He became aware that the doctor was gone, and the door briefly opened and closed when the redheaded candy striper nurse entered.

She chewed gum, which had her plump red lips moving provocatively, and her huge freckled breasts were practically spilling out of her top. “Oh good, you’re all ready. Yes, you can feel them.” Her freckled hands moved to her blouse and unbuttoned it, causing her tits to bloom like soft dough rising in the oven. She then reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, which caused her heavy bazooms to fall and bounce above her flat stomach.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll just need some lube. Yeah, so this guy asks me the other day, ‘Are those implants?’ and I say, ‘Of course not, breast implants haven’t even been invented yet.’”

The redhead was rubbing lube over her hands, making squelching sounds, while Jason felt her massive breasts, which were amazingly soft. He leaned over and sucked her wide nipples into his mouth while his hands kneaded her soft tit flesh.

She reached down and felt his thick sausage. “Oh my gosh, you are bigger than last time, I swear it. You must be eating like a horse, ‘cause you feel like one.” She smacked her gum to emphasize her punchline. Her hands ran up and down his slick cock, then over his balls.

The redhead pushed him forward with a gentle shove of her hand, directing him to lean over the table. “The prostate is normally under the wall of the rectum, but when a man becomes aroused, the prostate swells. That’s going to make it easier for me to feel any bumps or irregularities.”

The nurse slipped one finger into his anus, feeling for the walnut that was buried there. Her other hand flogged his cock, adding a corkscrew motion on the downstroke to heighten his pleasure. “Yes, that’s it,” she cooed. Then she slipped in a second finger, so that her first and second finger strummed the hardened half egg in his rectum, and wonderful sensations radiated outward from that spot, heightening the pleasure in his erection.

“I handle a lot of cocks in this job,” she said nonchalantly while she stabbed her fingers into his anus, running them back and forth over his swollen prostate, at the same time that her hand tugged and twisted on his rod. “But you’ve got a whopper.”

Her hand squeezed his cockhead and circled, drawing a moan from the young man. He didn’t know what he was feeling in his prostate—in fact, he had hardly even known that he had one, but the pleasure deep in his groin seemed to well up into his scrotum and into his stiff pole, which leaked a long thin thread of clear jism.

“Let’s see if we can get your precum to reach the floor,” the redhead said as she worked his genitals from inside and out.

Looking down from where his head rested on the white paper covering the table, he saw the clear strand twirl like a circus acrobat’s rope, reflecting the light as it spun and leaked from the slit of his cockhead, drooling toward the floor.

“Uggh.” Jason tried to speak, but the tension in his prostate and the tightening of his gnarled rod under the young lady’s expert ministrations had his legs shaking.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you accidentally orgasm,” the redhead said. “I make men come all the time.”

“Accidentally?” Jason thought. The woman was beating his meat furiously, while probing some erogenous zone deep within his rectum that he had never been aware of, and he was about to explode. The glossy thread of precum whipped around in circles and nearly hit the floor, when he felt the floodgates open.

The redheaded nurse held her palm up, cutting through the long rope of jism leaking from his red knob, as his hot cream poured onto her palm, running like a hose without the characteristic spurting of most orgasms. Rather than shaking, this climax had him feeling a deep calm, as she prodded his prostate to release all of his fluids, which streamed out of his cockhead and into her palm. His thick cream resembled warm buttermilk on her freckled hand, and spilled over the edge of her fingers to ooze down to the linoleum floor. He moaned into the table, and the redhead used her greasy hand to wring out the last of his ejaculate from his swollen cock.

Jason used his hands to steady himself on the examination table, because he was about to collapse onto the floor.

“Just let me get cleaned up here,” she said while yanking towels out of the dispenser and wiping up his creamy residue from her hand, then from his sensitive genitals, which caused him to twitch and spasm. She then knelt onto the floor to mop up his load, and Jason looked down to admire her massive tits, which were still on display.

