Author’s Note:
This is my contribution to the On The Job Challenge 2023. I implore you to not take it too seriously. Similar to the protagonist, Lola, there isn’t much beneath the surface. If you think you’ve misplaced your sense of humour, the doctor in this story is adept at using his fingers to search internal cavities for made-up things and I’m sure he would be more than happy for you to take two as long as you don’t call him in the morning.
If that isn’t clear enough, this story is a light-hearted humour piece about a doctor and patient acting inappropriately during a medical appointment.
***
I didn’t know why Dr. Wood was giving me that dubious look, but I was not impressed by his actual lack of professionalism.
After all, I was his patient. It was his responsibility to listen to and address my concerns. Not to sit there and judge me for them, like some kind of judgemental doctor person.
Yet there he sat, beige-ish pink lips parted and one thick eyebrow raised as he studied me from behind the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses.
Honestly. What were they teaching doctors about how to treat people these days? How did he even graduate from doctor school without learning such basic things as how not to make his patient feel like an absolute bimbo when bringing sensitive but completely valid concerns to him?
It was probably because of his looks. There was a distinct shortage of good-looking doctors in Southbush, which I assumed meant there was a shortage of them everywhere. So the doctor school was probably pushing through all the tall, good-looking doctor students who had even the tiniest shred of intelligence, even if they were judgemental jerks like Dr. Wood. Because who cared, after all, if Dr. Wood had only been practicing for a couple of years and made women like me feel dumb when he had thick brown hair pushed back from his forehead and a strong-cut jawline and tanned white skin that probably wasn’t even good for him?
Like, hadn’t he ever heard of skin cancer? He probably didn’t even know how bad tanning was for you.
“Can you please repeat that for me, Mrs. Moran?” he finally said.
“Repeat it?” I said. “Weren’t you listening?”
His jaw twitched. “I was. But I’d like to confirm I heard it correctly.”
It took all my patience not to let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve said it twice already!”
“Yes, I realize that, but I’m not—”
“You know, maybe I should see a different doctor for this.”
“In that case, you would still need to repeat the concern,” he said. “Not to mention, I stayed late to take your so-called ’emergency’ appointment, so I’m the only doctor in the office right now. Now, if you could just—one more time—tell me what brought you in today?”
Sighing, I crossed one knee over the other and adjusted my pleated skirt over my thigh. Looking at a diagram on the wall of a man who was apparently very nervous and a whole system to deal with it, I took a deep breath.
“For the third time, I think I’m having a bad reaction to alcohol,” I said.
“Right, I got that,” Dr. Wood said. “It was the, uh, next part that I believe I misheard.”
Huffing, I folded my arms across my chest. “I said I think wine seems to be the problem.”
“Mm-hmm. And the reason you think wine is the problem is…?”
“I’ve already told you this!”
“One more time, Mrs. Moran. Please.”
Uncomfortable silence filled the small examination room. I pursed my lips and stared at the nervous man on the wall for another moment, then took a deep breath and looked at Dr. Wood.
“Because it makes my legs spread,” I said. “And it’s pronounced ‘Mor-ahhhn,’ not ‘Mor-anne.’ And my name is Lola. I’m not… Don’t… Stop defining me by my relationship to a man.”
He stared at me, then closed his eyes and reached up to take his glasses off. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned towards the computer, typing something I couldn’t see on the keyboard.
“Lola,” he said. “What do you mean by that?”
“By what?”
“By… that,” he repeated. “Do you mean that your legs feel weak and you have a hard time standing or—”
“Are you not listening to me at all?” I asked. “I said they spread.”
“Yes, that is the word you used. But I’m having trouble understanding what you mean.”
“Oh, my God.” I uncrossed my legs and wrenched them apart. “Like this. They spread. Open.”
His lips parted again and, almost helplessly, he looked down. Which was fair. I mean, I would be the first to admit how awesome this skirt made me look. It was a flippy pink one that flared out and showed off the pale white smoothness of my thighs. Paired with the hot pink pumps I’d treated myself to a few weeks earlier, my legs looked absolutely killer.
But it was also not fair, because Dr. Wood was supposed to be a fucking professional.
“Do you understand what I mean now?” I asked.
He stared for a moment longer, then sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“Unfortunately, I believe I do,” he muttered, turning back to his computer.
I blinked, bringing my thighs back together. “Wait, what do you mean ‘unfortunately’? Is it that bad?”
Dr. Wood shook his head, not looking at me. “Well, it’s not great. Are you taking any medications? Or have you recently stopped taking any medications?”
I frowned. “Do you think something might be causing side effects?”
“Oh, it’s a side effect of something, alright.” Dr. Wood typed something on the keyboard. “So, medications? Maybe something like Loxitane or Prolixin? Clozaril? Zyprexa?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m just on birth control. And like, my daily vitamins. Oh, and sometimes I take ibuprofen. Would any of that interact badly with wine?”
“Unlikely.” He typed something quickly again, then pushed the keyboard away and turned towards me. “Mrs. Moran—”
“Lola,” I said stiffly.
“Right. Lola.” He held a hand up apologetically. “Can you please talk me through how you came to suspect that you had developed such a, uh… uncommon intolerance to wine?”
“Is that absolutely necessary?” I asked.
“It is,” he said. “I need to understand how this came up so I can properly, um, assess the severity of the situation.”
