Mrs. Gerald Worthington III is a member of the social elite in a city near you. She is also a borderline hypochondriac.
Her latest health concern is dermatological. She's in her middle fifties and her skin is showing signs of spotting, dryness and itching. Her imagined causes range from simple environmental allergies to rampant skin cancer. Aging as a cause is not one of her concerns.
At her earliest convenience, that is moments after her first thought of skin cancer, she made an appointment with the dermatologist with the best reputation in the city. The three-week wait before the appointment was unsettling, even distressing, as her anxiety intensified with each passing day.
Finally, the specified Tuesday arrived and Mrs. Worthington presented herself at the doctor's office for her appointment. The ten am appointment time passed as she was asked to fill out a multi-page health questionnaire and answer questions about her age, address, health and insurance coverage.
Finally, a nurse showed her to an examination room, stopping once to get her weight, gave her a paper gown, told her to undress, leaving on her bra and panties and the doctor would be right with her. Mrs. Worthington slowly removed her clothing, carefully folding each item and laying it gently on the nearby chair. She'd never been asked to remove all her clothing before except by her husband and an occasional paramour.
For Mrs. Worthington, occasional meant eight or ten times a month. She didn't consider herself a nymphomaniac, just a normal woman with a lustful appetite for sex. She accommodated her sex drive with a main course four or five times a week with her husband and an occasional appetizer or dessert with the pool maintenance boy, the club tennis pro or an unsuspecting delivery driver. She loved shopping with Amazon and the delivery drivers knew to ring her doorbell and wait for her to receive their package in person.
Mrs. Worthington has the personality and body to keep her lovers coming back for more. For a woman in her middle fifties, she has the body of a woman in her late thirties or early forties. She is five foot six inches tall, five-ten in heels, perfectly toned calves and magnificent thighs mostly visible in the short skirts she prefers. Further up, she has a flat abdomen and C cup, or larger, breasts without significant sag, splendidly presented in push up or half cup bras and loose blouses with more buttons than she is willing to close.
Her makeup is minimal and her shoulder length hair is a beautiful honey blonde, maintained with frequent visits to her favorite salon and spa where her stylist, James, similarly colors her pubic hair to match, a vanity of hers not appreciated by anyone except her husband, several hundred other men and a few women. James is always willing to test the color fastness of her hair at the end of her spa session.
Sitting on the paper covered examination table in her paper smock, she hadn't tied it in the back, waiting for the doctor, was frustrating. Her impatience was nearly exhausted when the nurse returned. The nurse took her temperature and blood pressure. While taking her blood pressure, the doctor knocked on the door and the nurse called for him to enter.
The doctor stepped into the room, closed the examination room door and stepped from behind the nurse. In the first millisecond after first viewing the doctor, Mrs. Worthington had three thoughts. First, he was a hunk. The college aged pool boy had an athletic body but the doctor's body was a work of art. Second, her reaction was going to screw up the blood pressure reading and, third, fuck, her panties were damp.
Dr. Andersson was tall, at least six foot, with Nordic features spotlighting his incandescent blue eyes. In spite of his name and obvious heritage, he had dark, almost black, curly hair, a formidable torso evident even through his white lab coat, tight hips and runner's legs. His buttoned lab coat prevented Mrs. Worthington from evaluating the only part of his anatomy she was truly interested in.
The nurse completed measuring her blood pressure with a quizzical eye, probably because of the spike in her pulse. As the nurse moved away, the doctor reached out his hand. "Mrs. Worthington, I'm Dr. Andersson."
Mrs. Worthington took his hand in hers and said, "Nice to meet you."
His soft, gentle touch set off a series of reactions in Mrs. Worthington. She wanted his hands to touch her elsewhere and everywhere. She knew he was going to do exactly that and the realization caused her to tremble just a bit and increase the dampness in her panties.
The doctor pulled up a nearby chair and sat in front of her. The nurse backed away into a corner. Mrs. Worthington realized the nurse wasn't going to leave the room. Probably a precaution about the male doctor being alone with a nearly naked woman in the examination room.
"So," asked Dr. Andersson from his position in front and below her. "What brings you to our office today?"
"I've noticed some changes in my skin and I thought I should see a dermatologist instead of my usual physician. You were highly recommended. So here I am."
"Anything specific you want to show me?"
In spite of an almost overwhelming urge to answer him honestly, she said, "Not really."
"Then, I think we should do a full body examination today and deal with anything we find in a future visit."
"A full body scan," thought Mrs. Worthington while she almost visually trembled. "More than I could have hoped for."
Dr. Andersson put on a set of wrap around, magnifying lenses and neoprene gloves, leaned slightly forward, took her left leg behind her calf and lifted it until he could rest her heel on his thigh. He carefully examined each of her toes and the space between them. He looked carefully at the front of her shin, calf, knee and three quarters of the way up her thigh, where he stopped.
Mrs. Worthington was breathless relishing his soft and gentle touch. She held her breath as he moved up her thigh and only began to breathe again when he placed her leg carefully back against the examination table. "If he does that again, I'm going to leave a wet spot on the exam table," she thought.
He repeated the exam with her right leg. "Wet spot guaranteed," she mentally confirmed when he was finished.
Dr. Andersson pushed back his chair, stood up and had her stand up as well. He asked her to turn around and step up in the small step at the end of the examination table. Her paper gown hung open in the back as she stepped up. He proceeded to examine the backs of her legs up to the limit of her panties and after a quick peek into the top of her panties that he gently lifted away from her waist with one hand, he looked at her back and shoulders.
After she stepped down onto the floor, Dr. Andersson examined the back of her neck and the rest of her head, moving her hair apart frequently to improve his vision. She turned around again and sat back on the examination table. He finished his exam with a close look at her face, upper chest and both arms ending with the fingers of each hand.
"Everything looks fine, Mrs. Worthington," he told her. "We should schedule an annual examination to insure it stays that way," he added.
"That's a relief," said Mrs. Worthington. "But, I don't think you looked everywhere."
"For example?" asked Dr. Andersson.
"My breasts and behind for example."
"There are limitations, both professional and social, that I must adhere to. The slightest hint of a scandal and I could lose my license and practice."
"But what if there's something there?" asked Mrs. Worthington. "I don't have a problem with you, as a doctor, doing a complete examination."
"Not everyone has the decent mind that you have but I can't take chances. Here's what I suggest," responded Dr. Andersson. "Use a mirror and bright light to examine yourself or get your husband or a close friend to do it for you. If you find anything suspicious, call me and we'll do a proper follow up."
"I guess that works," answered Mrs. Worthington unhappily.
The doctor and nurse left the room while she dressed. When she left the room, the nurse directed her to the front desk where she made an appointment a year away and left.
The nurse reentered the room to replace the used paper cover on the examination table and generally get the room ready for the next patient. She noticed the wet spot on the paper on the table and called the doctor over to view it.
"That's not the first time I've seen a spot like that," he said.
"I know but not usually that large. There's something about her that I'm uneasy with," said the nurse.
