shock, they
admitted that both of them occasionally "dabbled" with patients
after a patient's treatment cycle was through. I didn't and don't
see how. I knew them too well and just had a hard time believing
it, but they insisted that it was true, and it was okay for me to
have occasional dalliances with patients as long as they were
longer-term patients I knew well and knew would be probably
amenable to the first pass I would make at them. Could have
knocked me over with the proverbial sledgehammer at all this.

  For the next six months or so, Zelda would keep her twice
weekly appointments for her "infertility treatments" and she I
would just go at each other like animals for the hour-long
"clinical massage" sessions behind closed exam room doors. Damn,
I loved that woman, even more than Jean, my female lover whom I
lived with at that time. Then one day, Zelda simply didn't show
up and I never heard from her again. Her phone number had been
changed to an unlisted one. Her house when I would ride by always
looked dark and unoccupied. I'm not sure what happened to this
day, but I suspect her jealous husband may have figured out what
was going on and put a stop to it.

  Jean knew of my more or less required but always consensual
times with Phil and Helen. I tried to get her to join us, knowing
that both Dr. & Mrs. Dr. would enjoy having her there, but Jean
was just too straight-laced for any three-way action with either
of them, Phil and his wife Helen never being with me
simultaneously as a triad, well, not usually, and I knew that
both of them would love to have an extra female present to play
with during our infrequent but regular "visits".

  I'm racking my brain but just can't think of any other
interesting experiences to mention here.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

{Author's note . . . at this point, after reading the above that
night, I visited with Maggie the following day, at which point I
resume and conclude our interview. She died a few months after
this took place.}

PD: Maggie, what a revelation your short memoir was, thanks so
much writing it down for me.

MC: Of course, Peedy, I was glad to help you in your "research".

PD: Can we talk some more about what you did in treatments? I
don't know, Maggie, I just thought that from what you described
to me when your first hinted at this to me some months back, that
it would be more, well, "exciting".

MC: What do you want me to say? {(she moves in her chair,
scooting a little father away from the edge of the breakfast nook
table and me) I admitted to you in my writing that I used to get
excited a lot of the times when I would treat some of my female
patients, something I've never admitted to anyone before, ever.
Isn't that enough?

PD: But Maggie, I told you that eventually that this might wind
up as a magazine article somewhere, sometime, and I know my
readers would want more details than that.

MC: (just shakes her head, smiles, takes another sip of her
coffee, and scoots her chair back towards me a little closer,
putting her hand atop mine as I sit close to her at the table in
the greenhouse area) Peedy, my dear boy, isn't that a paradox of
sex, that it's pretty damn routine if not boring if you're not
actually participating in it right then? Would you like me to
give you an endless stream of boring, repetitious – my mouth
sucking on nameless vaginas of nameless friends and patients, of
their mouths kissing mine and sucking on my breasts, of my
fingers plunging deeply into their eager "canals of love" while
murmurs of passion flow freely never to be remembered again?

PD: Why, yes, Maggie, I would (she completely cracking up at that
remark, laughing hard enough to chortle for a second).

MC: Yes, I supposed you would, Peedy, but it would bore me to
tears. Tell you what: I know you want to know more about what
happened with myself and the Jones'.

PD: Yes, Maggie, if it wouldn't upset you, yes, I am curious.

MC: I've never spoken to a living soul about what happened, but
I'll tell you under one condition: you wait until I'm dead and
gone before ever publishing this. You change my name, their
names, and you wait until I'm dead and gone. Shake? (she
extending her hand, I shaking it)

PD: Deal, and thanks.

MC: This was about 1952. I had been, we three had been a team
since 1946. I had a physical relationship with Phil since 1945,
and one with Helen since late 1946. We three had never been in
the same room together while the other one and I had sex. It was
always she and I or he and I but never the three of us. By then I
also had a female lover, another nurse who worked with us at the
practice whom I lived with, and I dated some men some other times
as well.

PD: Yes, I remember all that, you mentioning all that.

MC: (fiddling with her coffee some, stirring it unconsciously
with her bare pinkie finger) One night in April of 1952, I don't
remember the exact date or care to, I do remember it was a Friday
night, Helen was on her period, had been for three days prior,
and I went over to their house. They had their maid fix us all a
nice dinner and then we watched some TV, a real rarity in those
days, I think we watched Sid Ceasar's "Show Of Shows". Then, Phil
and I went to their bedroom while Helen went to their library to
wait until we were through. I gave Phil his usual once or
twice-monthly blowjob but he wouldn't come. Every single time
before he usually came within ten minutes or so, I did and do
love sucking cock so, but that night he wouldn't come, didn't. He
had a real look of lust in his eyes.