I curled my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing on it lightly. My pink lipstick was extremely kiss proof and long lasting, of course, but I still didn’t want to risk messing it up. Dr. Wood waited, but when I didn’t say anything after a moment, he leaned forward.
“Lola, it’s very important that you tell me how this came up so I can help you,” he said kindly.
It was that, more than anything, that worried me. So far, Dr. Wood had been aloof at best and condescending at worst. And I knew that wasn’t just me being biased. As one of the only doctors in the small town where I lived, everyone knew about his reputation.
Some said it was simply because he had to keep a distance from his patients, and since most of the residents in Southbush were patients of his, he just seemed to be unfriendly. Others said it was because he was snobby about being in his early thirties and already a practicing doctor and super crazy hot. And still others said it was because he was used to living in places much larger and trendier than Southbush and wasn’t a fan of our small town ways.
Which was very understandable. I would have never chosen to live in Southbush if it wasn’t for my husband.
But before that appointment, I’d never met the man. My usual doctor worked out of the office on the other side of town, but seeing her for something as sensitive as this wasn’t an option on account of the fact that we were related.
Sort of, anyway. I mean, she was my husband’s brother’s wife’s sister. So I didn’t exactly want her to know what I was there for.
It would get back to Victor far too easily.
The point was, Dr. Wood was known for being somewhat of a prick, which I had now experienced firsthand as he made me repeat my very sensitive problem three times before trying to do anything about it. So the sudden change to someone who had a kind, gentle tone and an attempt at a non-threatening expression on his face made me think that this might be a bit more serious than I’d thought.
And that was scary.
“Well,” I said slowly. “As it turns out, when I consume wine, my legs inevitably seem to… spread.”
“Right,” Dr. Wood said.
“Right,” I repeated.
He waited for a moment, then pressed his lips together again. “Lola, you already told me that part. I need to know how you discovered this.”
“I just don’t see how that’s relevant,” I said.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said. “Seeing as I’m the one with the medical degree.”
Ah, good. Dr. Asshole was back.
“Right, and that makes you so much more smarter and more knowledgeable about my own body than me,” I snapped.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “But seeing as you came to me to get a diagnosis and treatment for this, I would say that of all the people in this room, I’m the most likely to figure out what’s going on. And to do that, I need you to answer my questions.”
Damnit. That was a good point. I pressed my lips together, frowning down at a spot on the floor.
“Well… I didn’t, really,” I said. “Discover it, I mean.”
“You didn’t?”
“No… I mean, yes. But I…” I sighed. “I didn’t know it was a problem or like, that it wasn’t normal or whatever.”
“Well, it is normal. Legs generally have the physical capability of being spread. If they didn’t, that might be cause for concern, but—”
“No, but after drinking wine.” I picked at one of my nails, carefully ensuring I didn’t chip the pink polish as I fidgeted. “It wasn’t until my, um, hu… hus…” I stopped and sighed, sadness washing over me. “My husband filed for divorce.”
“Oh,” Dr. Wood said. “I’m very, uh… to hear that.”
“Thank you,” I said, then frowned and looked up. “Wait, you’re very what to hear that?”
His look of uncertainty almost made him look human. “Uh, well, I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing. Are you happy or sad about this?”
“Sad, of course,” I said, almost disgusted. “I don’t want to get divorced.”
“Right. So then, I’m very sorry to hear that. You must be having a very difficult time right now.”
“I… am,” I said, almost stunned by my own admission.
Which was sad, too, in a way.
Hardly anyone had asked about me or realized how upset I was about Victor filing for divorce. My family hadn’t liked Victor in the first place, so the most sympathy I’d gotten there was a firm “I told you so” from my mom. And my friends… well… most of them had been ignoring me.
Especially after Victor told them about my little problem.
“He said he didn’t love me anymore,” I said, not quite able to look at Dr. Wood. “I thought maybe we could fix it. I kept trying to, anyway. But then I woke up one day and he’d packed some bags and left, and when I called up my best friend Amber-Leigh to tell her, that’s when she told me.”
“Told you what?”
“That Victor told all our friends about how my legs spread after drinking wine. He never seemed to mind, really, since we would… you know.”
“Have intercourse?” Dr. Wood asked.
“Ew, no,” I said. “We’d just have sex.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Of course. My apologies.”
“Well, I didn’t know it was a problem,” I said. “Except then Amber-Leigh said it was because I shouldn’t be spreading my legs for people after drinking wine and that it was no wonder Victor left. And then she hung up and all my other friends have been ignoring me. Darla-Ann even blocked me on, like, every platform.”
Dr. Wood blinked at me, silent for a moment, then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together.
“Lola,” he said. “Was the only person you ‘spread your legs’ for your husband?”
My mouth dropped open and I sat back in my chair, shocked. “Of course! What do you think I am, some kind of cheater?”
“Well—”
“I would never,” I snapped. “How dare you? I love… loved. Loved him. I would never, ever, ever in my life cheat on anyone.”
“I’m just covering all bases,” he said patiently. “If there were another person you’d had intercourse with, that may explain the, uh, problem.”
“I told you, I don’t have intercourse. I just have normal sex.”
His jaw twitched. “Yes. That is what I meant. But you haven’t been with anyone except your husband?”
“Well, I mean, I have,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Like, before. It wasn’t like I was saving myself until marriage,” I said stiffly.
