Originally posted 2008. Updated 2017 for improved mobile device support.

Part I

I sat at a table surveying the mailroom. During the day a squad of corporate elves had transformed it into a venue for the company Christmas party. Scanning the room I realized I didn't know any of these people. Most of my colleagues had jumped ship when the merger was announced. I stayed on, mainly because I could retain my seniority.

My attention was attracted to a young woman standing near a table of jello shots. I don' t know who had brought the stack of red and green cubes but this lady was gulping them down. She was petite, five foot two maybe, and with shoulder- length raven-black hair, pale skin and blue eyes.

The party broke after the boss made his speech, thanking everyone for their efforts and promising the upcoming year to be both challenging and rewarding. I grabbed my jacket from the rack and headed into the corner of the parking lot where I had left my car.

As I approached my stall I heard a retching sound from near by. Sitting in the driver's seat of a late-model white Saturn was the black-haired girl I had seen gulping the Jello. The car's door was open and she was leaning over, puking her guts out.

"Maybe I had better drive you home," I said leaning on her door.

"I'll be fine," she replied, then leaned over and heaved again. "I thing I'm done now," she gasped. I reached into my jacket and handed her a handkerchief.

"Here..." I hoisted her from the driver's seat and walked her around to the other side. "You are way to drunk to drive."

"I haven't had anything to dringnk," she protested.

"You had plenty of Jello shots."

"Jello shots ... you mean there was..."

"Vodka ... and I saw you do enough of them to intoxicate a small horse." I sat behind the wheel. "Keys, please..." I looked at her. "Don't worry -- I'm as harmless as a kitten. I just want to see you home safely."

She rummaged through her bag and handed me her keys. I slipped the key into the ignition. It wouldn't budge.

"Did you give me the right key?" I asked.

She looked around. "Oh my God ... this isn't my car!"

"Where is your car?"

"Iss aroun' here somewhere..."

"Never mind," I replied. "Mine's over there. I'll drop you at your place and we can fetch your car in the morning. Okay?"

"'Kay..."

I led her to mine and got her belted into the passenger seat. "If you feel like anything's coming up, tell me right away and I'll pull over."

"'Kay..." She held her forehead. "God I feel so strange..."

"Where do you live?"

"Black Tower Lane ... number 145."

"Where's that?"

"Off of West Avenue."

"I think I can find it." I put the car into gear and headed out of the lot. I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Whasso funny?" she asked.

"I was just thinking ... what the owner of that white Saturn will think when he sees that puddle of red and green barf by his door."

"Oh ... oh, God I feel awful."

"You just need to sleep it off..." I glanced at her face. She had high cheekbones and her eyes had a slight epicanthic slant to them, giving her an elfin appearance. She brushed hair from her face and exposed her ear.

I turned my gaze back onto the road, but the sight of her ear stuck in my mind. It came to a point -- not as pointy as Spock's ears from Star Trek, but not round like normal, either. It enhanced her elfin appearance.

"My name's Nick," I said. "What's yours?"

"Verity," she replied.

"Verity?"

"Thass right."

"Interesting name ... unusual ... pretty..." I turned onto West Avenue and watched the signs for Black Tower Lane.

I spotted the sign and slowed. "Left or right?" I asked.

"Left," she replied. I put on my blinker and started the turn. "No -- right."

"Which is it?"

"Right ...yeah right."

I made a wide old-lady right turn from the left lane and watched the house numbers. The homes were older bungalows with detached garages. The numbers counted up ... 139 ... 141..."

"You said 145, right?"

"Yeah..."

I pulled into her driveway and escorted her to the front door. She fumbled with the key. I took it from her and unlocked the door. I stepped inside with her. "Give me your number," I said, "and I'll call you in the morning. We'll fetch your car."

"It's..." She bolted to the bathroom and knelt by the toilet, vomiting.

"Wow," I remarked, "we got home in a nick of time. You did a good job of holding it down..." I spotted a wall phone in her kitchen. "Is this a good number?" I shouted.

She groaned. "Yeah..."

"I'll leave you be. Get some sleep and I'll call in the morning."

The next morning around eleven I punched in the number I had copied from Verity's phone. It rang and an answering machine began to pick up. Then a click interrupted the machine's greeting. "Hello?" she said groggily.

"Verity -- it's Nick. Okay if I swing by so we can pick up your car?"

"Can you give me half an hour?"

"Sure."

I hung up the phone, killed time for fifteen minutes and then headed her way. It was a good half-hour by the time I reached her door and rang her bell. The door opened and she stepped out.

"How are you this morning?" I asked.

"Awful... My head is pounding ... I ache all over and it feels like my flesh is crawling."

"You have a hang-over." I escorted her to my car and we drove to the office. "So -- first experience with Jello shots?" I asked.

"I had no idea someone would spike them with vodka."

"You've reached your age and never heard of Jello shots?"

"Call me sheltered I guess. I wish someone had warned me."

"I avoid them," I replied. "They can sneak up on you."

"I was so sick last night. I threw up four more times after you left and my stomach muscles ache."

We reached the office lot. "Do you remember where you parked?"

"...around here ... somewhere..."

I pointed to a splotch on the pavement. "There's where you left your calling card."

"Oh, God... I hope no one ties it back to me."

"They won't hear it from me," I replied, "promise."

She squeezed my forearm. "You're a mensch, Nick."

"That's what my rabbi tells me."

She regarded me. "Are you really Jewish? You don't look Jewish."

"Are you?" I replied. 'You don't look it either."

"No, I'm not. I grew up in Brooklyn. I had a lot of Jewish friends and they all called a good guy a mensch. I guess it stuck."

"I'm not Jewish, either."

"You said you had a rabbi..."

