Special Circumstances

I sighed inwardly, and got out my purse. After handing him a five dollar bill, he pressed a few buttons, and a little attachment at the back of his laptop spat out a slip of paper. He grabbed it, and inserted it into an empty name clip he procured from under the desk.

"Here you go, Ms. Weaver. Enjoy the lecture."

"Thanks," I mumbled, and attached the tag to my dress.

Back at the door, I tapped the tag with my finger, and the security guard took his time trying to read the name. He was probably ogling my cleavage, actually, but I was used to that. Men always seemed so incredibly fascinated with my breasts. Or rather, breasts in general. Mine weren't that particularly outstanding, in my opinion, even if they were on the larger side.

The guard leafed through a few sheets of paper on the clipboard, until he finally found my entry. "Weaver, Alex. St. John's. Forty-four. Wow, really? You don't look a day over twenty-five, if I do say so myself," he said.

It was extremely hard not to burst out laughing, and I wasn't really in the mood to flirt back, but flashed him a smile anyway, not wanting him to get pissed or anything. "Can I go in now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I pushed open the door, went into what turned out to be a rather large hall, which felt bigger than the drab outside of the building indicated. There were at least three hundred seats, most of which were already occupied. Everything was carpeted, and the sides of the room were covered in wood panels. Not too bad looking, actually. It had a kind of cozy atmosphere to it, despite the size. I pulled out my phone, and called Julian.

"Did it work?" he asked immediately.

"Yeah, I'm in. You should be able to get in, too. They'll check your name against a list, but they're still using paper. Just make sure you talk to the guard on the left, ok? Not the right one, he already marked me down."

"Ok, got it, Mom."

"Wait, they have my age in the list too. If anyone asks, you're forty-four, and you can just say you're my husband, or something."

"You think that's necessary?"

"Just in case."

"Sure, whatever. I'll be right there."

"Good luck."

I stood near the entrance, and waited for him. A knot formed in my stomach, and I hoped this wouldn't have any repercussions. I couldn't really afford to be thrown out of the seminar, and started to have second thoughts about sneaking him in. How foolish had I been?

The doors opened a few times, and people I didn't recognize walked in. Where was Julian? Had something happened? Then the left door, now actually on my right, opened, and Julian walked in, wearing the white coat. I breathed out in relief, aware for the first time that I had been holding it in, in anticipation.

"What happened? Did everything go alright?" I asked, anxiously.

"Relax, Mom, everything went fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go find a seat, then."

I surveyed the crowd, and it appeared to be mostly women. It wasn't that unusual for events for nurses, since that field was still lopsided in the gender department, but this event had definitely been part of a general catalogue. There were a few men scattered around the room, of course, but nowhere near the same numbers. They looked to be mostly older gentlemen, and thus had to be doctors. They could technically have been nurses, but male nurses tended to be on the younger side, since that's only been a recent trend.

Julian and I found a pair of empty seats at the end of a row halfway up the hall, and sat down. There were only a few minutes left until the event was supposed to start, and the remaining seats filled up quickly, amidst the general buzz of conversations.

"Are they usually like this?"

"Yeah, I guess. Not as big, though. The others I've been to had about a hundred people at most. Maybe it's because of this Dr. Santorum, or whatever her name is."

"Who?"

"Some famous therapist."

"Never heard of her."

"Not surprised, neither have I."

An older man in a three piece suit walked on stage, and stood in front of the microphone. The buzz died down, as his voice blared through the speakers.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming today. The Center for Lectures and Illness Therapy is a non-profit organization that seeks to further the education of the medical field. I know you all didn't come here today to hear me speak, so without further adieu let me introduce you to the first of our guest speakers today, Dr. John Cunningham." He clapped, and the crowd joined in.

A man in his late 50's walked up on stage, and took over the microphone. "Hello, uh, everyone. I'm, uh, Dr. John Cunningham, and, uh, today I want to, uh, talk about the effect of, uh, oxygen levels on muscular, uh, growth," he stammered. I groaned. If he started like that, there was no way this was going to be fun to listen to.

My worst fears were confirmed when a projector switched on, and beamed a PowerPoint slide onto the wall behind him. He started reading off the slides. Word for word.

