“…A Failure to Communicate”

She turned away from the window to light the cigarette she’d kept in a plastic bag hidden in an old purse with a wooden match from the candle drawer. In the utter darkness of the house the yellow flame burst brightly until she sucked deeply and shook it out.

“Fuck!” she whispered when she saw the red glowing dot of the tip reflecting back from the glass. Could he see it? She palmed the butt next to her thigh and squinted trying to regain her night vision. There was nothing. More correctly, she could see nothing. But he was out there.

Beyond the lawn and the rhododendrons, across the property line and beyond the subtle rises that she knew to be remains of Civil War trenches that existed undisturbed in these woods for 150 years. “If you didn’t know they were there, you might not know they were there”, said the locals. Over the old stone foundation of a house gone before she was born was an oak tree. It was probably there when the old house was built and stood powerfully if charred by a lightning strike on V-E Day-or so said nosy old always-in-your-business Millicent Fenwick at the library.

“It’s a four by eight sheet of three quarter inch exterior plywood”, he had intoned when she asked him if it would hold him. Those numbers meant nothing to her, she wasn’t a builder but neither was he. Still, he said “It’s a four by eight sheet of three quarter inch exterior plywood” in such a way that she guessed she should be impressed. He had taken this sheet of plywood and somehow wedged it between the three large main branches of that old oak about ten feet off the ground and “stabilized it with three two by four struts screwed right into the trunk.” She stared at him and he repeated it; more than a few times. Could just have well been speaking Mandarin-she didn’t know or care what a fucking strut was.

“Hear your husband’s building a tree stand back off the old Warner place”, Mrs. Fenwick had said, taking the cards out of the back pockets of the books she was checking out. “My husband Elmo, God rest him, used to hunt those woods. Got more than deer back there, you ask me.”

Her eyes adjusted and she could see beyond the yard into the black of the woods. She even imagined that she could see the top branches of the oak drawn against the silvery starlit night. She hadn’t minded when he moved from their bedroom to the spare room. That was a lie-it bothered her-but it had happened gradually. One night a week, then two, always a perfectly acceptable reason: he had to get up early, his back was a little off, he “felt a good snore coming on…” Then it had become semi-permanent.

Getting used to that wasn’t easy but at least she could still hear him breathing and rolling around and, at three a.m. precisely, getting up and walking to the bathroom. Sometimes he would veer into what he had begun to call “her” room and slip into “her” bed so that they could get into some of their nighttime business but that wasn’t happening anymore.

Because now he had taken to sleeping in a fucking tree.

The Negotiation

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She was happy for the interruption if it was going to be one. He let the phone ring four times-three more than was usual-before he picked it up. “Yes?” he snapped into the receiver still glaring at her. “Oh-fine. Yes, thank you Midge. Put him through.”

He sat back to take the call and she signaled that she would step outside while he was on the phone.

He covered the receiver with his meaty hand. “You stay right where you are Mrs. Williams. I’m far from finished with you. “

His tone and glare froze her and she creaked slowly back into the chair. God, she was back in the principal’s office in Junior High.

She hadn’t really poached his clients. Hell, as the company president they were all his clients….She tried to remember if she had told him she was taking the meeting. Did she tell Midge? She didn’t put it past that little snot to not tell him if she had. Maybe that was it! She had told Midge but she hadn’t passed the information along! She worked hard on this construct for a moment trying to convince herself it was the truth.

She wasn’t listening to his call and couldn’t tell you what it was about but heard it winding up with a smooth and genial “I’ll have my girl call and set it up…” As soon as he hung up his face changed and any geniality was gone.

“John, I…”

“Enough”, he said. “I’m going to beat your ass, Mrs. Williams.”

“Oh no you’re not….” She hated that phrase, it sounded like two boys getting ready to fight at a bar.

As he pushed away from his desk she couldn’t help noticing the size of his hands.

“John”, she said quickly-trying to tamp down the flurry of panic she began to feel…”I told Midge that I would be…”

He froze her with a stare. “Are you going to slip another lie into your already overflowing folder?”

