This isn't the neatest job of stitching—I'd send one of my surgical students to the back of the queue if he presented me with a job like this—but ...or doing it to yourself, under field conditions, it's a first rate job, sir."Michael groaned softly, remembering the agony of it."I wouldn't suggest that you or any of your students try doing it yourself, doctor. It's hard to keep your mind on neatness when all you want is for the torture to end!"The doctor chuckled, agreeing that he never intended. There were no lights and the beach was almost pitch black. We talked and I could tell she was feeling good. Finally after a few moments I asked her if she meant what she said last night about loving me not like she should. She got embarrassed and said she shouldn't have said that. I told her not to regret it. She then started to go on her spiel that the things we did we can't do again, it was wrong... again. I told her to stop. She said it doesn't matter what our bodies did. I then asked her,. Eventually one morning I slipped my business card into her purse on the train and she looked at me and shook her head in disappointment .She was not happy about that.There were times however when she would arrive on a train or 2 ahead of her husband on the evening commute and wait for him in their car at the commuter parking lot where I parked my car also.On one of these occasions as Rose and I were getting off the train in the evening I tried speaking with her and we walked to the parking lot. I had decided that my next target would be Janet Abramson. I had already gotten her to make out with me, so I figured it would be easy to carry on the next logical step. It was made all the easier when she actually approached me during a free period, looking around to make sure no one saw her."Hi, Janet," I greeted her easily. "What's on your mind?"She was still looking around. Janet is not the type who can move about unobserved. Tall, with wavy red hair and green eyes, a pretty freckled face.