AN: Hi everyone, thanks for all your lovely reviews for the last chapter. This chapter contains the last of the material from the original one shot, but the majority of it is new.
SunflowerFran very kindly beta'd this chapter in her usual efficient way, but then I decided to rip it up, add some new stuff and put it back together again, so any mistakes are mine.
Chapter 12: 22ndJuly
Edward
It was our last day in Lake Como. We had spent most of the six days since the wedding in a state of heady bliss, hardly leaving our suite. I had thought we would get out and do some walking, sailing or sightseeing, but those ideas pretty much went out the window when making love to my wife was the alternate choice. We reverted to a sort of primal state, only caring about sleep and sex and food.
My wife.
I was never going to take for granted the fact that I had a wife. I honestly believed that I would live and die alone.
It was no surprise to me that my wife, my beautiful wife, my perfect wife, turned the locals' heads whenever we did venture out. I could hear the Italian men murmuring as we walked past, eyeing her pretty face and her slender curves appreciatively. I didn't speak the lingo apart from the basics, but I'm pretty sure they were muttering 'lucky bastard' under their breath. They were right, and when Bella looked up at me with those huge brown orbs, full of love and adoration, I felt that luck right in my heart.
Bella, who regularly functioned on around six hours' sleep in Oxford, tossing, turning and talking, had taken to sleeping like the dead since the wedding, only whispering my name or 'Foxy' now and then. If it weren't for the fact that she had had her period the week before the wedding, I might have wondered if she was pregnant. She was unconcerned, stating that she was sleeping soundly because our marriage meant that she was officially, truly loved, for the first time in her life.
A soft knock on the door of our suite didn't rouse my sleeping bride. I got up, threw on a robe, pulled the sheets over Bella's bare shoulders and let in the elderly breakfast waiter, Paolo, who came in with an international newspaper, and a tray of strong coffee, Italian breakfast pastries and freshly cut fruit, as he had every day since we arrived.
Once he was gone, I poured myself a coffee and walked out onto the balcony of our suite. It was still quite early, but it was already fairly warm outside, and Lake Como sparkled in the sunlight. For a while, I watched the gentle to and fro as the locals started their day, before turning to the newspaper; it was too early for the tourists, I surmised.
"Bella!"
A distant, male, strongly Italian, voice called out, and I looked up sharply towards the lake.
A little girl of about four was running along the water's edge, long, dark brown curls blowing in the wind, squealing with delight as the light blue waves crept towards her.
"Arabella! Non abbiate fretta, mia principessa!"
An exasperated but smiling man the same age as me, dark in colouring and quintessentially Italian-looking, was running after her, carrying a little girl's pink backpack and a doll in one hand. He caught up with her and scooped her up with his free arm. She wriggled and giggled for a moment before turning into him and throwing her arms around his neck.
"Spiace, papà!"
I couldn't hear the rest of their conversation, but I couldn't help but watch them dance and play by the water, mesmerised by the love and joy they shared. A few minutes later, they were joined by a pretty, petite, brunette in her thirties, whose stomach was gently swollen with child. The little girl squealed with delight and barrelled towards the woman, who was clearly her mother; she crouched down as best she could and received her daughter with a hug. The father ambled over and swung the little girl onto his shoulders, kissed the pregnant brunette lovingly on the mouth, and guided them away from the water, back towards the footpath.
"Foxy?"
Lithe arms slid around me and I was surrounded by Bella's sweet strawberry ice-cream smell.
"Morning, Baby. Sleep well?"
She swung herself around and sat on my lap before finishing the last of my coffee. Like me, she was dressed in a hotel robe.
"You know it." She rubbed my chin with my thumb and pressed her cheek against mine. "Cute little family, weren't they? The ones you couldn't take your eyes off?"
I paused to absorb the fact that she had been watching me watching them.
"Adorable. The little girl was called 'Bella.' It got me thinking."
My Bella's cheeks turned pink.
"If we have a daughter, she's not going to be named after me. No way."
"What would you call our daughter?"
"It depends on when and where she's born, and what she looks like, but I have a tentative shortlist. Nina, after Nina Simone, Rosalind, after Rosalind Franklin, Elizabeth, after your mother, or Emily, after my best friend."
Naturally, Bella's taste in names was utterly impeccable.
"I love them all," I told her, holding her closer. "You are going to be the most amazing mother."
