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“What is it? New facialist? She demanded, examining me closely. “New face cream? New workout? Juice cleanse? Come on, spill.”
Taking a sip of my tea, I just grinned mysteriously. It had been a long time since I’d had a secret like this, one that I wanted to keep all to myself- usually I was the kind of chronic oversharer who couldn’t keep so much as the weather forecast to herself, but this felt like something special and private. Besides, what the hell was I meant to tell her? That my nurse gave me a vaginal exam and I got so turned on that I had to freak with myself as soon as she was out of the room? Even Thea, who was about as open-minded as they come, would think that was a little too far, and she’d probably be right.
It felt really good to have my sexual mojo back, in all honesty. Something about having my first really memorable orgasm since Frank and I had got together seemed to break me out of a funk I’d been sitting in since I’d discovered the break-up, and it would tide me over till I got my results back.
It was a couple of weeks until I heard from the doctor’s again, and I had presumed they were just going to ring me up and give me the all clear or the no-go regarding my sexual health, but I was wrong. My cell buzzed when I was working, typing up an article about a recent proposition passed in the city. Seeing the number for the clinic, I picked it up immediately and held it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Andy Johnson?”
“Speaking.”
“It’s Dr. Black here, you had an examination with my nurse earlier this month?” I heard a familiar man’s voice across the slightly crackly line.
“I did.”
“We’ve got the results back now; everything looks good, but we’d like you to come in so we can discuss them a little further if that’s okay with you?”
I was taken aback. “Sure thing, Doctor. When works for you?”
We scheduled an appointment for the next day, and I snapped my phone shut and stared off into space for a moment. If everything looked okay, then why the hell did they want me to come in to discuss stuff with them? It didn’t make any sense. Pushing the thought out of my head, I turned myself back to my work, focusing on getting everything finished in time for my appointment tomorrow morning.
I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some part of me that was looking forward to seeing Doctor Black. He’d been my physician since I first moved to the city, four years ago, straight out of college, and he’d always been great to me- kind, understanding, but professional. And it seriously helped that he was the kind of older man I always lusted after. He was tall and strapping, with the kind of figure that most men his age could only dream off, with a head of dark hair that was just starting to get flecked with grey, and piercing blue eyes.
I had never noticed a wedding ring on his finger before, and I sometimes wondered what it might be like to hook up with a handsome, experienced older man like him. After my experience down at his practice with Rachel, a small shiver worked its way up my spine at the thought of him doing the same thing to me. I shook the thought out of me head again. What was I, getting some kind of medical fetish? Was I going to start hanging out outside of hospitals like some kind of doctor-patient sex pest? It was a weird one-time thing, the kind of stuff that elaborated Penthouse letters are built on. It was a cute memory to hold on to next time I was dating someone, and nothing more. And it wasn’t even like Dr. Black would know anything about it, would he? Unless he made Rachel report all the orgasms she basically induced his patients to have...
I played the scenario in my head: so, Doctor, while you were out of town, you had three drop-ins, a couple of cases of strep throat, and, owe, that curvy girl who came in for an STI check made herself into a quivering, orgasm-laden wreck on your examination table. I snorted at the absurdity of it all. I needed to rein in my imagination, and remember that these people were just professionals doing a professional job, not a bunch of fantasy porn stars created to act out my wildest fantasies.
So when it came time for me to head down to the doctor’s office the next day, I had firmly removed any concept of what might or might not happen from my head. I was going in to pick up my STI results. End. Of. Story. I was sitting in the waiting room, my gaze drifting once again to the pretty receptionist, when my phone started buzzing. I grabbed it from my faux-crocodile handbag and accepted the call. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
Hey, Andy, it’s me,” a familiar voice came down the line. I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t fall out of my head. Frank. I’d deleted his number from my phone a few weeks ago, but I guess I’d forgotten to block it.
“You have thirty seconds to say what you want before I hang up. I’m at the doctor’s, I don’t have time for your crap just now.” A little old lady- a different one from the first time- glanced up at me disapprovingly when I said “crap”. Seriously? How much milder could I get?
“I just wanted to arrange a time for me to pick up the rest of my stuff. I’m moving in with Melanie.” His voice teemed with pride, and my heart dropped to my stomach.
“You’re moving in with her? I thought you guys broke up?”
“We did, but we got back together and decided that we just had to be together properly, so we’re moving in!”
“How great for you,” I intoned, deadpan. “Do you seriously expect me to be happy about this?”
“Why, does it make you mad?” His voice was suddenly enthusiastic, as if the thought of me hysterically upset over our break-up delighted him.
“It doesn’t make me anything, you twat. You can come round tonight to pick everything up. I’ll talk to you later.” I went to hang up the phone, but his voice cam wheedling down the line once again.
“What are you at the doctor’s for?”
“Getting an STI check.”
“Why? Should I get myself checked out?” he asked, his voice suddenly full of panic.
“I’m getting an STI check because you cheated on me and I want to make sure that you didn’t give me anything, you moron,” I snarled back, snapping my phone shut and cutting him off. The little old lady gave me an approving nod from across the room. No matter what your age, all women could get behind laying the smackdown on a cheating asshole. I was breathing harder, furious.
It wasn’t that I’d wanted him to move in with me- quite the opposite, actually- but the fact that he was so willing to jump feet-first into a relationship with this woman when he’d been so much warier about even being seen out and about with me seriously got under my skin. I knew it was ridiculous, because it wasn’t as if I particularly wanted him either, but I knew it had to do with my weight. He was attracted to larger women, but he didn’t feel as if he could actually be seen out with them. As a sort-of conventionally good-looking man himself, it was no wonder he felt such horror at the thought of getting seen with a properly curvy woman like me. What would people think? That his personality stunk so bad he couldn’t get anything better?
