SHORT STORIES 9 #2
soft or erect. Then I asked Dr. Ward if the student should feel them to learn better. I hope that was all right with you. He could already see them, and feeling them teaches more than looking alone. I was only trying to educate him."
"Yes," I said. "Educating him on how your breasts feel."
"Please do not be crude," she said, frowning a little. "Unless we are being intimate on purpose, the proper word is breasts. Remember, it was a procedure. Nothing sexual."
"So you let him feel them."
"I did. He clearly liked them. He was squeezing and pressing and pulling until I finally had to say that playtime was over. Then he stopped."
She took a bite of her pasta as if she were describing a grocery trip.
"I was standing on the step of the table, which put me a little high relative to them. Dr. Ward knelt in front of me, and the student did too. I will admit that was a bit uncomfortable, because their faces were right in front of me, only about eight inches from my vulva."
"He ran his hands down both of my legs from the tops of my thighs all the way to my heels. He asked me to step my feet apart so he could check the insides of my thighs. It actually felt nice, if I am being honest."
"Then he asked me to turn around and bend over the table so I could lean comfortably. I did. He ran his hands over my bare bottom, both cheeks, and he got between them as well, if you know what I mean."
She paused to drink some water. The men behind her had not spoken once. Each of them had a hand low in his lap. I told her to keep going.
"Where was I? Oh yes. At that point the student asked if he could feel my bottom too, because he had never seen or touched one. I told him he could for a minute if he was professional about it. So he was squatting behind me while I was bent over, and I felt his hands all over my bare bottom.
He was breathing hard. I am afraid I got him excited. I hope I did not cause him to lust or anything."
"Honey," I said, "he is a young man, and he was looking at the finest bare backside bent over in front of him. From that angle he was studying more than your bottom. There is no chance he was not excited. But do not blame yourself. I am sure that was not your intention."
"It was not," she said. "Education was my goal. I thought we were finished, but Dr. Ward said many skin problems can start around the vulva because the skin is darker there and harder to inspect carefully."
"That scared me a little, so I asked him to check thoroughly. He had me lie on my back and put my legs in the stirrups. I did, and I noticed the student had a clear tent in his pants. I did not know what to think. I chalked it up to youth and tried not to make him feel worse."
"So there you were," I said, "completely naked, on your back, legs open, with two men looking as long as they wanted."
"Do not put it like that," she said, almost scolding me. "It makes it sound dirty. This was a simple medical procedure. Just because someone is undressed does not mean something sexual is happening. Think of a shower. A shower is not sexual."
"If I am thinking about you in a shower, it is," I said. "But please finish."
"Dr. Ward was very thorough with my labia. Outer and inner. He felt the full length of each between his fingers. He checked the skin between and under as well, and he made sure my clitoris was healthy. When he touched there I jumped and made a small sound that startled the student."
"The student wanted to touch me too, but because I could see how aroused he was, I said no. This was not going to become sexual. Still, Dr. Ward touched me carefully enough that I got wet. I felt bad about that, but it was probably just a natural response I could not control,
maybe from accidental stimulation."
She lowered her voice a little, though not enough that the men behind her would have missed it.
"He said I have one of the healthiest and, frankly, prettiest vulvas he has ever examined. That made me feel good. Whether women admit it or not, every woman likes to hear she is pretty there. I thanked him. He said it was his pleasure."
I sat there with my lunch half forgotten, pulse hammering, trying not to look at the men behind her. Beatrice smiled at me the way she does when she thinks she has done something practical and clever.
"And that," she said, "is how I saved a hundred dollars."
I reached for my water and forced myself to take a slow drink. My mind was already full of every detail she had just given me, and I knew she was not finished. There was more in her eyes, the soft look she gets when she has one last part of a story still waiting.
"Beatrice," I said carefully, "is that the end of the appointment?"
She shook her head, still smiling, still completely innocent.
"Not quite," she said. "There was a little more after that. But maybe I should wait until we are done eating."
I glanced past her shoulder. The two men were frozen in place, waiting for the rest the same way I was.
"No," I said. "Do not wait. Tell me everything."