"I can't wait, although I'm also scared shitless about the prospect. I don't exactly have a stellar set of examples on which to base good parenting."
"But you know bad parenting and therefore, how to avoid it."
"I guess."
"You know there's no rush, right? Just because I'm older, doesn't mean you have to compromise your career plans."
"I realise that, but I don't know if I want to wait until I get my PhD to become a mother. I know that Esme Cullen had her children during her doctoral studies. They're now my age, and she's managed to have a successful career while raising two wonderful humans, and she's still in the prime of life."
"You've met their kids? Kate and Richard, is it?" Even though I considered Carlisle and Esme good friends, we didn't spend much time talking about their home life because our research took up the bulk of conversation. I'd never met their children, although I did know that they were a close family.
"Katie and Riley. They're Irish twins, just ten months between them. Because of how their birthdays fall, they were in the same school year. We became friends when I was there last summer."
"Maybe, when we're settled, we could talk to Esme and Carlisle about how they juggled babies and jobs and studies?"
"Sounds good." She pressed her lips to mine sweetly. "So, what's your shortlist for your son, Foxy?"
"Oliver, after Oliver Sacks," I replied, without hesitation, although I'd never given it a thought before. "I read his books when I was a teenager and they were what drove my fascination with the brain. Thomas ..."
"After Thomas Südhof?"
"Exactly. And although you might not want our daughter named after you, my father was Edward, and so was my grandfather, so I have to at least consider calling my son Edward too."
"If we have a son called 'Edward' he would have to be called something else so I didn't get him mixed up with you ..."
We looked at each other and laughed as the perfect nickname for any child of ours came to mind.
"Cub!"
-cc-
After spending the day doing some final exploring and enjoying a late lunch at a sweet little trattoria with a terrace overlooking one of Como's pretty, shingly beaches, we found ourselves at the British Airways desk at Milan Malpensa Airport.
I was not happy, but Bella was almost incandescent with fury.
"What do you mean, the flight's been cancelled?"
"I'm very sorry, but the aircraft was found to have an engine failure. It's just not safe. We can accommodate your party in a hotel tonight ..."
"No, no, no! I'm graduating from Oxford tomorrow! I need to get to England tonight!"
I rubbed her back gently.
"It's okay, Baby. There's got to be a way." I looked pointedly at the flight agent. "Is there another flight from Malpensa to London tonight, or even a connector with one of your partner airlines?"
She sighed and clicked furiously on her computer.
"There are just two seats left on Flight 581, leaving at 21:55 ..."
"Perfect! See, Bella?"
"... In Business Class. You would have to pay for the upgrade."
She had barely finished speaking before I whipped out my credit card. Bella and I had decided against spending the money on Business Class for a two hour flight initially, but in that moment, getting back for closure on the Oxford chapter of our lives was absolutely fundamental.
Bella remained edgy for the four hour wait for the flight, and there was little, it seemed, that I could do to soothe her. We went to sit in the business class lounge, but she still fidgeted and paced, checking her phone occasionally.
"We'll get back in plenty of time, Bella," I said, for at least the tenth time. "We'll be at the hotel by midnight, and as long as we leave by eight thirty, we'll be in Oxford on time."
"I know," she hissed before her face softened. She took a seat next to me on an overstuffed sofa. "Sorry, Foxy. I just ..." Her iPhone started to ring all of a sudden. "Oh, it's Emily. Finally." She kissed me on the apple of my cheek before walking off towards the beverage area. "Em, our flight's been delayed ... I know ... what would you suggest?"
She returned a minute later, more relaxed.
"What's going on, Baby?"
"I was just stressing about losing our hotel room but Emily's going to sort it out."
"I'm sure we could have found an alternative."
"Hmm ..." Bella curled up next to me and rested her head on her shoulder. "I suppose," she said, in a way that made me wonder whether she was up to something, but the thought drifted away when she tugged on the hair at the back of my neck and kissed my jaw.
Bella
The Fox and I had had a mad dash from Italy in order to get back to Oxford in time, thanks to a cancelled flight, but we'd made it, although I'd had to rearrange my final surprise wedding present for my husband. Emily had, as always, been an absolute star, reorganising everything so the surprise could take place after my graduation instead of before.
"Congratulations!" Professor Banner and Professor Gerandy shouted as they caught me on my way out of the convocation hall after my graduation ceremony and faculty reception. Professor Gerandy looked as if retirement was suiting them well.
