Friday afternoon, while most of you healthy people were hurrying home from work or school, or visiting your favorite restaurants or cafes or shops, in short, while you were enjoying the comforts of your mostly urban existence, the asthenic boy who writes these lines had to lie flat upon a medical couch while a short and slim lady-hematologist about 50 years old (not at all bad looking, if I may add) pressed her fingers into his groin or thereabout, much to his dismay.
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ she asked.
‘I am a bachelor,’ I excused myself.
‘I’m serious,’ she said, pushing her fingers more deeply. ‘Have you had unprotected sex?’