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ers. “Leave it open in the front. Untied is easiest but it’s up to you.”
“Open in the front?” I repeat incredulously. “This is really too much. All I want is a prescription!”
“Aw, yeah, hon,” she sighs sympathetically. “Such a bother, I know. Won’t take too long!”
As she shrugs, I try to place her. Maybe a little younger than me? Maybe we kicked a soccer ball around together in gym, in middle school? She’s definitely familiar, but not part of my main crew. Of course my main crew consisted of me and Didi, so there’s that.
Sensing my hesitation, she pats the gown again. “Just leave your clothes behind the screen,” she instructs me helpfully. “I can call your prescription into the pharmacy right after, so that will save you a few minutes. It’s still right there on Main Street.”
“Yes, okay,” I force myself to say, but it comes out all sarcastic like I’m trying to insult her or something.
Sensing that I’m going to comply, she nods and gestures toward the scale. She scribbles down my height and weight on the information sheet and barely looks at my designer shoes when I kick them off.
“Okay then!” she announces, clicking the pen closed. “Dr. Stud will be with you shortly.”
I cough-gasp, unsure of what I just heard.
“Dr. Stud?” I repeat, shocked. “Is that his actual name?”
“What? No!” she blurts out, her face going white. “His name is Sturgill! Dr. Sturgill Warner. My goodness, what a thing to say!”
“I’m not the one who said it,” I mutter as she rushes from the room, closing the door behind her.
Dr. Stud, I repeat to myself. I’m sure that’s what she said. Right? That happened?
Or maybe I’m just using my Manhattan manners. Maybe I developed Manhattan hearing too.
As instructed, I disrobe and leave my dress and bra behind the screen. It takes me a full thirty seconds to convince myself that I should remove my panties, for some reason. It just seems wrong, deliberately removing all of my clothes for someone who is apparently known as Dr. Stud. Someone who I have seen in running shoes.
Like, is this even happening? Hannah and Desi are definitely never going to believe this.
Clutching the gown closed, I scooch onto the exam table. The paper crinkles underneath me, making an ungodly racket. Shivers race up and down my bare legs though it is not cold in the room, just cool and kind of breezy from the AC unit below the window. Just very quiet and cool.
A gentle but definitive knock comes to the door and it swings open. Dr. Warner steps in and gives me a perfunctory, professional smile.
“All right, I see you’re all set,” he announces as he scans my height and weight from the information sheet. “Let’s just see what we’ve got going on here, okay?”
His fingers are warm on my throat as he touches my neck, pressing gently along the underside of my jaw. He tips my head up so he can stare into my eyes and I almost want to flinch back.
Okay, don’t be stupid. A hundred doctors have made this same move in your lifetime, I tell myself.
“Any pain in your neck, stiffness, soreness?” he asks me in a low voice.
I force myself not to look away as his eyes peer into mine from only inches away. This is my personal space, and he is inside of it already.
“No… Nothing like that,” I answer in a timid whisper.
“Open your mouth,” he commands me.
It feels weird, sexual almost, to have a man this good-looking tell me to open my mouth, but I make myself do it. Suddenly I realize my body is starting to respond to this. A quick gush of wetness between my legs startles me when I shift my weight.
“Say ahh,” he directs me.
“Ahhhhh,” I answer, gurgling over the tongue depressor that he slips over my tongue, pressing firmly.
“This might be cold,” he warns me as he places the stethoscope pieces in his ears. But just before he presses it to my skin, he warms the disk against his palm.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Is something funny?”