"God, this guy's bad," whispered Julian next to me.

"Tell me about it."

Dr. Cunningham rattled on and on about his topic, and while it normally could have been interesting, his deliverance of the material destroyed any hopes of usefulness. One might think that if you just read off of a slide, you could at least not add lots of "uhs," but unfortunately that was not the case.

All around me, people were pulling out their phones or tablets, and I was glad I wasn't the only one who appeared to suffer. It felt even worse, knowing I was paying such a large sum of money for this garbage.

I'm pretty sure I dozed off at some point, but after a gruelling two hours, Dr. Cunningham finally stopped speaking. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that hardly anyone had been paying attention. The sound of a few people clapping seemed to wake up the crowd, and Dr. Cunningham shuffled off the stage.

"Thank you for that riveting speech, Dr. Cunningham," announced the man in the three piece suit. "Before we begin our main event, there will be a ten minute break. Please make sure to be back in your seats in time. Thank you."

"Holy shit, that was boring," remarked Julian.

"Yeah. It's not usually that bad."

"I almost think I would have been better off sitting in the car."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I think I need some caffeine after that, and I need to pee. You want anything?"

"Sure, get me a coke, or something."

I got up, and looked for the ladies room. Fortunately there wasn't a line. After doing my business, I washed my hands. Next to me, a young woman in her twenties did the same.

"That was an awful lecture," she commented.

"Oh yes, yes it was," I agreed.

"You look familiar. St. John's?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, and took a better look at her. I didn't recognize her, but her face did seem familiar to me, as well. Maybe I've encountered her in the halls, or something.

"Can't wait for the union to do something about all this training on our expense bullshit."

"No need to tell me. I just hope this Dr. Santorum won't be as bad."

"It's Dr. Sorensen, and no, she's great. She's a really famous sex therapist, and really knows what she's talking about."

Sex therapist? I thought this was sports related. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about her, and saw one of her lectures on YouTube. Really fascinating stuff."

"Well, that's good," I commented absentmindedly, drying my hands.

"Mary," she said, and stretched out her hand.

"What? Oh. Alex." I shook her hand, and we left the bathroom. She went back to her seat, and I beelined towards the vending machines to get two cans of coke.

When I came closer to my seat, I nearly dropped the drinks in shock. Julian was standing in the aisle, talking to one of the security guards. My heart sank to my stomach. Did they realize he wasn't supposed to be there? Oh god, if they kicked us out, I might lose my job. Julian glanced in my direction, and waved me over.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked, anxious, and handed him one of the drinks.

"Hello, Mrs. Weaver," said the guard, and I was confused momentarily, before remembering I told Julian to pretend to be my husband. "I was just talking to your husband here about an opportunity."

"Opportunity? What kind?"

"Dr. Sorensen is looking for volunteers for a practical demonstration, and she needs both a woman and a man. We approached your husband because, uh, excuse me for saying so, but he's one of the younger men here, and Dr. Sorensen requires someone in good physical condition."

"What kind of demonstration?"

"Just testing out some of the equipment she'll be showcasing. Heart monitors, and whatnot. Of course, the both of you will be fully compensated for this, to the cost of this lecture."

"The both of us?"

"Yes, you would both be volunteering. Normally we find two random people, but the fact that you are husband and wife works out great."

"Sure, we'll do it." I was so relieved that we weren't busted, that I was only too happy to agree. I didn't even stop to ask Julian. Plus, having my thousand dollars returned would be incredibly fortunate, especially with the recent ticket.

"Great! Dr. Sorensen will call you on stage at some point during her lecture."

The guard left again, and I looked at Julian, who shot me a questioning look.

"You think that's a good idea?" he asked, and we sat down again.

"I..." I started, but trailed off. I hadn't even considered the implications. If they paid us for this, they'd surely discover that there was no record of Julian in their system. Maybe. "Sorry. I didn't really think it through. When I saw you talking to him, I was so scared that we'd been busted, I didn't think straight. I was just so happy."

"What now?"

"We'll just have to go up on stage, and act like nothing's wrong. Just make sure not to screw up, and there's a good chance they won't look into it too closely."

