I still have a chance to pull through, since he will undoubtedly have to get out of the office for a few minutes; there is no curtain around the tiny area for the examining table, and I hope to have a little intimacy to change into the hospital gown. I quickly look for paper towels, toilet paper, newspaper… But I am out of luck! I finally make up my mind to use a piece of the gown if I can’t keep from having a hormone accident… At least I have a plan B.

I sneak around in case evading is the only solution left. No window, then again, on second though jumping off the eleventh floor wouldn’t be my greatest idea ever… There is an air vent, but even though I am quite athletic, I don’t really feel like spending time in the air duct. I lose my breath in an elevator, I don’t even want to know how I would feel making my way through the ceiling. I think I’ll keep that scenario in mind for later, at least if I find myself in a sweat, it will be cold sweat.
Doctor Madsen closes the file, and stands up to hand me the gown and invite me to get prepared, mentioning he’ll be back in a few minutes. *Sigh* I watch as he walks toward the door (I haven’t had that chance on my way to the office). He has a very elegant gait, almost feline. In spite of my 30-seconds-ago good intentions, I let me eyes judge the merchandise and I feel as cheap as if I were a construction worker ogling nymphets near their work site. *Double sigh* He opens the door, disappears in the ajar door and I muffle myself from whistling at the last second.

I rush to undress and slip into the gown, making sure I am “examinable”. By the greatest of miracles, I don’t have to worry about that (for the moment). Minutes pass by, and I notice I might have been a little intense in my hurry to change clothes. I really didn’t want to get caught bare butt. I finish folding carefully my clothes, and placing them on a chair nearby… At least I’ll look well-ordered, that can’t be bad!

A knock on the door. It is more of a polite “knock knock”, and the door opens slowly. It is with a strange blend of voluptuousness and terror that I scrutinize the return of the beast (in a good sense, of course)…

– Are you ready?

He approaches the table I have taken a sit on while waiting for him to come back. He places back a lock of rebellious hair (his, not mine… too bad!), looks right into my eyes, and time stops. His hand slips under the light cotton of the gown, and he starts examining me. His hand is soft and warm *GENOCIDE IMAGES!!! QUICK!!* his silky smooth voice resounds while he verifies that I haven’t noticed anything abnormal lately… *BLOOD, BLOOD EVERYWHERE AND SCREAMS OF DEATH!!*… everything is fine, and we pass on to the second breast! Short time out!
I want to take a deep breath, but I’m afraid Doctor Madsen will notice. In the back of my mind, I tell myself I should have kept my heels… Playing footsie with stilettos is sexy, barefoot in a hospital gown, frankly less! *BEHEADED KITTENS!! – no… let’s not go this far!* Ding! Ding! Ding! Round two!

I close my eyes for a moment. Anyway, he is concentrated on the exam. I suddenly wonder if he’s having naughty thoughts at the back of his mind too (keep dreaming, blondie!) You know the adage saying that blind people’s other senses are way more sensitive than ours… Hell yes! Doctor Madsen’s finger on my bare skin, the smell of his musky perfume and his deep voice blend together and make a little light-headed. I must “dilute” all this by unsealing my eyelids a little and fix the corner of the room. I can’t help but think that I have already seen him, heard him, smelled him, touched him….. *NOOOO BLOOD-SEEKING EXTRATERRESTRIAL ATTACK!!!* Will this exam ever end??

He back up at last (at last?!?) and returns to the desk, telling me;

– You can breathe Mrs Claveau… Everything is normal!

I can breathe? Does he mean it literally or figuratively?? I am almost disappointed. Why don’t I have a tiny little something not quite normal? Not something that hurts or something really bad… Just enough a concern to have to do this again, without the optional “Q Tipping” down south. Because if it wasn’t of my concern about my no-more-a-problem vaginal dryness, I would appreciate a second exam to make sure all is well…

He stands there, his back to me, noting his “observations” about my twinnies. I take advantage of the few seconds and clean my mind even though I can’t take my eyes from the nape of his neck. *Sigh… sigh again*

One last effort my beloved neurons (even if we’ve slipped once or twice already)! I need solidarity for the final round. Because now, it’s serious business!! Up to now, looking nervous saved me, but it will not guaranty me to be fresh as a rose until the finish line. It just so happens that doctor Madsen wiggles a bit on his straight chair (he hasn’t taken the armchair back yet).

– Ok, ready for the most disagreeable part of the appointment? I know it’s never tempting but…

Oh, if you only knew… Not thaaaaaaaaat unpleasant doctor! Stressful? Damn yes! But disagreeable?

I lie down and make myself comfortable (?!) on the metallic table which cools my spine. I imagine a burst of steam lifting the sides of my gown, Marilyn Monroe style, and I almost chuckle, nervously. When he puts a hand on my knee, I stiffen up and he obviously thinks I am tense… Which I am, but not from anxiety.

– Try to relax, I’ll be very gentle…

OMG!