Chapter 44: I’m Glad I Was Your First

February 2, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“Happy birthday, Mike!” Elizaveta exclaimed when we woke up on Monday morning.

We’d had another blessedly quiet week, and had celebrated my birthday twice already — on Friday night with our friends, and on Saturday with my in-laws. There had been no real developments in the lawsuit by Melissa Bush, though Mr. Winston had told me that the medical school had filed a motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim on which relief might be granted, as well as a motion for summary judgment.

“Thanks,” I said, giving her a kiss, and moving to get out of bed.

“No running this morning!” Elizaveta declared, grasping my arm.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, having a pretty good idea of what she wanted.

“Would you like a birthday blowjob?”

“I would.”

“And then a birthday fuck?”

“I would.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic!” Elizaveta groused sarcastically. “Or I’ll use my teeth!”

“Hurting your favorite toy seems counterproductive,” I replied.

“Will you turn off ‘doctor mode’, please?!”

“Kitten,” I said lovingly, “I would very much enjoy a birthday blowjob and a birthday fuck!”

“Better!” she exclaimed, sliding down to take my semi-flaccid shaft in her hand, and my glans into her mouth.

She gave me a loving blowjob, with lots of licking and kissing, taking her time, and bringing me close several times before I groaned loudly from the extreme pleasure of my release.

“Wow, Kitten,” I said through labored breaths, “that was amazing!”

She moved up, and we exchanged a sexy French kiss, and lay together for a few minutes before she scooted down to use her mouth to bring me to full mast. When I was rock hard, she threw her leg over me, held me upright, then sank down on my shaft, enveloping it in her hot, silky tunnel. She made love to me, again taking her time, bringing me close, then moving with less urgency. When I eventually came, the orgasm was crushing, and when it had passed, Elizaveta stretched out on top of me.

“Happy birthday!” she said again.

“I hate to say it, but you need to get to school.”

“You can write me an excuse note! ‘Dear Principal Peterson, my teenage wife was blowing me and fucking me. Please excuse her!’”

I laughed, “Or perhaps not!”

Elizaveta pouted, but we got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a quick joint shower. She left for school a few minutes late, but wouldn’t be late for homeroom. I, on the other hand, was ten minutes late for breakfast with my study group.

“Longer than usual workout with Elizaveta this morning?” Clarissa asked with a smirk when I sat down.

“Yes, Lissa!” I grinned.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks.”

The others wished me Happy Birthday as well.

“Are we studying tonight?” Fran asked.

“Yes. Elizaveta and I will have a quiet dinner before study group.”

That meant no dinner with Maryam, Peter, and Clarissa, but I’d already spoken to them to let them know.

It was a normal day at school, and when I arrived home, Elizaveta had a birthday dinner waiting for me, and a chocolate cake with chocolate icing which we’d share with my study group. When we finished eating, Elizaveta got up, shrugged off her dress, slipped off her panties, and giggled as she moved under the table. She pulled down my sweat pants and briefs, sucked and licked until I became hard, then moved from under the table. I pushed my chair back, and she moved to my lap, impaling herself on my raging erection.

“What got into you today?” I asked.

“You!” Elizaveta giggled, squeezing her muscles. “Are you complaining?”

“No way!”

We didn’t have a lot of time, so Elizaveta didn’t try to delay my orgasm. We had a wonderful joint orgasm, then hurried to shower, dress, and do the dishes before my study group arrived. When they did, they sang Happy Birthday and we shared cake and ice cream before studying.

After they left, Elizaveta and I repeated our activities from the morning.

“Did you have a good birthday?” she asked.

“Very! I especially liked the dessert!”

“The cake and ice cream?”

“The fuck!” I declared.

“Good!” she said, snuggling close.

February 3, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“What did you think of your stint in pathology?” Doctor McKnight asked late on Tuesday afternoon.

“I learned a lot, and I was very happy to be able to do more than just stand or sit in a corner and watch.”

“Fortunately, the rules for pathology lab assistants have more than enough latitude for medical students to actually participate. Was there any part of the program you felt was weak or needs improvement?”

