As she places her fingers in the right places to check for whatever it is that doctors check for down there, she says, "It's a touchy issue with some . I want you to be comfortable. Cough for me. Now I need you to turn over on your left side."
"Not a touchy issue at all," I reply hopefully. "Just pretend it's your husband. I'm sure he's used to it by now."
"Well, he was used to it."
"Was?"
"Yes. He died six months ago."
At this point my semester of High School drama comes in handy. I feign the appropriate amount of sympathy, while inside I'm celebrating. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Thank you, but not half as sorry as I." This is the clincher for me; I just love a grammatically correct woman! "It wouldn't be so difficult to cope, if it weren't for the will," she continues.
"The will?" I ask.
"My husband had a silly stipulation in his will. He left me millions of dollars, but I can't claim it unless I remarry within three years..." At this point our eyes lock. I notice the the tiny lighter flecks in those brown pools of radiance. The heat between us is searing as she continues, "There is one more condition in the will," she continues.
I'm almost afraid to ask, but like a moth drawn irresistibly to the flame, I must. "One more? What's that?"
Dr. Maria leans almost imperceptably closer to me. Her voice is positivily husky as she whispers, barely audibly, "He must have no STDs."
OK chances of it working out quite like that are slim, but it might be a way to find out her relationship status.
Hmmm
Edited by - hmmm on 5 November 2002 20:2:26