  Without a word, he pulled my dress off, almost tore my bra and
panties off, and before I could stop him, greased his cock with
Vaseline and had shoved it into my rear, not that I minded,
remember I've always loved anal. He fucked my rear what I know
had to be a good fifteen or twenty minutes and even though I
thought I felt him come his erection didn't go down. I flipped
around to lie flat and present my tail to him that way when from
nowhere Helen walked into the room, naked except for her sanitary
belt and napkin. It was our routine when she was on her period
that I would blow Phil and she and I would fool around at a
different time separately just she and I usually that same night
but not always, she never touching her husband sexually while she
was on her period.  It was also our agreement between the three
of us since she had moved east and we began sharing our lives
that I would never fuck her husband again despite the fact he and
I had been that kind of lovers during The War, that I would give
him blowjobs only, they reserving that kind of sex for their
marital bed only.

  I thought she was going to explode at first, I had broken my
word to her as my dear friend, lover, and employer after all, but
there wasn't a trace of anger on her face. She made her way to
the edge of the bed and just stood there. Phil got a little
anxious and pulled his cock out of my ass before she reached over
and lightly touched his back with a "it's okay, Honey, go ahead,
fuck Maggie in her ass, it's okay, I want to watch" as she
crawled on the bed with us, but his penis wouldn't cooperate.

  I got a couple of warm, wet washcloths from the bathroom and
towels and cleaned him up as she sat passively next to us. After
I cleaned him up, I blew him but still nothing. And again. And
again. Nothing.

  With a "here, Honey, maybe this'll help", she kissed me fully
on the lips and I her, back. We had been lovers for years after
all. We began groping each other, a couple of my fingers playing
with her vagina, sliding her napkin to one side as I did. She
told me later that despite the fact she had women lovers for
years with Phil's consent, this was the first time he ever had
ever seen her with another woman.

  I began sucking on her breasts as she leaned into me with "eat
me, Maggie". I did. Throwing one of the towels under her butt,
she pulled her belted napkin off and I dove down on her cunt,
eating for all I could. I noticed Phil had a full, raging hard-on
right then.

  "Want to fuck our girlfriend, my husband? Then go ahead, you
have my permission, if Maggie here's game", I nodded my head
"yes" as I continued to lap at Helen's clit and bloody lips.

  I pushed my tail high into the air and Phil rammed it home,
fucking me with an intensity that no man before or since ever
has. He was just an animal. He grabbed my waist, shoved his cock
as deeply as he could into me. He slapped the sides of my
buttocks hard with his open palm, that was okay, it actually felt
good, I actually enjoyed him doing so. God, his cock felt so good
deep inside me!

  I began using my fingers deep inside Helen and when I felt Phil
about to come, pushed him away for a moment, out of me, and told
him "it's time you two grew up, Phil, fuck your wife, right now,
she wants you, badly!!!" and more or less tossed him into her
waiting arms, his cock slipping easily into her blood-soaked and
spattered vagina, they having their first period sex, ever. She
and I kissed as he fucked her. He didn't last long. I wiped the
worst of the blood off his member with one of the washcloths and
finished licking him clean, that exciting both of them to no end.
I stayed the night.

  The next day, I went home and told Jean that I was going to
have to stay with them at their house for a "research project".
She didn't believe a word of it, of course, but didn't push the
issue, either.

  For the next five or six weeks, we three fucked like bandits
every chance we got, everywhere we could, home or office, didn't
matter every way we could. I even got Helen to try some anal but
she stayed too tense to enjoy it so Phil happily fucked my ass I
don't how many times, in addition to fucking me "normally" as
much as he and I wanted, sometimes using a condom, sometimes not.
I know, I know. He never got tired of watching Helen and myself
make love, and we never got tired of making love to each other,
whether he was there to watch "the show" and/or participate with
us or not. It was like three mutual dams of hormones had been
breached.

  Then, the next month, five or six weeks later, my usual
precise-as-clockwork period didn't arrive on time. Nor the next
day. Nor the next. Two weeks later, Helen confirmed it, I was
pregnant, with her husband's child. There was never any question
as to what was next. She and Phil gave me an abortion. It wasn't
pretty or pleasant.

  I bled like the proverbial stuck pig for a week after that. I
moved back into my home where Jean had been patiently waiting for
me. She never asked a single question. My blood loss wasn't
tapering off like it was supposed to, if anything it was slightly
increasing. I was using ten or twenty Kotex per day. Helen and
Phil were getting genuinely concerned I might have a burst blood
vessel somewhere abdominally or perhaps Helen, who had been the
one using the curette, had misjudged and perforated my uterus and
I might have to have emergency surgery to repair the damage.