I shook my head, “Not that you can control. There were, at least from my perspective as a medical student, too few ‘interesting’ cases.”

Doctor McKnight nodded, “Luck of the draw, so to speak. But routine cases are the norm. I listed pathology as my first match because I like mysteries, but it was also a concession to my wife, because as Residencies go, it’s one of the least stressful. It’s very rewarding work, even though I don’t have the ‘thrill of the save’ that comes with trauma or surgery. But I don’t think it’s for you.”

“No, most likely I’ll choose trauma, but Doctor Roth is pressing me hard to do surgery.”

“I hear you’re thinking of splitting the difference and doing what amounts to a trauma Residency with the surgical add-on.”

“That’s what I’m thinking of doing.”

“It seems like a good choice for you,” Doctor McKnight said. “When will you take your exam?”

“May 9th. I wanted to wait until after Pascha, which is what we call Easter. That’s April 19th. The earlier dates would have been in the middle of Great Lent, and I wanted to avoid a test during that time.”

“I assume you’ve begun studying?”

“Yes. We’re dedicating one full session a week to pure review, and I’m reviewing my flashcards pretty much constantly.”

“Good. I’m sure you aren’t surprised that I scored both you and Clarissa with fives across the board and a notation that you both did honors-level work.”

“Thank you! I handed in my assessment this morning, and I checked all the ‘plus’ boxes and made a notation that you’re an excellent teacher.”

“And that concludes this meeting of the Loucks-McKnight mutual admiration society!”

“Thanks, Doctor McKnight.”

“Stop in and see me from time to time and let me know how things are going.”

“Would you let me know if there are any interesting M & M reviews?”

“They’re all interesting, but I know what you mean. Yes, of course. You’re at the Free Clinic as of next week, right?”

“Yes. Doctor Gale Turner is my supervisor, but I’m to shadow a Registered Nurse, Trina Carlslyle, who is licensed to practice independently.”

“That’s pretty common for Free Clinics. She’ll be able to prescribe non-scheduled drugs, which isn’t really much of a limitation, because the number one and number two prescriptions at the clinic are birth control pills and antibiotics for sexually transmitted diseases. Diaphragms are third. She can also administer and report on pregnancy tests, STD tests, and administer any of the immunizations required or recommended by the County Health Department or the State of Ohio. And, of course, she can do physical exams.”

“But everything is reviewed by the doctor, right?”

“Yes. Mostly after the fact, but if there are any irregularities, she’ll have the doctor examine the patient. And, of course, she refers pregnant women to an OB/GYN they have on staff. May I ask your view on abortion?”

“Personal or medical?” I asked.

“Interesting. Both.”

“Personally, and as a Deacon, I object and believe it’s killing a baby. As a medical professional in training, I believe it has to be a decision between the woman and her doctor. I’m doing my OB/GYN Clerkship at a Roman Catholic hospital in Cincinnati to avoid any elective abortions.”

“Implying you would do a medically required abortion?”

“Yes. Nothing in my belief system, or in the teachings of the Church, requires a woman to die or be grievously injured so that the baby might be saved.”

“There’s a lot of latitude in ‘grievous injury’.”

“There is,” I agreed, “and that would be between the woman and her bishop and priest. A deacon is merely a servant of the bishop who assists the priest liturgically, conducts catechism, and handles almsgiving.”

“That sounds more rational than the way the Catholics handle it.”

I smiled, “When one uses the collective wisdom of the Church for two thousand years as opposed to the ex cathedra statements of a single man, things tend to work out better! And, just to be pedantic, we’re catholic, which is drawn from the Greek words meaning ‘according to the whole’, which is an interesting choice for a single bishop in Rome to use!”

Doctor McKnight laughed, “I’ll take your word for it. My parents were Presbyterians, and all of it would be ‘papist nonsense’ to them, despite you apparently not accepting the Pope.”

“Trust me,” I replied with a smile, “I’ve heard it all before! I take it you don’t go to church?”