"It doesn't disqualify me from having a rabbi -- does it?" I pointed to a lone white Saturn parked against a wall on the other side of the lot. "Is that your car?"

She peered. "I believe it is."

I drove toward it and parked beside it. Verity popped open the passenger door and hopped out. "Thank you so much," she said. "Maybe we'll see each other at the office."

See each other at the office we did. Monday I had a late lunch at the company cafeteria. Verity brought her tray over. "May I join you?"

"Certainly," I said. She set down her tray. "How are you feeling?"

"By Saturday night I was back to normal." She scooped some of her lunch onto a fork. "I haven't seen you here before."

"I usually take an early lunch. Today I was held up in meetings."

"Early?"

"Eleven," I replied, "as soon as they open -- before all the good stuff is gone."

She looked into my eyes. "They serve good stuff here?"

I chortled, took a card from my wallet and pressed the eraser on a mechanical pencil to extend the lead. "Here ... my extension. Any time you'd like to do lunch together, give me a ring."

She fingered the card. "Nick Steiff..."

"I work in I.T," I replied. "That's my old card -- before the merger. I haven't got the new ones yet."

"That's right -- the merger. No wonder you look like a fresh face."

"Okay, Verity -- now you know my last name. Time to give me yours."

"Lang," she replied. "I work in communications. I'm an illustrator."

"Verity Lang," I said and nodded. "It's a good name -- Sounds good ... nice rhythm to it. Not like Nick Steiff."

"Nicholas Steiff has good rhythm," she replied.

"No one ever calls me Nicholas." I gulped the last of my soda. "Better be going... See you, Verity."

She gave me a wave as I picked up my tray and dumped it.

Lunch with Verity became part of my routine. We adjusted our schedules according to a compromise we worked out - - lunch at 12:15.

"People are beginning to talk," she said at the end of the second week.

"Talk?"

"That you and I have something going."

I regarded her. "You're not attached, are you?"

"No."

"Me neither." I continued to gaze at her. "Maybe we need to discuss some things -- on neutral territory."

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Dinner tonight at Ernies -- my treat."

"I'd like that."

"Pick you up at seven."

At seven I pulled into her drive and rang her bell. She stepped out in a long coat. "Cold tonight," she remarked.

We drove to Ernie's. "They have a great wine list," I said; then I smacked my forehead. "But -- you don't drink."

"How much alcohol did I ingest with those Jello shots?" she asked.

"I wasn't counting, but a lot. Each one was probably equivalent to a glass of wine -- if not more."

"I think I must've had six or eight..."

"It's no wonder you were so sick."

"Well -- if I survived that I'll probably survive a glass of wine ... just to be sociable."

We arrived at Ernies and were seated. I took Verity's coat and checked it. Underneath she was wearing a black evening dress with a little sheer black jacket.

We placed our orders and I asked the server to bring a Cote du Rhone rose. "What's on your mind, Nick?" she asked as we waited for our service.

"I've been feeling a connection with you, Verity -- and I sense the feeling is mutual."

"Wow... You're direct," she replied.

"I don't like to play games. Normally I'd avoid an intra-office romance -- avoid it like the plague. Since you work in Communications and I work for Information Technologies ... well, it's almost like two separate companies anyway."

"This is so sudden..."

"Is it really? I've been enjoying your companionship, Verity and I'd like to enjoy more of it."

"I'll have to think about it."

We finished our dinners, and Verity drained one glass of rose. I claimed her coat and helped her into my car.

I pulled into her drive. "I had a great time, Verity," I said.

"So did I... I've been thinking about it -- about what you said."

"And?"

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" she asked.

"You have something to make a nightcap?"

"Not a drop." She nodded toward her door.

I hopped out of my car, stepped inside and helped her off with her coat. We gazed into each other's faces and then kissed.

We kissed again and again. Verity led me to her sofa. I sat and she sat on my lap. We kissed some more. I traced the line of her dress strap, down to the bodice and back up to her other shoulder. Then, I slipped my finger under the strap and traced the same line on her skin, all the while looking into her face for a signal to stop.

She put her hand on mine. "Before we take this any further," she said, "a couple of ground rules."

"Okay..."

"Rule number one ... tonight ... no oral or penetration. Fingers only."

"Fingers only?" She nodded. "I get it -- no exchange of bodily fluids."

"I can't until I know someone better."

I nodded. "Okay -- fingers only."

"Rule number two," she continued, "you stay the night -- no love me and leave me."

"I wouldn't want to leave you."

"Then we understand each other." She led me into her bedroom and slipped off her shoes.

I unzipped her dress and lifted it from her. Underneath she wore a black slip and a sheer camisole that did little to conceal the twin charms of her bosom.

Verity stepped out of her slip. Underneath it she had on a black thong and stockings. I helped her slide her stockings off of her legs. Then, she unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off my shoulders.

While I undressed Verity tied her black hair into a ponytail. Together we turned down her bedcovers and slid in facing each other.

We began kissing again. With the backs of my fingers I stroked her breast and could feel the lump of her firming nipple through the satin of her camisole.

I unbuttoned her cami, slipped it from her shoulders and regarded her compact breast, her pale skin her heavily- pigmented quarter-sized areolas and her thick, fleshy nipples. With my thumbs and forefingers I rolled her nipples, and I could feel her breath as her breathing deepened.

Verity parted her lips and began breathing heavily through her mouth. "That feels really good," she panted.

"Let me know when you're ready for me to move down."

"Do what you're doing for now."

I guided her hand to my chest. "I like some of the same touch," I said. She began caressing and pinching me as I continued to roll her nipples.

She led my hand down her abdomen. I caressed her mons through the fabric of her thong; then I grasped its waistband. Verity lifted her buttocks from the mattress and I slid the thong down her legs.

