Choto Temple Ch. 05

"She just appeared there, like a scary groupie or something?" I interjected, for clarification.

"No no, it wasn't like that. She called first and asked if I minded if I would like a visitor. She was very thoughtful and all that.

"I was theoretically prepared for a visitor by the time she actually was at the door. In reality I was a complete mess. My mind and my heart were both racing, so fast that I really couldn't make much sense of what was happening. Actually it felt a lot like how you feel after you just took the LSD a half hour earlier or so."

"It's pretty hard to imagine how you must have felt."

I was trying to sound more sympathetic than jealous. I'm not sure if Zerzinski was completely impressed with my efforts, but he continued his storytelling anyway.

"This was basically your first date, post-diagnosis?"

He looked slightly miffed, and then more just perplexed, at my question.

"It wasn't really a date, you know. Well, I don't know. It was what it was. For me it was lovely. I hope it was for her. I'd like to think on a few different levels it might have been. But all I can be sure of is one of them.

"That's the problem, you know? That's always the thing. From that moment on, I have something people want. So who knows if all the rest is real or not? But I'm not the only person who has to try to figure that kind of stuff out."

He looked like he was once again shifting gears from philosophizing to storytelling. Which are different things, though related.

"So Charity came to my door. Bearing a small basket of perfectly ripe Georgia peaches. They really do grow peaches in Georgia, it's not just on the license plates. Charity was a few years younger than me. We're still in touch, you know."

I sensed a little bristle, and didn't comment on it. I could understand how he might feel defensive about these things. Needing to point out that they're still in contact. The moral quandaries Zerzinski had to deal with did indeed seem like tough ones. At least for someone who gave a shit. Which it was becoming increasingly clear to me this guy is.

"I did notice that she was a lovely, fit woman with engaging expressions on a charming face. But I really wasn't thinking about sex, either - I mean it was such an ever-present thought that I was actually not thinking about it.

"I knew it would come up as a regular thing on a regular basis, but I wasn't thinking about the details. I was just glad to have an intelligent person to talk to, who felt like visiting, or felt obligated to visit, or whatever it was. I was glad.

"She could see right away that I was troubled. And after we sat down in the living room area of the suite they were putting me up in, she was trying to be helpful. She asked me if there was anything else from my little crash course in genetics at the CDC that day that I wanted to know.

"It wasn't the science that I felt like I needed a better handle on, though, I told her. It's the implications of this thing. It's where does my life go from here?

"I'm still so thankful that she came over that evening. She's a scientist, and has a wonderfully scientific approach to life's questions.

"She just broke it down into a multiple choice kind of scenario for me. And it was like, yes, those are useful thoughts. Glad someone's brain is functioning right now."

"Nice when the brains function, eh?"

He chuckled. He looked a bit tense, remembering that evening. I realized I was hoping with the blithe comment to make him laugh a little, so he'd breathe. Which he did. Along with taking a sip of his cold cappuccino.

Then he looked somehow lost. I was wondering what that was about, when he explained it for me with a question.

"Where was I...?"

"Charity's multiple choice."

"Oh yeah. So she was like, 'let's look at the inputs and the outputs.'

"And then she even made a numbered list in two columns on the little notepad they always have next to the beds in hotels.

"The first column was 'value,' about how I have something very valuable. To the right, her multiple choice options were 'secrecy' and then 'security.'

"OK, the categories might seem kind of obvious. But I was finding the mere fact of the numbered list with columns really therapeutic at the time."

"Giving order to things can be very calming, eh?" I echoed.

Having also done LSD in the past as Zerzinski evidently had, I also added, "that first hour after dosing, we're often trying desperately to keep everything ordered, too, before the order melts away, eh?"

He smiled a knowing smile.

"Indeed," he said.

"What was her next category?"

"Her next category was 'treatment.' Which at first I found alarming. Do I need treatment for something? Is something wrong?

"That's when she smiled really broadly for the first time, and looked like she was suppressing laughter. 'No, Robert - you are the treatment.' She looked me in the eye up close and spoke slowly and clearly to make sure I got that sentence."