“But you weren’t with anyone else after meeting your husband?” he pressed.
“No, I swear,” I said, then bit my lip. “I would never do that to him. But do you think…”
“Think what?”
I had to look up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling to keep my eyes from watering. “Oh, God.”
“Lola? What’s wrong?”
“Do you think Victor might have had something that caused this?” I whispered.
Dr. Wood brought his clasped-together hands to his mouth, looking to the side as he apparently thought over my theory.
“I mean, I never thought he would cheat on me,” I said, my voice small. “And I got that test done like, two weeks ago. But maybe he’s saying I did because… because…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence and Dr. Wood very kindly didn’t make me.
“What test?” he asked.
“For… you know. Crabs and stuff.”
“An STI panel?”
I nodded. “I always do one as part of my physical. But do they test for whatever causes legs to spread after drinking wine?”
“Uh… no,” Dr. Wood said. “They do not.”
No amount of staring at the lights was going to help. “Oh, God. What if he did cheat? And then he gave me whatever causes that? And then he divorced me because—”
I burst into tears.
“Fuck,” Dr. Wood said.
I ignored his unprofessionalism as I buried my face in my hands. A moment later, the sound of plastic wheels rolling across linoleum filled the exam room. Then Dr. Wood was next to me, pressing a tissue into my hands and putting a muscular arm around my shoulder.
“S-S-Sorry,” I sniffled.
“It’s okay, Lola,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “You’re going through a lot right now. No matter what anyone says, crying really does help sometimes.”
“Victor always said crying is stupid. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
“Is Victor a doctor?”
I shook my head.
“Then don’t listen to him. It’s my professional opinion that a good cry can solve a number of ailments, especially ones like this.”
I blew my nose into the tissue, then frowned. “Crying can stop my legs from spreading?”
He laughed.
I don’t think he meant to. The little chuckle that burst out seemed entirely unintentional, but it was clear as day. Another round of tears welled up in my eyes and I jerked away from him.
“Sure, laugh at me,” I said. “Just because I’m not a doctor like you—”
“I’m not laughing at you,” he said.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are!” I slammed the tissue down on my thigh, which accomplished nothing except making my thigh jiggle beneath my skirt. “You’re laughing at me. You think I’m dumb. You think I’m stupid because I can’t figure out why m-my husband would divorce me and the only thing I could think of was that maybe it was this leg-spreading thing and if I just fix it, he’ll come back.”
I wanted to say more, but another sob wracked me and I buried my head in my hands again.
Dr. Wood didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he let me cry, waiting until the sobs turned to whimpers.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “You’re right.”
“Right about what?” he asked. “I haven’t said anything.”
Sniffling, I wiped my fingers under my eyes. A black streak ran from knuckle to fingertip and I cringed. Just great. Now my makeup was probably all smeared and my mascara was running down my cheeks.
“Right about me being stupid,” I said.
“I, at no point, have said you were stupid,” he said.
“You thought it.”
“I—”
“Don’t lie to me.” I went to wipe my face with my hands, but before I could, Dr. Wood handed me another tissue. I took it gratefully, dabbing the skin under my eyes and wiping my nose. “Everyone thinks so. Victor thinks so. I know that.”
He sighed but didn’t say anything. For a moment, the only sound was my shaky breathing and wet sniffles.
“Lola,” he finally said. “You will not be able to fix this.”
My mouth dropped open and I looked up at him, eyes wide. He was staring back at me from behind the wire rims of his glasses, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
“Your husband is an idiot,” he said. “An absolute idiot. I don’t know why he wants a divorce, but it’s clear to me from what you’ve said that he’s not worth chasing after. Not by a gorgeous, loyal, dedicated woman like you.”
“But he’s my husband.”
“And you deserve better.”
I laughed dryly. “You can’t say that. You don’t even know me.”
“Well, maybe not,” he said. “But I know you came in here and advocated for yourself, even when I didn’t quite know what you meant. And I know you’re a fiery young woman who cares about her health. You’re unapologetically yourself, which I have a vast amount of respect for. You are the type of person who thinks the best of people, even when they’ve wronged, like Victor has. I know that your last blood pressure test was perfectly average, which is a good thing. And I know that you have blonde hair and blue eyes and that you’re a Gemini.”
I looked up at him, my lips parted. “What? How could you tell I’m a Gemini?”
An amused but slightly abashed smile spread across his face. “Uh, well, I saw your birthday on your chart. So I guess I know you’re twenty-four.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I also know you’re very beautiful,” he continued. “And that even though your husband is giving that up for unknown reasons, you’re going to find someone who loves you for who you are. You’re going to have no problem finding a man that deserves someone as wonderful as you are, Lola.”
And that…
Somehow that hit me.
I don’t know why. Maybe it was the earnestness in his eyes, which I was discovering were a light brown colour that had little amber flecks in them. Maybe it was that he was the first person I told any of this to who seemed to believe me.
Or maybe… maybe it was just hearing that there was no hope. That after Victor had served me with those papers and I’d spent weeks desperately wondering what I could do to make him take them back, someone just outright said the thing that I’d been dreading.
I couldn’t fix it.
And honestly… there was relief in knowing that. Sure, it could have been how he told me. That he dropped that bombshell and then explained to me why I shouldn’t want to fix it in the first place. But of everyone in my life, Dr. Asshole with the stick up his butt was the one who comforted me.