I pet her dense, black bush with the backs of my fingers. Then, I slipped my middle finger into her slit and down 'til I found the entrance to her vagina. She was very wet and I dragged some of her juices up to the firm knob of her clit.

Cradling her with my arm around her shoulder blades I began stroking. "Oh, God that feels good," she panted as I stroked her clit, counting under my breath to keep a steady cadence. "It's perfect ... don't change it..."

Verity's breathing became open-mouth panting. I could feel each of my strokes reverberate in her thigh muscles. "More," she gasped. I increased the vigor of my stroking. "MORE! Oh, God..." She moaned and panted. "Stop..."

I relaxed on my back and Verity began returning the favor. She stroked my shaft, her thumb against my glans and with her free hand she caressed my chest. "Is this good?" she asked.

"It's great," I replied. And, it was. My heart was beginning to race and my breathing deepened. Verity kept up her stroking.

I regarded her nude form as she knelt by me -- her black hair, pale skin and elfin face; her slender arms and compact breasts. I felt my climax approach. I tried to hold back as long as I could...

Then came an explosion of sperm and a half-dozen warm blobs landed on my lower abdomen. With each squirt Verity ran her thumb along the length of my shaft to press it out.

I fell limp. "Oh, my," she remarked, "it looks like we've made a mess..." She procured a towel from her nightstand and began mopping up the splotches.

She lay beside me. "That was wonderful, Verity," I said as I rolled to face her. She kissed me and then guided her breast to my lips. I kissed her nipple. "Did making me come make you horny for more?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," she said nodding.

I tongued her breasts and sucked her nipples. Then I coaxed her onto her back and caressed her abdomen down to her legs and up again. Verity had sweet, shapely legs and pretty feet. I caressed her knees and up the insides of her thighs.

"It may take me a little longer the second time," she said as I began running my finger through her pubic patch.

"That's okay -- I'm not going anywhere..." I eased her thighs apart, slid two fingers deep into her and began stroking the roof of her vagina. With my left hand I began rubbing her clit.

"Ohhhh...." Verity let out a low groan. She rolled her face to one side and parted her lips. I maintained as steady cadence as I could, stroking her with both hands.

I glanced up at her. She was pinching her own nipples. I watched her ribs and abdomen heave with her panting.

"MORE!" she shouted. I stroked her hard with both hands. She gasped, moaned, and let out a yelp; pounded the mattress and yelped again. "Stop stop stop..."

I lay beside her and cradled her in my arms. A deep flush covered her face and chest. "That didn't take long," I remarked.

Part II

She stirred and opened her eyes. "Good morning," I said.

"Good morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Deliciously."

"Any regrets?" I asked.

"None."

"Did we pass the fingers-only test?"

"Mmm..." She regarded me. "Don't get your hopes up. This is my way of getting comfortable with a partner."

"You set the pace, Verity. Last night was great. I'd be content if that's the way it always is."

She cracked a smile. "I think you just passed another test."

"Would you like to do it again?" I asked.

She nodded. "I think I might... What are you staring at?"

"I'm trying to figure out what makes you, you. Do you have some Eurasian heritage?"

"Beats me -- I was born in Iowa."

"I thought you said you were from Brooklyn."

"We moved there when I was eight."

"So that explains why you don't sound like a New Yorker... You're a very pretty woman, Verity. You have a unique beauty ... and your ears..." She felt her hair and pulled it to cover her ear. "They give you an other-worldly ... an elfin look."

I knew right away I had said the wrong thing. She glowered at me. "Don't you ever use that word in my presence again. If you do I'll kick your ass right onto the street -- and never speak to you again!"

"Gosh, Verity... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say anything to upset you."

"I'm a freak!" Tears welled in her eyes. "Do you have any idea how much teasing I endured as a girl? I begged my parents for surgery to fix them, but we couldn't afford it. When I thought I could afford it -- every surgeon I spoke to said he couldn't fix them without making them worse."

"They're part of what makes you, you. I'm sorry -- I'll never mention it again."

She turned her back to me and stifled her sobs. "I'm sorry, too. I over-reacted." She brushed tears from her cheeks. "How would you feel if someone you just slept with singled out the one aspect of your appearance that you detested the most and said it's what defines you?"

I pondered. "I don't know ... it might just make me feel better about myself. It's not your ears, Verity -- it's the whole, and the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Why would I want any ordinary-looking woman when I could have someone as special as you?"

She kissed my cheek. "Nice try ... you are sweet, though."

I stretched out, coaxed her against me and caressed her back. "Plans for today?"

"I have some work to do."

"Work?"

"I'm an artist," she replied.

"Yes -- an illustrator."

"No, that's my job. My passion is sculpture. I have a studio in the basement."

"Really? I'd love to see it."

"I'll show it to you." She pressed her hand against her belly. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry -- my stomach is growling. I'll take a shower and then make some eggs and coffee."

"Fine..."

She swung her feet to the floor and walked toward the bedroom door. I regarded her -- a beautiful back view. Her legs were as sweet and sexy from this angle as from the front.

Verity took a robe from a hook and headed down the hallway. I could hear the shower running.

I laced my fingers behind my neck and pondered. We were at a delicate point. I was falling in love with her and I knew I needed to be careful. And, I was still kicking myself for the elf remark.

I understood her fingers-only ploy -- and I was happy for it. It offered plausible deniability. Both of us could honestly proclaim we did not have sex last night.

The water shut off and shortly Verity appeared, again in her robe and her head wrapped in a towel. "If you'd like to take a shower," she said, "I put out a blue towel for you. Also, there are some toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet -- samples from the dentist's office."

