The Gynecologist

THE GYNECOLOGIST

WRITTEN BY SUNNY JOHN

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CHAPTER 1

"Are you insinuating that I am FAT?"

My icy blue eyes narrow at Curtis as he mumbles a ridiculous speculation. A soft chuckle escapes out of his mouth which I really find annoying, sometimes. He brushes his nails against his cheek to top it off-one of his habits that makes me want to shoot a poor little chicken in rage.

Don't get me wrong... I love chickens and other feathery little bits. They're noisy creatures who just want to live in peace. It's just that, this guy over here can get on my nerves sometimes. I am pretty much self-actualized that I am nowhere chubby.

"You've been missing your periods, Sweetheart. What else could it be?" he responds ignorantly. He is perpetually concentrating on his iPhone X's big screen for about ten minutes now as if I do not exist.

I take a peek at it and my eyes widen when I notice that he is actually watching porn.

Hardcore porn. I try my best to avoid allowing my eyes to dart over the screen. Having a glimpse of it makes me want to puke. He doesn't even give me the courtesy of at least tilting his mobile away from my line of vision.

The perks of having a naughty best friend...

"Can you just at least, pause that filthy video for a few seconds and listen to me?"

"Oh, Lily. Relax, will you? Whatever happens, whether you're pregnant or not, always remember that behind those clouds..." he mumbles, still not looking at me. I anticipate on whatever words of wisdom he will throw at me, even though I know it will be pointless.

"...is an airplane."

My eyes automatically roll the moment he finishes his sentence. I dismiss his lame joke if you could consider it as a joke. There's no way I'm pregnant. His guess is nonsense. I'm a virgin, and I'm no Virgin Mary.

He leans back against the wooden chair of the university food court and finally unglues his eyes from the blonde pornstar's shaking fake boobs and fixes them at me. There are only about five students, including us, who are still here at this hour.

"Oh please. I know what you're thinking. Spare me." As a struggling psychology major, and knowing him for almost three years now, I surely know what he is thinking right now. He's probably imagining me doing something...inappropriate, like you know, doing it with some random guy at the janitor's closet or anywhere, leading to his implausible theory that I'm pregnant.

Please. I haven't even sexually touched myself down there ever since I was born.

You mean, masturbated?

Thick and curious eyebrows are now scrutinizing me.

"Wait a minute...Are you hiding something from me?"

"Shut up, Curt." I snap at him.

"Oh yeah?" Naughtiness is written all over his face as he smirks at me. I roll my eyes again in full irritation. Yes, it's a habit I cannot control, especially when I'm around him.

"I want to go home," I utter after a long sigh as I pull on his arm with my frustration spreading all over the place.

I finally have his attention. He reaches for my hand and stares at me tenderly.

"Kidding aside, I'm getting worried about you, Lily."

I stare at him blankly, without blinking. Curtis Jackson, also known as, "Curt", is my best friend. I love him, but only as a friend – the closest and most trusted one. Now that Katie, my best friend since grade school, died because of complications from asthma, I don't think I can survive this college life without him. He is precious to me as I am to him. He didn't directly tell me that he likes me, but he is always giving off pretty obvious hints, and I don't want to delve into that corner of our friendship. Since Katie's death, I have almost been a living zombie. I had never thought that going to college would be all that stressful; it would just be a slightly different version of high school. However, being in college has its own downsides. There's a lot more homework, classes are longer, and the work is more intense. The worst part is, everything's back to zero.

Katie and I are supposed to be in college together, and we were, for a time far too brief. But right before the start of the fall semester of our sophomore year, she suddenly and unexpectedly left this world, and me.

When I learned of Katie's death, I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, hard. I had been abandoned like a wet little kitten put out into the streets for the first time. We had gone to school together all through grade and high school, always having similar interests and never a cross word between us. We had even both decided to take up psychology together. One day, if the time came when we both had families of our own, we dreamt of living next door to each other.

"I'm always here for you, Lily. You put that in your mind." Curtis grabs my hand and gently caresses my skin with this thumb. A languid smile forms on my lips, appreciating his affection.

"It's getting late already. You better go home. I'll walk with you." he suggests.

"It's okay, Curt. I want to be alone tonight, actually." I give him a polite smile. Usually, he'll walk me home after our last class, but this time, I need some time alone to think and be dramatic as I can to myself.

Curtis became Katie's and my friend in junior high when we all were partners in a laboratory class. Despite our opposite personalities, I felt comfortable with him right away. Well, maybe that's because we're both hermits. So now that Katie is gone, he's the only one I have now.