Who believed me.
Who thought I deserved better.
So maybe it was just nice to be treated with a bit of kindness, even when I had makeup streaking down my face and my eyes were puffy and red. That instead of being told I was dumb all the time, he was telling me nice things about me. Like that I was fiery and wonderful and…
“You think I’m beautiful?” I asked softly.
He froze, lips parted as he stared at me, then cleared his throat.
“I mean, objectively,” he said. “Of course. You have a very symmetrical face.”
“I do?”
“Uh, genetically speaking, yes.”
“And that’s good?”
“In my professional opinion… it’s very good.”
“Oh.” I pressed my lips together. “Thank you. I think your face is very symmetrical, too.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what ‘symmetrical’ meant, but Dr. Wood seemed to appreciate the compliment and chuckled softly, his tanned cheeks turning the slightest hint of pink. “Thank you, Lola.”
Both of us fell quiet again. Unlike the previous silences, this one wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just as tense, but the mood had shifted it into something else. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine, and I wondered…
I wondered if he thought he would be the type of man worth chasing after.
Before I could ask, though, he cleared his throat again.
“Well,” he said. “I think that’s that.”
“What is?” I asked.
“The, uh, appointment.” He scooted his chair across the room to the computer. “You’re perfectly healthy. Your, uh, blood pressure is just… amazingly adequate.”
He was trying to make me leave, I realized.
And more importantly, I realized I didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want to go at all.
I wanted to stay with him. To see more of this side of him that no one else had seen, where he was a little awkward and a lot kind. To live a little and have a little fun, since I was now… well. I was a divorcee, I suppose. But I wasn’t going back to Victor, and Dr. Wood thought my face was symmetrical, so…
“Right,” I said. “And my, um, little problem? With my legs? You didn’t even test me or anything.”
He closed his eyes briefly, a slight grimace flashing across his face before he opened them and looked at me.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Alcohol can cause sexual arousal in some people. That’s perfectly normal. No need for a test.”
“But you could do a test?” I asked. “Like… like maybe you could examine me?”
“Examine…” he started, then trailed off as he stared at me. “What?”
“You know,” I said. “Like, examine me. Just… just in case.”
“I mean, I can check your pulse,” he said carefully. “Or, uh, listen to your heartbeat.”
“How would either of those things help when the problem is with my legs?”
Dr. Wood’s throat flexed as he swallowed. “Uh, well, I can see your legs perfectly fine from here and they look great to me. Really… really great.”
“Okay, but what about if the problem is more between my legs?” I asked. “Don’t you think you should check, Dr. Wood?”
“Lola, that’s—”
“You said that you liked that I advocate for myself.” I bit my bottom lip. “Are you saying you won’t help me?”
He glanced at the computer, then back at me. “I’m saying that office policy is to have a female nurse present during that kind of examination and since I stayed late for this appointment, we don’t have any female nurses available to attend. But more importantly, I don’t think there are any physical concerns that would necessitate that.”
“I can think of a couple,” I said.
“Is that so?”
I nodded.
He sighed. “What kind of physical concerns do you think would necessitate me examining your pelvic region?”
“I believe that, genetically speaking, they’re called boners, Doctor.”
He pushed the chair back almost all the way to the wall, putting a hand over his lap as I tried not to giggle.
“Mrs—Ms… Ms. Moran,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re my patient.”
“Right, so it would be perfectly normal for you to treat me so you can figure out why my legs spread after I drink wine.” I crossed one ankle over the other, extending my legs slightly and noting with delight that Dr. Wood glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, if you really don’t want to examine me, then okay.”
“Lola,” he said. “I can’t.”
“You can’t? Or you don’t want to?” I bit my lip. “You can just say you don’t want to, Dr. Wood. I mean, if you were just saying that you thought I was beautiful, I… I get it, I guess.”
He took a deep breath in through his nose, then let it out slowly from his mouth. “As much as I very much would like to, uh… examine you, it would be incredibly unprofessional for me to do that.”
“Why?” I asked, blinking at him innocently. “It’s just a physical exam, Dr. Wood. And what if it’s something serious?”
“Something serious,” he repeated. “You’re asking me if wine making you spread your legs is something serious, is that correct?”
“Well, whatever’s causing it might be serious.”
He sighed. “And what would that be? What do you think might cause something like that?”
“You’re the doctor, Doctor.”
“And as your doctor, I can’t think of a single defendable excuse for me to examine your vagina to find the cause of this concern of yours.”
“It could be ghosts,” I said.
He turned to me slowly. “What?”
“You know.” I twisted my wrist in the air, trying to think as quickly as I could. “Like, what if ghosts got up there and they’re, like, possessing me to spread my legs after I drink wine?”
“Ghosts,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“You think you have ghosts in your vagina.”
“Well, I might. And if I do, you can help me get them out.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Damnit, Lola. I’m a doctor, not an exorcist.”
“Yeah, but no self-respecting exorcist is going to help me without a medical referral.”
He laughed.
Just like the previous time, I don’t think he intended to. But it didn’t bother me quite as much. It took everything in me to keep a straight face as he stifled his chuckles, then ran a hand through his hair before glancing away from me. The tension in the room grew again, and then more, and when he finally looked back at me, there was a dark look in his eyes.
“Are you absolutely certain that’s what you want, Lola?” he asked in a low voice. “Because this… this isn’t a game. If you want me to examine you the way you think you want me to… I can’t take that risk without knowing it’s what you want.”
