Camilla Ch. 011byMawrGorshin©
"Lady, shall I lie in your lap?" Akemi asked Camilla as she lay down at Camilla's feet.
"No, my lord," Camila answered, affecting maidenly modestly.
"I mean, my head upon your lap?" Akemi asked.
"Ay, my lord," Camilla answered.
"Do you think I meant CUNT-ry matters?" Akemi asked.
"I think nothing, my lord," Camilla answered, again, affecting bashfulness.
"That's a fair thought to lie between maid's legs," Akemi said.
"What is, my lord?" Camilla asked.
"No-thing," Akemi shouted while opening Camilla's legs open and looking up her skirt. The Japanese-Canadian girl, normally a shy Issei, blushed and turned her head away as soon as she saw Camilla's vulva, freshly shaved and with the ring in the clitoris, instead of seeing panties.
"OK, stop," Ms. Callahan said. "Everybody take a break for five minutes. Camilla, I want to talk to you." The stern drama teacher took Camilla aside and angrily looked in her eyes. "Whose idea was it for Akemi to open your legs? It was yours, wasn't it?" Camilla, avoiding Callahan's eyes, nodded with a frown. Callahan continued: "Camilla, we're doing an all-female production of Hamlet for the year-end drama performance; we're not doing a live sex show. You're supposed to be shy Ophelia, not a prostitute; Akemi is playing Hamlet, not one of your lecherous boyfriends. Save your slutty behaviour for your dates in Lehar's." Camilla's eyes widened in fear at what smiling Callahan was implying from last Saturday night with Hanson. "Oh, and by the way," Callahan concluded with a grin, "put some underwear on." The drama teacher walked away.
"Bitch!" Camilla whispered. "She saw my pussy?" Camilla shuddered at the thought that her hated drama teacher saw her vulva. I meant only for Akemi to see it, Camilla thought. Akemi was one of those two or three girls in gym class who, with Candice, had a lesbian admiration for Camilla's nude body when all the girls took their showers. "Now I know why Mr. Hanson gave me the cold shoulder in history class today," Camilla whispered to herself. Like Mr. Grisham, he was afraid of being in trouble.
After drama class, Candice met Camilla in the hallway between classes. "Hi Camilla," Candice said. "What time are you coming home tonight?"
"Around 11:30, after Bates Massage closes," Camilla answered. Then she whispered, "I'll satisfy your lust as soon as I get home. Don't worry."
"I know, but there's something else. We've gotta talk about Mr. Pierce."
"You're still hot for our gym teacher?" Camilla asked.
"Not anymore," Candice said. "He's a pervert."
"I'll explain it tonight when you get home, OK?"
"OK. I'm starting to think that cranky bitch Callahan's a perv, too. I hate her. She looks like my mom."
"Why do you hate your mom? Is it because of her divorcing your dad?" Candice brought her voice down especially low now, so the other girls in the hall wouldn't hear.
"That's the main reason. I love my daddy so much, and I miss him. My mom took him away from me." Now both girls kept their voices as low as possible.
"That's why you dig older men. It's an Electra Complex."
"Candice, I don't wanna...you know...with him."
"I know, sweetie, but...you and...Mr. G. and Mr. H., and all these other men you plan to...you know, like the doctor, our neighbour. You're looking for love in all the wrong places. I worry about you. You're gonna get a disease."
"Candice, I'm seeing Dr. Singh today to check for diseases."
"Camilla, you're seeing Dr. Singh today to have him check you out."
"I know. Don't worry. I'll see you tonight. I've gotta go to math class now. Bye." Candice walked into her physics class, and Camilla continued down the hall to her math class. She saw Mr. Grisham and patted him on the behind, making sure no one saw her do that. Nonchalantly walking into his classroom to begin his next lesson, Grisham ignored her as best he could.