Looking back to those days, my chest feels empty. I don't think I will ever be able to say that I have moved on from her passing. Screw that wonderful angel– she chose the right timing to escape from my noisy mouth and immaturity. I haven't even adjusted to college yet, and then here goes some health problem.

Curtis also took up the same major, and we almost have the same class schedules. I'm not sure if he did it on purpose, but nonetheless, I take it as an advantage for me as well. I literally don't think I could make it through a day without him.

He told me a while ago that he has been noticing my behavior lately–troubled and seemed to be always in pain. At that moment, I wasn't able to suppress myself from telling him everything. I finally exploded after those months of being dormant.

Somehow, it feels liberating. Unless you're an extreme introvert, it is just impossible to keep everything to yourself.

The thing is, my period hasn't arrived yet. And if I had just had any kind of vaginal penetration from a man, I would be certain I was pregnant. It has been two months and about three weeks or so since my last period, and these occasional painful cramps which go with all my mood swings and alienated feelings during classes make me want to go somewhere where I could sleep forever. I can't even move properly because my lower abdomen feels so bloated almost all the time, and I am not exaggerating.

But I can't be pregnant. I-am-a- virgin . And when I say that word, it means everything, in every way – my lips, my hands, and of course, my innocent holes . And there were no drunken nights where I may have been roofied or blacked out either.

I have never even had a boyfriend. A lot of people think I'm seeing Curtis, but regardless of what they think, he's just my friend. He's actually like a brother to me, and even my family loves him and treats him as a part of our family as well. He is in fact always welcome to barge into our house, which is just a few meters away from outside the campus, whenever he wants to. Just to be clear, I'm not a lesbian. It's just that, I'm the hopeless romantic type. I want some guy who will sweep me off my feet, like literally. Then he will catch me as I fall into his arms. Then our eyes will meet and there will be that force, that powerful force, a connection, some electricity and other romantic wordings that will then lead us to get to know each other more. And then we will fall in love. Get married in a church with beautiful nuptial photos. Adopt a couple of cute dogs and a cat. Have beautiful kids. And live happily ever after.

You're talking about a fairytale, Honey. Wake up.

I really believe that upon being born into this world, someone has already been planned and destined for us – that someone who will leave us breathless and make our heart beat faster than we knew possible.

I definitely do not want someone who will flirt with me just like he does with all the other girls, tell me all the same things, and then wreck my precious virginity on our first date. Some boys at school are just like that and I don't know why I don't find them appealing. Maybe because I want someone who is more mature? A man who can take care of me...forever.

Okay, enough with the daydreaming. You've still got some problems, Darling.

I shake my head and smile bitterly as I concentrate on walking. Am I losing my mind ? Is there any possibility that I am pregnant?

I don't want to tell my mom about this because for sure, she'll drag my sweet little butt to a doctor and they will invade my veins and suck all my blood up. I really hate doctors, hospitals, and needles, specifically. I hate them with a passion.

But what if I'm dying?

Yes, you are, Lily, and you'll die a virgin. Double time, Habibti!

Does my subconscious suddenly know Arabic? Wow, my brain really is messed up.

Or maybe because you watched an Arabic film last night?

What am I thinking? Maybe I'm just overreacting. Or maybe it's just the lingering effects of Curt's porn.

But you didn't watch.

Okay, fine. I just took a little peek. I couldn't help it, because the actor had this really huge, um, you know, and it looks...scary.

But I admit there were moments in my life that I have wondered how it would feel like to have sex...

I mean, it just randomly crossed my mind, maybe about once, or twice, or whatever, and there's a part of me that is kind of making a big deal out of the fact that I belong to the minority of girls my age who are still virgins.

Okay, enough. I'm blushing whenever I thought about this.

My thoughts consume me as I trudge along the darkened street outside the school campus. Our simple bungalow house is located along the main street, just a few blocks away from our department hall.

The moon is in all its glory as I look up at the dark velvety sky. I close my eyes as I re-adjust my backpack and let the moonlight flood my pale skin. My long, dirty blonde hair is now a mess, all tangled with the stresses of the day and the cold breeze of air now brushing it backward.

I close my eyes and imagine myself being on an island where everything's at peace. Katie is there, my mom is there, everyone is there, and we all are having a good time...

