13. Dont Stop
Chapter thirteen
Don't Stop
Astoria
I walk into the lobby, drenched from head to toe and sigh when I see it's completely empty.
“Hello?” I call out.
He walks out with his lab coat on. As soon as he sees me, a smile stretches his lips and he licks them. A heat spreads through me. God, he’s more beautiful than I remembered. “I’m so sorry. I swear to God I tried to get here on time. And if you don’t want to examine me today, I understand. I know how inappropriate–”
“Ms. Torres, why do you think I’m still here at six-forty-five? I knew you’d be late because of the weather. It’s okay. As long as you feel comfortable with our arrangement, I’m here to help you.”
My breath trembles. He places his hands in his pockets, staring at me with a gaze that digs into my soul. As his eyes sweep down from mine, I push my dripping hair back.
“Do you want to do this, Ms. Torres? Or do you need a ride home? It’s up to you.”
I nod, and he mirrors it. Just like last time, he guides me to the room. Once I’ve changed into the paper gown, he returns with all the tools. I get irritated with all the usual medical questions, but I don’t dare show it. He’s sitting on a small rolling chair with his hands leaning on his knees, looking up at me on the bed.
“Were you able to change your diet to see if your menstrual cramps improved?”
“Yes, I changed it a little, and I exercised more, but not enough, apparently.”
“Not enough?”
“I’m working on it. It’s not so easy to be picky about what I eat when I’m constantly running around working and trying to get to places on time. And dealing with–” Don’t you dare tell him.
“Dealing with?”
Did I really almost just tell my gyno about Julian? Jesus… “Nothing. I’m sorry, I’m just irritated by the weather.”
“Still feeling bad that you were late?”
“Yes.”I nod with burning cheeks.
“You need to learn not to worry about the little things, Miss Torres.” He pauses and I say nothing. “And to eat better.” His smile is contagious. “How was the pain after the last exam?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“Well, as you know, all the tests came back negative, so unless you’ve engaged in unprotected sex since then, there’s no need to repeat them. Is that the case?”
Fuck. I don’t want to do that test again, but I know nothing about Julian. This is the point where having a situationship with your gynecologist gets awkward. Although I like and want him, now I have to let him know someone else has fucked me and I can’t use the excuse, oh he forced himself on me.
“Miss Torres?”
“Um. Please repeat it, Doctor.”
“Okay.”
This time, it’s even worse than last. It feels as if he’s using a hook to pull tissue from inside my walls. I’m staring at the clock to see how long it lasts, and even though it’s been thirty seconds, I’m gripping the bed and holding my breath until a whimper and cry escape me.
“Five seconds, Astoria.”
My breathing is loud and hurried when I release it. “Doc–” I protest in a whisper.
“Hold on.”
Another whimper and some tears.
He gets up and announces, “Okay. That's over. But–"
"But?" There's a fucking but? I ask him with open wide eyes, wanting to go home now.
"There is another test that I can perform on you to test for polyps, fibroids, and scar tissue. It's called a hysterosalpingogram."
"A what in hell?"
He smiles. "A hysterosalpingogram can detect endometriosis or signs of it as well. The best test is still the laparascopy, the minor operation I told you about."
I nod.
"But with this one, we can test other possibilities. I thought we could maybe try that today. What do you think? You're up for it?"
I hesitate but I've been living with these terrible menstrual cycles all my life. It would be very nice to know what's causing them. He rolls the X-ray machine so that the screen is facing both of us.
"Okay. The way it works is that I will inject an iodine dye into your uterine cavity to stain your uterus and fallopian tubes so that they can be observed via the X-ray machine. There's very little risk of complication. The good news is that if blockage in your fallopian tube is the cause of the pain, then this test in itself can help get rid of the problem."
At first, everything is fine. I see the dye appearing on the screen, filling my uterus then one of my fallopian tubes but not the other. Dr. Michaelson squints his eyes at the screen. "Hmm…"
"What?"
"I'm going to try washing it. This might–"
My loud gasp interrupts him and then a long whimper rushes out of me. While biting my bottom lip, I squeeze the sheets. Holy shit that hurts. My breathing is heavy and fast. I almost can't stand to watch the screen since it shows no changes, yet my insides tell a different story. There is this cramping and I'm terrified of it worsening. It feels as if he's stretching my fallopian tubes. It is agonizing. "H-how-how much longer?" I ask while panting. I want to squeeze my belly so bad but I'm sure that's not ok.
