Red lace? Or maybe the black with white polka-dots? Hmm, no, I thought to myself as I rummaged through the drawer, I'll go with the blue satin today. I took just a moment to admire myself in the mirror as I put on the matching bra and panties, then quickly pulled on my scrubs and sensible clinic shoes and headed out the door.
It was the least I could do to enliven my otherwise routine-filled day. To put it bluntly, I was in a rut. A sad statement for a 26 year old doctor, I know. But let's just say that working for the HMO wasn't exactly the excitement I had in mind when I'd started out on the path towards my dream career. Even in medical school, when I was doing my residency in the inner-city ER, I was filled with anticipation as I went off to work each day, never knowing who I would meet or what lives I would have the chance to save. Now, not so much. I spent just as much time with paperwork as with patients, and, believe it or not, never got to discover a cure for an exotic disease. Most days, it was a steady stream of little kids with runny noses, their fathers asking surreptitiously for a prescription for little blue pills.
On the bright side, my job did translate into a nice paycheck, and that meant I always had some disposable income to play with. Recently, I'd made a habit of fairly regular visits to my favorite little lingerie shop, building up quite a collection of sets of matching undergarments. There was something about it, knowing that I looked sexy under my unisex scrubs, that kept me going through the stream of patients, meetings, and paperwork each day.
And it didn't hurt that it put a spark back in my relationship with Jacob. We'd been together for three years, living together for two, and both had jobs that left us exhausted in the evening. But lately, I'd made a habit of sending him a text message mid-day, telling him exactly what I'd picked out to wear that day. Often it was something new, something he hadn't even seen yet. On those days especially, it seemed he couldn't get home fast enough to watch me strip for him, and we'd enjoy a quickie before crashing.
Not to mention the fun I had picking out the outfits. Hmm, should I share this part of the story? Oh, what the hell. See, I had a special friend at the lingerie shop - a 22 year old bi-curious salesgirl who made a point of joining me in the dressing room to give me her honest opinion on each ensemble. She was the one who had driven home the importance of matching - not just color, but fabric, pattern, texture - something which Jacob let me know he very much appreciated. Little did he know who my teacher had been...
She insisted on undressing me and helping me into each bra, every pair of panties, with much fondling along the way. Sometimes, she would ask me to model for her as she fingered her clit, her eyes moving over my body as she pleasured herself. We never went further than that, as she needed to be able to jump out of the dressing room whenever another customer entered the store. But it was still a thrill, always leaving me wanting more as I returned home, and always giving me a pleasant memory the next time I put the outfit on.
It also didn't hurt that my little lingerie buddy and Jacob both loved to tell me how hot I looked. I'm 5'8" and fit, with perfect C-cup tits, long shapely legs, wavy blonde hair just past my shoulders, and big green eyes. Jacob seemed to like me best in blacks or reds, but my personal favorite in the naughty underwear category was blue - just the shade I had chosen to wear today.
"Doctor, your next patient is ready," the nurse had popped her head into my cubicle with her trademark gentle knock and warm smile, and I finished up the e-mail I was typing. What a day. While you were reading up on my lingerie habit, I was taking 10 minutes to eat the sack lunch I had been hungry for three hours before. It had been a long day full of patients and committee meetings. Did I mention the committees? I'll spare you, except to say that HMOs can't seem to function without putting every single doctor on at least three committees. I wanted the day to be over, but there was one more patient standing between me and my exit.
It was in this cranky mood that I went into the exam room, my nose buried in the patient's file as I greeted him with my usual, "Hello there, what seems to be the trouble?" I could see from his chart that he was 43 years old, with a history of excellent health. 6'1", 190 pounds, and notes from another doctor indicating that he was into fitness - everything from running to biking to rock climbing.
It was his voice that brought me out of my fog, and I looked up to see that he was a handsome man, with striking blue eyes. As he responded, I could tell that his voice was normally deep and powerful, but currently affected by what sounded like a nasty chest cold. "Well, I've been congested for a couple of weeks. Thought it was just allergies or a cold, but it doesn't seem to be going away, so I thought I should come in just in case."
I smiled sympathetically, then replied, "It's probably best that you did, are you having any other symptoms? Headaches, anything like that?" I paused to give him a chance to answer as I began my exam.
"Now that you mention it, I have had a few nasty headaches, just in the past few days. I've just been feeling kind of lousy, the congestion and sniffling leaves me tired at the end of the day."
As I was thinking to myself how silly it was for the nurses to have asked him to change into a gown for chest congestion, I asked my next question, "And have you tried anything so far to treat your symptoms? Just want to make sure I'm factoring in any over-the-counter stuff you may be taking before I prescribe anything else?"
"Oh, no, I really don't like to take anything unless I absolutely have to. Just been drinking lots of liquids, trying to get some extra rest."
"OK, sounds great. Open wide," I said as I looked into his mouth, then moved on to his ears, looking for any obvious signs of infection. "Anything else you think I should know?"