I had wanted closure, and now that I had it, I couldn't wait to leave Oxford and get to Boston. Now that I was all graduated, I just wanted to start our new life, and what with the surprise I had planned for Edward, it was going to start with a bang. Nevertheless, I stopped to chat to them.
"Thank you Professors."
"I understand from Banner here that you've decided not to stay on for your PhD after all?" Gerandy asked.
"Professor Volturi was very disappointed," Professor Banner added. Ugh. Slimy Volturi. "He was hoping to be here, but as luck would have it, the Cambridge faculties are also holding their convocations this week."
I had to suppress a sigh of relief.
"That's a shame." I tried not to sound sarcastic.
"He asked me to ask you if there was anything that could be done to change your mind. Is there?"
Fire Volturi. Grovel to Edward. Make him Department Head. Nah, probably not even then.
Instead of vocalising my thoughts, I merely shook my head.
"Oxford's been good to me, but I made the decision that it's time to move onto pastures new."
"Any particular plans?"
"Um, North America, probably," I told them, being deliberately vague. "I got a taste for the continent when I was there last summer."
It would be at least a month before Professor Banner got a request from Harvard for my records and references, and I had no qualms at all about hiding my new appointment to their doctoral programme until then. Once Banner found out, Slimy would find out, but The Fox and I were hoping that there would be no repercussions by then, other than Volturi losing his temper. I always thought it was kind of ironic that Edward and I had wed in Slimy's country of origin; I guess even the most beautiful places had dark corners.
"Ah yes, Boston wasn't it?" Professor Banner said. I nodded. "Did you know that Professor Masen is going to be starting as Deputy Head of Neurosciences at Harvard next semester?
"Yes," added Professor Gerandy. "You should look him up if you're in the area. I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear how you're getting on. I'm sure he considers you one of the best undergrads he's had." Uh-huh. Got that right.
"I will, if I'm in the area," I echoed, trying to keep my voice even at the mention of Edward's name. I checked my watch. "I'm terribly sorry, Professors, but I have another engagement ..."
"Well, don't let us keep you, but do stay in touch! We're expecting great things from you one day."
I shook their hands before walking quickly through the gates. A rented silver Volvo with dark tinted windows was idling by the kerb. My Fox, my husband, was waiting for me.
I still couldn't believe it.
Hello, my name is Isabella Masen.
"Ready to go, baby?"
"Indeed I am, foxy."
"Perhaps I should start calling you my vixen," he murmured, before leaning across to give me a long, deep, slow kiss. Our appetite for each other had been particularly ravenous since we got married. Considering we were at Lake Como for nine days in total, we barely saw the area's major sights. "Not sure why we never came up with that one before ... mmm ... my little vixen of a wife ..."
"Maybe you should ..." I grabbed his hand and placed it on my thigh under my skirt. Edward slid his hand upwards, stroking the lace edge of my stocking and the straps of my garter belt before venturing higher. His eyes almost popped out of his head as his fingers met the soaking wet heat of my centre.
"Fuck! No panties?" I bit my lip and nodded. "Are you telling me that you went through your entire graduation ceremony and the faculty reception with no underwear?"
I leaned across and sucked his earlobe into my mouth. He shivered slightly.
"Yes. I wanted to have my graduation present as soon as possible," I whispered as I palmed his cock through his trousers. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of it."
"Our flight to Boston leaves in four hours, Mrs Masen. Do you think you could wait four hours to receive your graduation present in the Mile High Club?"
"No, I want you now." I had to suppress a little giggle. We were going to be so exhausted by the time we were done with his surprise that we would probably sleep throughout the entire flight.
"What my vixen wants, she gets ..." Two of his fingers slid into me, causing me to gasp with delight. Thank God for tinted windows. "I'm sure they'll hold the plane for us."
-cc-
Edward
Everything was set for our move abroad. The only thing left to do was to see Bella graduate.
As I was no longer a faculty member, I didn't get to sit on stage with the other professors, which was fine with me. Instead, I had the tickets that Bella's family should have used, as her parents hadn't made it over from Qatar. I was still disgusted that they had put a business deal ahead of their daughter. My heart broke a little for her.
