{Author's note . . . at this point, after reading the above that night, I visited with Maggie the following day, at which point I resume and conclude our interview. She died a few months after this took place.}

PD: Maggie, what a revelation your short memoir was, thanks so much writing it down for me.

MC: Of course, Peedy, I was glad to help you in your "research".

PD: Can we talk some more about what you did in treatments? I don't know, Maggie, I just thought that from what you described to me when your first hinted at this to me some months back, that it would be more, well, "exciting".

MC: What do you want me to say? {(she moves in her chair, scooting a little father away from the edge of the breakfast nook table and me) I admitted to you in my writing that I used to get excited a lot of the times when I would treat some of my female patients, something I've never admitted to anyone before, ever. Isn't that enough?

PD: But Maggie, I told you that eventually that this might wind up as a magazine article somewhere, sometime, and I know my readers would want more details than that.

MC: (just shakes her head, smiles, takes another sip of her coffee, and scoots her chair back towards me a little closer, putting her hand atop mine as I sit close to her at the table in the greenhouse area) Peedy, my dear boy, isn't that a paradox of sex, that it's pretty damn routine if not boring if you're not actually participating in it right then? Would you like me to give you an endless stream of boring, repetitious - my mouth sucking on nameless vaginas of nameless friends and patients, of their mouths kissing mine and sucking on my breasts, of my fingers plunging deeply into their eager "canals of love" while murmurs of passion flow freely never to be remembered again?

PD: Why, yes, Maggie, I would (she completely cracking up at that remark, laughing hard enough to chortle for a second).

MC: Yes, I supposed you would, Peedy, but it would bore me to tears. Tell you what: I know you want to know more about what happened with myself and the Jones'.

PD: Yes, Maggie, if it wouldn't upset you, yes, I am curious.

MC: I've never spoken to a living soul about what happened, but I'll tell you under one condition: you wait until I'm dead and gone before ever publishing this. You change my name, their names, and you wait until I'm dead and gone. Shake? (she extending her hand, I shaking it)

PD: Deal, and thanks.

MC: This was about 1952. I had been, we three had been a team since 1946. I had a physical relationship with Phil since 1945, and one with Helen since late 1946. We three had never been in the same room together while the other one and I had sex. It was always she and I or he and I but never the three of us. By then I also had a female lover, another nurse who worked with us at the practice whom I lived with, and I dated some men some other times as well.

PD: Yes, I remember all that, you mentioning all that.

MC: (fiddling with her coffee some, stirring it unconsciously with her bare pinkie finger) One night in April of 1952, I don't remember the exact date or care to, I do remember it was a Friday night, Helen was on her period, had been for three days prior, and I went over to their house. They had their maid fix us all a nice dinner and then we watched some TV, a real rarity in those days, I think we watched Sid Ceasar's "Show Of Shows". Then, Phil and I went to their bedroom while Helen went to their library to wait until we were through. I gave Phil his usual once or twice-monthly blowjob but he wouldn't come. Every single time before he usually came within ten minutes or so, I did and do love sucking cock so, but that night he wouldn't come, didn't. He had a real look of lust in his eyes.

Without a word, he pulled my dress off, almost tore my bra and panties off, and before I could stop him, greased his cock with Vaseline and had shoved it into my rear, not that I minded, remember I've always loved anal. He fucked my rear what I know had to be a good fifteen or twenty minutes and even though I thought I felt him come his erection didn't go down. I flipped around to lie flat and present my tail to him that way when from nowhere Helen walked into the room, naked except for her sanitary belt and napkin. It was our routine when she was on her period that I would blow Phil and she and I would fool around at a different time separately just she and I usually that same night but not always, she never touching her husband sexually while she was on her period. It was also our agreement between the three of us since she had moved east and we began sharing our lives that I would never fuck her husband again despite the fact he and I had been that kind of lovers during The War, that I would give him blowjobs only, they reserving that kind of sex for their marital bed only.