“I…”

He had come out from behind the desk and was taking a seat on the sofa. “I can bring Midge in right now, and we can ask her. You want me to do that?”

“No John…but I…”

He sat. “Get over here.”

She stood automatically if unsteadily and moved toward him, her wheels still spinning. “When they came in John, the Baxters, they hadn’t mentioned that you had been…”

“Yes, yes…you’ve said.”

He reached up and took her wrist and again she noticed the size of his hands. Paws really. And he was wearing his ring! Would she feel that?

“Wait…” she said breathlessly as she settled over his lap. “Now, John….it’s not too late.” She felt her skirt lift.

“I believe it is, Mrs. Williams.”

“No, John…we can still…”

“Can still what Mrs. Williams”

“Be reasonable….”

“I think I’ve been reasonable”, he said as she felt her panties being yanked down.

“Hey!…We still could talk this out before this goes too far…”

“Mrs. Williams, your skirt is up, your panties are down and you are over my lap. What would you consider ‘too far’?”

“You haven’t spanked me yet John. We can still…”

He cut off her negotiation with a firm smack to her fulsome right cheek. She uttered a surprised “ahhh…” rather than the pained “ouch!” that he would have expected from a younger girl whose whole bottom might fit under his meaty hand like a turtle under its shell. Mrs. Williams’ mature backside was thick enough to absorb what he was going to give her one firm cheek at a time with a little give and very satisfying jiggle.

“You were saying Mrs. Williams?”

“No. I get it. I understand John. It was your meeting and there is no way I should have…OUCH!”

She was surprised by the second swat which landed exactly where the first one had. And it stung.

“John! I’m sorry. Truly. That really hurt John. Can’t we discuss…”

“Is Eric in town this week?” he asked about her husband.

“Ah…” she was nonplussed having to answer a questions about her husband while in this situation. “No”, she blurted. “He’s in New York all week. Why?”

“I was wondering how you’d explain your red bottom to him. But then, being married to you I’m sure he’d understand.”

She absorbed his comment in silence as he rolled up his sleeve.

“You are not going to stop are you…?”

“Yes. I plan to pause after forty smacks.”

“Forty!” she had assumed ten or twelve spanks and they would be done.

“I’m sorry. Did I say forty? I meant fifty.”

“John! I…”

“I’d be careful about saying anything else if I were you.”

“This is going to happen, isn’t it” she asked quietly.

“This IS happening…and don’t clench” he said, rudely poking her cheek.

She quickly bit her bottom lip tasting her lipstick. In the pregnant silence before the next spank she felt-for the first time-John’s legs beneath her and the strength of his left hand pushing down on her back. Her mind cleared at the reality.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay quiet”, she said softly.

“Midge!” he yelled at the closed door.

“Yes?” came the reply from the outer office-too quickly and too clearly to have come from her desk. The little bitch was listening at the door!

“Oh John, please don’t bring…”

“Go to lunch. Now!”

“Yessir!”

She heard feet shuffling across the plush carpeting immediately and the outer door slam. Of course Midge would respond quickly. Lying face down over her boss’ lap she thought of the girl’s small round bottom.

“There.” he said. “We’re alone now.”

“John if you would…”

A spank harder than the others stole her breath. “Now it’s sixty”, he said. “Anything else?”

Her eyes burned in frustration. She so wanted to tell him…

“Nothing?”

“No John.”

“Very well…”

Eyeing the pink smudges on Mrs. William’s otherwise perfectly ivory backside he raised his hand and let fly watching the flowing impact with satisfaction. She grunted and whispered a sad, little ouch, her eyes filling with the knowledge that he was right and she was wrong and she might have to admit it. Eventually. But right now, she was where she belonged.

After slamming the outer door, Midge tiptoed back to her post and stuck her ear against her boss’s door.

Just what the doctor ordered….