I smile as I feel the breeze kissing my skin. It feels so rejuvenating and-

A loud, long honk pierces the silent night. I squint at the sight of the headlights of a gray Lexus sportscar that are glaring at me. Trying to quickly assess the situation, I cup my mouth upon the realization that I'm actually in the middle of the road blocking the fancy car's way. As I scurry for the sidewalk, a man emerges from the car. Despite my embarrassment, I cannot help but glance over my shoulder in curiosity as he approaches me. He's wearing a black undershirt that hugs his toned upper body, and his well-worn rugged jeans cling to his thighs as if they were made just for him. I notice what appears to be full sleeve rose tattoos on his muscled arm and another one I cannot make out in the dark peeking from the left side of his...nice-looking chest.

Oh my... He looks like he just jumped off the cover of a GQ magazine.

Suddenly, the cold night air feels so humid. My eyes trail up to his face as I get a better view of him. Sweet sister of a frog, I have never seen someone this attractive before. His facial features are so perfectly manly they appear to have been carved out by a master sculptor. And no, I'm not exaggerating. My pupils had to have dilated even more as I realize that, holy shit, he indeed is a modern day Adonis. Dark stubble marks his jawline, which is so defined and sharp that I may slice my finger upon touching it.

Just like in the movies, my world stops as I continue to gawk at him.

Is he even freaking real?

Everything in the background blurs away as he walks, his black boots lifting effortlessly as if he's the king of the underworld.

My eyes curiously linger on his noticeable crotch bulge. It's unusually bigger than those of most guys I have seen-not that I often check them out but, whatever. It's like there's something massive underneath...

I pull my eyes back to his face in an instant when I feel something down on me twitched.

He rakes a hand through his dark tousled hair and pierces me with the sexiest eyes I have ever seen that are literally gleaming in the night. I catch myself nibbling my bottom lip as I drink in the sight of him.

He walks closer and closer towards me, leaving only a few inches between us before he stops. I can now tell that he's well over six feet. My heart is racing inside my chest, and all I can do is stand there like a statue – wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, and totally looking like a complete idiot.

I gasp and hold my breath as he leans his head down next to my ear. In the most sensual and masculine voice I have ever heard, he whispers,

"Get the fuck out of my way."

My whole body suddenly aches at his warm breath on my skin.

"Huh?" I breathe out.

He straightens up and looks down at me with his brilliant, mysterious, and mesmerizing green eyes. His handsome face scrunches down into a displeased look before opening his mouth once again.

"Are you planning to die?"

That deep and irritated voice lodges in my ear. For a second, I am only hearing the magical sounds of the crickets around us. What is happening? Have I been bewitched?

"Uhh..." The ability to form words seems to have escaped me. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I had been blowing my horn for at least a full minute, but you were just there standing, eyes closed, and arms wide open in the air, leaving me no choice but to get the hell out of my goddamn car and approach you. Are you on drugs or something?"

His voice now sounds muffled, probably from my heart beating like a freaking drum, coursing blood through my ears...and the rest of my body.

Imagine an irritated Ian Somelhalder, Matt Bomer or some other celebrity with a sexy bad boy look... Wait, did he just ask me if I was on drugs?

"What? Drugs? What drugs?"

He rolls his eyes and sighs in frustration. I probably should feel angry that he's just insulted me, but, why did I find that gesture hot?

"Just move, okay?"

He then turns his sexy back on me with yet more demonstration of his manly finesse, totally ignoring my question.

His crankiness is oddly making him more appealing. I am left there standing with my mouth open. My eyes suddenly have minds of their own, attaching themselves to his sexy butt as it sways back to his car. He starts his engine, signaling me to move the hell out of his precious way.

Is this your first time seeing a man, Lily?

I scold myself inwardly. My chest is heaving. There is something about his irritability that is somehow...I can't find the exact word to describe it, but definitely not irritating.

I am prepared to go on with my life, never to see him again, when his beautiful head pops out from the car's window. With his neck extended, he catches my eye.

"Watch where you're going next time, Kitten." A sexy wink follows.

Kitten...

For some reason, I feel myself warming up and something between my legs starts to get kind of.. wet

*****To be continued*****

THE GYNECOLOGIST

WRITTEN BY SUNNY JOHN

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CHAPTER 2

EMILY'S POV

Two weeks later...

I glance at my red wristwatch only to find out that it's already seven in the evening. I promised my mom that I would be cooking our dinner tonight, but no thanks to Amber for dragging me to one of the pubs near the campus for some drinks. My schedule is now ruined.

