The Doctor's hands burrowed around for a while, making me very uncomfortable in much the same way
　　as the young silver-haired doctor had a few weeks earlier. Then he lowered himself until his body was
　　poised just above mine. I put all the force of my mind to work in making a sort of mental barrier
　　between the Doctor and me, but it wasn't enough to keep me from feeling the Doctor's "eel," as Mameha
　　might have called it, bump against the inside of my thigh. The lamp was still lit, and I searched the
　　shadows on the ceiling for something to distract me, because now I felt the Doctor pushing so hard that
　　my head shifted on the pillow. I couldn't think what to do with my hands, so I grabbed the pillow with them and squeezed my eyes tighter. Soon there was a great deal of activity going on above me, and I
　　could feel all sorts of movement inside me as well. There must have been a very great deal of blood,
　　because the air had an unpleasant metallic smell. I kept reminding myself how much the Doctor had paid
　　for this privilege; and I remember hoping at one point that he was enjoying himself more than I was. I
　　felt no more pleasure there than if someone had rubbed a file over and over against the inside of my
　　thigh until I bled.
　　Finally the homeless eel marked its territory, I suppose, and the Doctor lay heavily upon me, moist with
　　sweat. I didn't at all like being so close to him, so I pretended to have trouble breathing in the hopes he
　　would take his weight off me. For a long while he didn't move, but then all at once he got to his knees
　　and was very businesslike again. I didn't watch him, but from the corner of my eye I couldn't help seeing
　　that he wiped himself off using one of the towels beneath me. He tied the sash of his robe, and then put
　　on his glasses, not noticing a little smear of blood at the edge of one lens, and began to wipe between my
　　legs using towels and cotton swabs and the like, just as though we were back in one of the treatment
　　rooms at the hospital. The worst of my discomfort had passed by this time, and I have to admit I was
　　almost fascinated lying there, even with my legs spread apart so revealingly, as I watched him open the
　　wooden case and take out the scissors. He cut away a piece of the bloody towel beneath me and stuffed
　　it, along with a cotton ball he'd used, into the glass vial with my misspelled name on it. Then he gave a
　　formal bow and said, "Thank you very much." I couldn't very well bow back while lying down, but it
　　made no difference, because the Doctor stood at once and went off to the bath again.