She wiped her mouth with her napkin, settled her hands in her lap, and leaned in just slightly.
"All right," she said. "If you insist."
Beatrice set her fork down and folded her hands in her lap the way she does when she wants to be precise. The restaurant noise around us faded into a soft blur. All I could hear was her voice, calm and clear, as if she were explaining a recipe.
"After Dr. Ward finished looking," she said, "he told me he wanted to check internal moisture and tissue response, just to be thorough. He said healthy tissue reacts in certain ways, and if everything responded normally it would confirm there was nothing hidden."
I almost choked on my water. Behind her, one of the businessmen shifted hard in his seat. The other one had stopped pretending to eat entirely.
"And you agreed," I said.
"Of course I agreed," Beatrice answered. "It made sense. Why would I leave halfway through a free full check? That would waste the special."
She said it with pure logic, no heat in her tone at all. That was what made it so intense. My wife was describing the most intimate medical exam of her life as if it were a coupon she had used well.
"He put on gloves," she continued. "Then he parted me carefully with his fingers and looked closely. He said the color was excellent. He asked me to breathe normally while he checked deeper. One finger first, then two, very slow, pressing and turning to feel the walls. He asked if anything hurt.
Nothing hurt. It only felt strange and full."
"Strange how?" I asked.
"Warm," she said after a second. "And careful. He kept talking the whole time, explaining what he was checking. That helped. When he brushed against a sensitive place inside, my hips moved on their own. I apologized. He said it was normal and not to worry."
I could picture her on that table, blue dress hanging on the hook, heels still on, legs open in the stirrups, trying to be polite while a doctor explored her. The image hit me so hard I had to press my thigh against the underside of the table.
"What about the student?" I asked.
"He was standing to the side at first," she said. "Dr. Ward told him to watch the technique. The poor young man looked frozen. His face was red. That tent in his pants was even more obvious. I felt a little sorry for him again. It cannot be easy to learn while your body reacts."
"Beatrice," I said softly, "you were naked, wet, and being examined in front of him. His body was going to react."
"I know that now," she said, still mild. "At the time I was focused on being a good patient."
She took a small sip of water and went on.
"Dr. Ward said external glands and the clitoral area needed attention too. He used a little medical gel. When he circled my clitoris with his thumb, I made another sound. Louder this time. I covered my mouth with my hand. He told me not to be embarrassed.
Then he asked if mild stimulation would help him evaluate blood flow and nerve response. I said yes, if it was necessary."
"Was it necessary?" I asked.
She blinked at me, almost confused by the question.
"He is the doctor, Thomas. If he says it helps the evaluation, then it helps."
Behind her, one of the men let out a breath that sounded almost pained. I knew exactly how he felt.
"He kept one hand inside me and used the other outside," Beatrice said.
"Slow circles. Steady pressure. He asked me to tell him when the sensation changed. It changed quickly. My legs started to shake in the stirrups. I told him I felt hot and tight. He said that was a healthy response and asked me to let it continue so he could observe the peak reaction."
My mouth went dry. "The peak reaction."
"Yes," she said. "He meant orgasm, I think, though he did not use that word. He said climax response is useful data. I told him I had never climaxed in a clinic before and I was not sure I should. He said there was nothing improper about a physiological response during an exam.
The student was still watching. I asked if the student should turn around. Dr. Ward said observation was part of training, and if I was comfortable, the student should stay."
"And were you comfortable?"
Beatrice hesitated only a moment.
"I was nervous," she admitted. "But I also did not want to interfere with anyone's education. So I said he could stay."
I stared at her. My beautiful, practical wife had just told me she had consented to climax under a doctor's hands while a young man watched, and she still framed it as courtesy and learning.
"What happened next?" My voice came out lower than I meant it to.
"Dr. Ward increased the pace a little," she said.
"Not rough. Just more focused. His fingers found a rhythm that made it hard to think. I held the sides of the table. My back arched. I kept trying to stay quiet because the walls in clinics are not that thick, but it got difficult.
He told me to breathe and let my body show him what it needed to show."
She glanced down at her plate, then back up at me with that open, honest face.