” She reached out and gave my arm a reassuring caress. “I’m a medical professional. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already heard...before.” I nodded, even though I didn’t feel any more comfortable. “Okay.” She consulted her clipboard. “Do you masturbate?” “I…um…no…” “Alex?” Her tone was the same as my mother’s when she knows I’m lying. “Alright, fine. Yes.” Nurse Cady smiled and made a mark. “How often do you masturbate?” “I don’t know. Maybe once a week,” I lied. “Really? Is that. He had several times suffered venereal diseases, war wounds, and even an uncomfortably generous waistline that had been bequeathed on him for the moment of his residency. “Are you sure?” Quentin asked. Most women he’d spoken to on this matter (almost always women and almost always when, as now, he was vaguely tipsy sitting on a bar stool) would ask “What you on?” Or they would simply pretend not to have heard anything. “Yes. It’s fascinating,” said Vivienne, puffing smoke from her cigarette,. More

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