I was her family now, and she was mine. It was with enormous pride that I stood at the back of the convocation hall to watch my amazing wife take to the stage to receive her First Class Honours Degree, and the Oxford Gold Medal for Neurosciences. I'm not ashamed to admit I had a tear in my eye. And I would never get tired of calling her my wife, or being referred to as her husband. I never thought marriage was in the cards for me; I was delighted to be proven wrong.
While she and the other graduates went to the faculty reception, I went to take one last look at the labs I'd called home for eighteen years, and brought our rental car around, a sleek, silver Volvo S60. I'd sold my car and we'd both sold our bikes before leaving for our wedding and honeymoon. As soon as Bella arrived, we would be heading straight back to the airport to catch our flight to Boston.
Twenty minutes later, Bella opened the passenger door. She had taken off her gown and was wearing a simple black dress, which highlighted every single smooth curve on her body.
"Ready to go, Baby?"
"Indeed I am, Foxy." She grinned broadly and licked her top lip. I knew that look. My wife was feeling horny.
"Perhaps I should start calling you my vixen!" I leaned over the console to kiss her. "Not sure why we never came up with that one before ... mmm ... my little vixen of a wife ..."
"Maybe you should ..." She pressed my hand to her thigh and I dragged it upwards, past sexy little stockings and a suspender belt, and towards her centre, where nothing prevented my fingers access to her dripping, wet, heat.
"Fuck! No panties? Are you telling me that you went through your entire graduation ceremony and the faculty reception with no underwear?" She was sucking my earlobe now. My dick was at full mast.
"Yes. I wanted to be ready to receive my graduation present as soon as possible." Her delicate hand pressed and teased my poor cock; she really knew how to work me.
"Our flight to Boston leaves in four hours, Mrs Masen. Do you think you could wait four hours to receive your graduation present in the Mile High Club?"
"No, I want you now."
"What my vixen wants, she gets ..." I slipped two digits inside her and pumped in and out slowly. "I'm sure they'll hold the plane for us."
"Uh-huh. I'm going to remind you about that sentiment later," she moaned, throwing her head back against the seat. "More, Edward, more!"
She bucked her hips to match my thrusts as I moved faster, ghosting her clit to make her come. She got there a moment later, keening and whimpering as her body shuddered around my hand.
"Okay?" I checked.
She opened her eyes, picked up my messy hand and squeezed it.
"Perfect," she replied, sighing with satisfaction. "We'd better get going, Foxy."
I sucked her juices off my fingers before moving the car off the kerb, holding her gaze all the while.
We drove out of the city and onto the motorway. It took less than an hour to get to Heathrow Airport so we had plenty of time. I was about to turn into the area for car rental drop off when Bella interjected.
"Don't head there just yet, Foxy."
"Huh?"
"Turn left at this roundabout."
"Okay? Why …?"
"Just trust me," she replied, a little glint in her eye. "Drive about a quarter of a mile, and then left again."
To my surprise, Bella directed me back to the Aviator Grand Hotel.
"Here?"
"Yep. Park in that bay over there."
"It says 'Reserved,' Baby."
"It's reserved for us."
We pulled up and a valet opened our doors. Bella grabbed her large handbag from the backseat before she got out.
"Welcome back to the Aviator Grand London Heathrow, Professor and Mrs Masen," said another smartly dressed attendant. "Please follow me. My colleague will take care of your luggage and return your vehicle to the hire company if you would be so kind as to provide him with the keys and rental agreement."
"Trust me, Edward?" Bella reiterated.
I nodded dumbly, clueless as to what we were doing at an airport hotel when our flight left in three and a half hours.
Bella took the car keys from me along with the paperwork, and gave them to the valet. She then clasped my hand and we strode into the hotel.
"Bella!"
A raven-haired woman about the same age as Bella was waiting for us in the lobby. She was dressed in a dark purple trouser-suit, one of the hotel's colours, with a nametag pinned to the lapel.
Emily Young
Deputy Hotel Manager
I recognised the name from conversations with Bella. Emily had been her best friend since childhood. Bella had told me some of their stories from boarding school, and that Emily had recently graduated from Edinburgh University with a Business degree, but not that she was now a hotel manager.
"Emily!" Bella let go of my hand to hug her friend. "This is Edward, my husband."
"Wow, your husband! I can't get over the fact that you're married." Emily held out her hand to shake mine. "Hi Edward, it's great to meet you. I'm Emily."