  Trying one last measure before wanting to intervene surgically,
Phil gave me a shot of a coagulant drug, I can't remember the
name now, it was the kind they used to give women just out of
labor who were hemorrhaging to stop them from bleeding out and
dying. It worked. Two more shots over the next two days and then
the bleeding stopped and I was fine. Jean and I made love, the
purest of sweet love, the night I finally stopped, she professing
her undying love for me. She really meant it.

  Then something happened. To this day, we're not sure what.
Supposedly, Phil ordering that series of shots from the pharmacy
we always used to supply the practice's needs called the State
Medical Board about him ordering that, but that didn't then and
doesn't make sense now. I mean, we used to order those vials of
that drug literally by the case and keep them in the refrigerator
in the office. A practice where two physicians who did ob/gyn
work ordering an anti-hemorrhaging drug shouldn't have raised any
flag at all, never.

  Yet, they both were brought up on charges before the State
Medical Board for performing an illegal abortion. Basically, the
only evidence was the fact that Helen and Phil had been using a
lot of that drug then and that our pharmacist, whom we had been
doing twenty or thirty thousands of dollars worth of business
with annually but no more after this as you might can imagine,
told the medical board that for our patient load, we had been
using too much of this drug, like he would know.

  The charge was a single act of committing a single abortion,
but thing was, despite going through their patient files since
day one of the practice and interviewing a good portion of former
patients, at least half, an investigation that took over a year
before it was finally concluded, the New York Medical Society
couldn't prove that Helen and Phil had ever committed a single
act of medical malphaesance, let alone mispheasence or malpratice
let alone the actual crime of doing an abortion. They were found
innocent, eventually, but the bad  press killed their practice,
well, not killed it but hurt their business for a long time,
years after that.

PD: Wow. So, after the abortion, you three never slept together
again?

MC: Peedy, I loved them. I truly loved them both. I would have
been very happy being their "concubine" for lack of a better term
for the rest of my life, being with them, being part of both
their lives. But no, I mean yes, after the abortion and after I
moved back home with Jean, I never had any kind of sex with
either Phil or Helen. We stayed more or less friends, I continued
to work with them until Bob, Dr. Romanaskowi, became part of the
practice and he and I met and we got married. I still loved them
both, but no, we never had sex again.

PD: Damn.

MC: Yeah, damn. During the course of the widely-publicized
investigation, it came ouit that the medical board had decided to
do a dragnet and drag several otherwise very reputable ob/gyns
through the mud with false charges of performing abortions, all
of them infertility specialists by coincidence, no – I think not
– that Helen became pregnant and since business was down right
then anyway, she decided to become a stay-at-home wife and mother
and they brought Bob in right out of med school because they
could hire him on the cheap. You can verify all of what I've
said, Peedy, just do a search for our names in the New York Times
and Daily News' of that era, it was all over the papers.

PD: Damn, damn.

MC: Yes-sir. It was also about the same time, during this witch
hunt of infertility specialists, that Phil and Helen were quietly
told, by whom I was never told, that the AMA now had an
unofficial unwritten policy that vulvolar clinical
massage-masturbation was no longer an accepted practice for
anything by any physician or representative or nurse thereof and
if they ever heard of any practice continuing to do so, those
involved would be rue for it, so I and we just quietly stopped
doing it.

PD: And all lived happily ever after!

MC: Oh, Peedy! (playfully slapping at my shoulder) You are a
card, Dear. You're also very sweet.

PD: Tape's getting low. Any final thoughts?

MC: Yes. I'd like to say that to this day I really believe
clinical massage and female masturbation can help if not cure a
wide variety of female problems, and definitely helps pelvic
congestion which I firmly believe is still a major cause of
undiagnosed and improperly diagnosed female infertility.

PD: Anything about yourself, Maggie?

MC: Yes. I want to clarify that as much as I loved Helen and
Phil, I married a wonderful man, Dr. Bob Romanaskowi, and we had
a wonderful marriage and except for my long- term lover Greta,
whom was our charge nurse, I never cheated on my husband once,
not the first time, not that my relationship with Greta was
cheating on my husband which it wasn't since he knew and approved
of it.

PD: Thanks for your time, Maggie, you're a dear.

MC: No, thank you, Peedy, for taking the time to listen to an old
woman. Want your blow job now or later?

PD: (rising up from the chair, giving her a nice big hug and peck
on the cheek) Now, "you" are "the card", Maggie! (we both
laughing, as the tape recorder is turned off for the final time).


= = = = = = = = = =

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