Scotch by night

The temping secretary started the day before yesterday, and he has barely had time to interact with her. What little interaction he has had, has practically taken his breath away. The way she fills that uninspired uniform, the way she walks, the curl of her lips and slight twinkle in her eye. These days have been hellishly busy, from the Monday rush of pent-up cases over the weekend to the Tuesday rush of cases that Monday wasn’t able to process. Today looks a bit calmer.

His second patient of the day is a girl he hasn’t seen in maybe five or six years. The last time he saw her it was a throat infection when she was barely in her teens. Today she is back for a prescription for the contraceptive pill, according to the appointment note in his patient record. That should be quite quick and uneventful, he reflects as he walks out into the waiting area. His gaze travels across the seated congregation. There she is, and she’s clearly being accompanied by someone. It’s an older woman, covered in a veil. They rise together at the mention of the patient’s surname, and follow him to his study. The woman introduces herself as the patient’s mother. She has a brisk, almost curt manner which Peter instantly dislikes, and he starts to have premonitions about the forthcoming episode.

He beckons to the two women to have a seat, the girl across from his desk. But it is the mother that speaks, informing him that his daughter is about to get married and so needs contraception. She must also have a thorough investigation to make sure everything is right. The last word receives significant emphasis.
Peter keeps a straight face. He’s been here before, and has a standard approach. Carry out the exam in a professional manner, write a prescription, signal to the parent that the patient is perfectly healthy, and have done with it as quickly as possible. Peter figures it’s his job to protect the patient, so regardless of his impression, he will always say that the patient is “healthy”, which he has found is an acceptable code-word for the parent. Only once has he been met with further enquiries, when a father asked outright if his daughter was a virgin. Peter thought it unlikely, but lied about his judgment.
Today things will take a slightly different turn. The girl is an outstanding beauty, slender, well-proportioned, and there is absolutely no way he would have examined her genitals on his own accord. Now he has to, and if he doesn’t, they will simply go someplace else. He finds himself strangely affected as he tells her to undress and lie on the bench. She undresses behind the screen, and lies down as bid. When he joins her, she already has her legs up, and his gaze, which he had planned to place on her face, falls on her exposed sex. It is completely shaven and beautiful, as though she had taken surgery to make it look like a paradigmatic vulva. The knot in his stomach is palpable. She looks at him and senses his hesitation. Moving closer with a gloved hand slightly raised, her lower body disappears from Peter’s field of view and he fixes his gaze on a spot above her head. He applies some gel to his right hand, and again glances down, which is a big mistake, since the sight of her half-open sex hits him in the stomach somewhere. He regains control by breathing very slowly, surreptitiously withholding it to increase the CO2-levels and calm his heart. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself.

His cool, gloved finger easily slides inside her vagina and he rummages around to feel for lumps or other deformities, of which there are none, of course. In a short while the heat from her body has heated the cool gel, and he can feel her warmth. The examination is over as far as the need to ascertain that she is healthy goes. He can almost feel the steely gaze of the mother through the screen. Must be his imagination. As he softly withdraws his finger and moves half a step back, he again glances as her sex. He lifts his head slightly to find her looking hard at him, with a funny smile barely distorting her lips. She lifts her pelvis almost imperceptibly, drawing his gaze back to her vulva. This time he stops for a few seconds to relish the sight.
At this point the girl slowly releases her legs from the stirrups, brings her knees together and then up to her chest in a foetal position, thus giving him a clear view of her closed vulva and her anus. She parts her knees slightly to smile teasingly at him.
Peter’s pulse races. He decides to break the spell – “you may dress now” he says in a choked voice, walks to his desk and tries to concentrate on typing. He has to document the fact he has carried out an internal examination that was uncalled for and tries to remember the standard phrasing he uses on these occasions. He can’t rummage around in the journal for past notes to guide him, but presently comes up with a wording he can live with.
The mother keeps her composure, even if he can feel her impatience. “Your daughter is perfectly healthy and fit for marriage”, Peter hears himself intone. A satisfied expression, almost imperceptible, flashes across the mother’s implacable features.

His own features feel hot and flushed, and there is an annoying semi-erection and feeling of wetness somewhere under the desk.
A few minutes later the couple leaves with a freshly printed prescription, after he has taken the girl’s blood pressure rather hurriedly- very loose clothing, thankfully no need to undress further – and asked her some routine questions. You must take the pill every day, he admonishes her, and congratulates the mother on the forthcoming occasion.
The couple shuts the door. Peter sits for a few seconds to gather himself, then unbuttons his trousers and tests the response. It’s immediate. He needs to jerk off to regain his balance, but not here!