"And what were her suggestions for treatment?"

"She kept on referring to ethics. And how this was a field of science on its own. And how one aspect of ethics is my right to my own body, and my right to basically disregard this whole thing and continue with my life as if nothing big had happened. Letting the CDC do its research, and me just going about my business. That was her first option, which I think she titled 'avoid.'

"Another aspect of the ethics talk was about the value of helping people. Even when this involved various risks or pitfalls of one kind or another.

"So then she had #2 and #3. Two was what she suggested might be the most ethical and least practical, which she titled 'donate.'

"Three was what she said she thought was ethically the most challenging. But more practical and therefore more beneficent than other options, in her view."

"And what was #3?"

"'Sex.'

"She said if I wanted to be most useful to people, until the point came when what I have could be effectively synthesized and mass-produced, I could either masturbate into a petri dish every day - with each wanking session potentially saving a life, she emphasized. Though she didn't use the term 'wanking.'

"Or I could have as much sexual intercourse as possible with different women, obviously unprotected.

"That, she added, itself came with a multitude of challenges. Which she then listed in another column. She had obviously been thinking about this. She had - and has - a wonderful mind for tangents and possibilities. She had things like 'preventing STDs,' 'choosing clients,' 'rejecting clients.'"

"It's a lot to assimilate," I noted.

"It was," he said. "When I saw her write down the word 'clients,' my heart jumped. Yikes. That was the first time I had considered this concept."

"Which concept?"

"The concept of having lots of sex with women. Clients. And I was their treatment. That was the first time I thought about how if I was open for that kind of thing, I'd need to have some systematic way of choosing and rejecting potential clients. And preventing STDs."

"A lot to think about all at once," I chimed in.

"Yes. And just as I was trying to digest the idea of 'clients,' she moved past that one to the next thing.

"She said, in that lovely South Carolina lilt, 'Now, my name may be Charity, but I have no experience running either a charity or a business. However, if you went with option three, this is essentially what you'd be doing, or what someone would have to do on your behalf. And you'd have to think about things like paying rent, paying staff, hiring security, and all that. Just like at a clinic.'

"I was really glad she had laid that stuff out there, followed logic to its conclusions a bit. It really helped, and I realized I really needed to think through the possibilities very thoroughly before doing anything.

"I was thinking that as attractive as aspects of the 'sex' option were, maybe the other two options would be better in the long-term. Maybe I could have a more normal life. And maybe that would be better. Maybe the cons outweighed the pros."

"You thought that, seriously?" I was a bit shocked, despite myself. I didn't even mean to say that. It just came out.

"Seriously!" he replied emphatically. "Yes. You can ask Charity about that.

"But it didn't last long, for reasons outside of my control."

"Outside of your control?"

Zerzinski looked at me somewhat sternly.

"I was outed, you know. I'm not saying I wouldn't necessarily have gone public or started a clinic or whatever otherwise, but that's what happened."

"You had no other options? I mean I'm not saying you made the wrong move. I'm just wondering."

He took a deep breath. "It's complicated. I'd say options felt very limited, and I'm not sure how many other options there were. The more complex part, I'd say, is what you do with your options once you decide on one."

"Explain that?"

"Like, once you decide you're starting a clinic, then you have to figure out how do you attract clients? Or in my case, how do you repel them, and which ones do you reject?"

"That was one of the main things the woman focused on in that Mother Jones article."

"The great exposé, yes. She didn't approve of how we did things, that's for sure. I don't know if I did, either. It's very complicated."

"So you talked about these questions with Charity that night," I said, thinking maybe we should get back on to the narrative.

"Yeah, we followed different ideas into the realms of possibility. Exploring what might or might not happen with each one.

"It was very relaxing, mostly. I felt very much like she was organizing my very messy book shelf. So I could find things and see the titles.

"It was after a couple hours that she pulled a piece of paper out of her bag, unfolded it, and handed it to me.