I throw my head back and enjoy the burning sensation of the Cosmo that passes down my throat and warms my belly. I am pretty sure this is maybe only my second or third time to consume more than a sip of alcohol in my entire life; because the reason is, I hate the taste of it: beer, wine, gin, all kinds. But oddly this time, I like the feeling of an apparently high-quality vodka stirring up my system.

Curtis told Amber that I had been really stressed lately, so my pretty friend took advantage, corralling an easy prey to drink with her.

"I think I need to go now." I shoot an apologetic look at my companion, who's now obviously plied up with whatever is the

Ladies' Night special. Her normally immaculate blonde hair is now like a shock of hay and then blown by a strong monsoon, and her rosy cheeks almost crimson. I nod my permission to the busboy to go ahead and clear our table before she had the chance to object and order another round.

"It is still early, Lily..." she slurs out, pulling me back down into my seat with little force. She has been blabbering about her stepbrother who she thinks has been flirting with her, and he's getting her all confused. I can tell, just with the way her eyes evade mine every time I ask her, that she's attracted to him too. There may even be more to it, judging from her deep sighs and frustrated gestures; I just can't tell for sure yet.

"Let's go home before you start trying to do inappropriate stuff with me again," I tease her with my face lighting up with humor. She's kind of something else when she's drunk...

"Shut up," she rolls her eyes and we both laugh. She's definitely thinking what's on my mind as well.

Amber, just like me, has never had a boyfriend before. For the love of Moses, she looks so pretty and sweet, like the kind of girl boys want to date and keep forever. They will bounce up and down on the sharp side of a knife just to get in her pants, but I don't know why this woman seems to be uninterested in everyone. She's the only real friend I have aside from Curtis. Well, apart from a girl named Arianne who is in three of my classes, and who's kind of talking to me sometimes, but in the weirdest and sexual ways possible.

Amber and I first met last semester in the university library. It was a strange but funny incident. It was really late, almost closing time, and in the complete silence, I thought I was alone. I went to the last three shelves in the back corner to grab some books for my laboratory homework. I then saw this girl slouched down on the floor against the last shelf with her eyes closed. Her cheeks were so flushed she almost looked like a pretty tomato. I squatted down and asked if she was okay; nothing. So I grabbed her by the shoulder and slightly shook her. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled slyly at me. I asked her again if she was okay, but all she did was stare at me for a few seconds, still smiling. I remembered thinking about how beautiful she was despite her tousled blonde hair and otherwise disheveled appearance.

To my surprise, she reached for my ID and pulled me towards her. My nostrils caught her breath that was reeking of alcohol.

And then the most unexpected thing happened next.

The sound of her lips as they smacked against my cheek sent chills all over me – she freaking kissed me.

I certainly could not have been prepared for what happened next either. Before I could react, she projectile vomited all over my chest, soaking me with puke and the unpleasant smell of it mixed with hard liquor.

From the day I had stepped foot on that university campus, my social life had been boring – until that day. To cut the long story short, I took her to the clinic, and after giving her my number and making her promise to call me and let me know she was okay, I went home to clean myself. The next day, she called, apologizing profusely, and asked me to meet her at the Student Center.

Despite her irresponsible appearances otherwise, Amber is actually a junior nursing student. She had been to a party the night before the incident at the library and was still drinking at 7 a.m. the next day. We became instant friends.

Last semester, we had one class in common and became closer because of that. But this semester, she has been busier in the hospital, and we seldom see each other. Of course, she already made other friends at school before me, but nonetheless, we formed a special friendship out of our quite absurd meeting.

Upon arriving home from the pub, Curtis' blue rubbered braces welcome me between his toothy grin. He didn't inform me that he's coming over for dinner tonight. My mom had probably invited him at the last minute.

"Great, you're here," I smile at him. My brother Lance and my dad Henry are sitting at the dining table discussing something in low voices while my mom, Rebecca, is preparing dinner.

I hesitantly look for some hint of disappointment in my mother's eyes as they catch mine. Maybe it is my lucky night because she's smiling widely at me instead.

"Curtis told me that you went out with Amber." Her light brown eyes are bright and lovely as she flashes them at me. "I prepared your favorite dish."

I breathe a sigh of relief as she beckons for me to sit down. When my mother smiles, her small eyes become even smaller, almost non-existent. She has some Chinese blood in her which shows in those cute eyes and her petite frame.

My stomach growls audibly upon seeing beef fajitas and garlic rice. From the chuckles, apparently, everyone else heard it too.