"Wow, no pressure then."

"I'm serious. This could risk my job."

"Don't worry, we'll manage it."

I tried to relax a little bit, and opened my drink. The caffeine combined with the sugar worked wonders, and I started to feel better about the situation. Everything would probably work out to be ok. The man in the suit took to the stage again.

"And now we come to the main event. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure to announce one of the world's most prominent sex therapists, Dr. Inge Sorensen." The crowd applauded, and a woman in the first row got up. I was surprised at how young she was. Normally these kinds of speeches were held by old, established doctors, but Dr. Sorensen looked like she was in her mid twenties. She wore a green and orange patterned dress, covered by a white coat, like the one I had given to Julian. Her long, blonde hair was tied into a braid.

"Uh, Mom? Did he say 'sex therapist?'" asked Julian, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes," I grumbled.

"I thought you said this was about football."

"It probably still is. You can be an expert in more than one thing," I explained to him, but I was starting to have my own doubts.

Dr. Sorensen shook the man's hands, attached a small microphone to her coat, and then started talking.

"Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Dr. Inge Sorensen. I am glad you have decided to participate in this seminar." She spoke with a Scandinavian accent, but I couldn't really narrow it down any further than that. "Today I will try and teach you all about the physiological responses the body can produce in response to stimuli, both external and internal."

As she launched into her lecture, I could see why she was so famous. She spoke in clear and concise words, and only used slides to keep the talking points tied together, or to show diagrams. It really was fascinating, and I was beginning to see why this seminar had cost so much. Dr. Sorensen talked a little bit about sports, but mostly in relation to the kind of hormones the body releases during intense physical activities or victory celebrations. Things like testosterone, endorphins, and serotonin.

After about an hour, I felt much more knowledgeable than before, and even Julian was listening intensely.

"Sports, however, are not the only activity where these chemicals are released. To illustrate the most prominent effect in the human body, I want to now switch over to the practical segment of this seminar. Mr. Price, if you would be so kind." Mr. Price turned out to be the man in the three piece suit. He got up, and opened a small set of doors next to the stage I had overlooked.

Almost immediately, several men carted in a huge, beige contraption, with several displays on one side, and cables hanging off of others. While they were setting up the machine on the stage, Dr. Sorensen continued.

"This demonstration is in partnership with Life-Monitor Systems, who have lent us this incredible piece of machinery for today." Product placement wasn't unheard of at these kinds of events, so I wasn't too surprised. "It will allow us to monitor a patient's vital functions, as well as give us an insight into the levels of certain chemicals in the brain. I highly recommend anyone who is interested in studying the inner workings of the human body to acquire one of these."

A few of the lights on the box started blinking, and one of the men was tapping away at the screen. Others brought a tall, three legged stool, and a fancy leather covered examination table.

"It looks like we are just about ready," commented Dr. Sorensen. "At this point, I would like to ask the volunteers to come up on the stage, please."

Julian nudged me in the ribs. "Does she mean us?" he whispered.

"I don't know." Nobody else seemed to react, though.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weaver, please," added Dr. Sorensen. That was unmistakable.

I got up, and Julian followed suit. The walk down the aisle towards the stage was awkward. It felt like everyone's attention was focused purely on me, and another knot formed in my stomach. Whatever we were supposed to do, I hoped it would be over quick.

After walking the two steps up the stage, I turned around, and looked at the mass of people staring at me. Was this how it looked to Dr. Sorensen, too? I've never been one for public speaking, and it was weird knowing so many people were watching every one of my moves. I self consciously brushed strands of hair out of my face, and straightened my dress a little. Julian seemed to be handling it much better. He seemed almost relaxed.

"Ah, welcome, welcome," greeted us Dr. Sorensen with a warm smile. We shook hands, and her grip was solid and firm. "Mrs. Weaver, if you would please have a seat on the table, we will get to you shortly, but for now I am only interested in your husband." I sat down on the examination table, put my purse next to me, and watched with curious eyes. "Mr. Weaver, come over here, please."