After school, Camilla changed out of her school uniform and into a skin-tight black outfit. She was nude under it, and it clung to her body so tightly that one could see the exact contours of her naked body, including her protruding nipples, her camel-toe, and her anal cleft. She pushed the sheer material between her buttocks to make that last contour visible. It was uncomfortable, but she didn't care: being sexy was unpleasant sometimes, but if it caused the men she liked to have erections, the discomfort was worth it. Even the pain from wearing high heels she'd gladly endure, if it pleased the men she wanted to sleep with. In this head-turning outfit, she went to Dr. Singh's office, with her hair done up in a bun, and her face painted in bright make-up: pink cheeks, blue eye-shadow, thick mascara, and red lips.
Though Singh was a handsome man in his early forties, he was lonely and shy, and Camilla sensed his feelings of social isolation every time she saw him in the hallway of their apartment. She never saw anyone else with him, so she correctly assumed he wasn't married. Like Akemi, he was a first generation Asian Canadian, and he seemed to be struggling with getting used to living in a new country. He spoke English with a thick accent, as did Akemi; sometimes Camilla saw white children make fun of him for being an Indian, and sympathizing with him, she would scold them every time; Singh secretly appreciated this beautiful girl's consideration, something he felt he didn't get enough of. Camilla never wanted to hurt anyone (except her mother); she only wanted to make people feel good, sex being the best way. (She felt bad about embarrassing Akemi in drama class: she'd only wanted to give the lonely girl a thrill.) Camilla felt compassion for society's outsiders, whether they were the geeky teachers her classmates only sneered at, or if they were timid immigrants like Akemi and Singh; she sympathized with them because she herself felt like an outcast sometimes, with her growing reputation as a 'bad girl' in an all-girls Catholic school.
She'd been in the waiting room for about ten minutes when the nurse told her it was her turn to see Dr. Singh; then she went in his office.
Dr. Singh's eyes widened when he saw his provocatively-dressed, sexy neighbour walk into his office. "Aren't you my neighbour?" he asked with more than a little embarrassment, remembering he'd seen her naked in their apartment hallway the week before.
"Yes, doctor," she breathily answered with wide-open eyes and pursed lips. She would continue to speak and act in this sultry manner, for she correctly sensed that this quasi-Marilyn Monroe persona was his fantasy.
"How may I help you?" he asked, his voice cracking with nervous excitement.
"Can you take a good, up-close look at my vagina and anus? I don't think I have warts, but I want to be sure. It feels sore down there."
"OK," he said, his voice increasingly wavering. "You'll need to..."
"You can disrobe behind the partition," the nurse said.
"That's OK," Camilla said. "I'll just undress here." Her outfit was one piece, with a zipper along the back, going from the nape of her neck down to her perineum. To expose her nether regions for the doctor to examine, she'd have to strip completely nude: that's why she wore the outfit. Both doctor and nurse were shocked at her insouciant undressing, but tried to hide their shock, avoiding each other's eyes.
Now naked, Camilla got on the table and spread her legs wide open as if she were nearing the end of her floor show at Luvlee's. Always reminding himself to keep a professional attitude, Dr. Singh tried desperately to control his heavy breathing as he got close to examine her flawless, shaved vulva, with the ring in her clitoris. He had always lusted after Camilla, and especially felt passionate feelings for her ever since the first time she'd defended him against the taunts of the racist white kids in their apartment building; but this was almost too much for him to bear. Here she was, as nude as Botticelli's Venus, with her creamy peach-coloured skin, her soft, large breasts topped with gum-drop nipples, and her perfect feet, which were a particular fetish for him. He'd never dreamed in a million years that he'd get so close to such naked loveliness, yet she was welcoming it! "As you can see," she said, always in her sultry, sighing voice, "I am very sexually active, so I have to be careful about diseases."
"Yes," he agreed in his always trembling voice. "AIDS is not the only danger: Chlamydia, Gonorrhoea, Syphilis--you cannot be too careful." He put some medical gloves on and put his shaking finger in her vagina to feel for warts. The shaking of his finger made for a good vibrator, and she softly moaned in pleasure. She also opened her vagina wider so he could see better. He used a penlight to see inside: he hoped the nurse present would think his reasons for using it were purely professional, for he knew they weren't the only reasons. "No warts are visible on the outside: your vulva seems clear of disease."