“Christmas and Easter, to make my wife happy. She’s Lutheran, but I haven’t been to church regularly except for those holidays since I was fifteen. Fortunately, my parents let me stop attending when I discovered things about the world which didn’t agree with what the minister was saying.”

“Girls?” I asked with a grin.

“Yes!” he laughed. “My best friend is Roman Catholic and when his priest approached him about Seminary, he said he’d be happy to go if he could bring his girlfriend and she could room with him!”

“In our church, he could actually have a girlfriend, though the ‘room with’ request would be met with an icy stare. He’d have to marry her before ordination, of course. We don’t allow ordained men to marry, but most of our priests and deacons are married.”

“That seems like a heck of a better situation!”

“No kidding,” I grinned,

“That’s right! You’re the one who married the sixteen-year-old!”

“Guilty as charged!” I declared with a goofy smile.

“Jackass!” Doctor McKnight replied, shaking his head.

“I make no apologies!”

“Nor would I!” he laughed. “I married my wife when she was eighteen and I was twenty-two. She worked to support us while I was in med school.”

“How many children do you have, if I might ask?”

“Two. A son who is seventeen and a daughter who is fourteen. My eldest was a graduation present from medical school. Anyway, I need to speak with Clarissa before the end of the day, so I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks again, Doctor McKnight.”

“It was my pleasure, Mike.”

I left his office and Clarissa went in. It was close to 5:00pm, but I decided to wait for her. She came out about ten minutes later, we turned in our IDs to the clerk, and left the hospital.

“That was a great Preceptorship!” Clarissa declared.

“Agreed. Overall, I’d rate it as the best except surgery and the ER, and I might even put it above surgery because we actually got to do stuff!”

“True. Doctor McKnight told me only about half the med students get to participate the way we did.”

“Interesting. Did he say why?”

“Top of our class, interested in learning, and not dismissive of him as a ‘real’ doctor as he doesn’t treat patients.”

“Somebody has to do the investigations,” I said. “Without them, there would be little to no progress in medicine, and certainly far more errors. I suspect in a larger hospital in a big city, there are far more interesting cases both in number and type. I did mention that the only thing I’d change is to have had a higher number of interesting cases than we had, but Doctor McKnight has no control over that.”

Clarissa nodded, “The ones we did have that were interesting were great learning opportunities, but I also appreciated what amounted to a weekly refresher on anatomy.”

“Me, too! See you at 7:00pm for study group?”

“I’ll be there!”

February 6, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

On Friday morning, Doctor Warren was waiting for me to let me know that the judge had dismissed the case, but without prejudice, and that the medical school’s counsel expected them to re-file at the end of Match Week if Melissa didn’t Scramble to a position.

“If she has half a brain,” Clarissa said as we went to get our coffees, “which I do question, she’ll try for pathology or something way down on the list during the Scramble. Some hospital might take a chance on her if she doesn’t have to see patients.”

“I’m not so sure,” I replied. “If it’s between her and someone slightly lower-ranked, why take that chance? She’d have to find a program that nobody wanted and was still unfilled at the end of the week, and that doesn’t happen. And we know the military isn’t a post-Match option after we learned those Matches are made and reported early, so applicants can participate in the regular Match.”

“So that wouldn’t work out as your backup the way you thought.”

“If I thought I might have trouble Matching, I’d try that route. Yes, it would commit me to the military for a long time, but I’d rather do that than not be a doctor. The Navy is a pretty good gig for doctors and lawyers from everything I’ve heard.”

“If you don’t mind going into combat zones!”

“Most Navy doctors don’t, unless they happen to be assigned to a field hospital supporting Marines. Mostly they work in hospitals the way we will, or on aircraft carriers. Fortunately, there are no wars the US is directly involved in at the moment.”

“At the moment.”

“Yeah,” I replied as we walked slowly towards the lecture hall. “Back to medical topics, what are you going to do if our shift coincides with one of Abby’s?”

“Act professionally,” Clarissa replied firmly. “What else would I do?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “It’s just you’ve avoided speaking with her.”

