Luke is snapping plastic gloves onto those perfect hands. They're dark blue, which catches my attention. Aren't medical gloves always white on TV shows? Why am I thinking about this now?

"Sophie, I need you to slide to the end of the table and place your feet in the stirrups."

I glance over at Marie. Her nose is still stuck in Good Housekeeping. I scoot to the end of the table and wonder if I'm wet enough for him to notice. Is there a normal amount of wet for this situation?

"A little more, all the way to the edge. That's good."

My heart is racing now. He may be hot, but this is beyond awkward. I place my feet in the stirrups and lie back. My hands are clasped below my chest and I start twisting my fingers. It's too quiet in this room.

"So you're the chief of something? At the hospital? The nurse mentioned you're only here on Tuesday mornings."

He pauses. "Yes. Chief of obstetrics."

"So you do surgery and stuff? When you're not volunteering at the free clinic?"

"Yes, Sophie. I do surgery and stuff." He slides up to the end of the table on a rolling stool. "You're going to feel my hand on the inside of your thigh."

He adjusts the light attached to the end of the table and flips it on. Jesus, there's a light? The fluorescent lights in this room aren't enough?

"Relax. I'm just checking externally first." I feel his fingers on me, his touch gentle.

How many times have I imagined his head in a similar position? This is so awkward. Focus on this sterile room, Soph. Do not embarrass yourself.

"So you just like college students or something? So you volunteer?" Oh, shit. I think I just accused him of being some kind of creep.

I feel him pause. On my vagina. Because he's touching my vagina as I accuse him of being into examining college girls. Help me.

"My family donated this clinic years ago, long before your college days, Miss Tisdale. My great-grandfather was a physician and he believed in giving back, donating his time to help when he could. I donate a few hours a week in his honor.”

I hear Luke pick up the plastic-wrapped item off the tray and pry the plastic open. It reminds me of the sound when they open the sterilized instrument pack while I'm getting a pedicure. Great. Now I'll probably get turned on getting a pedicure. As if I need another fetish. I think being attracted to your gynecologist is enough fetish to last a lifetime.

"I specialize in infertility and high-risk pregnancies. Patients with financial resources." The wheels of the stool squeak across the linoleum floor. "The flip side of women desperate to have a child are women desperate not to. One of the goals of this clinic is to provide students with easy access to contraception and preventative care, so their futures are not derailed by a baby they didn't plan for. That's something I can easily help out with by volunteering a couple hours a week."

Oh.

"We keep the gel room temperature so it's not too cold," Luke explains as he coats the speculum. I stare at it as his hand glides over the instrument, back and forth. I feel his fingers on me again, spreading me open. He places the tip at my entrance. "You're going to feel some pressure. I'm using the small speculum so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable." He slowly slides the instrument inside of me.

Fuck, that is tight. My toes curl in the stirrups and I arch my back a little.

"Relax." Luke's hand is on my thigh again, his thumb rubbing reassuringly back and forth. "I need to dilate this enough to check your cervix and get a swab, okay?"

I feel a slight spreading sensation and a click. The light is re-angled again as he grabs something from the table.

"Quick swab and you're done. Your cervix looks great."

My cervix looks great. Is that a gynecologist pickup line? I laugh internally.

"All done." I hear the release on the device as he dials it closed. "Relax for me, Sophie. I need to slide the speculum out. It's easier on you if you relax." I can feel the fingers of one hand spreading me open as he slowly slides the instrument out.

He stands up and squirts a clear jelly onto the tip of his blue-gloved right index finger. "I'm going to press down on your abdomen from the outside while I insert a finger to check your internal organs."

Holy fuck. He's sliding a finger inside of me. It feels good. Smaller than the speculum. His other hand slips under the paper gown. I tighten around his finger and suppress making any sound.

"Please relax," Luke says, like he's trying to be reassuring, but I suspect he's exasperated with me. His finger slides in and out a fraction as he pushes from above and I know I'm wet enough that he didn't need whatever gel he squirted onto his gloves. He moves his hand around my abdomen, pressing down as his finger moves inside of me. I really like how that feels, the pressure from above with his finger inside of me. I clench on his finger involuntarily and feel a small spasm ripple through me. Oh my god. I think I just had an orgasm. Holy shit. Did he notice? It was small. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Luke clears his throat, slides his finger out of me and covers me with the paper gown, not making eye contact. He so noticed. Stepping back, he tosses the blue gloves into the trash on his way to the sink. "You can sit up now, Sophie."

I remove my feet from the stirrups and sit up, immediately missing the ceiling poster because now I'm not sure what to focus on. I end up staring at a poster on STD's.

"I'll give you a minute to get dressed and then I'll meet you up front with a prescription for you."

Marie drops the magazine into a holder by the door as Luke exits the room. "Let me move these for you, hun." She folds the stirrups back into the table. "See, that was easy, right?" She pats my knee and turns to the door. "Just come to the checkout desk when you're ready."

I sigh as the door closes. What the hell. I'm going to have to quit my job at Grind Me. Or hide in the back room every time Luke comes in. Dr. Miller, not Luke. This might be a new low in my life.

I get up, tearing the stupid paper cover in the process. There’s a wet spot on the paper. Is that normal? Am I supposed to clean up after myself? Why does no one prepare you for this before going to the gynecologist? I toss the paper gown over the wet spot and grab a paper towel to wipe myself with. I make quick work of getting redressed before checking my reflection in the mirror. I look a little flushed. I just went farther with Luke than I did with Scott in two years of dating. "You're a pervert," I say to my reflection before sitting down to pull on my shoes.

Wait. Which socks am I wearing today? I pause, shoe in hand. The ones with the pink stripes around the top. I flip my foot. Classy. That's what's written on the bottom of my left foot. And on the bottom of my right foot? Bitch. I'm wearing my classy bitch socks. That I just flashed at Luke while my legs were spread. Can this appointment get any worse?

I open the exam room door and walk to the checkout desk. It's a counter really. Just inside the exit. Luke is standing there, writing on a chart as I approach. He sets down the pen and checks his watch. It's big and expensive-looking and looks perfect on his wrist. What is it about a watch on a man? It's so hot. Most guys my age just whip cell phones out of their pocket to check the time. Maybe they'd wear watches if they really understood the appeal to women.

Luke sees me approaching now and slides a paper bag off the counter. "Here's a three-month supply of birth control. The clinic will refill your prescription for free as long as you're a student. Do not let it lapse because you can't make it to the clinic to pick up a refill. You can refill with one month remaining, so that gives you a month before you run out. Understand?"