Dr. Foster tables that for the moment, and asks what Katie wants. Fighting back tears, Katie says she wants to be close to Dave again. She misses feeling like she's "in it with someone," and thinks having sex will do that. "Are you willing to be here without him?" Dr. Foster asks. Katie asks if that's allowed, and Dr. Foster assures her that she wouldn't be the only wife -- or husband -- in couples therapy alone. "I feel shitty," Katie admits, setting up Dr. Foster's next speech. Dr. Foster assures her that it'll be harder on Dave, and proceeds to explain why: Dave will want to know what his wife and her therapist have been talking about, and be upset that they've been talking about him in his absence. "And then," Dr. Foster predicts, "sooner or later, he'll come in here just to let me know how unfair it has been. And then we'll start the other part of the process." Dr. Foster proceeds to quiz Katie about what she's been doing sex-wise in the meantime. Katie claims nothing, and she's getting increasingly freaked out by this beautiful, smart, clear-eyed, silver-haired woman asking her increasingly personal questions like whether she has orgasms. "Yeah," Katie finally lies. At least I think she's lying. She looks like she's lying. Any guesses what Katie's first homework assignment will be?
Palek and Carolyn snuggle on the couch, she making the obligatory comments about the endless TiVo "bleep-blooping" he's making, which are so very timely here in 2002. He eventually lands on a boxing match (good to see that HBO's continued efforts to pretend that boxing is still a huge fucking deal has encroached into its actual shows), and something about the sight of muscular men in silk shorts hitting each other seems to put her in the mood. Her hand goes to his crotch, and they make out for a bit, and she says, "I want to see it." And then Little Palek is free. At least we're supposed to believe it's Little Palek. From this distance and angle, it looks like Carolyn's just holding a raw bratwurst over his crotch. Palek lets his head drop back against the back of the couch, meaning Carolyn doesn't have to fake amorous interest in what she's doing any more. Focusing on the dong like she's sawing a two-by-four, her diligence pays off in no time; soon she's got herself a warm, slippery handful of Palek-juice. She examines them closely, rubbing her fingers together thoughtfully as if looking at them with the naked eye under low lighting is going to tell her anything helpful. Does she just plan to walk back into that fertility clinic tomorrow, hold out her sticky fingers, and go, "What's wrong with them?" We already know she's not a big hand-washer. Unfortunately, the scene ends before she can make some passive-aggressive jibe directed at her hand, telling Palek's little guys just how inadequate they all are.