I headed to her bathroom, showered and dried off. From the medicine cabinet I retrieved a toothbrush sealed in cellophane. As I unwrapped it I noticed a row of boxes on the top shelf. Each one contained a pre-packaged squeeze-bottle enema.

I picked one up and headed, towel wrapped around my waist, into her bedroom. Verity sat on her bed, bent over and drying her hair.

"Verity..."

"What?" She looked up

I held up the box. "Do you use these regularly?"

"What business is it of yours?" she replied coldly.

"None I suppose... But..."

"But what?"

"I don't think you should be using these. I don't think they're good for you."

"Why not?"

"These are phospho-saline enemas. Phosphates aren't good for you -- they can hurt your kidneys. Verity -- this is subject I know something about?"

"How so?" she replied as she tossed her hair back and began brushing it.

"My mother is a colon therapist."

"A gastro-enterologist?" she asked.

"No -- a colon therapist. She has a practice administering colonics..." I regarded her. "All right -- I'll drop the subject. It's just I care enough for you I don't want to think of you doing something dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Too strong a word ... potentially harmful." I skulked back into her bathroom to finish my business there and then dressed in the clothes I had worn the night before.

I found Verity in her kitchen frying eggs. "Coffee's ready," she said.

I poured a couple of cups and set them on the table. She placed plates of eggs and toast beside them.

"Tell me about your sculpture," I said as I sipped some coffee.

"I make resin figurines," she replied. "They're my interpretation of scenes from classic literature."

"Resin?"

"Yes... I start with wax and carve the figures. These I put into plaster and then cast them in a white metal..."

"Lost wax technique?" I remarked.

"Exactly. I clean up the metal castings and use these to make latex molds that I use for casting the resin."

"Why not make the mold directly from the wax?" I asked.

"The wax isn't durable enough. I can re-use the molds a few times, but eventually they wear out and I need to make new ones."

"Where's your studio?"

"In the basement. I do my metal casting outdoors ... the wax ignites from the heat and it would be dangerous to do inside. This time of year I can't work outside so instead I work on making my wax originals and casting the resin."

"Do you sell them?" I asked.

"Certainly -- I have a website and sell them to collectors." She pushed herself back from the table and returned with a small box. From it she withdrew two resin figures about five inches in height. "These are my interpretation of Heathcliff and Catherine from Wuthering Heights.

I examined the detail in the figures. "These are amazing, Verity..." I turned Heathcliff over in my fingers. "You say you have a website."

"Just search for Verity's Figures," she replied.

"This occupies your spare time?" I asked.

"Most of it."

I finished my breakfast and stashed my plate and utensils in her sink. "Verity," I said, "I think I should be on my way." I regarded her "I had a great time."

"So did I," she replied. "Do you really have to go?"

"You said you have things to do ... so do I. I don't want us to wear out each other's welcome. I'll see you at lunch next week -- we can discuss getting together again, then."

I picked up my jacket and headed for her door. "Wait," she said. "You said potentially harmful. What would you suggest instead?"

I thought for a moment, attempting to hitch her remark onto my train of thought. "You mean the enema," I replied.

"Yes... You said you know something about them. I thought since it was something my doctor recommended..."

"How long have you been using them?" I asked. "If you don't mind telling me about it."

"Twice a week. I need them because ... well, it started while I was pregnant."

"Pregnant?" I faced her. "You had a child, Verity?"

"I got pregnant when I was sixteen. I was going to give the child up for adoption ... but it was stillborn."

"Oh, my God, Verity," I replied. "I'm so sorry."

She regarded my face and touched my cheek. "You are the first guy to respond that way," she said. "Most say I was lucky."

"It was a tragedy, Verity. I don't know how I'd get over something like that."

"I like how you think. Anyway, the pregnancy made my..."

"It gave you chronic constipation -- it made your colon lazy," I interjected.

"Yes. My doctor said I could take an enema and..."

"And it's been like that ever since...." I counted on my fingers. "What must that be? Eight years?" She nodded. "Twice a week for eight years. You should stop."

"But I need it..."

"Stop using those hypertonic phospho-saline things," I continued. "There is a better, more natural way."

"Which is?"

"A plain-water large-volume enema. You fill your whole colon with warm tapwater. The distention from the water stimulates your colon mechanically -- not with harsh chemicals. It's similar to the therapies my mother administers. It's the treatment I use ... when I need it ... which isn't too often."

"I wouldn't know how to..."

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I have some of my mother's literature. I'm working on a website for her practice so I'm turning it into HTML. I'll bring you a copy on Monday. It gives you all the particulars."

"But... Saturday is my day to... Saturdays and Wednesdays. If I don't now, by Monday I'll be really uncomfortable."

"I'll tell you what. I'll bring a brochure over this evening. Do you own a fountain syringe?"

"A what?"

"A douche bag."

She shook her head. "No."

"Then I'll bring one of them, too."

"Do you have one to spare?"

"No -- I'll stop at Walgreen's and buy one for you. You can owe me. See you later."

She faced me and looked into my eyes. "I don't know why but I feel I can confide in you."

Part III

It was five and dark already when I pulled into Verity's driveway. A light snow had begun about a half-hour before. I rang her bell.

She opened the door and let me in. The faint smell of some sort of solvent permeated the place. "Here," I said and handed over a paper bag I was holding. "It's all in there."

Verity peered into the bag, removed the brochure and began reading through it. "Nick..."

"What?"

"Would you ... stay and help me do this?"

"Help you?" I replied.

"I figure you've already seen me naked... Helping me take an enema won't be such a big deal."

"...Okay..."

"I thought I'd order pizza; then we could..."

"It's not a good idea to take a large enema on a full stomach," I replied. "Your colon and stomach lie beside each other..." I showed her an illustration from the brochure. "If the enema distends your colon against a full stomach you could feel some discomfort..."

