Over the summer, I had a bad case of bronchitis which led to losing my sense of smell entirely. Most of the sense has returned and I went to a follow-up appointment today. Plus, I thought I was growing a sty. Little did I know, the lovely time I would have.
The doctor comes in and starts chatting with me about things. As he was writing, I couldn't help but stare at his petite feet in suede lace-ups. Then I looked at his face and it held such a prominent nose. Nothing of the attraction sort, just observations. I don't know that I've ever seen a man with dainty feet and a brick-breaker of a schnoz. After a bit, he directed me to sit up on the bed for a look around, you know, the eyes-ears-heart sort of thing. He was asking me about how I felt about going back to school, blablabla, and doing a fine job of concerned, interested, bedside manner. Then he looked at my chart for more info. That's when the tone completely changed.
About 8 years ago, I had half my thyroid removed. Along with a nasty little malignant vascular tumor. Apparently, he needed to check that.
He slid his sterile office temperature hands under my hair and gently wrapped them around my neck. My neck happens to be a spot that, if handled correctly, renders me defenseless. I could feel my air vibrate at the back of my throat as I attempted to restrict the speed. My breath was quickening, I could feel my chest heaving. I'm sure my pupils were dilating as he thumbed his way across the front of my neck. Then he stood behind me, thumbs at the base of my skull, fingertips softly moving over my clavicle. Oh lord! I'm sure he could feel my jugular swelling with hot, fast blood. I could feel the heat moving down from my throat, through my chest, into my organs. Just as it was about to move further south, and just before I felt a whimper come out, he let go.
Yes, I was turned on by princess-toed, soft-handed, average man. So what.