(Continued from No Bystanders at the Clinic)

Once her panties were gone, Emmie felt the top cords of the gown untied and the garment allowed to fall open. She was surprised that she felt no embarrassment at being completely nude on the table. He oiled her well-a wet warmth that smelled of eucalyptus-and stroked gently at first, concentrating attention to her anatomy between the small of her back and knees.

His touch was soft enough to feel tentative-hesitant. Maddeningly so. As he dug his thumbs into her hamstrings and up toward her glutes she subtly pushed back into his hands. He was about to ask if this was OK, just a whisper of a flashing yellow light if he should stop…but he didn’t because Emmie, choosing to use action rather than words, lifted to give him better access between her legs and pushed toward his probing fingers.

She began to undulate slowly as he caressed the tenderness of her inner thighs higher than anyone had been in a long time. Her mind was nowhere but on his touch-focused on every twinge, zap and charge ignited by his light stroking. She gasped as his finger circled the tiny rosette of her anus. When he ran his finger directly over it, her subtle opening became more wanton and her lift a backward thrust.

“Please Will….” She said.

He slipped his hand higher and rubbed along her swollen folds. The dampness he felt there wasn’t his oils. “I was getting there”, he said.

“So’s Christmas” she whined with a tinge of moan.

He smiled and withdrew his hand only long enough to deliver a fake smack to her bottom which she mewed at then was back between her legs. His finger entered her this time-pushing gently inside then exploring the walls of her tight passage. Emmie had a flash of consciousness then-remembering where she was. She opened her eyes and saw the shadows of the lamp globbing on the wall seemingly keeping time with his finger. She sighed and closed her eyes again, allowing her breathing to synch with his in-and-outs.

Because Emmie was the kind of woman who couldn’t just accept a righteous fingering at face value she had to tamp down her rising lust as Will found her clit-swollen and ready for attention. And yes, he knew where it was all this time but wanted to draw it out; wanted to keep this woman gyrating on the end of his finger for as long as he could. All Emmie could think of, as his electric touches sizzled from her clit to her toes, was that she walked in here fully clothed an hour ago with no thought to do anything but read a magazine.

“Uhhh!” she said quietly-because she never could lose sight of her surroundings even now. “Will…I…”

“Shhh”, he said and she felt a pressure-firm and unrelenting pressing onto her tight asshole-the very spot that served as her START button when the thermometer slid inside.

“Mmmmmm….” Was all she could manage as she relaxed anything that wasn’t already relaxed so that the growing pressure could finally win and his thumb popped open her sphincter and slid inside of her rear without him ever losing the rhythm of his finger rub. It was too much.

He smiled and whispered “Come on…” then “Let go…” as he placed his left hand on the small of her back to guide her movements. She bit her lip and closed her mouth-screaming inside a sound that came out a muffled grunt. He felt her coming and milked her as much as he could until she shivered and flattened on the table. Again, she felt herself spread and cared not a whit.

He kissed her on the bottom then she felt his breath on her neck.

“I think I better write you a prescription for this….”

She smiled and didn’t open her eyes. “Daily?”

“Weekly to start…see what your insurance will cover.”

“I might be willing to pay out of pocket…”

“Give me a kiss”, he said.

She lifted her head and opened her mouth to accept his. With a toe drag he pulled a stool over to sit at eye level. Emmie rolled up on her side exposing new areas to explore and without breaking the long, soft coupling of lips, Will gently caressed the valley between her breasts and down her belly. She dropped her head with a sigh.

“Feel better now?” he asked accepting the smile as an affirmative. He let the silence settle for a moment then, “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing special”, she said remembering a date she would certainly break.

“I’m having people over….sort of a little dinner party. I certainly could use a little help in the kitchen.”

“You want me to come and…cook.”

“Well, I’ll be doing most of that. Smoking a brisket as big as…” he patted her rump.

“You mean it’s a big brisket?”

“It’s a perfect brisket. Come over, spend the day, figure out the sides, the dessert…hey you have a chef’s coat right?”

“Sure, hat…the whole nine yards.”

“Great-bring it, wear it in the kitchen.”