“Yep,” I said brightly. “I’ve never wanted to be examined more in my whole entire life.”
There was another moment’s pause. I could almost hear the gears in his big doctor brain turning, weighing whether he should do it or not. I hoped he would do it. Like, I got he wasn’t supposed to, but it’s not like I was going to tell anyone if he did.
That would require me to admit wine made my legs spread, and that had caused a lot of problems in my life already.
“Alright,” Dr. Wood finally said. He picked up a folder and, holding it in front of him strategically, stood up. “Please remove your bottoms and lie down on the exam table with your knees bent. I’ll just leave the room so you—”
“Oh, it’s okay, you can stay,” I said quickly, standing up. “I’ll be fast.”
“I cannot watch you undress, Lola,” he said, teeth gritted.
“You won’t have to,” I replied, and before he could say anything, I flipped my skirt up and hooked my fingers in the waistband of my panties. “I can just take these off.”
“Jesus Ch—” He cut himself off and sighed when he realized I was already bending over to pick my panties up off the ground. “Right. Go lie down, please.”
“Yes, Dr. Wood,” I said.
He busied himself washing his hands at the sink in the corner and didn’t watch as I climbed onto the exam table, bending my knees as directed but keeping my upper legs pressed together. It wasn’t until I was in place that he dried his hands and turned around, his face serious as he stepped towards the table.
God, I hoped we were on the same page about what kind of “exam” he was going to be doing.
I mean, I was pretty sure we were. There was usually nothing sexy about these routine kinds of exams. Uncomfortable at best and painful at worst, I’d had my share of awkward moments in the stirrups while someone poked around places I barely even knew I had. But if he honestly believed there were ghosts in my vagina and he was looking for them, I’d be very concerned about the kind of people they were letting out of doctor school. And if he pulled out one of those horrific metal vagina-opener contraptions, I would be diving off that table faster than you could say “Lola, there’s no such thing as getting ghosts in your vagina.”
“Alright,” Dr. Wood said as he stood between my legs at the end of the table. “Are you ready for me to see what’s going on down here?”
“Yes,” I said.
He held my gaze for another moment, then let his eyes trail down my body.
It was nothing like an actual exam. He touched my thigh with one hand, a light brushing of his fingers against the soft and sensitive skin there. Slowly, he slipped his fingers between my thighs, then moved his hand up and up and up until it was at the fleshy part of my thigh just below my groin.
“I’m going to need you to show me how these usually spread, Ms. Moran,” he said, nudging my legs apart.
“It’s normally kind of like this,” I said, then opened them the rest of the way.
He inhaled sharply, eyes trained to my pussy. I couldn’t blame him. My pussy was great. I’d just gotten it waxed a few days earlier, so I knew it was still soft and smooth. I also knew I was starting to get wet, though I didn’t know if I was wet enough that he could see it yet. He probably could see how puffy my pussy lips were, though, and hopefully he could tell how much I wanted him to touch it.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong here, Ms. Moran,” he said. “Everything looks very… to me.”
I frowned, suddenly worried. “Very what?”
“Very, uh, perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Your pussy is very, very perfect.”
I tried not to grin. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, his tone distracted. “Alright. I’m going to, uh, begin… feeling around a bit. For, uh…”
“For the ghosts,” I said.
“For the ghosts,” he agreed. “And you’re still very, very sure that you want me to… to look for them?”
“Completely,” I breathed.
“Okay,” he said. “Alright. I’m just going to, uh, reposition these a bit—” He put his other hand on my other thigh, then guided my legs further apart, baring my pussy to him completely. “—and now I’m going to, uh, to—”
“Ghost hunt?” I guessed
“—examine your labia,” he said at the same time.
There was a pause as I frowned. “What’s my shin bone got to do with this?”
“That would be a tibia,” he replied patiently. “Your labia is right… here.”
He dragged a finger up one of my pussy lips, making me gasp.
“That’s the labia majora,” he said. “Yours is very, uh, smooth and… warm.”
“Is that good?”
“So good.” He cleared his throat, continuing to explore my labia by tracing the hairless skin up one side and down the other before adding a second finger so he could stroke both sides at once. “The good news is that there doesn’t seem to be any ghosts here.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Mm-hmm. But we’ve only just begun.”
He worked a finger into my slit, spreading my pussy lips open. Cool air brushed against the warm skin he exposed and I shifted, the change in sensation making a shiver of excitement roll through my body.
“These are also part of your labia,” he continued, and I felt him trace a finger along the inner folds of my pussy. “That’s your labia minora. They protect this lovely little hole right here.”
I stifled a moan as he teased his fingertip along my entrance. “That feels good.”
“I know,” he said. “You’re already starting to get wet.”
“Well, I need to, don’t I?” I asked. “So you can look for the ghosts.”
“Right,” he said. “The ghosts. But it’ll take a lot more, uh, internal lubrication to properly examine you. Now, natural lubrication would likely be more effective, but I could grab some of the gel we use for—”
“Or you could just play with my tits,” I said quickly, wanting to avoid any mention of those kinds of exams while he was performing this kind of exam. “When people play with my nipples, I tend to get really, really wet.”
“Do you?” he asked faintly.
“Mm-hmm. Probably since they’re so sensitive because of the piercings.”
“The—oh, Jesus.”