"Oh..."

"...or maybe even some nausea," I continued. "Right before bed is a good time for an enema. They're relaxing."

"I usually take the other kind right after dinner ... to give my system some time to settle down before going to bed."

"In that case a full stomach probably helps the process," I replied. "Besides -- those don't go very far into your colon -- and, it's only four ounces."

"How much is one of these?" she asked, holding the brochure.

"An old hospital rule-of-thumb is one pint for every fifty pounds of body weight ... or fraction thereof. What do you weigh? I'm guessing around one-oh-five, so three pints would be about right."

"You're sweet. I wish I weighed a hundred five ... but three pints would be right ... according to your rule-of-thumb, that is." She continued to regard the brochure. "I don't think I can wait 'til bedtime. I'm getting pretty uncomfortable."

"Let's do it now," I suggested, "then we can have dinner."

"Okay..."

I opened the box holding the fountain syringe. "This is a combo syringe," I said. "It can double as a hot-water bottle. I prefer the open-top kind, but this has the advantage that you can fill it and set it down without spilling." I showed her how the hose fit onto the adapter plug, how the clamp slid onto the hose and the nozzle. "Since you're going to need to know how to do this, I'm going to let you do it now. Just follow the instructions. It's not rocket science."

She carried the gadget into her kitchen and found a quart measure. Then she turned on the water in her sink. "Warm water," she read. "How warm?"

"It's funny," I replied, "that what feels warm to your finger can feel cool to your colon. You want it pretty warm -- just to the point where it starts to feel uncomfortable on your hand."

She let the water run to warm it up, adjusted the faucet and let the water run over the back of her hand. "How's this?"

I felt the water and nodded. "You could go a little warmer. Cold water can be cramping -- warm water is relaxing."

"Like this?"

"That's good. Put a quart and a half in."

She filled the measure and dumped it into the bag; then she followed with a half-measure and screwed on the cap.

"Let me show you a trick," I said and popped the nozzle off the hose. Then I opened the clamp and blew into the end of the hose to inflate the bag a bit and clamped it shut again. "There -- it'll empty better if there's some air in the bag." I slipped the nozzle back onto the hose and held up the bag. "Snap open the clamp to drain a bit of water out."

She complied and then regarded the full bag. "It looks like a lot of water."

"You can hold more," I replied. "It's only a matter of how much distention you can tolerate. This should be enough to fill your colon from end-to-end -- enough to get the job done."

"Okay... Now what?"

I held up the bag. "Now we put this ... in here," I said and touched her belly. Where do you take your squeeze-bottles?"

"On my bed."

"Grab a towel," I said and headed to her chamber. She joined me carrying a bath towel.

I looked around the room. "I don't see a convenient place to hang this. That's something we'll need to address. For this time I can hold up the bag." I handed her a tube of Vaseline. "I brought some lube. Now we need access to your bottom."

Verity spread the towel on the bed. She stepped out of her jeans, slid down her briefs and climbed onto her bed. "How should I lie?"

"Start on your left side ... draw up your knees. Butter your hole with some Vaseline and then this goes into it."

I watched her work her finger into her anus; then I handed her the nozzle. She touched it to her little brownish- pink pucker. "How far?" she asked.

"Up to the hilt... If you press your cheeks together you can prevent it popping out."

She slid the nozzle in. "Okay..."

"I'm going to hold the bag about two feet above your rectum," I said. "If it's under three feet the water pressure won't exceed one pound per square inch -- not nearly enough to cause any injury. Grab the clamp and open it up."

She snapped open the clamp. "I can feel it ... cold..."

"The water in the hose lost its heat. It should warm up in a moment."

"Oh, it is... What a different sensation."

"Hold the hose," I said. "If you feel any pressure at all, pinch it closed and let it pass. The secret to taking a comfortable enema is not rushing it."

I watched her pinch and hold the hose, then release it and pinch it again. "I do feel pressure build and release," she remarked.

"Your colon needs to relax and unfold to fill. The lower part is where it's most kinky ... and likely impacted. Once you get the water a bit higher it should flow more smoothly."

"Yeah... I can feel it."

"Once you feel the water reach your left ribcage, close the clamp."

"It feels like it's there now..." She snapped off the clamp. "Now what?"

"Roll onto your back and get comfy ... then release the clamp again."

Verity rolled onto her back and adjusted her pillow. The she snapped open the clamp. "Yes -- I feel it flowing in." She touched her belly. "I can feel the warmth... It's not a bad feeling ... feels kinda good, actually..."

"Take deep, deliberate breaths," I advised. "The motion of your muscles will help distribute the enema."

I watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing. "I'm starting to feel full," she said.

"That's normal -- that's what you want to feel." I palpitated the bag. "Your almost done. If it feels like you're going to pop, turn it off. You don't need to be uncomfortably full for the enema to work."

"I'm not too full..." She ran her hands along her abdomen, then lifted the hem of her tee shirt. "I do believe my stomach is bulging."

"That's normal, too," I replied. "You're so slim there's not much room for the water." The bag emptied with a glug. "You're done. Close the clamp and take out the nozzle."

She handed me the hose and ran her hands along her belly. "It's not too uncomfortable... I think I feel the warmth through my skin."

"If I had a thermal camera we could probably image your whole colon."

"What now?" she asked.

"Hold it as long as you can tolerate. It's good if you can hold it for five minutes. The longer you retain it the better it works."

"It feels like the enema wants out."

"Keep holding it," I replied.

"Enema wants out bad... I'm starting to feel uncomfortable..." She closed her eyes and grimaced. "...cramp..." She bit her lip. "...another..."

