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stop, a departure time after sunset, and a return time that he felt would work. If his plan was to be like that finely tuned orchestra producing a masterpiece he would have to do some reconnaissance work. After all, there was no margin for error; everything had to work perfectly. What Carlos was planning so methodically was not a hip surgery—he was planning to pick up where he had left off six months ago.
    His first occurred by accident really; it was not his intention to have things end up that way and to get started down this path. It was back before he took his current position with a private practice medical office. He was working at Ft. Lauderdale Hospital as a general surgeon then and was asked by one of the oncologists there to speak with a woman who was having fears about having a benign growth removed. She was a woman in her early sixties who was having a hard time accepting that the growth being benign was a good thing. She had just heard the word surgery and became upset. She had requested to speak with a surgeon, and thus Carlos was brought in to ease her worries. Carlos used his smooth talking skills to set the woman at ease. He explained how a minor procedure like that was no big deal, he told a few jokes, smiled at her, and the woman felt comforted. She had already finished her appointment at that point, and so she walked out of the office with Carlos, who was also on his way home for the day. As the two walked and made small talk, she got her cell phone out of her purse and began to call for a taxi to pick her up. After some pleading, Carlos convinced her to let him drive her home. The two got into his car and drove to her residence, a modest apartment complex not far from the hospital. She lived alone, she explained, and though she did not drive, she tried to keep some of her independence, which was why she lived in a regular apartment complex and not a senior citizen community.  
    She thanked Carlos for the ride and offered him a cup of tea before he left, which he accepted. She sat next to Carlos at her kitchen table in the small apartment and asked him to describe the surgery in detail. He began to explain the intricacies of the surgery to her, looking in to her eyes as he spoke. He could see her vulnerability. A rush suddenly came over him and he looked away as he continued. His mouth was on auto-pilot, describing a procedure he had done many times before, but his mind was racing. He felt her helplessness and as he described the procedure he couldn’t help but feel God-like. He felt like this poor woman needed him to keep her alive, that she was totally at his mercy, and that gave him a sudden rush of adrenaline and notions of power. The feeling of invincibility ran over him and he began feeling a strong sense of sexual arousal. It had never happened to him before, with a patient like that, but he did not have time to really acknowledge it. He was too overwhelmed by this sudden rush. It was not an attraction to the woman he was speaking to, but a feeling of power and control that had sparked his arousal.
    Without thinking, he quickly placed his left hand on the woman’s right thigh and squeezed, still looking away but no longer talking. He sharply looked at her as his hand continued to pulse.
    The woman recoiled in surprise, quickly sliding away from him in her chair. “What are you doing?”  She asked, surprised and scared. He sat there looking at her; his breathing and pulse had quickened, his veins still pulsing with adrenaline. His mind tried to process what had just happened, and he started to feel an anger wash over him. This was an old woman. He was a young, handsome doctor, and she was rejecting his advance? An advance he never would have made had he not been caught up in this sudden rush of power.
    He could control his anger no longer and he lunged out of his chair, attempting to grab her. She managed to slip away and run to her bedroom with Carlos in pursuit carrying a