"Someone's tummy must be really hungry," Curtis comments before shoving a spoon in his mouth. He's living in the campus dorm but he doesn't like his roommate Karl, an obnoxious fatass who only cares about himself and has an addiction to stalking women with huge boobs on Instagram and

Snapchat .

As we sit and eat, I can't help but think about how lucky I am to live with my family, unlike most other students. The only disadvantage is that I cannot exercise my freedom and independence. But in reality, that doesn't stop me from doing much of anything. Overall, I'm a boring girl who doesn't go out much and who prefers to stay home on weekends, sprawling on my bed reading romance books that always get women's hopes up too high or watching chick flicks and gore movies with chicken noodle soup on my lap.

I look at my mom who can barely bring the spoon to her mouth because of laughter from another lame joke Curtis just told. I shake my head in amusement and continue eating silently, trying to absorb at least some of the alcohol in my stomach.

Just as I am savoring the juiciness of my mom's perfectly cooked beef, I grasp my fork a little tighter as I feel the cramps attacking again. It literally feels like a bodybuilder's hand has grabbed and is squeezing my uterus down there.

God, I'm tired of this already. I look around and remember that the painkiller that I have been popping since last week has already run out.

I drop my fork and clench my stomach discreetly. I don't want them to know about this. My eyes drift to Curtis whose attention is now anchored on me, his forehead creasing in worry. He is sitting in front of me, and his bushy brows are raised in question. I glare at him with a shut up look.

My chair slightly drags back as I hunch in pain. Shit, it is getting worse this time. I excuse myself to the bathroom, but actually, am planning to go to bed directly.

I lie in bed in a fetal position with a hot water bottle pressed against my lower abdomen. Do you know that feeling of not knowing what you feel?

Uhm, what?

Yeah, the usual menstrual cramps, only this time, there's no blood coming out of me. I feel like my guts and my uterus are in a damn race to see who's going to unload their deposits first. I want to poop and pee at the same time. And, I want to sleep, but I have to study for my report tomorrow about suicide and its prevalence in today's society.

I've been in that position for almost an hour when a knock on the door startles me. I know it's my mom, and Curtis has probably told her everything. Ugh.

I act like I'm sleeping soundly under the comforter. I feel her inching slowly towards the bed in the dark. The mattress slightly shrinks as she sits on the edge beside me.

"I know you're awake, Sweetie." Her voice is soothing. Every time I have been in a stressful or emotional situation, it has always been my comfort. My eyes flicker and my mind battles whether to "wake up" or continue my act. The silence between us is deafening.

"Curt told me you've been having some menstrual problems."

See? I'm right. He told her.

When she flips on the bedside lamp, I finally open my eyes and see her looking down at me with such tenderness on her beautiful face. I bury my face in the pillow and groan in exasperation.

"That little jerk..." I groan.

"Sweetie, you need to go to the doctor. It pains me to see you like this. Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice is so sweet that I am relieved she knows, and it actually seems to temporarily ease my pain. Oh, the wonders mothers can do.

"But I don't want to see a doctor. I don't want them to give me shots, make me take medicine, prod and poke me, mutilate my body." And the worst, unspoken part is, I have to reveal my genitals to a stranger, and the idea appalls me. In our liberated country, I belong to the conservative, prudish, and

virginal minority. Yes, I really do.

"Maybe I'll just eat all the apples in the supermarket if I can, to keep doctors away."

She sighs and runs her fingers through my hair lovingly as if I'm still her little girl.

"Sweetie, it's not enough. You have to be checked. Curt told me you've been distracted at school for weeks now." I roll over and turn away from her in disapproval.

"Lily..." she pleads once more. I decide to ignore her, the number of creases in my forehead increasing. The odd pain in my groin is increasing again too.

After a few moments of begging, I hear my mother sigh in defeat. She pulls my comforter up, flips the light back off, and bends down to kiss me on the cheek. I feel a rush of blood sprint up to my face and a little smile forms on my lips in the darkness.

My mother is the greatest treasure that I ever have. She is the sweetest person I know and still treats me like her little baby despite being twenty now. But sometimes, she can also be a royal pain in the ass, like, right now. I just want to be alone until this pain goes away. But knowing her, she would definitely insist me to go to the hospital.

Ugh, can this get any worse

*****To be continued*****

THE GYNECOLOGIST

WRITTEN BY SUNNY JOHN

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CHAPTER 3

EMILY'S POV

My pale hands are shaking as I nervously step out of the yellow cab. My appointment day has finally come, and I have no choice but to do this. The best mom in the world, who's with me right now, had set it up three days ago, without my knowledge and approval.