"Are they coming in waves?"

"Uh-huh," she said and nodded as she bit her lip.

"That's good. The distention is stimulating motility in your colon."

"I don't think I can hold it any longer."

"Then, go. Don't force it -- let it come out on its own."

Verity swung her feet to the floor and rushed into the bathroom. I stood by the door. "I'm sorry if this is an awkward time," I called through the door, "but I can call for pizza. By the time it's here you should be done in there."

"Okay," she grunted.

"What do you like?"

"Everything ... except anchovies. That's my favorite."

"Mine, too," I shouted through the door and placed the call. Out the window I could see the snow was thickening. I strolled around her living room looking at some of the figurines on display on shelves near the fireplace.

The bathroom door opened and Verity headed toward the bedroom. I followed her and met her in the hallway. She had slipped back into her jeans.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

She nodded. "Better... I think you're right -- it was a gentler action. The other ones give me a burning sensation here..." She pointed to her lower left side. "This one made me feel like I was being ... cleansed. I wonder why my doctor recommended the other."

"Because it's easy enough that a chimpanzee could administer one," I replied. "They're fast -- it takes fifteen seconds versus several minutes, not to mention the prep time. It's why they're popular in hospitals where time is money." I regarded her. "Don't get too complacent. More might drain out of you yet."

"I dunno -- I feel pretty empty..." Her eyes grew wide and she pressed her hand against her stomach. "'Scuse me..." She dashed toward the bathroom.

Verity returned shortly. "NOW I'm done," she said, pulled up the hem of her tee and pressed her hand against her belly. "I'm a lot flatter, too..."

I saw headlights and the pizza truck pulled into her driveway. "Perfect timing," I remarked. The driver delivered the pie and I paid him. "How are the roads?" I asked.

"Getting pretty greasy," he replied.

"Here," I said and handed him a five spot for a tip.

Verity took a two-litre bottle of Coke from the fridge and poured a couple of glasses. I set the pizza box on the table and popped open the lid.

"I found your website," I said.

"What do you think?"

"I think you do amazing work. I especially liked the Hamlet chess set ... Claudius as king, Gertrude as queen and Hamlet as knight... Do you really sell many of those?"

"Enough to keep me in supplies ... and to have some spending money."

"Your website, though..." I shook my head.

"What's the matter with it?"

"It looks like it's from Best of the Web 1997."

"I created it using templates supplied by my ISP," she replied between bites.

"I'm sure they haven't updated their templates since then. Verity -- I'd be happy to re-design it so it looks a bit more modern. And, I know some techniques to lift your page rank with the search engines -- might bring you some more hits."

"You'd do that?"

"Sure... No problem. After all, it's my profession."

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Thanks ... and thanks for helping me with..."

"With the enema? My pleasure."

"It actually felt pretty good -- and I really do feel better afterward than usual."

"You can take one of those as often as you like -- not like the phospho ones. Read the box -- they say no more than one in twenty-four hours."

"I never noticed." She looked up from her plate. "Hear that? The wind's whipping up."

"It could be a real blizzard tonight," I replied.

"Do you know what feels good on a night like this? A nice, warm, soaking bath."

"Do you know what feels really good?" I asked. "Taking a nice warm enema during a nice warm soaking bath. The bathwater supports your belly and makes it easier to hold. Then, once you're done, you're relaxed inside and out."

"Interesting," she replied. "Very interesting..." She looked up at me. "How would you feel about..."

"About helping you with one like that?"

She gestured toward the window. "If the snow keeps up like this you'll be stuck here all night anyway."

"Oh well..." I finished my last piece of pizza. "We should give your dinner a chance to settle," I remarked.

"I have some more work to do in my studio," she replied.

"I'd love to watch."

Verity placed two left-over slices of pizza into her fridge and I followed her to the basement. The cloying solvent smell I noticed earlier was much stronger in her studio.

She removed some small boxes from a shelf and began prying resin figures from latex moulds.

"This is the Hamlet chess set," I remarked and picked up one of the pieces.

"The pawns are Horatio, Laertes, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern," she remarked. "I'd like to get this set in the mail on Monday."

"You make them to order?"

"Yes -- that way I don't need to keep an inventory... Oh, crap!"

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"The black king has a flaw ... looks like the mold has a tear." She showed me the piece with a large blob on the side. "I can't use this -- I'll need to make another mold." She opened a cabinet and withdrew a white metal figure of the king.

I picked it up and turned it over in my fingers. "So this is your master..."

"Yeah..." Verity procured a small cardboard box. She poured latex molding material into a cup, added water and began stirring; then she poured the contents into the box. Next she sprayed the metal master with silicone and embedded it halfway in the latex. "Once that hardens I'll spray it again with silicone and pour on more latex," she explained. "The silicone will keep the two halves from sticking.

She popped the rest of the figures from their latex cocoons and lined them up on her workbench. "I have the white figures done already," she said. "These just need to be cleaned off.

Verity set to work with a Dremel tool to de-burr the figures while I wandered around her workshop. On a shelf were a line of pale yellow figurines.

"These must be wax originals," I remarked, "waiting to be cast."

"Yes -- please don't touch them. They're very delicate."

I held my hands up and in sight. "This is fascinating, Verity." I fingered a resin figure of Hamlet as knight. "Do you sell these in shops?"

"There is a craft shop in town that carries a few of my pieces."

"I belong to the local art center. They have a shop that sells original artwork. You should talk to them about showing your work. In fact, I know the guy who runs it -- I could put in a word."

"I don't know," she replied. "I'm comfortable with the amount of work I have now."

"I understand. If you put on a show and it doesn't take off -- it's merely a failure. On the other hand if it DOES take off, it's a disaster."

