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reserved for him. Nurse Cory raised herself from body and bed, then stood with her head bowed.
    “Sorry, doctor.”
    “How many times do I have to tell you we use the Hopkins-Sezscholsky sequence here?”
    “I forgot.”
    “That’s the third time this week.”
    “It did work, doctor.”
    “It’s not a question of what works. I’m talking about ward rules. It’s for your own protection, nurse. As I keep telling you, overstimulation just doubles our work load. That’s why we insist on Hopkins-Sezscholsky. You know that.” She added, not without a touch of the sanctimoniousness of those who like to pull rank, “I don’t want to have to speak to Sister.”
    Nurse Cory looked across the bed in horror. “Oh please don’t, Dr. Delfie. Please. I got the old cow up to here already.”
    “Nurse, you also do
not
speak like that about senior staff in front of patients.”
    The nurse bowed her head again. “It’s only what most of them say.”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “Honest, I’ll never do it again, doctor. Cross my heart.”
    Dr. Delfie softened a little. “Very well. But I don’t want to have to speak to you again.” At last she diverted her look back and down to their patient, with a very thin smile of token apology. “Do forgive me, Mr. Green. Nurse is still under training here.” Then she looked down at the middle of his body. “Now. Let’s see how the sensible part of you is doing.”
    He felt her weigh and assess the size and rigidity of the sensible part. He closed his eyes.
    “See if you can’t make it a shade bolder still. Just another centimeter.” The part was tapped underneath. “Splendid. Again. Again. Once more. Fine.” Her voice had acquired a new tone: it was almost one of praise, with even a hint of surprise. She stood over him again. “I’ll complete treatment myself today, as it is our first session. But generally it will be done by the nurses. I shall of course come and check progress from time to time. All right?”
    He opened his eyes, but he was beyond words, and could answer only with a baleful stare; which she ignored. Without warning, her left knee was on the bed and then, with an easy athletic movement, she had straddled across him on all fours.
    “Nurse will perform the insertion.”
    Still he could only stare, unbelieving of what was happening, even as it happened. He felt the doctor, suspended on her arms, expertly lower her loins, camber, arch, adjust herself. Insertion. He was cased, sunk, buried deep.
    “I hope that’s not too uncomfortable?”
    Still he stared. She seemed to have gained yet another personality. There was no irritation or impatience now, merely a quiet concentration. She spoke again, oblivious of his look and all it tried to express. “Your hands on my breasts, please.”
    He closed his eyes. Something made his hands rise and find the breasts.
    “That’s the spirit. Try and delay your orgasm. Purely for your own sake. I shan’t have one.” She began to rock slowly up and down, still suspended on her arms. The pubis lingered a moment, held down against his own. “I wish to retain you as long as possible, so please say if you find this motion overstimulating.” He pressed his lips together, determined not to speak. There passed half a minute or so of a slow lumbar rising and falling. “That’s very good. Nicely sustained.”
    He opened his eyes, driven beyond endurance.
    “I don’t know how you can even
think
of doing a thing like this.”
    She gave him a condescending and cursory smile down. “I expect that’s because you’re not scientifically trained, Mr. Green.”
    “Like a woman of the streets.”
    “I’m afraid you’d find very few modern sociologists who did not see prostitutes as serving a most useful function.” Again the pubis pressed and lingered before it withdrew. “For a start, the incidence of rape would be much higher without them. There is also abundant evidence that they relieve a great deal of personal and