A few seconds later he heads for the staff toilet. The door is locked, but as he nears it, the new secretary steps out. The corridor is narrow, so she has to pass close by him. They are forced to stop almost completely to negotiate the passing. Her gaze seems to dissect him like a knife, revealing all his squalid and misplaced horniness. The line of her bosom makes him catch his breath yet again as she brushes past him with a slightly mocking expression.

The toilet is cool and clean and smells slightly of the secretary’s perfume, and thankfully, nothing else. No forced, uncalled-for intimacy. In the mirror he sees a red-faced young doctor who clearly needs to have his release. The seat cover is down, Peter sits down, stretches his legs, and strokes his friend like so many times before. It’s good-looking, he’s pleased with it in every way, and now it’s very very eager. It doesn’t take long until he ejaculates. The planning is poor, at the last moment he twists sideways and the lot goes on the floor and the wall. There will be some cleaning up to do.
He splashes some water on his face before returning to the office. Here he allows himself a few minutes to process the sudden turn of events, before concentrating on the grind through the patient list. Thankfully the remaining patients offer nothing to threaten his equanimity.
By 4:30 PM our hero is getting very tired, and he really has to concentrate on the ramblings of the final patient, and elderly man who needs to adjust the dosage of his pill cocktail. Maybe the diuretic is a tad high? Let’s take it down a notch and see if the headache persists or not.

The door closes, Peter finishes the prescription update and signs it; then glances despondently at at a small wad of notes on his desk, reminders of follow-ups. He needs to eat to get through this pile.

A scene from a few weeks ago enters his mind. He is in the changing rooms of the local swimming hall. Most men keep their underwear on – also when showering, to Peter’s annoyance. But Peter makes a point of being naked. The school kids he encounters always cover themselves, conscious of their bodies and their dicks, too small, too big, too bent. Peter and the 70+ seem to be the exception to the rule. They don’t care. Sometimes there are dads there with young daughters, too young to go to the ladies’ dressing rooms, and so it is today. A girl of five or six is with her father who has his head inside a bag, looking for something, and the girl is waiting for him before proceeding.
Suddenly the girl is standing directly in front of Peter, naked as the day she was born. In a flash he takes in the image, which includes her shapely hairless sex. The girl fixes his gaze for a second, her face open, trusting, inquiring of him; then they draw apart. The swimsuit and goggles appear, carried by a hairy-backed hand, and off they go to shower, whilst Peter gets dressed, sticks his feet in the wellies, and make his way through the slush of the car park in the fading December light.
Peter has mulled what happened many a time. Was the girl provoking him? Was she excited at being in the company of all these naked men? Did she relish the attention some of the men would give her, surreptitiously if possible? Her gaze was challenging him. Are you going to stare at my wee-wee or not? Confusing mix of innocence and eroticism, a co-conspiracy that lasted two seconds at the most, but is lodged detailed in his mind.

Peter walks towards the reception area of the surgery. It’s empty. The other doctor jogs past with a “bye” and heads out the front door. But the secretary is still there! She is behind the counter, apparently scrolling on her phone. He walks over and realises he’s forgotten her name.
– You look tired, Peter, she says softly
– I am, and also very hungry, and I should get some to-dos out of the way.
He sighs.
– Let me help you
It sounds matter of fact, but is it?
Peter is not about to reject her company. She will join him in his office and they will attack his pile of notes, with gusto.
– Thank you, he says. I’ll get a biscuit and I’ll be right there
The kettle in the kitchenette takes ages to boil, and he curses his impatience. Presently he canters back to his office with a hot mug of tea and some biscuits. Vanilla flavour. He forgot the milk.
Peter steps inside and closes the door behind him, but the secretary isn’t there. After a moment of confusion, he hears her voice from behind the screen.
– Over here
He peers around the edge. She is on the bench with her legs up, naked from the waist down, but has covered herself with a towel of sorts, as though she felt too naked when it came to it.
doctor, can you please check that everything is OK? she says in an innocent voice.
Peter is very conflicted. He’s being played with. Does he want to play along? Thoughts of ethics and the scene from this morning mix in his head. The hot mug is in his right hand, and it’s starting to be painful, so he sets it down.
Her gaze is on him. It’s an ambiguous scene, a come-on from someone who has put herself in a vulnerable position.

Peter plays along as if the medical pretext made sense, maintaining an ambiguity which could come in handy depending on how things develop. Maybe he misread her, and she is genuinely worried about something medical?
He gets a glove from the box and applies some gel, moves close to her and feels his way under the cloth or towel or whatever it is the secretary has covered herself with. His hand feels its way along the hairless vulva before finding the vaginal opening. Their eyes meet. He realizes that he is turned on, and briefly considers that he may have to change to orthopedics or similar after these experiences. His finger slides inside her, and he adds some pressure around her clitoris to make it more interesting. Her smile is vanishing fast and her face looks anguished.
– Stop! she says loudly, and Peter pulls his finger out of her abruptly.