Tossing the towels into the wastebasket, she went to the sink to wash her hands as Jason pulled up his briefs and pants to refasten them. He watched in fascination as she labored to restrain the mammoth tits that she had unleashed, and wrestled them back into her bra.

“Well, Mr. Whitlock, I give your prostate an A+,” the freckle-faced redhead said with a smile, and slipped back out of the door, while Jason leaned against the examination table, winded and recovering his breath.

* * *

“Do you see where you went wrong?” Grampa asked, and took a heavy slug of his drink. The old man figured that he was going to need the alcohol, so he had gone to the effort of bringing a bottle of Old Mount Gay rum and several cans of soda water.

“Went wrong?” Jason protested. “I thought that date went pretty well. I mean, not great, but it was okay for a first date.”

The two men had just finished watching the secretly taped video of Jason’s first date with Ashlynn, recorded with a spy pen camera. Grandpa shook his head and brushed his hand from the top of his forehead down to his chin, then let out a slow breath.

“They don’t teach you this stuff in school. Your father should have taught this to you, but he’s just as ignorant as I was. That’s the problem: you know nothing about money or women, so you’ll be a victim your whole life.”

“Victim? Whoa, Gramps. Like the victim of a successful first date?” Jason popped open a Keystone lite and took a swig. He really didn’t know where all the old man’s negativity was coming from.

“You were dead in the water from the first moment,” Grandpa said with a shake of his head. “Why the Outback?”

“Well, what are we supposed to do, have dinner at a taco truck?” Jason chuckled at that line, admiring his cleverness.

“Yes!” Grandpa startled the young man by practically shouting. “You’re fluent in Spanish. Impress her with your Spanish knowledge. Introduce her to Jacinto, and when she sees how you interact with him, and the other customers, she sees you have social skills. And your whole investment for the evening is low.”

“But a taco truck?” Jason looked incredulous. “There’s no way I can take a classy woman like Ashlynn to a taco truck.”

“What makes you think she’s classy, because she’s good looking, and she’s hardly a seven? If your date is too good for a taco truck, you don’t want her, ‘cause you’ve got a fussy, whiny bitch who will never be satisfied.” Grandpa took another swig of his drink and let out a tense breath, before looking his grandson in the eye. “Why the Outback?”

“I wanted to impress her,” Jason confessed.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” Grandpa nodded and leaned back. “If you’re going to impress her by spending money, you can’t. She knows that you’re a teacher, and no woman wants a man who earns a teacher’s salary.”

“Wait, you’re saying that all women want is money?”

“I know a woman who’s smart, generous, has a great sense of humor, and works with orphans. Would you date her?” Grandpa looked at the young man expectantly.

“Sure,” Jason replied.

Grandpa smiled. “Only she’s 63 years old and weighs 212 pounds. Would you date her?”

Jason tried to figure out what to say next. “Well, I mean, we could be platonic friends. I’m certain she would be a great companion…”

“Cut the bullshit. You don’t want a woman who’s too old or too fat. Does that mean you’re a dog, just out to use women, and you don’t care about her as a person as long as you get to screw her?”

“No, it’s not like that at all,” Jason protested.

“Women are looking for a man with wealth and status. Men are looking for a woman with youth and beauty.” Grandpa pointed a finger at Jason. “Instead of trying to put labels on people, and assign right and wrong, or good and bad, you need to accept it for what it is—reality.”

“Then why did she agree to go on a date with me?” Jason was trying to make sense of it, and thought that he had caught the old man in a contradiction: if his salary wasn’t good enough for her, then why would she go out with him?

“Aha, that’s the $60,000 question.” Grandpa took a sip of his drink and leaned forward. “Women put men into two categories: lover and provider. Alpha and Beta. The lover, the Alpha, excites her. She is aroused just being with him. Even if he has no job, or little money, she doesn’t care—she’ll spend her own money on him. The Beta, or provider, is the guy who provides for her, buying her meals, clothes, flowers, taking her out on dates, or doing stupid shit like signing up for a lifetime of marriage. She is not attracted to the provider; he’s just useful. In fact, the toilet here in your apartment disgusts you, but you need it, don’t you?”

