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she threatens divorce!

        This is unusual, filming in Mitzi’s own home for an “installation”.  But, as Mordecai pointed out, the “theme” is intimate.  He has spent a lot of time on the design, using a gynecologist’s chair he got from Jonas Cohen, who was retiring.  Mitzi herself had sat in that chair several times.

        It’s mounted in the living room and as always, Mordecai has kept his promise to not film her face, though that really is a shame, because her face is by far the most interesting thing to watch, enough expressions for an entire Shakespeare play: shut eyes and gritted teeth; wide-eyed surprise; upcast eyes as if praying; biting of the lip; brows furrowed as if in pain; and as the evening advances, disheveled hair sticking to the sweaty forehead.  Instead, he has one camera on the rest of her body, and another on the exquisitely cuffed male hands working the knobs.  He is sure to pan up to their arms to show that they are wearing white coats, as if they are researchers in a lab, which is not far from the truth.

        “Nnnhhh! Nnnhhh!!”  Her toes curl in the stirrups as her strapped-in pelvis quivers and then jumps on the unseen prongs.  Now Mordecai intones loudly, “Number four!”

        Saul takes Nathan’s place and, being an observant man, by now knows how to proceed.  He cuts back on both knobs, then slowly turns the black one, the one on the left.  Mitzi catches her breath, her concave tummy heaving in and out, and another wave of pheromones sweeps over the room.  The men are getting sweaty in their lab coats, and their wives, sitting around on couches, can wisely guess about the erections hidden by their pants and underwear.

        Saul takes about three minutes to get his reward, a violent bucking that shakes the chair so that the base almost moves.  “Number five!”  He gets up and proudly takes a flamboyant bow, to loud, jokey applause.  As if to join in the applause, Mitzi, eyes closed, gasps, “Oh God . . . that was a big one . . .”

        Mordecai’s mind races as he thinks how revolutionary it would be, if just the face could be filmed.  It would not only be more intriguing, but the lack of nudity would get him into a lot more places.

        Isaac, being naturally shy, does his best and brings Mitzi to an o.k. climax.  As he gets up he shrugs, as if to say, “What can you expect from a klutz like me?”

        Now it’s Ben’s turn, then Moe’s.

        The last turn belongs properly to Ephraim, who as one might expect is a virtuoso on his home turf.  He twiddles the knobs mysteriously but expertly.  They all see now that she is “getting close”.  Then he twirls both knobs to zero!  Mitzi, gasping, manages to blurt out a pitiful, pleading “Please . . .”

        Again Ephraim brings her up, this time to where she can see the Promised Land but not cross over.  And again he cuts back.

        Mitzi’s heavy-lidded eyes open and give him a death glare.  Her hands, constrained by cuffs, stretch in his direction to the extent they can, as if threatening to choke him.

        Ephraim sadistically brings her up again, farther this time, until she opens her eyes.  Her whole body flushes and this is where she usually holds her breath before she shrieks.

        Ephraim cuts back.

        With great effort Mitzi, eyes shut, gathers up her breath and says, “Ephraim Lichtenberg, if you don’t make me c - climax right now, I will divorce you! -- OHHH!!”

        Her husband has abruptly turned both knobs up to “High” and she screams and jerks and sniffles and moans.  The breasts bounce around violently on the small chest like mountains of gelatin.

        She goes on and on and on.  Such that Moe says, “Wow!”  Then a few last, irregular spasms, as Ephraim slowly turns the knobs down to “Low”.  She is now so still, like a corpse, it’s as if Jonas’s chair is an electric chair and she has been executed.

        More applause, and Mordecai has to shout to be heard over it.  “Number nine!  That’s a wrap!”  He turns his cameras off.

        The dazed nude is unstrapped and Ephraim leads her faltering bare feet to the couch.  She nuzzles up against him, legs folded underneath, and falls asleep.  Ephraim brings her head to his shoulder and kisses her sweaty hair.  His gin and tonic is across the room but he doesn’t want to disturb her, so he asks Moe to get it.

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