Julian walked to the point she indicated, right next to the machine. She grabbed a tripod from behind the machine, and placed it in front of him. It turned out not to be part of the machine at all, but just a regular tripod with a video camera on it. She pressed a button on the camera, and the projector hanging from the ceiling projected an enormous picture of my son on the wall. Julian waved his arm, and the figure on the wall repeated the gesture.

"There," Dr. Sorensen concluded, satisfied with the placement. "Now we can all see what is going on. Mr. Weaver, please take off your coat, and lift your shirt." Julian looked at me questioningly, but I just nodded at him. That much was to be expected, and part of any regular checkup. He took off his coat, tossed it over the stool, and then grabbed the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach and lower chest. He wasn't a jock, and didn't sport a six pack, but his physique was pretty well formed. That was another blessing of his dad's genes.

Dr. Sorensen grabbed a few of the electrodes attached to the machine, and turned to Julian. "I think you better take off your shirt, too. It is going to get in the way." Julian hesitated, but then pulled off his shirt completely, and tossed it on top of the coat. Dr. Sorensen attached the electrodes to his chest, right next to his heart. The machine must have a built in ECG, and seconds later the video on the wall changed, displaying two ECG lines overlaid on the camera feed, one of which showed Julian's heartbeat.

"Excellent," commented Dr. Sorensen. "And now comes the part that ties this together with the lecture." She picked up a small plastic knob from the machine, which was still attached with a clear tube. She pressed the knob against Julian's arm, where it remained stuck. Shortly afterwards, the thin clear tube tinted slightly red.

"This new technology allows the drawing of blood without a needle. It functions through capillary action, drawing blood out of the vein by use of a vacuum chamber," explained Dr. Sorensen, and quite a few people in the audience applauded. I was seriously impressed, too. Being able to draw blood without a needle would make things much easier, especially when working with kids. "Please focus your attention on the screen. Since this machine is still new, we are in the ongoing process of collecting data to fine-tune the settings. Everything you see here will be recorded, and used as part of further research into the field of human physiology."

I looked up, and the video still showed a half naked Julian, but in addition to the heart beat monitor, now included two bar graphs, one of which displayed various levels, labelled D, NE, T, V, O, and S. "For those of you not familiar with the specific chemicals, this graph shows us the current levels of dopamine, norepinephrine, testosterone, vasopressin, oxytocin, and serotonin."

"Now, Mrs. Weaver, would you please come over here?" Dr. Sorensen addressed me, and I jumped a little. I don't know what I had been thinking, I should have seen this coming, obviously. I got up, and stood next to Julian. "Please remove your dress."

I gulped. How could she expect me to undress here, in front of all these people? "Now?" I asked, quietly.

"Please, Mrs. Weaver, there is no need for false modesty. We are all professionals here, there is nothing we have not seen before hundreds of times."

I couldn't really argue with that logic. Over the course of my career, I'd probably seen thousands of people in various stages of undress. Still, none of those times had been with my son present, although Dr. Sorensen was obviously unaware of that fact. Besides, it would just be like wearing a bikini. I reached behind me, pulled down the zipper, and shrugged off the navy blue dress. It fell to the floor, and I stepped out of it. I decided to also step out of my shoes, it just felt too weird to be standing there in underwear and heels. Suddenly I was aware again of hundreds of people looking at me, and my heart starting beating faster. Fortunately, I was wearing simple underwear, just a no-nonsense black slip, and plain bra. Nothing too embarrassing.

Dr. Sorensen retrieved more electrodes, and attached one above my heart. "I am sorry, but your bra is in the way of the second electrode. If you would be so kind as to remove it, we can proceed."

"What?" My heart almost skipped a beat. Standing there in underwear was one thing, but undress in front of all these people? And my own son, no less.

"It is crucial for this demonstration, Mrs. Weaver. We can not go on without it."

It was too late to back out now. We already agreed to volunteer, and if we backed out now they might become suspicious, and ask questions. I wanted to avoid that at all costs, and I couldn't very well tell Dr. Sorensen that "Mr. Weaver" was actually my son. I steeled myself, and reached behind me to undo the clasp. With one arm, I held the fabric in place, while shrugging out of the straps.