"Hi, Emily, I'm delighted to finally meet my Bella's best friend," I replied. "But ladies, perhaps you could enlighten me as to what we're doing here when our flight leaves imminently."
"I called in a favour, Edward."
"And I was more than happy to, uh, oblige," added Emily. She and Bella shared some kind of secret look. "Come with me."
We followed her into the lift and she hit the button for the top floor. Emily then showed us into a massive hotel suite.
"Bella, I'm afraid I have to go supervise preparations for a conference, so I probably won't see you when you leave," Emily told her apologetically before pressing the room card key thing into her hand. "Best of luck in Boston, okay?"
"Thanks, Emily. Make sure you come see us soon. I'll email you when I have an address."
"I definitely will." Emily turned to me. "Lovely to put a face to the name, Edward. Look after Bella-Bee."
"I will."
She kissed us both on the cheek and then she left. I turned to my wife.
"Bella?"
She pulled a small video camera out of her bag.
"We have this suite for exactly ninety minutes. In those ninety minutes, we are going to make a little movie of one of your little fantasies. Then we're going to have a soak in the big fuck-off whirlpool bath, and have some food, before jetting off to our new life."
Holy fuckballs.
Bella
The look on The Fox's face was absolutely priceless. His jaw was practically on the floor.
"Do you remember, Foxy, the first time you fucked me?" He nodded his wide mouth curling into his sexy, crooked grin. "You told me a fantasy of yours. Well, sir, right here and right now, we're going to recreate it."
"Are we now?" His tone was playful, with an edge. I could see how aroused he was without even glancing at his prominent package and was completely unsurprised when he transitioned smoothly into Dirty Fox mode. "In which case, Mrs Masen, pass me that camera, and take off your dress."
"Yes sir."
I undid the zip of my sixties-style, black lace, shift dress, which ran down my side, and lifted the dress over my head. Underneath I was wearing nothing but black stockings and a matching garter belt, and the gasp that escaped his lips when he saw my nude figure was extremely satisfying, even though he already knew I wasn't wearing knickers.
A little red light made itself known in the periphery of my visual field and I watched as Edward positioned the camera on a shelf. When he walked back towards me, I pulled out my ponytail band so my hair cascaded over my shoulder, knowing how much Edward loved it loose, totally performing for the film.
"That's good. Now, on your knees," he commanded. "Right here," he added, pointing to a spot on the carpet, in direct line of the camera.
I did as I was told, so that my eyes were level with his dick. I bristled with a need to feel him, but waited; the gratification from Edward living out this fantasy would be epic for both of us.
"What do you want, Mrs Masen?"
"I want your cock, sir, please."
"Why should you have it? Why do you deserve it?"
"I've been such a good girl today," I told him, looking up at him and deliberately fluttering my eyelashes at him. "And I really want to please you."
"If I give you a chance, and if you don't behave, I will punish you. You realise this, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who's in charge today, Baby?"
"You are, sir." He stared at me, a hot, stern look on his face.
"Very well then, Mrs Masen. Unzip me."
I eagerly worked his zip down with my fingers, reached in and wrapped my fist around his silky, hard pole.
"Oh, sir, how I love your cock," I whispered, tugging it out of his boxers and his fly so that it was revealed to me in its entire, glory, its purple tip peeking out from his foreskin.
"Show me," he demanded, nudging closer to me.
I duly took him in both my hands and stroked him up and down, retracting his foreskin a little. He hissed and his legs trembled.
Wanting to unglue him even more, I exhaled over his tip and then touched it with the tip of my tongue.
"That's very nice, Mrs Masen, but I think you can handle some more, can't you?"
"Yes, sir. Please will you hold my hair back?" I whispered, before slipping him into my mouth.
"Ungh ... uhh ..." Edward's grunts and sighs grew exponentially as I took him deeper down my throat. As I requested, his hands moved into my hair and he held it away from my face. "Keep still, let me fuck your mouth, Baby."
I did as he requested, controlling my breathing as he pushed his cock further. Had we been enacting this fantasy back in February when we first had sex, I wouldn't have been able to take him so deep without gagging and retching. However, I'd had a lot of practice in the past four months, at my own instigation, precisely because I wanted to give him this experience. I usually got my way in our day to day life- Edward treated me like his queen- but I really got off on playing a sexually submissive role from time to time.