He stepped away from the end of the table, moving to stand beside me. I turned my head and though I wasn’t quite lined up with his hips, I could tell there was a good-sized bulge in the front of his dress pants.
Maybe Dr. Wood would need me to do some ghost hunting for him.
Before I could think too much about it, his hands were on the hem of my shirt. I arched my back as he slowly lifted it up, helping him guide it past my ribcage and up over the swell of my breasts. He didn’t take it fully off, just left it settled against my chest. Thankful I’d chosen to wear my front-clasp bra that day, I waited as he unhooked it before parting the cups and revealing my breasts to him.
“Wow,” he said. “These are… wow.”
“Thank you. They’re just rose gold barbells, but—”
“Not your piercings,” he interrupted, bringing a hand up to my breast. “Though those are great, too. But fuck, Lola. Your tits look delicious.”
“You can taste them, if you want.”
He didn’t so much as hesitate before dipping his head and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I jumped at the sudden contact, a jolt of arousal bursting from the exact point of contact all the way through my body, the sensation heightened by the piece of metal in my nipple. A soft moan slipped from my mouth and Dr. Wood made a noise in response, reaching up to grab my other breast so he could play with that one while he sucked on the other.
It was impossible to explain how good it felt to have my nipples played with. My piercings had made them so sensitive, so incredibly responsive, and the moment someone started touching them, my mind went blanker than it usually was. Biting my lip, I tried to relax on the exam table, closing my eyes as he circled his tongue around one nipple while he gently rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was hard, especially since my pussy had almost instantly gotten soaked, but I wasn’t about to tell Dr. Wood that.
I mean, I knew the whole goal was to get me wet, but what he was doing felt so good.
But I couldn’t stay still forever. Eventually, I squirmed, and Dr. Wood’s warm brown eyes looked up at me. He let my breast fall from his mouth, though he grazed my nipple lightly with his teeth, making my hips buck slightly.
“How are you feeling, Ms. Moran?” he asked.
“Like you could probably find the ghosts now,” I mumbled.
He smirked and pressed a kiss to my breast before straightening up and crossing back to the end of the table. Placing his hands on my thighs, he parted my legs again, then let out a low noise.
“Oh yes, Lola,” he said. “That is plenty of lubrication. Good job.”
I shivered and he looked up, raising one eyebrow above the frame of his glasses.
“Did you like that?” he asked.
“What?”
“Me telling you that you did a good job?”
My mouth suddenly felt dry. “Um, I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I mean… yes.”
A wicked smile spread across his lips. “Good girl.”
I felt my entire face go red as both of us confirmed that I very much liked him saying that.
Still smiling, Dr. Wood brought his hand back between my legs, running his fingers along the now incredibly slick pussy lips. He dipped slightly, turning his head to press a kiss to a spot just above my knee as he opened my folds to reveal my hole again, then bit down on that same spot as he pushed one thick finger inside my body.
“Oh,” I moaned as the walls of my pussy clenched around him.
“How’s that, baby?” he asked, pushing more of it in.
“That feels good, Doctor.”
“Mmm. I’d hoped so.” He gave me more of his finger, slowly but steadily, satisfying that needy craving inside of me. “You’re so wet, Lola. Wow.”
“I told you.”
“You did.” He pulled his finger out, only to thrust it back in a moment later. “Fuck, you’re completely soaked.”
“Is that normal?”
“Better than normal.” He kissed my thigh again. “Perfect.”
I smiled, closing my eyes as I relaxed into the feeling of him fingering me. He kept going, sawing his hand back and forth a few times before withdrawing it completely so he could add a second finger. When he pushed both of them inside me, I couldn’t stop myself from crying out, digging my fingers into the thin padding on the top of the exam table.
“Still okay, Lola?”
“Uh-huh,” I gasped. “That just—oh!”
He curled his fingers inside me, sending another jolt of pleasure through my body.
“That’s your G-spot,” he said conversationally. “Which not a lot of people know is part of the clitoris, actually. And your clitoris is this spot right—”
“Ah!” I cried, my hips bucking forward as he used his thumb to start stroking my clit.
“—here.” I felt him smile against my leg. “I don’t know, Ms. Moran. I’m not seeing any evidence of ghost activity here. Maybe I need to stop?”
“No!” I whined. “No, please keep looking. You just have to look harder.”
“Like this?” he asked, then thrust his hand firmly against my pussy.
I let out another cry, squeezing my eyes shut. “Y-Yes.”
He moved his hand faster, fingering me at a steady but intense pace and making me tremble around his fingers. As he did, I lifted one hand to my breast, playing with my own nipple as he sent spikes of pleasure through my body.
“Still no ghosts, Ms. Moran,” he murmured a few moments later. “But I have another idea.”
“Do you?” I gasped, opening my eyes.
“Mm-hmm.” He took his fingers out of my pussy, then held my gaze as he lifted them to his mouth. “I’m going to try having a conversation with them.”
“Huh?”
He licked my juices off his fingers, then grinned. “We’re just going to have a friendly little chat.”
With that, he dipped his head, and I slammed my hand to my lips as he stuck his tongue out and began licking my pussy.