I thought she was going to explode at first, I had broken my word to her as my dear friend, lover, and employer after all, but there wasn't a trace of anger on her face. She made her way to the edge of the bed and just stood there. Phil got a little anxious and pulled his cock out of my ass before she reached over and lightly touched his back with a "it's okay, Honey, go ahead, fuck Maggie in her ass, it's okay, I want to watch" as she crawled on the bed with us, but his penis wouldn't cooperate.

I got a couple of warm, wet washcloths from the bathroom and towels and cleaned him up as she sat passively next to us. After I cleaned him up, I blew him but still nothing. And again. And again. Nothing.

With a "here, Honey, maybe this'll help", she kissed me fully on the lips and I her, back. We had been lovers for years after all. We began groping each other, a couple of my fingers playing with her vagina, sliding her napkin to one side as I did. She told me later that despite the fact she had women lovers for years with Phil's consent, this was the first time he ever had ever seen her with another woman.

I began sucking on her breasts as she leaned into me with "eat me, Maggie". I did. Throwing one of the towels under her butt, she pulled her belted napkin off and I dove down on her cunt, eating for all I could. I noticed Phil had a full, raging hard-on right then.

"Want to fuck our girlfriend, my husband? Then go ahead, you have my permission, if Maggie here's game", I nodded my head "yes" as I continued to lap at Helen's clit and bloody lips.

I pushed my tail high into the air and Phil rammed it home, fucking me with an intensity that no man before or since ever has. He was just an animal. He grabbed my waist, shoved his cock as deeply as he could into me. He slapped the sides of my buttocks hard with his open palm, that was okay, it actually felt good, I actually enjoyed him doing so. God, his cock felt so good deep inside me!

I began using my fingers deep inside Helen and when I felt Phil about to come, pushed him away for a moment, out of me, and told him "it's time you two grew up, Phil, fuck your wife, right now, she wants you, badly!!!" and more or less tossed him into her waiting arms, his cock slipping easily into her blood-soaked and spattered vagina, they having their first period sex, ever. She and I kissed as he fucked her. He didn't last long. I wiped the worst of the blood off his member with one of the washcloths and finished licking him clean, that exciting both of them to no end. I stayed the night.

The next day, I went home and told Jean that I was going to have to stay with them at their house for a "research project". She didn't believe a word of it, of course, but didn't push the issue, either.

For the next five or six weeks, we three fucked like bandits every chance we got, everywhere we could, home or office, didn't matter every way we could. I even got Helen to try some anal but she stayed too tense to enjoy it so Phil happily fucked my ass I don't how many times, in addition to fucking me "normally" as much as he and I wanted, sometimes using a condom, sometimes not. I know, I know. He never got tired of watching Helen and myself make love, and we never got tired of making love to each other, whether he was there to watch "the show" and/or participate with us or not. It was like three mutual dams of hormones had been breached.

Then, the next month, five or six weeks later, my usual precise-as-clockwork period didn't arrive on time. Nor the next day. Nor the next. Two weeks later, Helen confirmed it, I was pregnant, with her husband's child. There was never any question as to what was next. She and Phil gave me an abortion. It wasn't pretty or pleasant.

I bled like the proverbial stuck pig for a week after that. I moved back into my home where Jean had been patiently waiting for me. She never asked a single question. My blood loss wasn't tapering off like it was supposed to, if anything it was slightly increasing. I was using ten or twenty Kotex per day. Helen and Phil were getting genuinely concerned I might have a burst blood vessel somewhere abdominally or perhaps Helen, who had been the one using the curette, had misjudged and perforated my uterus and I might have to have emergency surgery to repair the damage.

Trying one last measure before wanting to intervene surgically, Phil gave me a shot of a coagulant drug, I can't remember the name now, it was the kind they used to give women just out of labor who were hemorrhaging to stop them from bleeding out and dying. It worked. Two more shots over the next two days and then the bleeding stopped and I was fine. Jean and I made love, the purest of sweet love, the night I finally stopped, she professing her undying love for me. She really meant it.