Jason had an uneasy feeling, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. “I don’t know if it was all about money and usefulness.”

“Was there ever a point in the evening when it wasn’t about money? You get there and she asks for a Grey Goose and lemonade, then she wants an appetizer, even though you try to steer her away from it. Anyone who eats the steak, the baked potato, and the second side is full; you were 100% correct on that. Then after she hardly touches her appetizer platter, the most expensive one on the menu, she orders the lobster and steak, which she picks at, then orders dessert, even though you declined one for yourself.”

Jason started to say something, trying to mount some kind of protest, but couldn’t think of what to say. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

“If she cared about you and your budget, she could have declined and she still would have eaten well.” Grandpa sat back on the couch for a moment and allowed what he had just said to sink in. The truth was hard to accept, especially when it was so crushing to Jason’s ego. “Was there ever a moment where she showed any kind of affection, however slight?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” Jason began searching his memories. But she had steered clear of him as though he were Covid-positive, giving him a wide berth of several feet. When she sat down, she sat down opposite him, at the far end of the booth. At the end of the date she practically ran out to her car. The one time Jason started to place a hand at the small of her back to usher her into the restaurant, she recoiled as though stung by a scorpion. “But even if she wasn’t affectionate, she just got out of a bad relationship and isn’t quite ready yet for another.”

“That’s the oldest bullshit story in the book,” Grandpa said in disgust. “She gives you some lame story so you’ll feel sorry for her—and nice guys always fall for it—so you’ll keep waiting, buying her free shit, giving her rides, posting flattering comments on Facebook or Instagram about how gorgeous she is. And you’ll keep upping the ante, figuring the next gift, or dinner, or concert ticket is going to get her to where she’s ‘ready’. It’s not going to happen.”

Grandpa handed Jason his cellphone. “Look at her Facebook post.”

“I thought you didn’t have a cellphone.”

“I don’t. I borrowed it,” Grandpa replied.

Jason scrolled though the post, reading about how Ashlynn had gone out to dinner with one of her secret admirers. There were pictures of her drink, of the appetizer platter, of her steak and lobster, and her flaming baked Alaska, but Jason didn’t appear in any of the photos. He might as well have had a monkey in a fez sitting beside him the whole evening, because he was in ghost mode.

“Whew.” Jason handed his grandfather the phone. “I’m an idiot. But she said she’d call again.”

Grandpa reached over to pat Jason’s shoulder. “She will, unfortunately. When she needs a ride, needs to pay the rent, wants to go out on another Facebook date to impress her friends and followers with all the guys who want her. Or maybe she wants free food and needs a shoulder to cry on, because the alpha asshole who’s banging her silly, who never bought her anything, never took her out a date, who wouldn’t know a feeling unless he clubbed it like a baby fur seal, isn’t very sensitive and doesn’t show affection, plus she just found out he’s screwing a whole bunch of other women.”

Jason’s face became a mask of confusion. “But that makes no sense. If I treat her well, and take her out on dates, and express affection, and I’m faithful, why would she want some sullen asshole?”

“Don’t forget you’re a college graduate, and he’s probably an ex-con who dropped out of school. Remember what I said, this is the mating dance, and none it is logical, or right, or wrong.” Grandpa shook his drink so that the ice rattled. “Excitement is the key. Doing heroin isn’t a logical pastime, either, but it’s the high that hooks people. You can be nice, hard-working, generous, intelligent, etc. but you don’t excite her. You’re a provider, who’s going to give her all kinds of free shit.”

“It would have been nice if she’d have just told me all this up front,” Jason sighed.

“It’s worse than that.” Grandpa handed Jason back the cellphone. “Look at the next set of selfies, time-stamped 1:17 a.m., same night as your date. And brace yourself.”