"Oh, good," she sighed in relief...and pleasure from his probing, vibrating finger. "I also work as a lap-dancer. If any warts are visible on my pussy and asshole (pardon my language), I can't please my customers by spreading my legs. It's important for my work to be sexy always, and I feel so insecure now."
"So far, everything seems fine," he said in stammers, knowing everything looked absolutely fantastic. "I don't feel any warts inside your vagina." Since he was bent down, he was reasonably sure the nurse didn't notice his bulging erection. He didn't at all understand why she thought she had genital warts: on the contrary, he saw the most delicious pink liquorice wheel just a few inches away from his face. He couldn't believe his luck; he'd moved to Vancouver from New Delhi five years ago, and he'd never had any luck with Canadian women; none of them even knew he was alive. Now he had a voluptuous 18-year-old blonde high school student, his neighbour, willingly displaying herself to him! Was she just having a medical check-up, or was she deliberately trying to turn him on? She'd shown herself naked to him the week before, and didn't seem at all regretful of that incident. Furthermore, why had she been in such seductive clothing prior to undressing? Why had she worn an outfit requiring her to strip completely nude just to have her vagina and anus examined, when she could have come in her school uniform, thus only needing to remove her underwear and lift up her skirt? Why bare everything when only a minimum of anatomy needed to be revealed? He saw no evidence anywhere of STDs: did she also already know this? Was this just more of her exhibitionism? Was this a deliberate come-on? He now felt Candice's quandary: if he gave expression to his passion, she might reject it, and it would be professionally damaging to him; if he seemed indifferent to her charms, she might feel insulted, and never give him another chance to have her. In any case, for the moment he had to hide his excitement: that officious nurse was in the room. Be professional! he reminded himself.
"What about my asshole...uh, anus, doctor?" she asked, and turned around so she could get on all fours on the table. She pushed out her behind so her pretty anus was in clear view, just inches from his face. Changing into a new medical glove, he put his shaking finger in her rectum in search of warts. Again, his finger was the perfect vibrating butt-plug, and she groaned in delight. As he'd suspected, he neither saw nor felt any warts on the surface, or on the inside: again, her anus was a perfect, coffee-coloured loop of sweetness. He panted as quietly as he could.
The nurse couldn't stand Camilla's immodesty and moaning anymore and finally left the room, claiming she needed to use the washroom. Let 'em screw, she thought as she walked out the door.
"I must look so ugly back there," she said, affecting insecure self-deprecation.
"No," he insisted with heavy breaths. "There's nothing wrong."
"Are you sure? Have you had a good enough look in my vagina? Please feel again in there."
He gladly did, and with fewer inhibitions now that the nurse was gone. He touched all over her genital area, ostensibly to find warts he knew weren't there. Actually, his vibrating, slipping and sliding fingers brought out high-pitched sighs of pleasure from her. He frequently touched the ring on her sensitive clitoris, getting louder and louder squeals and moans from her, until she orgasmed, a brief waterfall all over the floor. "You're in perfect health," he panted as he cleaned up the copious mess with paper towels, which he also used to cover up the big bulge in the front of his pants. It was too late, though: shed seen it, and was intrigued enough to get a house call from him.
"Still, I'm not sure," she insisted as she got off the table. "How about I come to your apartment tonight? Then you can examine me again, without that pesky nurse."
"Certainly," he panted with his eyes lit up with encouragement. "I can cook you dinner, if you wish."
"I'd love that," she said with a delighted grin to encourage him even more. "That's so sweet of you! But I won't be home till 11:30."
"That's fine. I'll see you then." He removed his medical gloves.
She got dressed, him helping to zip her up at the back: his hands trembled when holding the zipper under her still-exposed, smooth and milky buttocks, and slowly zipped it up while admiring her curvaceous body. "Bye," she sighed, looking at him with a twinkle in her eye and a grin, and left his office. He watched her as she walked out the door of the clinic.
At about 11:30 that night in Dr. Singh's apartment, he heard his doorbell ring. He opened the door, and there was Camilla. Except for her heavy make-up and high heels, she was as naked as the day she was born. "I'm here for the rest of my examination," she sighed suggestively.