“I’m pretty expensive when I’m in uniform.”

“No pants then…”

She laughed. “So am I coming as kitchen help or your date?”

“Not an either/or…bring something to wear in the evening. Sporty, anything-as long as it involves a really short skirt. And no panties…”

She giggled like a girl “I’m sensing a pattern here.”

In answer he pushed her shoulder with his forehead forcing her over onto her back. Emmie sighed deeply as his soft lips circled, then covered, her hardening nipple. Watching the lamp patterns on the ceiling she started thinking about the perfect sides for brisket.

 

No Bystanders at the Clinic

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Continued from A Visit to the Clinic

Emmie Summers wandered the wide hallway at the clinic. The place was certainly bigger than it looked from outside. She almost collided with a pretty red-faced brunette with a nose stud hustling out of an exam room. “Excuse me…” the girl said as she rushed past. Emmie spun to watch her then heard a distinct “Smack” from inside the door-she turned again toward the door but it was closed, then spun back, this time walked fully into a man coming the other way.

“Oof…” She was about eye level with a white embroidered “Will” above the breast pocket of his royal blue lab coat. One look up into his lidded green eyes and Emmie sighed ruefully to herself, “I certainly would…” because she hadn’t in months.

“Can I help you”, asked Will pleasantly.

“I’m sorry…excuse me…I’m here with a friend…just waiting on a friend.” He cocked an eyebrow questioning. “Shannon”, she blurted. “Shannon Deavers.”

“Shannon?” he said seemingly delighted at the news. “We love Shannon!”

“Yeah, she’s the best…”

“Been friends long?”

“Since college.”

“Oh-a year or two then”, he said smiling.

“I wish…” She said, flashing a quick grin that dissipated too quickly.

“You okay?”, he asked looking after the fleeting smile.

She waved her hands to take in everything around her. “Doctors, nurses…all the medical stuff…makes me…”

“White coat syndrome, huh?”

She shrugged.

“But I’m wearing blue”, he flashed his own smile that didn’t go anywhere and took he by the elbow. “Here,” he said opening and leading her through a door. “Let’s step out of the hubbub, bub.”

His office was softly lit from by the light coming through the blinds and soft reddish glow of the…

“Is that a lava lamp?” Emmie asked delightedly.

“Sure is.”

“I haven’t seen one of those since college.”

“Does the same thing for me as an aquarium without the upkeep.”

The desk was in front of the window and a leather examination table, scale, sink all were against one wall.

“Here-sit.” He guided her to a plush leather chair as he leaned against the desk. “Just chill in here for a bit. Shannon’s going to be another thirty or forty minutes…”

“What’s she having done today?”

“You’ll have to ask her that-you know with patient confidentiality and all.”

“Oh Jesus!” she said. “I’m sorry…I didn’t even think…”

“No worries, no worries. We’re just talking here….”

He saw her eyes slide over to the lava lamp and watched the red orbs of wax bloom, float to the top and snap to fall back and repeat. He smiled as she watched. “See? Told you. Bet your blood pressure’s dropped ten percent since to you got here.”

She smiled…”I used to love these things…”

“Hey”, he asked. “Would you like me to do a workup on you? You’re here and all…”

“Ahh…no…that’s….Naw. That’s OK….Ah…I don’t think my insurance will cover it….” she blathered nervously.

“Not to worry-on the house. I’ve had two cancellations this morning…”

“Two?”

“Yeah, right? Sisters. There will be plenty of spankings at the end of the month, I can tell you that” he joked. But was he joking? She remembered the smack from outside that room. “Point is, I have the time. We could do this…or you can sit here and look at the lava lamp for the next half hour.”