The secretary gets to her feet, and the cloth falls to the floor, leaving her upright but only half dressed in front of him. Peter gets a clear view of her thighs and naked vulva. His gloved hand hangs limply down and he takes a step back.
– Sorry! They say it at the same time
The secretary steps over to a chair and gets her underwear and trousers and puts them on. Peter looks away, standing there like some chastised schoolboy. The glove is still on. The office shrinks around them. Her name appears in Peter’s head.
– Anna, I’m sorry
– It was my fault. I shouldn’t have ..
– Look, I’m hungry and tired and ..
– Yes, I know, I’ll leave now.

They exchange glances. Can the situation be saved?
– I know a small restaurant with good food where I won’t meet all my patients. Will you join me? Peter says it quietly but steadily.
Anna hesitates before nodding.
– Lovely. Let’s change out of these clothes
A few minutes later they meet in the reception. Anna looks at him shyly. Her hair is down, long and dark, and her makeup is smudged. Shirt, slacks, stunning. His stomach makes a little leap.
you’ve cried, he blurts out
– Have I? she asks disingenuously
– That is my professional opinion, he says to ease the tension
It’s a short, silent drive, and their table is at the back, away from prying eyes. Even the steady flow of take-away customers can’t see them, thanks to a plastic palm tree of dubious aesthetic quality.
– They couldn’t find a more ugly tree, so they settled for this, he suggests
Anna laughs.
She starts to thaw over the food.

– You said the food was spicy but still tasty, and you’re right. It’s really delicious. They’ve hit just the sweet spot so to speak, where it’s hot, but all the flavours of the ingredients are maintained so you can enjoy each one of them
He smiles at her sudden eloquence, and wants to say “just like you”.
She smiles as if reading his mind.
– I get that a lot, he suggests, turning it on its head, and she laughs again, more freely this time, then looks at him steadily. She smiles at first, then her face turns serious.
– I’ve stalked you, she admits. I know the secretary that I’m temping for, and on Monday night I called her and asked about you. Yesterday was agony for me, and today… well.
Peter falls silent, processing the sequence of events. Anna must know Peter’s fiancé moved out barely two weeks ago
– So you guessed what had happened with the girl and her mother, and arranged …. Peter trails off
– Yes!
– And then you felt stupid and ashamed and it was just unpleasant and like being at the gynaecologist
Peter says the words slowly and deliberately and kindly. After all, he is flattered.
Anna squints for a second.
– Yup
– OK. Look. You’ve literally undressed before me. I have also unwillingly divulged some secrets, and you have uncovered some more, so let me come clean: when I saw you I lost my breath
– I know that, Anna says. Thanks for being honest. I guess that is why I dared to do that stupid thing back there
Peter looks at her again.
– I would never have gone along with it if it weren’t for the way you make me feel
He leans over the table and they kiss for the first time.
They skip dessert, they kiss in the car.
No not here, I want all of you, every inch, every square millimetre.
They make it up the stairs, they make it to his bedroom, past the four remaining boxes of Hannah’s stuff, they both know, he knows she knows, she knows that he knows that she knows, but right now it matters not a jot, or so they tell themselves.
– Will you undress for me?
– What, again? Anna teases
Peter is naked on the bed and Anna undresses in front of him. There she is, naked at the foot of his bed, a complete, naked woman with dark hair falling down her back and … lovely. She is very comfortable in her skin. She stays there for a while, looks at him looking at her. If he had a needle he would prick his arm.
Peter begins to feel self-conscious lying there with his erection sticking up like some periscope or weather vane or something.
– Come here, he says, put me out of my misery
She drops heavily on the bed next to him and pulls him on top of her. There is nothing to say, no banter, no jokes, no thoughts or second thoughts, just the smell of her, the feeling of her body, her mouth, her breath with its notes of Thai cuisine.
Peter slides inside her and ejaculates. He slides off her and starts to cry softly, in a trance-like state of happiness and sorrow. Anna does not shy away. She is there without imposing herself on this stranger.
Presently she says
– I don’t know you, but I like you. I like you a lot. Chocolate and vanilla
They resume kissing. Peter gets a beer that they share in bed, then kiss some more.
Anna smiles at him
– I came here to fuck, you know. It’s been pretty disappointing so far
She gets on top of him and rides him. He’s so deep it’s almost painful
– Oh, I like this, Anna sighs
She treats herself to an orgasm or maybe two, then lies down with him
– That’s better
He licks some sweat from her forehead and breasts.
– How long are you temping for? Peter asks
– Today was my last day