Let's Play Doctor Ch. 02

After two years of graduate school, I needed only one more class to graduate with my Master of Social Work degree. My husband needed two classes to complete his degree too. We signed up for summer classes so we could both seek jobs in the fall. We’d been tight on finances for the past two years, relying on Dave’s half-time teaching assistantship, and my finding part-time jobs as I could. The first year, I didn’t have very good luck finding anything that paid very well, and we took on more student loan debt than we should have.

In the second year, I found a part-time position on campus that paid pretty well. I was hired by the Medical College to be a Gynecological Teaching Associate (GTA). My role was to serve as a simulated patient teaching 3rd year medical students how to perform breast and pelvic exams. It paid $50 per hour, far more than retail, fast-food, or other on-campus housekeeping or lab assistant positions, and twice the rate for posing nude for art classes, another job I had seriously considered.

While I was first attracted to the GTA job for the level of pay, the nature of the work was such that there had to be more motivation than to simply “sell” my privacy, if not my modesty to the highest bidder. Through the training I was introduced to the serious yet abstract and philosophical reasons for contributing to a more clinically correct, patient-centered and gender-sensitive education of medical students, especially the men. That made me feel less mercenary about the financial incentive alone. The final bit of unspoken and personal allure of the role, was that it provided a socially acceptable justification for exposing my private body parts for any number of men other than my husband to see and touch quite intimately. This last part of my motivation though less compelling, was real and one I absolutely did not want to share with anyone. It’s not easy to confess to being a little bit of an exhibitionist, even to myself.

In the summer session the regular Gynecological Teaching Associate positions were not needed, so I started looking for other opportunities since I only had one class and lots of time on my hands, and I really needed to make some money. Dave’s teaching assistantship had also ended. The idea of working in retail or fast-food didn’t appeal to me for both the low rate of pay and lack of any personal satisfaction.

Again, remembering when I had first heard about the GTA position, I also considered applying to be a nude model at the art school, that now seemed like a viable option. After all, I’d certainly gotten comfortable with being naked for a group, the vast majority being men, and there would be no touching or close-up inspection of my female anatomy in art classes. I figured my husband would be on board with my doing this, since he was OK with the GTA job. Plus, he loved taking photos of me nude and claimed they were for artistic purposes too.

After I applied to the art school, the program manager for the GTA Program called me with an unexpected offer. The program was updating the training curriculum and teaching materials for a new class of GTAs and medical students. My manager wanted me to help edit and contribute to major parts of the training manual text, and to help write the script. But the job didn’t end there. They also wanted me to then narrate and “star” in a remake of their video on how to conduct breast and pelvic examinations. I remembered how dated the film I had watched was during my initial training, so I knew this was more than overdue for a remake. She knew I was around for the summer, and that I had gotten high marks from both the resident instructors and med students I’d worked with over the last school year. I also had endured and learned from a rare experience of having an inappropriate and unprofessional pelvic exam from a student who induced an orgasm within me. For these reasons the manager thought I’d have the perfect skills, experience, and insight for the project. When she told me it would pay $3,000 and I’d be done before the end of the summer session I accepted on the spot. If the art school called me, I could always consider that too.

When I told Dave about the pay, he was more than impressed. His personal concern was that I get a copy of the film so he could see it. Given that many other men would see his wife so intimately displayed, it didn’t seem like an unfair request.

Much of the early part of the summer was spent on writing my contributions to the script of the training film and the written curriculum materials. Throughout June and much of July I spent my time writing and editing both my technical instructions on giving breast and pelvic exams and my personal thoughts on the role GTAs play in making medical education more sensitive and clinically appropriate. My experience gave me more depth and insight into both the physical and psychological aspects of each, and I felt I made a significant and unique contribution to the project.

In late July we were scheduled to shoot the training film. I guess I was going to get some nude modeling experience for sure. It would include a cast of three plus a videographer. I saw myself as the “star” of the film, with a supporting cast of the resident doctor demonstrating the techniques and one medical student learning from him and my critique of his examining skills. The student was an addition to the original training film and was intended to enhance its teaching value for GTAs in addition to med students. For me, this added examiner added a little more sensual impact to an otherwise clinical experience.

On the morning of our first take, I trimmed-up my pubic hair enough to allow an unobstructed view of the focal point of the subject matter, and to reflect the current coifing styles of contemporary younger women. In the previous film the hairstyles both above and below the waist were seriously dated; big and bouffant above, big and bushy below. I met my fellow cast members who included a resident I’d worked with several times, and a soon to be 4th year male med student who had done the OB/GYN rotation spring semester but had not practiced on me. The videographer was also a guy who I’d not met before. We’d been given the script a week or so in advance and I knew my lines very well, since I’d written nearly all of them.

The resident explained the purposes of the video as a teaching aid for both GTAs and med students, and that they’d be copywriting it and marketing it for sale to other medical schools, most likely through a 3rd party medical supply company.