She stepped into the changing room that felt more like a country club locker room with maroon walls, soft recessed lighting, redwood bench and a shelf with folded gowns. She watched herself in the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse and placed it on a hanger. Then slipped her sandals off and under the bench and, with a pause for reflection, unsnapped and lowered her capris, likewise hanging them.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She was fine. She was normal for…she wouldn’t even think “for a woman her age.” But truly, she was fine. Normal. Shannon was the freak with her long legs and slim bottom. Emmie turned and looked at her backside. I’m normal, she thought. Fine, she thought yet again. He had said take everything off so she pushed her panties half way down, paused looking over her shoulder and pulled them back up. Panties can stay, she decided. Without a thought she slipped off her bra and stepped into the gown. Her fingers shook as she tied it behind. Idiot, she thought. With a final glance in the mirror she stepped was back into the office where Will was drying his hands.

“Here you go-hop up”.

He managed the basics efficiently. Eyes, ears, nose and throat. Pulse, blood pressure, all good. Reflexes-her knee bounced as she guessed it was supposed to. But there was something else she didn’t expect to feel. There was a little buzz-like an electrical charge-where he held her knee in place.

“Lay back”, he said holding the back of her neck to help her down.

He pushed the gown up over her belly to prod and poke at her abdomen. She was fine with it-wasn’t a washboard but flat enough. He pushed the gown a little higher and she closed her eyes realizing her nipples were hard. If he pushed it one more inch…but he didn’t. Surely though, he had to have noticed.

“What do you do? He asked?”

“I’m a chef.”

“Really? Where do you…hey wait-did you used to cook at Umbria??

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I just remembered having a conversation with Shannon about restaurants once and she said she had a friend who cooked there…Here-roll up on your hip”, he said in a softer tone-as if speaking to someone else in the room. She yielded to the pressure of his hand on her hip and rolled, nestling her head on her elbow.

“I’m not there anymore though. Left about six months ago-freelancing now…”

“Catering?” he asked, then in his side voice, “Lift up please.”

She did, not even registering what he had asked until she felt her underwear slide down completely off her bottom.

“Hey!” she said startled.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“I didn’t realize…”

“I did ask you to strip naked…”

“Yes, OK…just startled me, is all.” She giggled nervously. “You are a doctor, right?”

“That’s what the papers on the wall say.” She felt his hand lift her cheek gently and something slide into her bottom. She hissed through her teeth. “It’s just a thermometer”, he said.

“I haven’t had my temperature taken like this in….”

“Hopefully you don’t remember when…” he said jokingly.

“Feels naughty…”

“Ah, you’re fine” he said with his hand resting collegially on her bare hip. “You’re relaxing already-not clenching. So, catering?”

“Yes…I…” small talk wasn’t coming easily. “…have some steady clients…to cook for. Do some parties. All word of mouth.”

The thermometer pinged and she bit her lip as he slid it out. “All normal”, he said.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Do you want a shot?”

“What kind of shot?”

“Mostly B12. Some other things that are a closely guarded secret. But it’s popular. Since you’re here and all.”

“I don’t like shots.”

“You’ve never gotten a shot from me. You don’t like getting ready for the shot. Getting up on the table, pushing your pants down. But here you are right? Why not?”

“Oh fine,” she said as if she was struggling with a decision.  “Why not?”

He pushed again with his hand on her hip but not really. Lower. She felt that charge again as the softness of her bottom yielded to his warm fingertips. “Here,” he said. “Lie flat”. She did and felt herself spread. Somewhat. A little. Not much. Ah, the hell with it!

She crossed her arms and listened to the sounds of tearing paper and plastic as he readied the syringe. “You okay?” he asked

“I’m fine…”

“Yes. Yes you are”.

“Fresh!” she said, flattered.

“I’m going to squeeze here, OK?” he said patting her ample right cheek.

“OK, but remember, you said it wasn’t going to hurt.”

“Oh, I don’t think I ever said that. Don’t tense…” He gave her bottom four staccato smacks that were over so quickly she barely had time to say “Ouch!” then squeezed a piece of her bottom right in the center. She dug her fingernails into her palms when the needle slipped in with a warm sting. He emptied the syringe and withdrew then rubbed the spot hard with three fingers as if trying to remove a freckle. “There,” he said. “How’s that feel?”

“Warm…..”

“Do you want to try a treatment? A quick cleanse?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that….”

