Prostaglandin Provider

He had worked on his outfit carefully because he wanted to be beyond reproach as a professional. The full suit with tie was finished by brown Italian loafers. Anyone looking closer would recognize the fabric as very soft and refined. The white coat thrown over made him a bit hot but also labeled him as a medical provider even though he didn't have a degree or license. Dressed so upscale, he looked like an expensive psychiatrist or other medical professional who doesn't get in touch with the messiness of the body.

Leaning back in the couch with a reserved but attentive face, he allowed Doctor Clarence to lead the consult. Doctor Clarence was an actual doctor with a light nationwide fame to it. She was also dressed in expensive office clothing instead of scrubs. As the delivery coordinator, she was more of a manager with expert medical knowledge. She would coordinate the delivery and pull in specialists and experts as needed. The full weight of medical success rested on her shoulders. She was excellent at it. The hospital had built her her own conference room to meet with couples. The contract signing here was very important to the hospital because her deliveries weren't covered by insurance and ran in the tens of thousands of dollars. That's why the couple had expensive flutes of champagne on the coffee table in front of them - real one for the husband and bubbly apple juice for her. The artwork on the wall was real, a loan from a museum.

The couple was dressed very clean and conservative. A big gold cross hung on their chests against a plain unicolor to make their conviction prominent. Even if they hadn't put the sign so obvious, their faces were so composed and held together that they appeared very Christian. He was dressed in office casual - nothing fancy but the cut was very neatly trimmed to his body. The shirt was tugged in and buttoned up all the way to the top. Even if he wasn't holding a bible the energetic imprint of him walking around with a bible in his hand was so strong that anyone in the room could sense it.

She was also dressed in a demure dress, a beige one that ran down the whole length to her ankles and neatly circled her leg. However, the fabric was very thin and supple, creating a contrast to the conservative appearance by revealing her body shape. She wore it like the stretch in the fabric was simply for the convenience of the pregnant belly, but one could help but get a sort of sexual feel from how she allowed the shape of her body to be seen. The belly was huge against her frame. While many pregnant bellies appear simply as big bellies, her belly was so big that it felt too large for her frame. It appeared rather like a big sack of skin that was hanging outside of her body. The elbows and every sharp angle of the baby poked out through her skin and the thin dress. It was like an alien was in her belly very ready to come out.

"Your last pregnancy was problematic as well. The baby was very late to come out. It wouldn't have come out on its own. So, this time, we want to be proactive in inducing labor without giving your body every last chance because it's really unlikely to happen on its own. We rather want to pick the best timing. You both decided to have a completely natural birth, which is my field of expertise. I have delivered many extremely problematic pregnancies successfully with natural methods."

Doctor Clarence explained the couple, while here knees were crossed to express a bit of boredom, delivering the pitch that she had to develop many times before. She preferred to be in the heat of an emergency over the sales-type meetings. Having a little blood and puke over her scrubs was more her natural habitat than sitting in this meeting. Her hair was nicely done by a stylist the hospital had hired for her. An expensive gold brooch pinned the swirl in her hair in place. The couple listened intently with faces that tried to look plain and full of interest to hide the worry that they had. They seemed to feel safe about the pregnancy itself, but the meetings, hospital procedures, and forms seemed to stress them out.

"This is Mister Abrams. He is the prostaglandin provider. You know we can simply give you a prostaglandin pill to hasten cervical ripening and intensify contractions. If you want to do the birth completely, Mister Abrams is a professional who can insert a naturally produced dose of prostaglandin directly to the cervix. Obviously, this isn't covered by insurance and in a gray zone of medical practice. You'll have to sign paperwork for the lawyers. I can't advice you to do it. I can simply offer you the option."

Doctor Clarence gave the couple her worried look that told the patients that there was more implied than was said. They both nodded their heads calmly and affirmatively like they had talked it over before.

"We understand what you are talking about. We would like this option very much. We want to keep it pure. All these medications and chemicals are really damaging to young babies. We want the best for our Lydia."

These meetings went pretty easily. All he had to do was show up, shake hands, and smile. The couple busied themselves with the heaps of forms to sign which were spread out in different piles on the table. In the old days, babies simply popped out of bellies. Nowadays, one had to have an advanced degree to simply fill out the paperwork. The couple got more chatty with each other as they neared the end of filling out the forms. They had a tender and very polite way of talking with each other, pointing at different words and boxes in the form. Such a simple meeting would cost the couple about a thousand dollars for fifteen minutes. The husband seemed to be upper management for a manufacturing company. He mentioned some things and the way how he had studious glasses on suggested so.

The next meeting was only the three of them. The room wasn't as posh. He had simply used a small administrative office. He was sitting behind the desk. They were in front of him on cheaper chairs like pleading petitioners. They were quiet as he studied the form in front of him carefully. The sun was shining into the room from outside. When he took a mental pause, he could look outside the window and watch the ducks walk around the little pond that gave patients a nice space to sit for visits. With a very serious face he studied her questionnaire answers.

"You know that today is the first day of your target delivery window. The obstetrician would like your baby to come out any time between today and a week. At the end of the week, your team is going to move to induce labor. Of course, they will only use natural methods and means as you asked for. My services are part of the second-line offense. If things go well, you might not need me at all. However, we want to prepare for my procedure so that everything is going to be ready to go."