This was news to me and raised the issue of my naked body and face being seen by a potentially huge number of people over many years. I trusted my university to limit its viewing to just GTAs, medical staff directly involved in teaching how to perform breast and pelvic exams, and their enrolled students. Once a private supply company put it on the national market, I had no such confidence or assurance. I also knew there was also a whole genre of “let’s play doctor” fetishes and fantasies with innumerable men who would love to get hold of a film like this and would pay handsomely to do so. Could they make some phony letterhead and purchase a copy, or even just order one on-line? And if a copy ever got online, there’d be no limit on its distribution, copyright laws be damned.

I raised this issue with the resident, and he clearly hadn’t thought any of this would be a problem for the university and certainly not for me. In fact, he immediately presented me with what was essentially a standard model release form to sign giving the University all rights to the film, its use, distribution, and sale. He dismissed my concerns by very curtly, saying, “That’s why we’re paying you $3,000.”

“I’d like to see the video before I sign the agreement,” I asked, “just to know the images of me are clinical and not demeaning or unfairly edited in any way. And I’d like to have a copy of it too”

“We’ll have some significant investment in this project when it's done,” he almost spat, “so I doubt we could give you veto power. But I can assure you we’d take your concerns seriously and edit or redo any parts that we can agree are problematic. You’ll be included in our editing session, and of course, you can have a copy.”

I knew that was probably the best I could hope for and the $3,000 for my selling my modesty was still a pretty good deal. After all, for the last school year I’d been exposing myself like this for $50 an hour, but with no photographic evidence to potentially haunt me. I just sighed and signed the release and some other agreements, and it was “show time.”

The doctor reviewed how he would conduct his exams and describe each step in the procedures to the med student. Then the student would examine me, and I would critique his clinical skills and sensitivity to the patient. I was also to give my insights on what a GTA was experiencing. They were planning a 55-minute performance. This discussion was mostly for the videographer since I was well aware of all this, and I assumed the student was too since he’d done this last spring semester as part of his OB/GYN rotation.

We moved to a larger exam room, all of us carrying some of the video equipment. The cameraman went in to set up while I went to use the restroom, touch-up my hair and make-up, and get into my gown. When I was ready, so was the videographer. He was the hospital’s chief photographer and had quite a few years’ experience taking photos and video of strange conditions or not-so-common procedures. While I figured mine wouldn’t be the first breasts or vagina he'd captured on film, I had definitely learned that no men, doctors or otherwise ever get immune to the sight of a naked woman.

I took my place sitting on the end of the exam table. Then it was “lights, action, camera.” The doctor gave his scripted introduction to the purposes and uses of the film, stressing it to be one teaching tool, but no substitute for actual experience. I think he wanted to say “hands-on learning,” but was afraid the rest of us would groan at his poor humor. He then explained the exams he’d be performing, my role as a GTA, and how the student would follow his instruction to learn proper techniques and protocols.

After stating that a medical history and other parts of a standard physical exam would normally precede the breast exam, he explained what his examination would include. After his overview, he untied the top of my gown and exposed my bare breasts. As he talked about the importance of the visual exam, my hyper-sensitive nipples rose to the occasion. He noted that this reaction is not unusual, and that the examiner should be very sensitive to the patient’s possible embarrassment. While discussing my nipples and looking for any asymmetry and dimpling, I could feel the video guy zooming in on my breasts. Each move of my arms to different positions was met with both full torso and close-up views.

Next, he turned toward the hand-held camera as he described how to palpate each breast with varied finger pressure following a standard pattern. Then he turned to me and began examining my breasts as he told the student about their density and what he was he feeling. He was careful not to obstruct the camera’s view of me. I felt like my tits had been displayed for an extra-long time and thinking about the camera capturing it all kept me more than a little aroused. Then it was the student’s turn, and his untrained hands felt less like a clinical breast examination and more like getting my tits felt up. I provided my critique of his less experienced technique, his omission of asking permission to touch me and describe what he’d be doing.

Next, I needed to lie back for the rest of the breast exam, and the lighting needed to be repositioned and a step ladder added for the cameraman. Again, I was exposed for what seemed like forever. This lying position really made me feel vulnerable to the camera, especially when my arms were raised over my head. This flattened out my breasts, made my nipples prominent, and took my arms away as even an imagined defense for cover. The doctor’s exam was thorough and lengthy with his description of methods, while the student seemed to be learning on-the-job.

Again, my tits got a good working over before the two of them were done. The cumulative effect of all this touching and looking, and the idea of being filmed brought all the usual physiological responses, the most immediate being my very erect nipples. While I could blame the cool room for my nipple response, when they moved to do my pelvic exam, the visible signs of arousal there had only one explanation and even the non-clinician photo guy would know what that was.

It was again time to rearrange the lighting before starting the pelvic exam segment. While the equipment was moved, the Doc again gave an overview of what he’d be doing and the student was all ears, seeming to be more nervous now than when feeling my breasts. I suspected he’d had experience feeling his wife or girlfriend’s tits, but likely never inserted a speculum into her or felt for her ovaries.

