Kelly Porter's headaches started her freshman year of college. They'd been mild at first, more like intense sinus pressure than fully developed headaches. That had soon changed. By her sophomore year, she was laid up in bed with a migraine at least once a month. Since graduation, the frequency had increased to twice a month. She was desperate for relief but so far, none of the doctors or homeopaths she'd visited had been able to help her. She'd tried acupuncture, medication, hot baths, cold baths, smelly poultices and essential oils... basically every medically proven treatment and old wive's tale under the sun. All to no avail.
Then, Kelly's friend Mark had mentioned his uncle was a neurologist who specialized in migraine treatment. Mark was a new friend from work who Kelly was pretty sure wanted to be more. She caught him staring at her tits every time they hung out, and one time after a night of drinking, he'd tried to invite himself up to her place. When she'd turned him down, she'd seen a flash of fury in his eyes that had frightened her. But then he'd chuckled and apologized and left. She had decided she must have imagined it.
"My uncle is an amazing doctor," Mark told Kelly. "He's got a waiting list a mile long, but if I call him he'll see you this week. I promise he can help."
So, there she sat in the waiting room of Dr. Jacob Michaels, M.D. The receptionist had given her a stack of forms to fill out. When she was done, she looked around at the other three waiting patients. She noticed they were all women, which wasn't necessarily odd. Then she realized not a single one was above the age of thirty, and they were all... well, hot, with sculpted bodies and beautiful faces.
Kelly knew she fit in. She was five foot nine, with a 34DD bust and a tiny waist that flared out into a round, firm ass. Since she was a little girl, Kelly had known she was beautiful. It wasn't that she was conceited, she just knew what she saw when she looked in the mirror. Thick, waist-length blond hair framed a heart-shaped face with full lips and ocean green eyes. More people than she could remember had gushed over her smooth complexion and cupid's bow lips—men
and
women. She was hot. Four-alarm-fire hot.
It's not conceit if it's true
, she thought.
"Kelly Porter," called the nurse waiting at the door to the back offices.
Kelly stood and approached the nurse, eyes wide. The woman was wearing an old-fashioned nurse's uniform, complete with one-piece white polyester mini-dress with buttons from hem to bust. White stockings and a wedge hat finished the look.
She looks like she's late for a Halloween party.
Kelly looked around the waiting room to see if anyone else had noticed the inappropriate outfit, but none of the other patients seemed fazed.
The nurse was shorter than Kelly, but she had to admit the woman's figure was almost as nice. Her tits were huge, nearly popping out of the uniform top. Kelly frowned inwardly, disliking the woman on sight. She had always been competitive with other women—couldn't help it.
The nurse's crimson lips curled into an unfriendly sneer. "Right this way, Ms. Porter. I'll get your height and weight and then we'll move into an exam room."
Kelly allowed the woman to guide her onto the scale, but when she tried to wrap a tape measure around her bust she slapped her hands away. "What the hell are you doing?"
The nurse frowned. "This is part of Doctor Michaels' treatment. The cutting edge equipment he invented must be calibrated to your exact measurements." The nurse's eyebrows shot up. "Are you refusing treatment?"
"No," Kelly muttered. "I'm desperate to cure these headaches. It's just a little odd, is all."
"Odd or not, if you want treatment, you'll have to allow it."
Kelly waved the woman to go ahead. She stood as still she could as the nurse wrapped the measuring tape around her breasts, waist, and hips. Finally she asked Kelly's shoe size, noting everything down on a chart, and led her to the exam room.
What followed was more typical. The nurse took her vitals—blood pressure, oxygen saturation and temperature. Kelly relaxed.
"The doctor will be right in." The nurse left the room.
Moments later, Doctor Michaels entered the exam room. He was an average-looking man. Average height, average weight, with thin brown hair and wire-framed glasses. Kelly didn't think he was bad-looking, just boring.
"Ms. Porter," he said, and extended his hand. They shook.
Kelly filled him in on her headaches, a recitation she could've done in her sleep. She'd seen so many doctors.
"We will begin with an application of a topical ointment," the doctor said, and took a small vial from the tray the nurse had left beside the exam table.
"Oh, I've tried essential oils. If anything, they seem to make my headaches worse."
"This is nothing like an essential oil," the doctor snapped. "This substance is my own invention. Using it, along with my other treatment protocols, I have a one hundred percent cure rate of hemiplegic, retinal, and cluster migraines."
"That's impressive," Kelly said, eyeing the vial like it held liquid gold. She suffered from cluster headaches.
"Of course it's impressive. Do you submit to treatment?"
What an odd way to put it.
Kelly nodded. He dabbed the substance first on the pulse points of her wrists and neck, like perfume, then on her forehead and feet. She tried to keep a straight face as he touched her feet. She was ticklish.
He capped the vial and stepped back, studying her. She suddenly realized she couldn't meet his gaze and looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Her head began to feel a bit swimmy, like when she stood up too fast. She put a hand to her forehead.
"Is a headache beginning?" he asked.
"No, nothing like that. I just feel a bit odd. Not bad, just weird."
"Common side effect of the ointment," he said brusquely. "Nothing to worry about. Let me know if there's
actually
something wrong. Otherwise, you'll just have to try to let go and trust that I know what I'm doing." He pointed behind him at a wall of degrees.
Ugh, he has a terrible bedside manner.
But Mark was so adamant in his referral. And his waiting room was packed.
"Sorry, doctor."
He nodded, his expression softening. "How do you feel now, Ms. Porter?"
"Good," Kelly said immediately, and realized she felt more than good. She felt better than she had in years. "Great."
He nodded. "In that case, I'll need you to disrobe so I can apply the rest of the ointment."
Her eyes widened. "Disrobe? For a neurological exam?"