“Well then, let’s pull your panties back up…”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that either.”

“Now who’s being naughty?”

“I’m feeling so warm and…..” she couldn’t find the word.

“Fizzy?”

She laughed lightly and opened her eyes to the red glow of the lava lamp burbles on the wall. “Yeah, that’s it exactly. Fizzy. Is that the shot?”

“No my dear”, he said, his hand on the top of her thigh. “That’s you.”

The hand she felt on herself was warmer than she was. “What is it exactly that you are doing back there?” she asked.

“I’m a licensed massage therapist”, he said to the back of her head.

“Of course you are.”

“Do you want to see my license?” he asked, squeezing gently.

“No”, she said. “I’d rather feel it.”

“Can I get rid of these then?”

He pulled her panties down her thighs and she lifted her legs so he could slide them over her feet. He let them fall to the floor.

To be continued….

Dense Parent’s Night Out

Babysitter

“Why does that kid want a babysitter every time we go out? He’s almost seventeen fer Chrissakes!”

“Sam, he just doesn’t want to bang around in that house alone all evening.”

“And why does it have to be Alyssa all the time? You know how much she charges since she started saving for college? Shit, when I was a kid, I couldn’t wait for my parents to go out. I had the run of the house.”

“Yeah well, maybe your son doesn’t get as much of a charge of drinking his father’s liquor as you did.”

“There was alot of that.”

“He and Alyssa just get along is all. Maybe we could talk about the rates-I’m thinking she really enjoys the big screen…Maybe she’d cut you a break.”

“Ah screw it…he’s just going through a phase I guess…”

 

 

 

 

“Home again home again, jiggety-jig”

 

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Once the train rolled past the mill across the river the ground flattened and the hill backed off step by step until there was room for the town to wedge itself between its natural boundaries. He peeked through the slitted door of boxcar and saw Rohall’s body shop which was still the first building in town but he couldn’t swear it was still a body shop.

Then a few houses that looked abandoned then the fire house with someone, too far away to make out who, lounging in a chair by the open door. The track bent then, bellying toward the river and away from the football field, robbing him of the close-up view but opening the vista of the grimy little houses sprawling between two bridges and up to the hillside.

He watched the ties clicking quickly past and ventured to stick his head out. There was no one working on the tracks that he could see-no trucks, no equipment-but he’d have to wait for the switching yard to be sure. He had played there as a boy-and later-but now it had fallen into disuse-storing ties and timbers instead of old boxcars to play in.

Nearing the yard and its crossing the train slowed enough to make exiting, if not easy, at least possible. He squatted and stretched watching and waiting for the flattest spot with the least ballast which made the footing uncertain. He was entering the yard now, overrun with tangles of thistle, sedge, sumac trees and at least one very dead deer.

Quickly, while somewhat hidden by the brush, he slid the door enough to sit with his legs hanging then pushed off. With barely a stumble, he was walking beside the train instead of riding in it as he had for 300 miles. His boxcar outpaced him and slipped away. He carried no bundle, no bag, nothing that could mark him as homeless, a vagrant or hobo. Everything he owned he wore or left behind.

The creosote smell of the new ties gave him the same odd feeling it always did. Took him back to his first time; jaws clenched, bent grimacing over a stack of ties, the spring drizzle dripping from his hair. That was just down the tracks from here. If there was another man in the world who was aroused by the smell of creosote he didn’t want to meet him.

Every fucked-up path had a fucked-up beginning and once you hit the crooked way, there was no getting off it. Like riding your bike into a street car track-you were stuck where it would take you. It was always that way no matter what anyone said. Once your wires were crossed, they were crossed and singed into a new direction.

The ten foot fence was new-running beside the track for as far as he could see. He might have to walk all the way to the crossing which would be chancy but where there was a fence there would be holes, loose spots and passages for townies to cut across to the river. There was too much beer to be drunk, weed to be smoked and girls to be fucked on the riverbank to be deterred by a mere cyclone fence.