If he was talking to the ghosts in my vagina, I’d have been surprised if they heard anything over the noises I was making. I couldn’t help it; Dr. Wood could do things with his mouth that I didn’t know were possible. He ran his tongue up and down my pussy, lapping from the bottom to the top and lavishing attention on my clit, only to pull away from it a moment later. Then he would suck on it, pulsing his lips on the sensitive little bud and flicking his tongue against it, making spasms of intoxicating electricity surge through my body. I gripped my breast, pinching my nipple and resisting the urge to reach down and put my hand on his head until I couldn’t anymore. Until I had to feel his hair beneath my palm so I knew I was still on Earth and that we hadn’t floated away into the stars.
He groaned against me when I touched his head, nuzzling against my mound and rolling his tongue on my clit before moving it down to my entrance. He dipped it inside of me, teasing the sensitive opening before running his tongue up again, and again, and again. I whimpered, my thighs squeezing involuntarily around his head, wanting more than he was giving and needing less of it, needing a break from the intensity of his mouth because oh fuck I was so close but I didn’t want to come on his face, I wanted to come on—
“Dr. Wood, I need you to go deeper,” I gasped.
He looked up from between my thighs, eyebrows raised.
“Deeper,” I said, my voice high-pitched. “The, uh, th-the ghosts are… are probably too deep. I need… something bigger. Something bigger than your t-tongue.”
I felt him draw in a breath, nerves flickering across his face. But he didn’t start protesting again. He didn’t ask me if I was sure. He just placed one more kiss on my pussy, then straightened up and took a step backward.
“Wait—” I said, but before I could panic too much, he tapped something on the table with his foot. There was a soft clicking sound followed by a low whoosh, then he stepped up on a platform that brought him to the exact height he needed to fuck the ghosts right out of me.
“Sit up, baby,” he said, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. “And spread wide for me.”
“Yes, Dr. Wood,” I said as I pulled myself up.
“I think you should probably call me Max, Lola.”
“Why would I call you Max?” I asked.
He looked at me incredulously. “Because… that’s my name?”
“Max… Wood?” I said. “Your name is Dr. Max Wood?!”
He looked resigned in a good-natured way as he unzipped his pants. “Get the jokes out of the way now.”
“I won’t make any jokes about it as long as you give me your max amount of wood,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one a million times.”
“Really? You’ve heard that before?”
“I… actually, no,” he said. “That was a new one. Good job, baby.”
Heat flushed my face, but whether it was the praise or the fact that Max Wood had pulled out his incredibly max wood, I wasn’t sure.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently as he saw me staring.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Perfect. I’m perfect.”
“You are perfect,” he said, stepping forward and cupping my cheek. “But are you okay?”
“I’m so okay.” I looked up into his eyes. “There’s no way any ghosts are gonna be able to hide from that thing.”
His cheek twitched as he tried not to laugh. “That ‘thing’?”
“Your max wood.”
He chuckled. “Is it going to be too big for you, baby?”
“I can take it.”
He studied my face, still cupping my cheek as his eyes flicked back and forth.
“Yeah, you can,” he said. “Because you’re fucking perfect, baby.”
Then he kissed me.
And that clearly had nothing to do with ghost hunting, but that was okay. His mouth tasted like my pussy and his tongue felt good flicking against mine and the way he moved his lips made my head spin. I kissed him back, melting against him, feeling his cock brush against my dripping wet pussy as he moved in closer so he could hold me as we explored each other’s mouths.
“You can tell me to stop, Lola,” he whispered. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” I murmured back. “So bad. Please don’t stop.”
“I know you don’t have anything and you’re on the pill. If you want me to, I could pull up my last panel on the computer, but I swear I don’t have anything either. But I’m sure there are some condoms hanging around somewhere, if you—”
“It’s okay. Just fuck me.”
He groaned softly. “You’re sure?”
“How else will we get those ghosts out of my pussy?” I asked.
It made him laugh. I liked it when he laughed. It was a sweet sound and the corners of his eyes crinkled and he looked so hot when he was smiling like that. Reaching up, I put my hands on either side of his head and carefully slipped his glasses off, putting them to the side. Then, I kissed him again, clinging to his lips as he lined his thick cock up with my needy pussy and pushed forward.
“Fuck,” he hissed as soon as his tip was inside me. “Your pussy is so wet, baby.”
I couldn’t respond; his lips were on mine again and he was sinking in deeper, stretching me, filling me, claiming every part of my pussy. He couldn’t get it all in on the first thrust. Both of us made noises as he pulled out slowly, then impaled me again, filling me deeper than he had before.
Still, he wasn’t entirely in. It wasn’t until the third thrust that I fully adjusted to him and could take the rest of his thick cock. That time, his pelvis pressed up against mine and we groaned in unison as he paused.
“Alright?” he asked.
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut. “Keep looking for ghosts.”
He laughed, his cock jostling inside of me, then buried his face against my neck as he started moving again.
It was so fucking good. The way he filled me was so good that I felt like I barely existed. I wasn’t Lola anymore; I was a collection of impulses and pleasure wrapped up in soft skin and strong arms. My legs were wrapped around his waist and he was sucking on my neck, making me shiver and groan as wonderful sensations washed over me.
“God, Lola,” he said, his voice rumbling against my skin. “This is so fucking wrong.”
“But it doesn’t feel wrong,” I gasped.
