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M – Part Three



I’m left to dry, literally, five minutes before a (not to say “the”) nurse comes to pick me up from beside Pénélope. I understand that my claustrophobia hasn’t seen anything if I thought that was a tiny waiting room.

The office… Hmm, no, I cannot be disrespectful towards worthy offices… Let’s try again; the nurse’s “hole” gives me the impression I won’t have enough space to get seated. I don’t even have the reflex to think about sitting down, before she points a chair in the corner. A hole’s corner, could I possibly feel more stuck?

Since the nurse doesn’t seem to enjoy her (restraint) working place any more than I do, (I bet she has a sideline as a contortionist, which is perfect since she can practice here!) she rushes through the document filling, the family history, past surgeries, allergies, favorite colors and all that rubbish, before leaving me alone (really?? Alone in all that space?) after muttering;

– Wait here. The doctor will come in a moment.

Okay… Just hoping he doesn’t have tons and tons of paperwork to fill up and urgent emails to reply to, because I doubt anyone could survive a lot more than five minutes with this little oxygen… But I don’t even have time to think about having a panic attack when a warm voice pulls me out of my delirium, just like the smell of pizza coming right out of the oven would wake up any teenager…

– Hello Mrs Claveau, I am Doctor Gabriel Madsen!

I step up in spite of the musicality of the voice that just caught me in my planning of evading in case of the doctor being long to come. Gabriel who? It must be a mistake, because the gynecologist who usually does my follow up here is a pre-geek (man that is obviously too old to be a geek – the kind who calls a computer screen a tv, but who has certainly inspired the look). Even sitting down, he would have been just tall enough to speak right to my ear’s height… But I can say without any doubt that this greeting passed by, way over my head.

Coming back from the surprise, I quickly turn towards the origin of the voice… and even if I had already made a hero out of whoever would save me from this rat hole, I have to say I didn’t see that one coming! If I first felt like my ear was melting, now I’m having my money’s worth. The man standing in front of me is easily six foot two inches tall, and has absolutely, ABSOLUTELY nothing geeky, “pre” “post” or contemporary geek, that is!

In front of the poor forsaken princess in her donjon I feel like, stands a real knight with panache. That’s it, I understand, I made a mistake, and ended up in a speed dating meeting (reason of the contortionist’s endless questionnaires) and I won the jackpot!! Crazy life!! And I thought I was about to get an embarrassing exam, and get asked questions I already answered thousands of times in a beige office smelling of cheap disinfectant…

I stare at the warm and franc smile of my handsome stranger when his lips start moving;

– Mrs Claveau, Doctor Gabriel Madsen!

And he holds out his hand towards me. Evidently, it is one of the manliest handshakes I had the chance to feel since quite a while. Firm but not excessively, voluntary but not aggressive… Can a handshake be sexy? Hmm, yes… Now it most certainly can! But reality, with its “cheap-and-untrustable-elastic” effect snaps to my face to remind me that he is the doctor! (Thanks a lot!)

I allow myself a last way out of this nightmare… He didn’t say “I am YOUR doctor” or “I am the GYNAECOLOGIST Gabriel”… No, he is a doctor. Nothing keeps me from still believing my speed dating story still holds the road. And now, on top of falling on a handsome man, with tons of charm, a hoarse and sensual voice, he’s a doctor too! If this is not my lucky day, I wonder what more it would take…

– After you…

And he shows me the way and clearly expects me to walk in front of him. The corridor which is the same scale as the rest of the clinic (I guess to prevent room to room jealousy), and Gabriel (this is inside my head, I can be as casual as I please!) having quite large shoulders (God – have – mercy!!), I slightly brush against him on my way to what seems to be the only other door in the corridor. Of course, he has a sublime smell, and I am tempted to tell him not to bother about using pheromones because my head might explode if he keeps bombing me with such delicious stimuli… It’s kind of good to have a “face-to-face” break, then again, having him right behind me gives me one or two thoughts too… and I catch myself rolling my hips a little more than usual.

Thank you Lord, for making this corridor so short, because your sheep wouldn’t have made it through five more meters and would have fallen off her heels. (Doesn’t matter, he’s a doctor!)

– Please, come in and sit down.

The dialog is pretty poor for the moment, and I think that the fact that my face is completely numb probably doesn’t help. Before letting myself through the doorway, I wonder if the office will be even smaller than the nurse’s hole. Maybe there will only be room for one chair, and I’ll have to sit on his lap? Neurons, I call you to order!! I need a minimum of cooperation and coordination because my little finger tells me that I will soon have to answer some questions, and I don’t want to look any dummier than I actually am… Not too much at least.

Once concentrated, I review the plan… Getting in, sitting down… Getting in, sitting down… and I soar in with insurance and proceed without the slightest hesitation… And in the right order too! I am pretty proud of my performance when I see a surprised look in the eyes of the silhouette in the doorway.

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