He ran his fingers along it as he walked remembering what it had felt like, as a kid, to be able to scale something like this. Up like a spider, leg over, drop down. That was a while ago. He stopped. There it was. The bottom two wires connecting the fence to a pole had been cut; the loose grid unnoticeable unless you knew it was there. He squatted, pushed at the bottom and the wire lattice lifted like a curtain.

Just like that he was back in town. And no one was going to be happy to see him.

A Visit to the Clinic

Angela Miller sat on the edge of the exam table and allowed her dangling bare feet to swing back and forth like a kid. The thin cotton gown covered her to mid-thigh and since she had come to the clinic braless all she had on under it were her panties. And it wasn’t warm in the room. Not at all.

She was about to hop down and look for a thermostat when the door opened and a tallish brunette in blue scrubs stepped through. She looked a little harried, with a couple of locks of hair escaping from a loose pony tail that she wore to the side. She shut the door behind her with a bit of sigh and took an exaggerated deep breath. “Whew”, she said smiling then looked at the folder in her arms.

“Hi. Angela?”

“Angie.”

“Great, Hi…umm…I’m…Jessica. Just doing your intake-vitals, etcetera…” She was stumbling, seemingly unable to get the words out in the right order. Or remember her goddam name apparently! All she could think was “Those eyes!” as she was almost pinned to the door by Angie’s arresting robin’s egg blue eyes.

“No, good,” said Angie smiling and cocking her head to one side like a curious puppy. Of course the teeth were perfect and white as copy paper.

Angie put Jessica around thirty or so-about five years older than she was. She was slim and pretty with an unexpected silver stud in her left nostril. She seemed a little nervous; maybe she was new. Angie relaxed in the casual intimacy of the exam room -feeling Jessica’s thigh against hers and her breath on her neck as she took her pulse and wrapped the blood pressure sleeve around her arm. At least her hands were warm!

“What are you wearing?” Jessica asked as she wrote numbers on her chart. “The scent…”

“Oh, you like it? A friend of mine actually makes it…”

“Really?”

“Yeah-mixes all the oils and everything…quite an operation.”

“Smells amazing…”

“I love it. She calls it…Blue Steam, I think. Or something like that…If she hasn’t changed the name already. She goes back and forth.”

“It’s lovely…”

“Thanks…” Jessica asked a few more rote questions and made notes.

“You been here long?” Angie asked.

“A few months….”

“You like it?”

“Doctor Greene is amazing-I’m learning a lot from her.”

“She’s great…”

Jessica set the folder aside and flashed a slightly pained embarrassed smile. “If you don’t mind…flopping over onto your belly? She insists on core temperature.”

“Core?”

“Rectal”, Jessica answered, the pained smile getting tighter.

“Oh-yes, sure. Sorry”, said Angie. “I’ve been here before…Didn’t recognize the term” She slid over and reclined on her side for a moment before rolling over. She lifted slightly and arranged herself and the gown then settled.

“Thank you”, Jessica said relieved. “Some people make this so awkward…”

The cords on the gown kept it from sliding completely open in back but weren’t tight enough to keep her well rounded bottom from blooming through the gap.

“She started calling it ‘core’ because ‘rectal’ freaked people out.”

“I’m not shy”, said Angie situating herself, settling her head on crossed arms. “It’s only a bum, right?”

“Right”, said Jessica with a nervous laugh. Why was she nervous? She’d been doing this every day for the past three months. There was a pause before she realized that Angie wasn’t going to reach back and push her panties down like most people. Instead she lifted her hips a tad. “Would you do the honors?” she asked back over her shoulder, her face obscured by a cascade of honey blonde hair.

“Of course, sure”. Jessica quickly, carefully, and as clinically as possible, pulled the panties down to the tops of the woman’s thighs. No further than absolutely necessary but far enough to expose the roundest, firmest bottom that she had ever seen. And she’d seen plenty. Then, with a practiced hand, she used her thumb and index finger to open Angie’s cheeks and insert the pre-lubed tube into her tiny brown button. When she released the cheeks they closed firmly around the trim tube.