“Because there was no point. That night when she said she didn’t want to go out with the gang and said I could do whatever I wanted was pretty much the end of the line. I tried to get her to discuss it, but as I said, there is no room in her worldview for anyone who is ‘intolerant’.”

“Oh, come on!” I objected. “Do you know anyone who is more tolerant than I am?”

“No. And nobody more loving, though you have one exception.”

I chuckled, “The minion of Satan, Tim Saddler. But even there, if he would dial it back just a tiny bit, we could find common ground. His problem is that he believes that he’s God’s sole appointed representative on earth. I thought ONE pope was bad! Saddler’s version of Christianity makes EVERY man his own pope!”

Clarissa laughed, “Cute!”

We stopped outside the lecture hall as we had several minutes before class was due to begin.

“You know what I’m getting at — ‘just me and Jesus’ and ‘just me and my Bible’ leads to more flavors of Protestantism than Heinz has varieties by several orders of magnitude!”

“Collective wisdom versus individual wisdom.”

“Basically, yes.”

“Abby’s version of tolerance isn’t the same as yours and mine, which basically comes down to ‘live and let live, and ask me if you want to hear my opinion’. For her, it’s not just acceptance, it’s agreement. That is, not just agreeing that she has the right to express her sexuality as she sees fit, but you have to affirm it and never even think that it might be wrong, even conceptually.”

“That’s not tolerance,” I replied. “Tolerance is, in effect, agreeing to disagree and not letting the disagreement affect your relationship.”

“Obviously. And what’s even dumber is that you DO affirm my sexuality. The only objection you would raise is to sex outside of marriage. I know that’s a difficult issue because gays and lesbians aren’t permitted to marry, but you are at least internally consistent in your thinking, if not your behavior. Well, before you married, anyway.”

“That’s true, but I’ve never, once, objected to her behavior or her sexuality.”

“I know, but as I said, for her, that doesn’t matter. You either agree with her or you’re the enemy.”

“That’s crazy!” I relied, shaking my head.

“It is.”

“Not that you asked, but Tessa is a better partner for you.”

Clarissa smiled, “You know that I do care about your opinion on that matter, Petrovich.”

“She has great freckles!” I declared.

“EVERYWHERE!” Clarissa replied with a smirk.

“One day, Lissa ... one day!”

“A threesome?” Clarissa smirked. “You, me, and Tessa?”

“Listen, Jezebel!” I teased.

Clarissa laughed, “It’s safe to tease you when it’s just you and me!”

“It is, but please don’t take it too far or do it too often.”

“Sorry.”

“That wasn’t about this time, Lissa. Just be careful and limit it. I love you too much to tell you to stop completely, and I know you love me enough that you’ll keep it reasonable.”

“I will,” she said.

We went into the lecture hall and took our seats just as the lecture began.

February 10, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“Michael Loucks and Clarissa Saunders,” I said to the receptionist at the McKinley Free Clinic. “We’re scheduled to observe today.”

“Hi!” the pretty blonde replied with a winning smile. “Clarissa, you are with Heather Townshend. Mike, you’re with Katrina Carlslyle, who goes by Trina, but Doctor Turner would like to see you first. He’s in his office, which is through the door to my left. Clarissa, go through the door to my right and ask for Nurse Townshend.”

We parted, and I went to the door marked ‘Doctor’ and knocked. A male voice called out for me to come in.

“Doctor Turner? I’m Michael Loucks.”

“Hi, Michael. Come in and have a seat.”

I did as he asked, sitting across from him at his desk.

“Doctor Mertens made a notation on your file that you’re an ordained clergyman. I’m sure you know the services we provide here, so I’d like to hear your views.”

“I’m personally opposed to all elective abortions, by which I mean any that are not performed to save the life of the mother. I decline, which I’m permitted to do by the Ohio statutes, to participate in any elective abortion procedures, or to observe them. That said, as with any decision about a medical procedure, the final decision on that is best left to the woman, her doctor, and any family or spiritual advisers she wishes to consult. Or, as I said to my best friend, having a Y chromosome disqualifies me from making those decisions for someone who doesn’t have one. And my best friend doesn’t have one.”