"Hold on, Astoria."
An excruciating cramp squeezes my uterus when the dye fills up the second fallopian tube at lightning speed. A thin layer of sweat covers my body and I feel I've lost all strength. "A–h!" I scream for a long time. Tears escape my eyes.
"We're done." He begins to pick up everything.
The trembling is so violent that it can be heard in my heavy fast breathing. I realize how tense I am when he takes out the speculum. My hands hurt when I release the metal railing of the bed.
"Try to relax." I wipe the tears from my face. A few minutes later he asks, "It's possible that side was blocked. Unfortunately, we won't know if that was the cause until your next period or until we schedule the laparascopy."
"I think I rather wait until my next period," I breathe out and then start trying to get up.
"Whoa. Wait a minute. Ms. Torres take a second. There's no rush."
I collapse back on the bed, grateful he's allowing me to recuperate slowly. After a few minutes he asks, "How is the cramping?"
"It… still hurts… really bad."
Two of his gloved fingers slowly slide into me, filling me and spreading more cream. Even though I know he’s watching me, I close my eyes, enjoying them rubbing against my walls. They bring me such comfort after so much pain. In not wanting him to stop, my pussy squeezes his fingers.
“Relax,” he commands and reaches above the blanket to place his palm on my belly. He’s taking longer than last time. I meet his gaze and my breathing hitches.
“Is that helping?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe out and nod, with my cheeks burning.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head.
“Use your words, Tory.”
“Please… don’t… stop.”
“Do you need me to do anything else?”
I shake my head. “Just don’t… stop.”
His thumb slowly flicks my clit, as if he were hesitating, but it ends up teasing me, making me desperate for more. A pleading moan escapes me amid panting. God, I can’t get enough of this, him with his gorgeous face, and perfect eyes, draining me of all pain, tension and worry and filling me with pure euphoria.
“Please don’t stop,” I whisper.
“How’s that? Better?”
I’m glad he didn’t hear me beg for more. “Yes.”
Then I feel a wet finger enter my butt. Again, I gasp. My eyes open wide, but his lack of expression dampens my shock and shame.“Just relax. You're doing good.” His voice is soothing.
He’ll never know how grateful I am. I do as he says, and he watches my body melt, his palm moves on my belly, caressing it. “You’re doing great, Astoria. Let yourself enjoy it. It’s okay.”
“Doc,” I blurt out as my body coils and my clit stiffens more and more. My whimpers and moans sound so helpless. “Oh my God,” I keep whispering as my eyes roll back in between the heavy breathing. I burst on his fingers, my insides squeezing him again and again and again. My insides are too sensitive, rendering the climax too powerful but by the end of it, the cramping is gone. There’s a thin layer of sweat on me. My gaze meets his when he takes his hands away from me. We stare at each other in silence.I have a million questions but I'm too scared of the answers.
“You look beautiful,” he says and caresses my legs.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He smiles and again licks his lips. “You said you’d never climaxed before.”
“I–”
“Do you need a ride home?”
I nod.
I give him Mindy’s address and he parks across the street three houses down.
“Astoria–” he begins at the same time I say, “I’m sorry.”
“You first,” I say.
“Astoria. I’m sorry, but I think you should seek another doctor.”
I stare at him, feeling the salt of my tears sting the back of my eyes. The self-disgust at my patheticness overwhelms me. God, what the hell is wrong with me? I knew this was wrong. Why did I let it happen?
“Of course. I’m-I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“Hey.” He takes my hand. “You did nothing wrong.”
Again, I nod while not believing a word he says, wanting to run out of the car.
“Hey.” He grabs my chin. “I’m serious. It’s my fault, not yours.”
“Is it because I’m poor and Latina and you’re white and obviously from a higher class? You think I want your money?”
“What?” He appears to be genuinely shocked at my words, his eyebrows scrunching up. “No. Of course not. I’m not upper class, anyway.”
“But you are white and have a nice career that probably pays well.”
“Astoria, I’m supposed to be your doctor. I’m a decade older than you. And my behavior today confirms… I’m a sick bastard. I should’ve never put you through this. But you drive me insane."
“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I want and need an older, sick bastard?”
His eyebrows rise and his eyes widen.
I'm standing outside, holding the door, lower my face to meet his gaze and tip my chin to him when I say, "You've just lost a patient.” I slam the door shut and walk away with rage rushing through my veins.