While sitting at the end of the exam table, I got my gown retied up top and it was “lights, action, camera” time again. The doctor again gave a scripted run down on what the pelvic exam entailed and the clinical reasons for each step. As he described the external exam, the camera close-focused on my pudendum as the doctor gave an abridged version of Female Anatomy 101. When he began pointing out each detail with his gloved finger, I was reminded why I was being paid $3,000. While the break to re-set the equipment gave me a chance to quell my arousal from the breast exams, this wide-open exposure of my pussy for three men and a camera rekindled my hormonal response.

The student put on rubber gloves too, as the resident showed him how to spread my labia to look for signs of infection or discharge, as well as feeling for any cysts or enlarged nodes. He took his time tutoring the student and the film’s audience in every detail of his anatomy lecture. His pointing index finger touched all my sensitive parts, testing my ability, to remain purely clinical. Then both men applied KY to their two fingers and the doctor demonstrated the bimanual internal exam. Describing in detail the methods needed to detect everything he was looking for took much longer than a regular exam, all the while his two fingers were probing my vagina. I’d learned in my teaching sessions that the cumulative effect of all this touching can transform the atmosphere from examining my vagina to playing with my pussy. I knew I had to stay in control or risk losing $3,000.

So, when the student began his exam, I worked hard to make this strictly business. I wasn’t sure he had the same idea, as he seemed to find my G-spot for some special attention. He soon moved on and I gently critiqued his lack of explanation of what he was going to do, his flat affect and lack of sensitivity for a woman’s feeling of vulnerability, the brusqueness of his examining techniques, and no skill in finding my ovaries.

The doctor was impressed with my assessment and tact in delivering my critique. I think this was exactly what they wanted from me in the film.

I stuck to my script through the rest of the exam and pointed out the student’s being too abrupt and rough in inserting and removing the speculum and made a similar observation about his finger when doing the rectal exam. The doctor made the final remarks to close, and we were done filming. I apologized to the med student if my criticism seemed too harsh, and he tried to be gracious, telling me he appreciated the honest feedback. I doubted his sincerity.

The doctor told me he’d let me know when the editing was scheduled, and I adjourned to the restroom to get dressed. I felt really proud of the job i did in the film and felt I certainly earned my money. When I got home, I gave Dave a detailed description of the filming and the agreement I signed, and he literally got off on my graphically detailed account of how exposed I was for the camera. He shared my concerns about who all would see the film if it was left up to a commercial outlet.

It did concern me how widely the film might be distributed and if it could be made available outside of academic institutions. I was certain I wanted to participate in the editing to determine how identifiable I was and to get a sense of how desirable the film might be to the black market of the fetish community. I know that sounds paranoid, but one of my GTA colleagues, Maria, was approached by a questionable film maker to star in a similar film, which she suspected was a “play doctor” fetish film and be paid handsomely, almost double what I was being paid. She thought he got her name from a friend of a friend who knew of her GTA job. That experience would make her a skilled actress for their purposes.

After hearing her story, I’d researched web sites targeted to men with “playing doctor” fantasies and the photos, and stories they shared and sold online. Some of their posted films looked like “pirated” copies or copies of copies of older real training films like ours. This new CD would be an absolute Academy Award Winner as Best Picture in their market, and I’d be a shoo-in for Best Actress. Those thoughts made me think wistfully, that if anyone should further profit off this film, it should be me. The more I thought about that the more angry I was about the potential to be exploited both sexually and financially.

The editing was set for a week later which gave the videographer time to first edit for his technical corrections. I was comfortable with those seeing me in their clinical roles here, and I could accept other unknown and anonymous clinicians seeing me on film in their teaching and learning roles.

But I continued to have nagging worries about a profit-motivated group marketing CDs of me so intimately exposed. Dave tried to calm me down by saying, “Don’t worry about it until after the editing, you’ll know more after that.” I decided he was right and not to borrow trouble.

I went to the editing meeting with an open mind and a list of questions about the film’s use and distribution. I wanted an assurance that my name would not appear in any list of credits, and that only accredited medical schools could purchase the film. Attending were the four of us directly involved in making the film, the medical school’s attorney, the OB/GYN department head, the University’s marketing director, and a representative from the company the University had already chosen to market it. Based on the way some of the men looked at me, it was obvious that several in addition to the videographer had already seen the film.

This was a larger group than I expected, and there was video equipment set-up for previewing the CD. When thinking of limiting distribution for medical staff, I hadn’t considered the business and legal people who were to be involved in the decision making. My tits and pussy were about to be displayed to seven men while I looked on.

Introductions were made and the university marketing director seemed to be in charge. I made the assumption that any serious editing had already been done, and any issues I had were perfunctory now. The marketing guy described the potential for use beyond our medical school and the projected income. My $3,000 now seemed like rather paltry compensation for my nationwide, and very personal exposure. The doctor in the film reminded the group that he’d promised me a final edit before inking any distribution contracts. Given the size and nature of this audience, I wasn’t sure that this viewing was any favor to me or any sense of my privacy. But everyone thought it would keep me happy, so they ran the film. Feeling so underpaid, maybe I should have sold popcorn? As the film ran, I was trying to both watch the film, and the reactions of these seven men.