Then something happened. To this day, we're not sure what. Supposedly, Phil ordering that series of shots from the pharmacy we always used to supply the practice's needs called the State Medical Board about him ordering that, but that didn't then and doesn't make sense now. I mean, we used to order those vials of that drug literally by the case and keep them in the refrigerator in the office. A practice where two physicians who did ob/gyn work ordering an anti-hemorrhaging drug shouldn't have raised any flag at all, never.

Yet, they both were brought up on charges before the State Medical Board for performing an illegal abortion. Basically, the only evidence was the fact that Helen and Phil had been using a lot of that drug then and that our pharmacist, whom we had been doing twenty or thirty thousands of dollars worth of business with annually but no more after this as you might can imagine, told the medical board that for our patient load, we had been using too much of this drug, like he would know.

The charge was a single act of committing a single abortion, but thing was, despite going through their patient files since day one of the practice and interviewing a good portion of former patients, at least half, an investigation that took over a year before it was finally concluded, the New York Medical Society couldn't prove that Helen and Phil had ever committed a single act of medical malphaesance, let alone mispheasence or malpratice let alone the actual crime of doing an abortion. They were found innocent, eventually, but the bad press killed their practice, well, not killed it but hurt their business for a long time, years after that.

PD: Wow. So, after the abortion, you three never slept together again?

MC: Peedy, I loved them. I truly loved them both. I would have been very happy being their "concubine" for lack of a better term for the rest of my life, being with them, being part of both their lives. But no, I mean yes, after the abortion and after I moved back home with Jean, I never had any kind of sex with either Phil or Helen. We stayed more or less friends, I continued to work with them until Bob, Dr. Romanaskowi, became part of the practice and he and I met and we got married. I still loved them both, but no, we never had sex again.

PD: Damn.

MC: Yeah, damn. During the course of the widely-publicized investigation, it came ouit that the medical board had decided to do a dragnet and drag several otherwise very reputable ob/gyns through the mud with false charges of performing abortions, all of them infertility specialists by coincidence, no - I think not - that Helen became pregnant and since business was down right then anyway, she decided to become a stay-at-home wife and mother and they brought Bob in right out of med school because they could hire him on the cheap. You can verify all of what I've said, Peedy, just do a search for our names in the New York Times and Daily News' of that era, it was all over the papers.

PD: Damn, damn.

MC: Yes-sir. It was also about the same time, during this witch hunt of infertility specialists, that Phil and Helen were quietly told, by whom I was never told, that the AMA now had an unofficial unwritten policy that vulvolar clinical massage-masturbation was no longer an accepted practice for anything by any physician or representative or nurse thereof and if they ever heard of any practice continuing to do so, those involved would be rue for it, so I and we just quietly stopped doing it.

PD: And all lived happily ever after!

MC: Oh, Peedy! (playfully slapping at my shoulder) You are a card, Dear. You're also very sweet.

PD: Tape's getting low. Any final thoughts?

MC: Yes. I'd like to say that to this day I really believe clinical massage and female masturbation can help if not cure a wide variety of female problems, and definitely helps pelvic congestion which I firmly believe is still a major cause of undiagnosed and improperly diagnosed female infertility.

PD: Anything about yourself, Maggie?

MC: Yes. I want to clarify that as much as I loved Helen and Phil, I married a wonderful man, Dr. Bob Romanaskowi, and we had a wonderful marriage and except for my longterm lover Greta, whom was our charge nurse, I never cheated on my husband once, not the first time, not that my relationship with Greta was cheating on my husband which it wasn't since he knew and approved of it.

PD: Thanks for your time, Maggie, you're a dear.

MC: No, thank you, Peedy, for taking the time to listen to an old woman. Want your blow job now or later?

PD: (rising up from the chair, giving her a nice big hug and peck on the cheek) Now, "you" are "the card", Maggie! (we both laughing, as the tape recorder is turned off for the final time).