Free God's Gift to Women by MICHAEL BAISDEN

I’ve got to deal with this nonsense!” Mr. Adams yelled. “I’m damn near sixty-five years old. I don’t want to feel like I’m competing in the Olympics every time we have sex.”
    Terri stood up and walked behind them. Once she was out of their sight she turned her back and covered her mouth. She laughed so hard tears were forming in her eyes.
    “So, Doc, what should I do?” Mr. Adams asked.
    She wanted to say, “Let her squirt in your face, you might like it.” But instead she composed herself and gave him the clinical response.
    “Mr. Adams, does barking like a dog make you feel degraded?”
    “No, just stupid. It’s hard enough to have sex in the missionary position with a bad back, now I’ve got to roll around on the floor, too? To hell with that!”
    “Wait a second, Mr. Adams, don’t you have sexual fantasies?” Terri asked. “There’s got to be something naughty you’ve always wanted to do with your wife.”
    He sat there with his hand on his chin and looked off into space as if he were painting a picture. Then he leaned back and smiled.
    “What is it, sweetheart, come on, tell me!” Mrs. Adams said.
    “I’m too embarrassed to say.”
    “Don’t be,” Terri said. “I’m a professional. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard a thousand times.”
    “Okay, here it goes.” He turned toward his wife and looked at her with a serious expression. “I’ve always wanted you to come to bed dressed up in leather and high-heel boots.”
    “No problem, sweetheart. I can do that!”
    “Wait—there’s more. I also want a teenaged girl dressed as a French maid in the bed with us.”
    Mrs. Adams stood up and slapped him in the face. “You can go to hell, you old pervert!” Then she stormed out of the office.
    A few seconds later Mr. Adams calmly put on his dark shades and old gray brim and walked toward the door.
    “Well, Doc, I guess you can cancel that appointment for next week. I don’t think she’ll be asking me to bark like a dog anytime soon.” He tipped his hat and backed out of the door wearing a sly grin.
    Terri plopped down in her chair, leaned back, and stretched her feet out on her desk. “Talk about reverse psychology!”
    Just then the receptionist, Helen, called Terri on the intercom.
    “Dr. Ross, Janet is here.”
    “Send her in.”
    “Also, there’s a carrier here with a package.”
    “Tell him to leave it with you.”
    “I think you might want to sign for this
personally.
It’s not FedEx.”
    “Okay, send them both in.”
    The carrier entered the office carrying a dozen yellow roses and a small white box. Janet made room on Terri’s desk. After signing the receipt, Terri sat down and stared at the box.
    “You want me to call the bomb squad?” Janet joked.
    “Very funny. I’m just not in a hurry.”
    “Well, my lunch break is over in thirty minutes and I’m curious.”
    “You mean nosy.”
    “Whatever,” Janet said. “You know who it’s from. I don’t know why you’re trippin’.”
    “What do you know about him?” Terri asked.
    “I’m a single woman with no kids, no man, and no life,” Janet said. “I know everything about everybody.”
    “Is he married?”
    “No.”
    “Does he have kids?”
    “A ten-year-old daughter.”
    “Is he dating?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Is he gay?”
    “I hope not.”
    “Is he—”
    “Stop it, Terri!” Janet cut her off. “I’ve already been through this interrogation with Julian. Why don’t you go out with him and get it over with.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Why not? You know you like him. You were blushing like a teenager when you came into the studio yesterday. I haven’t seen you smile like that in over a year.”
    “He’s nothing special. They never are.”
    “Who is this talking? Not Doctor Terri Ross, the strong, independent, BMW-drivin’ superwoman?”
    “What are you talkin’ about?”
    “I can’t believe you’re still holding on to that shit you went through