“Mmmm…” said Angie. “Tickles…”

Some patients were chatty to cover their nerves, some silent-squeezing their cheeks and powering through embarrassment. Jessica would be chatty or silent-whatever the situation called for. She would usually catch up on notes or look anywhere else around the room. But what she couldn’t do right now was look away. She had never seen…she gazed down at Angie’s perfectly rounded bottom as if into a crystal ball.

“You spend a lot of time at the gym, don’t you?”

“A ton! Why….?”

“Your bottom, girl…” Jessica couldn’t believe she was saying it as she said it.

“Hah…yeah. I had a boyfriend once that called it the most spankable ass in the state.”

“Did he?”

“What?”

“Spank…it…er…you. Spank you?”

“Naw, not really. He never could figure out how that would work. A slap now and again…he was dense…”

“Must have been”, Jessica mused in a soft voice.

“That’s nice…” Angie said.

“What?”

“Your hand.”

Without realizing it Jessica had, during their exchange, rested her hand on the small of Angie’s back.

“Oh god! I’m sorry…” she almost pulled it away but didn’t. The nervousness that she had felt earlier had slipped from her chest and settled lower. Much lower and it wasn’t really nerves anymore. She was transfixed by the view and fought to control her hands.

“You can touch it if you want”, the words came muffled from under the tumble of hair as if Angie was reading her mind.

“What…?”

“My bum…if you want.”

Angie’s eyes were closed and she was breathing lightly. There was no response coming from behind then the thermometer pinged to tell them it was done. She bit her lip lightly feeling herself being spread again and the instrument withdrawn.

A trifle chastened that her offer had not been accepted, she was about to reach back and pull up her panties when Jessica said “Hmmm…that’s odd. It didn’t take.” Then she felt her cheeks parted again and the tube slipped back into place. Slower this time. She held her breath until a hand, warm and dry, cupped her right cheek. And squeezed lightly.

“Ahhh…” Angie sighed and lifted her bottom slightly into the hand.

“My god, girl….this is…” her voice caught as her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Good lord….” She kneaded the right cheek then slid-not rising, not losing contact, but slid-across the deep crease from right to left and squeezed there. Then the other hand came into play to fondle the bottom of her cheeks and slide the panties a little further down. As the tingling in her crotch intensified, Jessica knew there was nothing that could stop her from kissing the lovely globes she had under hand and was lowering her face bumward when the door to the examining room opened with a simultaneous knock that really served no purpose.

“Dr. Greene!” Jessica gasped, caught with two handfuls of Angie Miller’s naked bottom.

“Hi Stephanie!” said Angie brightly, looking up and shaking the hair from her face.

Doctor or not, Stephanie Greene was a striking woman sliding into middle age with a style and panache that couldn’t be faked. She wore an above the knee electric blue skirt and a dark blouse that only a shade or two lighter than her shoulder length raven hair. She stepped into the room from where she had paused to take in the scene and closed the door behind her.

“May I ask…?” she began.

“I had a cramp”, Angie was quick to explain. “It just tightened up. Too much glutes at the gym this morning….Jessica is a gifted masseuse.”

“Uh huh…” said Stephanie, her eyes not buying it. “Jessica?”

“She was….really tight…” she muttered.

“OK…whatever. No time. Jessica, I’ll deal with you later”.

“Yes, Doctor”, she said gathering the folder and taking a step toward the door red-faced.

“Jessica?” Dr. Greene gave her a look and Jessica followed her eyes to Angie’s bottom where the thermometer still stood erectly in place like a little flag pole.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I’ll…” she stepped toward the table but was waved off.

“I’ll take care of it. Go.”

She hustled out the door and Dr. Greene with a quick wrist movement extracted the thermometer and dropped it in the basin. She then raised a hand and delivered a none-too-gentle smack to Angie’s upturned cheek. “You are such a brat”, she said.

“Don’t be too hard on her….she didn’t stand a chance.”

“Pull your panties up-let’s talk.”