"Exactly."

"I've been involved in projects like that..."

She stood from her bench and removed the magnifier she had worn around her head. "Well -- they're ready to ship ... all except for Black Claudius."

"Can you get him done tomorrow?" I asked.

"Doubt it. The latex needs to harden for twelve hours ... then I need to pour the other half and then it needs to harden for twelve more. Looks like this won't be ready to ship 'til Tuesday ... at the earliest." She pressed her hand against her stomach. "Do you think I've digested enough?"

"Probably..."

I followed her up the stairs. "Why don't you run your bath. I'll get the enema ready."

"How much does that thing hold?" she asked.

"Two quarts ... a generous two quarts. I have one just like it at home. That one will hold two and a half -- but I've had it for a while and the rubber has gotten relaxed. Brand new they hold two quarts and a skosh. I'll put two quarts into it. You don't have to take it all."

I heard the water running her bathroom as I filled the bag in her kitchen. Then I took a couple of hangers from her bedroom closet and carried them into the bathroom.

Verity was in her robe, leaning over the tub as it filled. I hung a hanger on her shower rod, threaded the hook of the second one through the loop on the bag and hung it from the first. "There," I said. "Self-supporting."

Verity regarded the bloated bag. "That is rather daunting-looking," she remarked.

"Remember -- no one will be cross with you if you can't take it all."

She turned off the tap and took a foil-wrapped object, peeled it and dropped it into the water. "Bath candy," she said. "It softens the water and smells nice."

I watched the table fizz as it dissolved. "Smells good - - what flavor?"

"Lily-of-the-valley." Verity slipped the robe from her shoulders and dipped her toe into the tub.

"Wait a minute," I said and handed her the tube of Vaseline.

"Good idea..." She squeezed out a dab and greased her opening. Then she stepped into the tub and eased herself into the water. "Mmm..."

"Would you like me to scrub your back?" I asked.

"Would you?"

"Certainly..."

She pointed to a loofa on the side of the tub. I dipped it into the water. Verity leaned forward and I began making long strokes up and down her back.

"What luxury," she sighed. "It's been so long since anyone's scrubbed my back for me..."

"Let me know when you're ready for your internal bath," I said.

"Okay..." She stretched out in the water with her knees bent and held out her hand.

I pointed the nozzle toward the tub and snapped open the clamp. "I didn't flush out the air -- so we wouldn't lose any warmth."

"How warm did you make it?" she asked. I pointed the nozzle at her and drizzled some water onto her chest. "Nice and warm..."

She took the nozzle, lifted up and reached between her legs. "Okay..."

I handed her the clamp. She snapped it open. "Warmth feels good..."

"Clamp it down a notch," I advised, "so it'll last longer."

"Good idea..." She laced her fingers behind her head. "It's flowing in so much easier than the first one."

"You're quite a bit emptier than the first time."

"I can feel the warmth reaching deep inside me ... feels good..."

"Any cramping at all?" I asked.

"No -- none. I'm starting to feel full."

"No need to make yourself painfully full."

She ran her hands along her belly. "I'm definitely getting bigger. Can you see?"

"I certainly can."

She grabbed the clamp and stopped it down. "How much is left?"

I pinched the bag. "Between half and three-quarters of a pint," I estimated.

"I'll rest a bit and then see if I can take any more. You're right -- this does feel soooo good ... the warm bath ... the warmth of the water radiating through my body. I feel fullness but it's not uncomfortable at all."

I watched as she ran her hands up and down her abdomen. Then she reached for the clamp. "Maybe I'll try a little more..." She snapped it open and then throttled back the flow a notch.

"Roll to your right," I said. "That'll put the furthest reaches of your colon downhill. Go slow and everytime you exhale, relax your belly to make room for the water."

She rolled halfway on her right side and then snapped shut the clamp. "I'll rest a minute..." She felt her stomach. "Definitely getting full..."

Verity unsnapped the clamp again, and then clamped it shut. Her belly was now visibly distended. "I think that's it."

"Only a couple ounces left," I reported

"In that case..." She snapped the clamp wide open and the bag emptied into her. She closed the clamp, removed the nozzle and handed it to me.

"You did it -- two quarts."

She patted her stomach. "I am so full ... so full..."

"Lie on your back," I said. "When you're this full you can follow the structures of your colon." I led her fingers along the bulge of her sigmoid colon on her lower left side, up, across and to her cecum on the right, distended like a football.

"I think I'd better go," she said. "My stomach is feeling a little upset."

"Imagine what it would feel like if you were full of pizza." I gave her a hand, helped her from the tub and wrapped a towel around her shoulders. "Let me see," I said and she modeled her bloated abdomen for me. Then she headed for the toilet and opened the lid.

"I'll turn down the bed while you're in here," I said and closed the door behind me.

I hadn't realized how stimulating watching her take the enema had been, but my shorts were starched. I slipped out of my clothes, turned down the bedcovers and lay on her side to warm it.

The toilet flushed and Verity stepped into the bedroom in her robe. "Oh, God I feel so good," she said. "The bath, the warmth ... it's all so relaxing. This one came out so much easier -- in torrents. It felt so good."

"Expelling one is half the fun," I remarked.

She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "My stomach is flatter than I can remember. I feel empty and relaxed and ready for bed."

"Not ready for love?"

"Who said the two were mutually exclusive?" She untied her robe and slipped it from her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing a short and very sheer nightgown.

"Wow," I remarked. "Where did that come from?"

"I had it tucked away."

I sat up with my back against the headboard and patted the mattress between my legs. She settled against my chest.

I ran my hands along her raven hair and gathered it so I could nuzzle the base of her neck. She reached up to make sure her ear remained covered.