Turning around, I stare at the large, white and red building now in front of me. The words

WOMEN'S ROYAL HOSPITAL that are located on the top right side were boldly assembled in light red, sending chills down my spine as I read it. Everything about the hospital seems so spotlessly clean, as almost all hospitals do, yet my stomach churns when I step inside its premises, as I can smell the antiseptic disguise of all the sickness in the world.

I find it depressing.

The last time I remembered going to a hospital was when I had finally had my braces removed. Our family dentist's office was situated in the outpatient department. I was around twelve that time, and remember bringing my favorite stuffed toy, a panda, with me in excitement. Having a metal fence on my teeth for almost three years was like having a mouth full of metal, and when I finally got them removed, it felt a hundred times better even than getting your underwire bra off after a long, long day. I literally licked my smooth, straight teeth every minute or two for several days straight afterward, enjoying the wonderful feeling of freedom.

If I have a choice, I will not take another step closer towards the medium-sized building.

But I have to.

I feel my mom's hand grabbing mine. Somehow, her reassuring smile and tender soft brown eyes glinting in the morning sun make me feel better. They slow the pace of my heartbeat down.

A puff of air suddenly escapes my mouth; apparently, I had been holding my breath unaware. With sudden determination, I nod at her. A rush of rubbing alcohol mixed with disinfectants and other such medical stuff attacks my nasal passages.

My mother walks towards the information desk to inquire about where exactly we need to go. I look at the sign on the wall with a long list of physicians' names and their corresponding floors.

I can feel my intestines twerking upon seeing my doctor's name.

"Dr. Samantha Jacobs, OB/GYN, Consultant"

So she will be the one seeing my most intimate parts...

We walk to the closest elevator and press the

UP button, my finger lingering on the red light momentarily.

"Mom? Do you think this is something serious?" I ask her, my eyes fixed on the steel doors that have closed in front of us. She lets out a soft chuckle and gently squeezes my hand.

"Don't be so nervous, Sweetie. Just think about getting better after this, okay?" she whispers reassuringly. I can feel the familiar light-headedness as the elevator swiftly catapults us up to the third floor.

The elevator doors open into a large lobby, and immediately ahead an island of a reception area welcomes us. I walk towards it, trying my best to smile.

"Good morning! I have an appointment with Dr. Jacobs. My name is Emily Maxwell."

The pretty brunette nurse with thick eyebrows and thick eyeliners behind the glass window hands me a clipboard with three sheets of paper attached.

"Just fill this out," she instructs in a not-so-welcoming manner. My eyebrows instinctively rise up; I was not informed that nurses here would not be friendly.

A hug from my back distracts me from my thoughts.

"Sweetie, I'm going to just take a quick visit to the comfort room, okay?" I weakly smile at Mom as her petite form turns and makes its way down the hall. I walk over to a chair in the waiting room, as far away from everyone else as I can possibly get. I begin filling out each sheet with my handwriting looking like it is owned by a fetus due to my trembling hand.

I'm having a hard time answering the menstrual history with specificity because I really don't remember the exact date that my period had ended, and they are asking for it.

Maybe you're just some freak of nature and have gone into menopause at twenty.

I need to clarify something about the family history of diseases and look around for my mother. It has been a while since that dwarf-like little angel went to the comfort room. Anyway, as far as I know, no one in my family tree has had any gynecological and other related diseases...or I don't know. I hope it won't matter anyway.

I scrunch my nose upon reaching the Sexual History portion of the interrogation. It contains a lot of embarrassing questions that make me begin to sweat.

Do you have a sexual partner? I put a big, bold, and pretty circle around "No" for emphasis.

How many sexual partners have you had?

Uhm, can you give me one?

When was the last time you had sexual intercourse?

Why don't you give me a sexual partner first, then we can talk about that stuff?

Goodness, gracious. I swallow hard at the questions. My circles get a little less perfect or bold as I answer "No," "None," or "N/A" to almost all the questions.

I know that this all is most definitely the business of the primary medical caregiver of your sexual health, and she won't judge or worse, laugh, but I'm still embarrassed just by reading the questions.

Zero experience – you're a prude. Got some experience from more than two partners – you're a slut. That's the reality, Hun.

So what if I'm still a virgin? I'm only twenty. Someday, I know I'll be experiencing sex but I don't think I'm ready yet...

You just need that one person to help you get ready for it...

I bite my bottom lip when the image of someone suddenly enters my mind. Swimming through my thoughts are vague images of his masculine torso with all those tattoos.