He groaned against me before pulling his mouth off my neck and lifting a hand to my head, cradling it as he pressed his forehead to mine so he could look me in the eyes.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said in a low growl. “I’ll get in so much fucking trouble. But you look so good right now. So fucking pretty for me. You walk into my office here, dressed in all pink and showing off these killer legs and those big rosy lips. You come in here, telling me your ex-husband—and he’s your ex, baby girl, don’t mistake that for one second because I’m fucking claiming you now—told everyone you get horny after drinking like it was a bad thing. Like he wasn’t a good enough lover to keep you satisfied. And then you tell me you want me to check your fucking pussy for ghosts? What the hell was I supposed to do? Who wouldn’t give in and take this pretty little pussy for themselves?”
“I don’t know,” I gasped.
“No one with any sort of sense.” He captured my lips again, biting down on the bottom one as he drove his cock inside me. “You’re mine now, Lola. I want all of you, just as you are.”
I whimpered, digging my fingernails into his shoulder as the combination of his words and his cock sent quivering ecstasy to every corner of my body.
“Max, I’m close,” I said. “I’m so close.”
“Me too, baby.” He bit my lip again. “Come, Lola. Let’s see if you coming all over my cock gets those ghosts out of there.”
I’d never laughed while I was coming before. It was the oddest sensation in the best way; explosive pleasure shaking me down to my bones while exhilarating glee shook my head and my heart. He kept fucking me through my orgasm, hips slamming against my pelvis, his pace turning erratic and frantic even as pleasure surged through me.
“I’m coming, baby,” he said, though I barely heard him through the white bliss I was still enveloped in. But I felt him finish, felt him bury his cock as deep as it would go when he started shooting that hot, thick load of cum inside me. He stilled, holding me in place just as I held him in place while I clenched every muscle in my body around him. It wasn’t until the euphoria began to fade that my muscles relaxed, and then he still held still, kissing me softly as we tried to catch our breaths.
“I think we got them, baby,” he finally said. “There’s no way any ghosts managed to stay put with the way your pussy was pulsing.”
“And if they did, you definitely drowned them,” I replied tiredly.
He smiled against my lips, kissing me again and then again before pulling his cock out with a satisfied sigh.
“Can you really get in trouble for this?” I asked as he hitched up his pants.
“For fucking a patient in the office during her appointment?” he asked. “Oh, absolutely. I could lose my license.”
I bit my lip. “I mean, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, you probably will.” He buckled his belt and then leaned in to kiss me. “But if you could possibly tell them that we were dating before your appointment, I could argue that I didn’t break any rules.”
“Okay,” I said. “Are we?”
“Are we what?”
“Dating?”
He smirked. “I wasn’t joking, Lola. I want you.”
Smiling, I looked down at my hands. “Okay. I want you, too.”
“Good.” He put a finger beneath my chin, lifting my head so he could kiss me again. “You’re mine, now. And I’m yours.”
“And what about my little problem?” I asked innocently. “Do you think it’s fixed?”
He smirked and helped me off the table, adjusting my shirt and smoothing the fabric of my skirt down for me.
“Well, there’s only one way to be sure.”
“There is?”
“Mm-hmm. I need to perform another exam. But you’ll need to have a glass of wine first.” He dipped his head down and captured my lips in another searing kiss. “Luckily, you have a boyfriend to take you out for drinks now, baby. And if that makes your legs spread… well. He’ll be one hell of a lucky guy.”
***
Meanwhile…
***
“The fucker. The absolute fucker.”
“I can’t believe that worked.”
“Uck. It’s all over me.”
“Shut up, Kyle. We’re all suffering.”
“Easy for you to say, Greg. You’re not the one who got a faceful of brogurt, my dude.”
“You really took one for the team, buddy. Good job.”
“Ugh. It’s everywhere. I think he shot out like, ten liters.”
“It’s not ten liters. It’s barely a tablespoon.”
“Says the guy not covered in dong water.”
“A tablespoon is a lot, actually.”
“Shut up, Frank. We need to focus on finding a new host as soon as possible.”
“Why can’t we go back to her? Just give her some time to air out and slip back inside…”
“Because he will fuck her again and he’s not like that loser ex-husband of hers. He’s actually going to be able to paint her insides each and every time.”
“I’m sad they’re breaking up. I liked ol’ Vincent.”
“Victor.”
“Huh?”
“His name was Victor.”
“Whatever. He didn’t bother us very often. I liked him.”
“Shut up, Frank. I need to think before we dispel from existence like the enchantress said.”
“Bro, I have an idea.”
“Kyle, I swear to God—”
“Nah, bro, what if we went up her ass?”
“…what?”
“Her ass, bro. The enchantress just said it had to be a ‘pleasurable hole,’ right? Tell me that dude’s not into anal and I’ll tell you you’re a fuckin’ liar, bro.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Let’s just try it. Right up the butt. Quick, before she gets her panties on.”
“How are we going to—”
“She’s bending over! Let’s go, boys!”
“Fuck, Kyle, if this doesn’t work—”
“OUCH!”
“Lola? Baby? What’s wrong?”
“We’re in! Kyle, you’re a goddamn genius.”
Fin***Special thanks to Nora Fares and EarlyMorningLight for indulging my insanity in writing this story and Bebop3 for beta reading it. Thank you to Paul M, Kevin Matheny, centralsquareguy, KW, AG, PM, N, ED, KJ, MidNyt, RP, Alex, and GW for your support.
And thank you for reading this story! Feedback is always welcome, whether positive or negative, but abusive or hateful language is not tolerated.