"It was certainly the most wonderfully awkward proposal I had ever gotten from anyone about anything. On the top of the paper it said 'test results,' and in a column lower down on the page was that familiar list of Sexually Transmitted Diseases, and x's in the 'no' boxes for each one.

"As I was trying to make sense of this piece of paper, she said, 'Robert, I don't want to impose on you or make you uncomfortable, and honestly I'm feeling a little nervous about asking, but -'

"I knew she was about to ask me if I would have sex with her. I momentarily thought about saving her the embarrassment of asking the question, but then I stopped myself, because I was enjoying hearing her form this sentence so much.

"'But would you be willing to have unprotected sexual intercourse with me? I've just been tested, as you can see.'"

"That's quite a pickup line," I said, feeling adolescent as soon as I said it.

Zerzinski smiled again.

"Yes, it was unusual. Though at this point not so much. I was just going to say 'yes,' because, shit, I'm just a run-of-the-mill horny guy. Who am I to turn down a nice, good-looking woman with a STD form? But something was making me a little uncomfortable, and I wanted to try to put my finger on it.

"This was so obviously not a date. It was a transaction. Though it would be a pleasant one, I had no doubt.

"I remember I said, 'this feels a bit clinical.' At which point Charity really lost it, I mean big cackly belly laughs not befitting a southern lady.

"'It is,' she said, when she caught her breath. 'Robert, I'm not sure if I'm very good at communication, but I think I should say to be clear that I'm married. It's a fairly conventional marriage. I'm not looking for a date, per se.'

"Then I felt bad that she felt she needed to explain that. But I was glad she did. I told her it was all good, clinical's fine.

"'But does your husband know?' I asked.

"Her answer to that one is another one of those seared-in-your-memory things. She said, 'for the purposes of any possible future Zerzinski clinic: a) it's none of your business, and b) it doesn't matter. But no, he doesn't know, and I'm not planning on telling him.'

"That was another thing I liked about her. Not only is she really good at thinking things through in helpful ways, but she's emotionally very mature.

"She had already decided there was no need to drag him through anything unnecessarily. Getting inoculated was obviously a good idea, to her anyway. And it would just put her husband through unnecessary bad thoughts and jealous feelings, presumably, if she told him. So indeed, why bother?

"But more importantly, as she said, it wasn't my business. That is, it wasn't relevant to this transaction. It's her body to do with as she wanted."

"Just for the sake of argument," I interjected, "what if you gave her an STD that she then gave to her husband? In that case, what he didn't know could really hurt him."

"Oh sure," he responded quickly. "In which case, though, the hypothetical STD from having unprotected sex was a choice she made, as a sober adult. Whether she keeps secrets from her husband that then have unwanted consequences is not for me to deal with. That's her thing."

"One of your moral quandaries."

"One of the easier ones."

"And how was the rest of your evening?"

"Really wonderful. With her it was very clear. She came to me because she wanted something from me. At least as far as the sex part goes."

"Isn't that generally the case, like with your clients?"

"Well, here, yes. But back in the US, running our own clinic in a more trial-by-fire, haphazard way, it wasn't always like that. When there's this established thing, that in most cases people are paying for, it can be very different.

"Charity was a model of loveliness, though. She told me later, she looked at it as her responsibility first to relax me, then to arouse me, then to make me come inside her with as much volume of sperm as possible, to increase her chances of success in terms of the chemistry. Which she later tested and confirmed at the CDC. It worked.

"She asked me if I wanted her to massage me. She said she brought oil. She had actually studied physical therapy in college, and gave me a fantastic massage, for a long time.

"I hadn't had sex with anyone at that time in weeks. There was no need for her to do anything in particular with regards to foreplay. I was ready to go from the outset. Especially after she took her clothes off. Charity liked to go to Appalachia for white water rafting and stuff, she had abs of steel. Which you would never have known from what she was wearing.

"She didn't seem to need any help, either. She just mounted me, and slowly started moving back and forth. It felt great, and looking up at this gorgeous geek, with those pert breasts, it was lovely. There was also an extra turn-on for me, the fact that this was a transaction, rather than normal sex, whatever that might be."

