My contribution to the current conversation had been a series of grunts and attempts to convey meaning via exaggerated facial expressions. I'd tried to shrug once, but my hygienist had asked me to stay still with a level of patience that must be a prerequisite for the job.
However, me being rendered effectively incommunicado didn't stop Abby from chatting. She clearly had no problem whatsoever with a one-way conversation. Maybe she preferred it that way. Then she was nice, and enthusiastic, and friendly. Professionally, she seemed to do a great job, so I'd ended up trying to make appointments with her. I'm sure that was my only motivation.
As Abby scraped away at my calculus, she was now talking about her latest Mexico trip. I'd learned at a previous appointment that her sister had relocated there. I knew a lot about her sister, how she was an artist, had a Mexican boyfriend, and that they lived together in San Miguel de Allende. I was sure if I kept meeting with Abby for long enough, her sister's social security number would also be shared with me.
It's a weird and invasive feeling, allowing someone to probe your mouth. It's kind of unnatural. My mind wandered to how women coped with, and even enjoyed, intrusions with things rather larger than a dental scaler. In a pensive mood, I guessed the same went for gay men, or at least some of them. I reflected that I didn't know much about gay men.
Abby got up from her stool and turned to enter some information on the adjacent PC. Her rear view in fuschia scrubs was always rather appealing. This, combined with the subject of my previous musings, had caused a rather uncomfortable pressure in my pants. I wondered whether I dared try to adjust myself while Abby was occupied, before deciding it was too risky.
It occurred to me that I seldom saw Abby unmasked. Occasionally as she led me to whatever room we had been allocated. Every now and again at the end of a session. On the plus side, this made me appreciate her eyes. Brown by her pupils, segueing into a green rim in a way that was fetching, to my way of thinking. Fringed by long lashes, very expressive, and paired with mobile brows.
Her hair color was indeterminate, red-tinged for sure, but with an underlying dark blonde or light brown. It was frizzy, habitually pulled back off her face, and held messily on one side of her head by an oversized clip; I'd never seen her wear the same one twice. Her skin tone was pale and mottled. Her freckles were interspersed with darker birthmarks, as if forming some intricate 'connect the dots' pattern. Once more my mind wandered, this time to tracing my finger tip between the landmarks on Abby's naked back.
These thoughts were not helping the problem in my pants. I told myself they were innocent enough. It was hard - maybe a poor choice of word, on reflection - to be in intimate proximity to a reasonably attractive woman and not react. I told myself it was natural, primal, chemical even, not really believing a word of it. Still, Abby was pleasant, she was good at her job, and I'd not dream of anything beyond some fuzzy, 'Wouldn't it be nice?' speculations.
"OK Mr. McDonough, we're done. I'd like you to pay a bit more attention to flossing, especially at the rear. Then we always have this conversation right?"
We did indeed, sheepishly I agreed to try to be a better boy.
"Great," she said brightly, ignoring the mounting evidence of my ongoing oral delinquency, "I'll see if Dr. Rogers is free yet."
As Abby left the room, I stared after her. A man had surely designed scrubs in an effort to accentuate the movement of nice asses to the onlooker. When I was sure she had gone, I reached inside my boxers and rearranged their contents with some relief. I had not acted too soon as Abby was now back again, accompanied by my dentist, Dr. Erin Rogers.
Abby was above average height, but Erin had a couple of inches on her. She was willowy with it, with near black hair, dusky skin, and a nose whose elegant curve was at variance to her non-Mediterranean family name. I knew Abby had just turned thirty - indeed I knew all about her celebratory party - Erin was older, but it was hard to guess by how much. Mid thirties? A young-looking early forties? Either way she was a striking woman, the sort you would maybe describe as handsome, rather than beautiful.
As Dr. Rogers took a look in my mouth, and conversed with Abby in some unintelligible medical jargon, I was glad that I had been able to lay my tent pole flat. Not for the first time, an image of both women floated through my mind. An image it was much more difficult for me to dismiss as purely innocent. I gulped.
"A little suction please, Abby," requested the dentist.
Abby placed the plastic tube in my mouth, and I felt a throbbing twitch as I contemplated a very different meaning to the words Dr. Rogers had just used.
I closed my eyes and told myself not to be weird. Not to be
that
guy. The last thing I wanted was to find a new dental practice.
Erin perused the X-rays that Abby had taken earlier, and they again spoke in Klingon for a bit, or was it Noldorian?
"All good Mr. McDonough," said Erin, taking off her mask. "We'll see you in six months' time."
With a smile she departed. I rather hoped that Abby might also offer me a glimpse of her unveiled face, but the mask stayed on as she walked me down the circuitous path to reception. I thanked her and took my leave.
I walked to my car, then had another thought. I had booked the final appointment of the day, fitting better for me with work, and it was now after six. Why not? I turned on my heel and headed for the bar at the far end of the little complex of offices and stores.
It wasn't a great bar, it probably wasn't even a good bar. But they had alcohol, and places to sit, and the ubiquitous TVs were at least on mute. I knew I'd probably spent way too much time in places like this over the last... how long was it now...? nearly a year, I thought with some horror. Nearly a year since Mari had decided that she could do better for herself, much better. She probably had a point.
No one else was at the bar, so I sat on a stool and asked for Bourbon on the rocks. The barkeep was attentive and - as I sat swirling my drink - I contemplated getting out there again. But I found myself at a loss. Mari and I had been colleagues, before she found a better job - and a more desirable workmate. I couldn't see dating apps working for me. Maybe I should join some sort of club, though doing what was beyond me. My avocations were solitary: reading, carpentry, walks in the woods, and... well that was about it. Was binging on TV shows a hobby?
But I knew I missed the touch of a woman. Who the hell was I fooling? I missed a good fuck, that's what I missed. What was I going to do about that?
As I mulled over my future, a voice broke into my thoughts. "Hi again, Mr. McDonough."
Looking up, I saw Abby, still in scrubs, but with her hair down and the mask gone; my lucky day, I guessed. Her unadorned face was wide, a little too wide to be pretty, but her positive personality and pleasingly shaped body more than compensated for any minor shortcomings in looks.
"Hi, Abby," I replied. "You a regular here?"
"We have a drink after work sometimes," she answered with a smile.
My clearly unguarded expression of inquiry led to her explaining further. "Me and Erin. She's over there."
Abby gestured to a booth and I could make out Dr. Rogers raising a hand despite the low light. There was something about how Abby had said 'Me and Erin' that prompted questions, but I tried to be rather less obvious than before.
"Want to join us?" asked Abby.
Was it me, or was there a slight unevenness in her voice, perhaps betraying an underlying excitement?
'Well,' I thought, 'it's not like you have anything else better to do.'
"Sure, that'd be nice," I said, aware of a matching tremor as I spoke. "But let me get you both a drink. What'll you have?"
"Oh, that's kind," said Abby. "A beer for me... not Miller," she added, wrinkling her nose at the bar's predominant beverage. "A Budvar maybe, and a Sauvignon for Erin."
I'd not heard Abby refer to her colleague as anything but Dr. Rogers before now, the use of her first name seemed somehow intimate. Then maybe I was seeing things that weren't there.
"No problem, and call me Mark, OK?"
"Sure, Mark," Abby replied, "and thanks again."