I kissed her neck and caressed her cheek with the backs of my fingers. "I love your skin," I said. "It's so clear and fair..."

"Too fair," she replied. "I look pale and wan ... pallid -- and I can't tan. I always burn."

"And I love your eyes ... pretty blue... Do you know who you look like?"

"Who?"

"Bjork -- the singer from Iceland. She has the same Eurasian-looking eyes."

"They're miserable for using eye-shadow," she replied.

I continued stroking her hair. "I love your hair, too," I said. "So shiny and smooth and jet-black..."

"I wish it had a bit of wave to it," she said. "Why is it that you like the things about me that I don't?"

"You're wrong -- I like everything about you, Verity. I'm in awe of your artistic talent. I can't do anything with my hands."

I pushed back her hair to expose her earlobe, nibbled it with my lips and she giggled. "You like?" I asked.

"It's silly..."

I ran my finger along her hair to expose all of her elfin ear and gently tongued it, while cupping my free hand over her breast. "I love your breasts," I said. "They're the perfect proportion for your frame ... and don't tell me you wish they were larger."

"I don't -- I like going braless."

I found her nipple and squeezed it. "And you have such pretty nipples ... the pigment is so striking against your fair skin..."

"They turned brown during my pregnancy," she said. "And they never turned back. I had a dark line from my navel on down, too ... it eventually faded but it took years..." I continued rolling her nipple and tonguing her ear. Verity's thighs jerked and she drew in a deep breath. "Oh, God ... the bath and the enema ... made me soooo horny..."

"It made me horny, too."

"You were wonderful in there ... the attention ... I liked feeling your hands on me..."

"I liked feeling my hands on you, too." I untied her nightgown and opened the bodice to expose her small, firm breasts. Her breathing deepened as I rolled both nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, and I could feel her heart pounding under her flesh.

She leaned forward and slipped out of her gown. I took it from her and lay it across the foot of the bed. Then I supported her in my left arm and slipped my right hand between her knees, smoothed it up her thigh to her slit and began stroking her clit.

Verity approached orgasm rapidly. She was clutching me and I could feel her nails digging into my shoulder. Her breathing became wide-open-mouth panting. "Don't stop!" she gasped. Maintaining a steady rhythm I ramped up the pressure on her clit.

A flush reddened her pale cheeks and she let out a moan. I continued stroking her. Her legs were shaking. She yelped and pounded the mattress.

"Stop," she panted and I lifted my hand from her mons. She continued to clutch me and panted to regain her breath. "God, that was good," she gasped.

I helped her sit, cross-legged on the bed. She threw her arms around my neck and we kissed. I put my hand oh her thigh, slid it up to her mons and slipped my finger into her slit and against her clit. She groaned and held me tight.

I lay on my back so she could return the favor. Verity knelt beside me, wrapped her hand around my very stiff member and kissed it. She squeezed out a blob of slippery clear fluid and with her finger spread it onto my glans.

Then she mounted me. "Where are you?" she asked and I guided my glans to her entrance. She lowered herself onto me and I pressed myself deep into her. "Mmmm..." she moaned. "This feels sooo good..."

I locked my legs with hers and held her across her shoulder blades and the small of her back. We kissed and kissed again, our tongues exploring each other's mouths.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

"I'm savoring."

I began a gentle rocking of my hips. She joined into the action with complementary thrusting and rotating of hers. I held onto her across her back, and began exploring her buttocks with my right hand, running my fingers along her crevasse.

Her anus was still slick from the Vaseline and my fingertip slipped in. I pushed my finger in part way and began an in-out as she thrust against me.

Verity doubled and doubled again the vigor of her humping. I could feel her breath on my face as she panted. I was trying to hold back my own climax 'til she had hers but I knew it was a losing battle. Then she moaned and I could feel her sphincter pulse around my finger.

That did it. "Oh, Verity," I grunted as I clutched her buttocks, pushed into her and ejaculated. She lifted up on her elbows and cradled my head in her hands. "Verity -- I love you."

"I know you do... I love you, too."

We kissed again. She rolled off me and retrieved the towel from her nightstand and we cleaned each other off.

"Did we come together?" I asked.

"We might have."

"Why not fingers only tonight?"

"After today -- I know what I needed to know."

"I'm not fooling with you, Verity. You're the woman for me."

"I know ... and that's what I needed to know."

I looked up at the ceiling of her room. "Oh, God..."

"Oh, God what?" she asked.

"I certainly hope you're on the pill."

"I certainly am," she replied. "I've been on it ever since the one time I was pregnant."

"Once burned, double shy?"

"No -- once pregnant screwed up my periods. Now I'm on a prescription that gives me only four a year."

She cuddled up to me under my left arm. I stroked her hair from her face, exposed her ear and traced it with my fingertip. It was the first opportunity I had to closely examine it.

"I see what it is," I said. "The cartilage in your ear shell doesn't go all the way 'round. It stops here and comes to a point."

"I told you -- I'm a freak," she replied.

"I love the way it looks," I said. "It makes you so much more special ... and beautiful ... in my eyes at least. Please promise me you won't cover them while we're alone together."

"I don't know ... we'll see..." She drew in a deep breath. "Mmm... I am perfectly relaxed ... I feel like I'm melting. I don't want to move ... I want to stay here all night." I held her and caressed her arm. "Nick?"

"What?"

"How would you feel about moving in with me?"

"Well... My lease isn't up for renewal until June. We have some time to see how things work out."

"I have a feeling they'll work out just fine..." She drew in another breath. "Mmm..." She closed her eyes. I could feel her body go limp and her legs twitch as she drifted to sleep.

Copyright (C) 2008 by the author. Redistribution in any form is strictly prohibited without the expressed, written consent by the author.

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