Why in the hell are you remembering him right

now?

I admit he had had an odd effect on me, even with such a brief encounter. I walked my way home that night with my upper thighs gliding smoothly against each other. Friction was nowhere to be found, and I swore I felt my...down there...having a heartbeat of its own.

A red tinge crept across my face. I shake the unholy thoughts off and quickly finish the paperwork. I return them to the station and sit back down in my isolated seat, my mother still nowhere to be found.

My knees are bouncing up and down rapidly as I look around the waiting room.

I wonder why no one else looks as nervous as I am. Probably most of them are here for routine, annual checkups, unlike me who is dreading not only my first vaginal penetration, but also the fear of having a serious disease, or worse, ovarian cancer.

And the Over-reacting Award goes to...

"Emily Maxwell?" The same "friendly" nurse calls out my name as she pokes her head from the hallway where all the exam rooms are apparently located. I stand up and feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest; I can literally hear it. Leading me through the entrance and pointing at a door, the nurse hands me a plastic bag containing a specimen cup with a red cover.

"This is the restroom. We will need a urine sample. Just follow the instructions on the back of the door."

Ugh. I hate peeing on or in anything but toilet bowls, but I nod obediently and step hesitantly inside the restroom.

It smells like fresh Detol or something inside here, and the orange-ish light is straining my eyes. I quickly scan the instructions and then pull my leggings down and start to pee. I shudder with the hissing sound of my urine going first into the bowl, then the cup.

When I finish, I put the cup on the window ledge and take a peek through the small window. The bathroom is adjoined with a small laboratory. Before going out of the restroom, I take a quick glance at my reflection in the mirror.

Oh my, who is this beautiful fairy?

Fairy? More like, a single 40-year old teacher who lives alone with her 22 cats.

Enough with your hyperboles already!

But that's how stressed you look, Honey.

My eyes look sunken above my eye bags – or, rather, luggage. The faint freckles scattered on the bridge of my nose seem more prominent today, and my lips are dry as a barren desert. My hair is a total mess, with random strands sticking out everywhere. I pointlessly scoop them up into a messy bun. Why bother to fix myself? I'm sick anyway.

I step out of the restroom and Nurse Friendly's annoyed face welcomes me, appearing as if she had been waiting for me for three years rather than three minutes. I follow her back to a small room where there is some basic medical equipment: scales, file cabinets, anatomical posters, and a desk. She let me stand on a weighing scale and notes my height and weight.

Five feet six inches and fifty-five kilograms (120 pounds) respectively. Oh great, I have lost three kilograms in two months.

She then has me sit in the chair and throws a BP cuff around my upper arm. Most probably it will be horrible, given that my pulse has been racing continuously since before I even left home. I softly cringe as she keeps on pumping the cuff over 200 mmHg.

I feel like my arm will burst. My hand is pale and tingling –another reason why I hate hospitals, because of this and other uncomfortable monitoring procedures.

"Nervous?" She asks nonchalantly after pulling out the earpieces of her stethoscope and deflating the cuff.

"A little bit."

"Your blood pressure is a bit high, but probably just from nerves. Relax, Dr. Greene is great. You'll enjoy the hands-on

experience."

She grins a mischievous one.

Wait, Dr. Greene ? My mind buffers. "Uh, I think my mother scheduled me an appointment with Dr. Jacobs."

Her eyes narrow for a split second and immediately recovers. "We sent a message to the number that was given to us when the appointment was made."

Sensing my continued confusion, she adds, "Dr. Jacobs has had an emergency leave, but Dr. Greene was available."

I try to shrug it off. Mom never checks her messages. Anyway, I need a gynecologist, and this is going to be awful no matter who it is, so in the big scheme of things, it doesn't really matter.

"Oh, okay."

"Follow me." Nurse Friendly sashays briskly down the hall, her firm ass swaying from side to side. Judging her whole physique from the back, she can be a model, but I whisk those random thoughts away and try my best to keep up from behind, as she is walking way too fast.

She's not so nice...

We pass by several closed doors – exam rooms and doctors' private offices with their names and corresponding specialties engraved on metal plates. My body convulses slightly in the dreadful anticipation upon seeing another patient with a gloomy face just coming out from one of the exam rooms.

Reaching literally the very last door at the end of the long hall, she says "In here," opening it for me.

For a fraction of a second, I caught the name of the doctor that was engraved on the metal plate on the door before the nurse had opened it: Dr. Alexandra Greene -

Gynecologist.

