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large almond-shaped eyes. Maybe twenty-five, maybe thirty. Her figure was extraordinarily full, but she was not at all big or heavy.
    “Mr. Carmel,” she said expecting me to disrobe.
    “Can I have some privacy?” I asked.
    She smiled fetchingly and sashayed out the door.
    I quickly disrobed and put on the pastel paper gown. From the doctor‘s window I could see rooftops for three or four blocks. There were small gardens and barbecues, tables and chairs set out for the uptown summer residents. Two men, stripped down to their waists, were building a fence between two abutting roofs. A small dog leashed to a doorknob was leaping up and down, probably barking at them.
    There was an anatomy book on a small table in the corner of the small room. I picked it up, but before I could open it, Aleeda returned with an electric thermometer. She touched my shoulder and placed the tip of the gauge awanesh gently in my ear.
    “Ninety-eight point four,” she said after no more than ten seconds had passed. “Close enough."
    “It‘s my hand giving me grief,” I told her, holding it up for her to see.
    She caressed my wrist so softly that I hardly felt it. Her eyes grew large and worried.
    “Oh my,” she said and my heart thrilled.
    With her fingertips she traced my swollen knuckles as Sasha had done. Then she looked at me and asked, “What happened?"
    “Fell."
    We stared into each others‘ eyes a moment, and then she looked down.
    “Mr. Carmel,” she said, as if I had somehow insulted her.
    I hadn‘t realized until I looked that I had a full erection pressing up against the paper. It wasn‘t only hard, but there was also a growing wet spot at the place where the head was raising the flimsy gown.
    “I‘m so sorry,” I said turning to the side.
    Aleeda heard the pain in my apology. She touched my neck and said, “That‘s okay. It happens sometimes. It‘s good at your age to be able to achieve such a thing."
    “Maybe you shouldn‘t touch me, though,” I said. “I mean, men my age don‘t usually get touched by women as beautiful as you."
    She grinned and removed her hand.
    “The doctor will be in in a moment,” she said, and left again.
    I spent the next little while trying to think my erection away. But it was just as if that was its natural state.
    Dr. Tremain was a short and stocky white man who gave off an aura of physical and emotional strength. He was mostly bald with gray hair around the sides and he wore silver-rimmed glasses.
    “That a gun in your nightie?” he asked.
    “I can‘t explain it, Doctor,” I said. “Aleeda looked at my wrist, and it stood up like a soldier."
    “How old are you now, Cordell?"
    “Forty-five."
    “Then I‘d say you‘re cured."
    “My hand‘s even bigger."
    He studied the swollen mitt, pressing it here and there and asking me how it felt.
    “Nothing broken,” he said after a while.
    “Shouldn‘t you x-ray it?"
    “Nah. Soft-tissue damage is all. Does it hurt?"
    “Now and then it throbs,” I said. My erection was still going strong.
    “I‘ll give you some Percocet samples I have. And also an antiinflammatory. That should get the swelling down pretty quickly. If it‘s still giving you trouble after the weekend, come on back."
    He looked down at my stubborn cock and laughed.
    “And cover that thing up,” he said. “It makes me feel like an old man."
    I walked home again. It took two hours.
    Somewhere along the way, my erection eased up. It was still excited, larger than usual, but at least it wasn‘t pressing against my pants. On the way I bought a rib-eye steak at the Gourmet Garage on Seventh Avenue—that and some brussels sprouts.
    The temperature was somewhere in the nineties. I was extremely tired by the time I got home. I broiled the steak, chopped up the sprouts, and sauteed them in butter. I ate the whole meal and drank two glasses of cognac before remembering
The Myth of Sisypha.
    Sisypha‘s friend Yvette came to release Mel. She was a petite, demure,