"For both of you?"

"Well more for her, really. See, because the honest truth is I would have wanted to fuck her anyway. She was only doing it for the sperm. I mean I hope she enjoyed the experience, and I'm not saying she did or didn't, but she almost certainly would not have met me or had sex with me in the first place if not for my special gift.

"Anyway, being as turned on as I was, I could have come right away, big-time, within about a minute of her getting on top of me. Instead, I calmed myself down a bit, circulated the energy like a good Taoist sex geek, and didn't come. Which is what I would generally have done in a situation where I was about to come right away while having sex with a lover, you know. Much more fun that way for everybody, usually.

"But I mention this in part because this was my next moral quandary to think about."

"Which one is that?" I asked.

"OK, backing up a step: she could have asked me to jack off into a jar. She could have gotten that stuff inside her potentially so it would work. She knew already that actually fucking me would be the optimal delivery system for the sperm, however, and she also assumed - in this case very correctly - that I'd tend to enjoy fucking her more than jacking off into a jar. So she made the brilliant decision to hit me up for sex.

"But then once you've navigated that particular logistical and moral set of considerations, that is, the decision to fuck in the first place, then there's the next question: if I'm ready to come in the first minute, should I not then do that, and save this woman the trouble of having to fuck me more than necessary, given that she's just in it for the sperm collection?"

"Damn, that's a hard one," I said, spontaneously.

"Isn't it?"

"So what did you decide?"

"At the time? Nothing, really. I couldn't. But I didn't come for a long time. So I guess I decided to enjoy myself."

"Can you give me an idea of what that looks like, you enjoying yourself? Paint a picture for me?"

"Sure. I remember that night very well, still. Another one of those memories."

"One of many such sticky memories for you?"

"Yes, for sure. Many."

He paused and closed his eyes for a moment, retreating into his head, before continuing.

"She was on top of me, and she asked me if there was anything in particular that I liked. Which usually would be a very nice kind of question. But in this case it made me a bit limp for a little while at first."

"That's curious."

"Yeah, well, I was just thinking, for sure there are things I like. Like, I can get into being pretty dominant in different ways. But that's generally when I'm quite certain the person I'm with gets excited by that sort of thing. So saying what I like is complicated. I didn't know what to do."

"Why not just say what you like?" I asked.

"Well, see, if this were a more normal situation, a woman asking me a question like that would also know what she likes and doesn't like, and would hopefully not go along with something she didn't like. At least that would be my hope.

"But in this case, it was different, or at least I thought it might be. What if I said what I liked, and she just went along with it in order to make me come harder. Even though she really didn't like that sort of thing, whatever it might be?"

"Another moral quandary," I noted.

"See?" he said. "They're under every rock!"

"So how did you decide to deal with this latest ethical crisis?"

"After giving it a tough, flaccid moment's thought, I decided that as long as she didn't say she wasn't into it, as long as she wanted to know and was going along with it, then it was OK. And I should use her for my pleasure. Or I should let her allow me to use her for my pleasure."

Zerzinski noticed me jotting that phrase down with my pen, something I was only doing sporadically, as the recorder was picking up the whole interview. I'm sure he was thinking about what kind of piece was this going to be when it was done. I'm sure he wondered this often. But I didn't ask what he might have been thinking, and he didn't say.

Then he said, with a certain amount of clear conviction, "I decided to enjoy the experience thoroughly. Later I struggled with that concept, generally. But I eventually came to terms with it. Though it's tricky in so many ways.

"What I said to her, after having the latest little crisis, was that she should keep on doing what she was doing, which was namely moving back and forth while on top of me.

"After a while I asked her if she could move a bit faster, and deeper. Which she did. As she did this, she was sweating more, but she kept going. She was occasionally grimacing, now and then saying 'ow,' but she didn't let up with the speed or depth of her eloquent movements.

"I asked her if it hurt. Which it obviously did, but I like words.

"She said it did hurt. And she asked if I liked it when it hurt her. I said yes. With that out in the open, it felt even better.