I walk into the room. It's not very large, and not very brightly lit. The walls are painted gray and on the largest wall, there's a huge portrait of a woman's upper torso in an erotic side-lying position, reaching from the upper part of her thighs to her breasts. The detail is impressive and my eyes linger on it for a few seconds.

A wooden desk with a leather chair sits on that side of the room as well. I take a quick inventory of the desk: a mug of most probably cold coffee, a clipboard, a personal computer, stethoscope, a couple of folders, and a Canon DSLR? What is a camera doing inside a gyno office?

My eyebrow arches up in question. It is kind of out of place...

All the doctor's stuff is neatly organized on the table. Certainly, nothing is very feminine, other than the painting, of course.

In the middle of the room, there's a dark green leather examination table that makes my insides churn in anticipation. It is slightly reclined, and there are the infamous metal foot holders, comically called stirrups , on either side at the end. The length of the center of the table is covered with white paper, and sitting atop is a plastic sleeve containing presumably a gown.

So I'll be lying there, with my legs spread for the doctor? My goodness.

There's a machine next to the exam table with a monitor on it, which I presume is for the ultrasound. Next to the wall on the right side is a cabinet with drawers and on top of it a large microscope. There is also a large metal tray with very scary looking metal tools lined up on it, as well as folded towels and a metal lamp affixed to a bending, twisted stem. A rolling stool sits near the cabinet.

On the opposite wall is a long set of cabinets with a counter and sink below them. The counter is lined with boxes of alcohol swabs, gloves, tissues, educational pamphlets, and even more medical instruments.

"Okay, Miss ..." Nurse Friendly glances at my file, "...Maxwell. I will be leaving you here. Just undress and put on this gown," she gestures towards the table, "...open to the front."

"Wait, so I am to remove everything, right?" I gulp. I know I have to.

"Yes of course. Is this your first time?" she asks, glancing at my file again, this time with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

I nod, pissed at her inquisitiveness which seems designed to embarrass me.

"Okay, good luck."

Is it just me, or does she really not like me?

"Just hop on that table when you're done, and Dr. Greene will be here in a few moments," she mutters something indecipherable before disappearing through the door. I think I will buy her a name tag for her crisp light blue scrubs ... NURSE F.

The door closes, and here comes that feeling again ... nausea, panic attack, and stomach doing flips, all of the above. My body clearly senses that it is about to be invaded. I take a sharp intake of breath and exhale loudly.

I walk slowly towards the table and open the plastic sleeve which contains a mint green paper gown with flowery designs. I can tell that Dr. Greene likes the color green . I smile a crazed one.

I unfold the gown and notice that it's the same gown you see in most hospital scenes in movies, except, as Nurse F. had instructed me, mine was to be open in the front. I puff out another wave of air from my lungs before finally accepting that I have to strip off everything.

I don't know what I'm actually more afraid of – being naked in front of another person, or the dreadful thought of having some cancer.

Probably both equally...Sounds fun.

I reluctantly peel off my white cashmere shirt, pluck my bra off, and fold the two items before setting them aside. I hug myself as the coldness of the AC kisses my skin.

I slowly pull the paper robe on before pulling down my leggings along with my cotton panties. I look at my mound and somehow feel satisfied at its baldness. Last night, I shaved everything down there up to the last bit around the crinkled brown opening of my butt, just to be sure to look neat and presentable to the doctor. I look closer and wince upon seeing the ugly stubbles; there is actually like 2 mm of hair growing. Seriously?

No one has ever seen mine down there, except of course for my mom when I was younger, and my younger brother Lance when walking in on me in our adjoining bathroom like five years ago. That bastard had seen me naked, and I still remembered the stupid mocking grin on his face, before he acted like it was the most disgusting sight his eyes had ever laid on.

Shivering a little, I hop back up onto the exam table with my legs dangling on the side. I move the flimsy gown so that it won't gape open the way it is trying to. I feel half naked, which I actually am, and my nipples hurt from their sudden stiffness rubbing against the coarse, rigid paper.

I heard a rustling noise outside the door. It must be the doctor already. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, purse my lips, clear my mind, and slowly exhale all the air from lungs.

I'm ready...

And there's a knock. Before I could squeeze out the words "Come in," the doorknob turns and my heartbeat instantly races. My hands are sweating bullets.

Relax, Emily...

I crane my neck trying to peer around the door as it opens slowly.

My eyes grow wider when the doctor finally enters the room.

Wait a minute...

*****To be continued*****