"You're doing so well, Mrs Masen," he panted. "I can smell how wet you're getting and it's so fucking hot, but I'm close to coming in that pretty mouth of yours. I think it's time to fuck you properly."
I hummed my dissent around his cock. Edward's expression darkened and he pulled out immediately. I let out a genuine whimper of frustration; I adored feeling his cock down my throat as he came in my mouth.
"Was that a protest, Baby?"
I stayed silent and hung my head, my skin tingling at the thought of being 'punished.'
"Who's in charge, Mrs Masen?"
"You are, sir," I whispered.
"I think you need to be taught a lesson. I told you what would happen if you misbehaved."
He grabbed me by my elbow and hauled me to my feet, before lifting me over his shoulder and carrying me to the large, plush, cream sofa in the sitting area of the suite, by a window with a view of Heathrow's expansive runways.
Shakily, he put me down over the sofa arm so that my knees were resting on the cushion, and kneeled behind me.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I've been a bad little girl, and I deserve all the punishment I get."
"Yes, you do. This is going to sting," he sighed, his palms rubbing the contours of my behind, "but you need to know who runs this show."
The first slap came suddenly, onto my left cheek, and I cried out with the surprise and the pain.
"Five on the left and five on the right."
"Yes, sir," I agreed. He leaned down to whisper in my ear,
"Remember the safe-word, my love?" He knew my limits implicitly, but it didn't stop him from checking I was okay.
"Hippocampus," I whispered back. Least sexy word ever.
"Good. Now brace yourself."
As promised, he hit each of my bum cheeks five times, alternating from left to right. By the end of it, I was gasping and breathing noisily; I was turned on so much, my whole body felt clenched. My ass tingled and hummed with the sensation overload.
"Why did I have to do that, Baby?" he asked afterwards.
"Because I forgot who was in charge."
"Will you make that mistake again?"
"No, sir."
Yes, sir.
He grabbed my hips and placed small kisses on my sore cheeks, before pushing his hand between my legs. The squelching sound of my supremely wet pussy against his hand was unbelievably loud; I hoped the camera picked it up.
"So wet. You really are my naughty little vixen, aren't you, Mrs Masen?"
"Yes I am, sir. All yours."
"Forever," he croaked, covering my left hand with his so our rings touched. "Get up here. I need to fuck you."
I scrambled onto his lap; his dick was standing to attention, ready to impale me. I slid down onto him, holding his gaze as I moved.
"All yours," I repeated. "Only yours. Nobody else will ever make me feel like this, sir."
Edward's response was a manly, unintelligible grunting into my neck; his hands stroked up my thighs, ghosted over my sore bum and then held me tenderly, clasping me to his chest as our hips rocked together.
"Mine," he murmured, thrusting deeper. I pushed my fingers into his hair and kissed him, grinding my pelvis into his to get some friction. Edward shifted under me, tipping me further forward.
Suddenly waves of orgasm crashed over me as he hit my sweet spot.
"Ah ... ahh ... Professor ... Edward ... Masen! Love you!"
Edward went rigid, and then relaxed, sighing and groaning into my shoulder, his own orgasm much quieter than mine.
"I love you, Mrs Masen. You, Bella, are my whole world."
-cc-
AN: The next chapter will be in two weeks, but I'm hoping that after that, we can get back to weekly ones. Yay!
Italian translations:
* "Arabella! Non abbiate fretta, mia principessa!" "Arabella! Don't rush, princess!"
* "Spiace, papà!" "Sorry, Daddy!"
Bella and Edward mentioned a few people they'd consider naming their kids after, all of whom are personal heroes of mine and of Elodie, who's pre-reading The Foxto make sure I get the neuroscience parts right.
Rosalind Franklin was a British scientist, whose work in the 1950s contributed enormously to our understanding of the structure of DNA. She died in her thirties of ovarian cancer, before she could be considered for a Nobel Prize, but had she been alive, she would probably have been awarded one along with Crick, Watson and Wilkins.
Oliver Sacks is a neurologist and writer, who has written several books based on his clinical experiences. His most famous books include Awakenings and The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat.
Thomas Südhof is a German neurochemist who won the 2013 Nobel Prize for Physiology/Medicine for his work on mechanisms of cell transport, and whose major area of interest are in understanding how synapses in the brain are formed and how they transmit messages so quickly. He currently works at Stanford University.