They both had a light flush of red on their face. They were holding hands with a tight squeeze to reassure each other. They could tell that this meeting wasn't going to be as polished veneer as the last one but that we would get to the nuts and bolts of it. The immediacy of what had seemed like a distant, logical decision became clear to them. The tension in their breathing gave it away. This reaction among couples was common. He found the best way to deal with it was to move swiftly and professionally forward.

"The good news is that the way how I administer the prostaglandin is absolutely natural. However, for the best reception, we have to talk a little bit about anatomy and biology. (He paused to give the couple a moment to get ready for how explicit he would get.) The prostaglandin will be absorbed through the internal mucous membrane of your vagina. The more blood flow you have, the higher dosage the body cells will pull in. You know that when you are aroused, your vaginal tissue fills with blood like a sponge and your uterus pulls up. All these things help with prostaglandins absorption and absorption in the right place to dilate you."

He paused again, this time more for him to gather his own nerves. The couple's eyes avoided him and came back smitten to look into his eyes. This couple didn't seem to talk about sex with each other. The mere mention of the sexual zones and them having to picture it in their minds made them very uncomfortable, but they listened quiet and eager to comply.

"In essence, the more aroused you are, the more successful the procedure is. And that leads us to the questionnaire that you filled out. What you filled out is the 'Hobbson Inventory Of Turn-Ons, Kinks, And Fetishes.' It helps us communicate how we can arouse you more during the procedure. I understand that this can be very uncomfortable and unusual for patients. However, having looked through your answers, there is nothing unusual. I've had many women in my practice. They often worry about some of the things they checked, but I see them checked lots of times."

He smiled warmly to reassure her to be calm and that everything was okay. Her husband clutched her hand with both of his now to reassure her as well. They had prayed about this, it seemed like. It didn't seem like they were talking but spent a lot of time praying together. The uni-color asphalt turtleneck of the husband made him seem like someone who looked at the world black-and-white, very certain of what was right and wrong.

The questionnaire had 41 questions with subcategories for each question. For example, she had checked dirty talk. Underneath it were the choices of explicit, promiscuous/slutty, and demeaning. She had checked promiscuous/slutty. He read those out to her to confirm that it was what she had meant. Her face was cherry red now. Her husband occasionally called out "Anna!" in complete shock like he had never heard or expected such a thing about his wife. They seemed to see marriage as a life thing through good and bad times but seemed to talk little about intimate topics. By the time they got through half of it, the husband started looking deranged and out of it with eyes popped wide open and his hair frizzed in shaky strands.

With his thumb on a particular question and a very quizzical look, he asked, "You've checked incest, but you haven't checked any of the sub-categories: brother, sister, daughter, son, father, mother, not even other. Of course, you don't have to answer questions you are not comfortable with, but I want to double-check in case you forgot."

This one was so bad her voice quivered. "Ugh," she sighed. "It's his grandpa. I have a fantasy about his grandpa."

"Anna! Why my grandpa!" the husband asked terrorized by the revelation.

"Oh, I love you so much. And he seems like you but only more condensed. It's like you are a little piece of him. And he's the source..." she tried to explain.

"You are saying that I'm a watered-down version of my granddad!" he exclaimed. The tone was getting into a couples fight.

"That's not what I mean," Anna defended.

"He's in a wheelchair! How did you get the idea for that anyway?" asked the husband.

"Remember last summer when I was wearing the daisy dukes that you disapproved of? We were on the way back from the lake to drop off cake at his senior home. You went to the restroom. He slapped my ass really hard. It still hurt the next day. But when I turned around and looked at him, he looked handsome. Your granddad is hot. I had never looked at him before that way. But it's really only because he reminds me of you." She kept repeating that she was only turned on by his grandpa because she saw her husband in the grandpa.

Overhearing the conversation, he could tell that the couple was very strict about infidelity, wandering eyes, and impure thoughts. This would be an interesting couple to work with. They seemed quite innocent as well, but at least Anna had some more erotic life hidden in her. The way she dressed suddenly made sense. At the surface, it had always been very modest, very covered up, and very muted colors, but it had also been very contour hugging.

He kept the meeting moving by focusing on the questions and answers. Then he sent them off. He got himself a cup of coffee before he headed to the nurse's station to fill out paperwork, leaning over the counter standing. His ears could hear a conversation growing intense in the hallway. He poked his head back to see. When he saw the doll-like face with plenty of make-up, very red red lips, perfectly hair sprayed, puffy hair, and big gold earrings, he knew it was them. He slipped out of sight to lean more over the paperwork.

"I never knew you liked dirty talk! Whenever I've tried, you stop me right away, really hard, hostile actually," the husband bickered.

"I do like dirty talk, but not from you!" complained the wife upset and annoyed with a tone that suggested he should know what he was doing wrong, but it was really her who was afraid to spell it out.

"Why am I the only person on this planet who is not allowed to do dirty talk with you!?" replied the exasperated husband.

"Because when you do it, you are mean. When you call me a slut, you say it with anger and you have so much judgment. You don't make it sexy fun. To you a slut is as ugly as being a wart," explained Anna.

The husband blew a fuse at that and stormed out of the ward, pulling his wife silently behind her.

When the day came, he opened the door to her patient room and quickly stepped in to close the door behind him for her privacy. There was the usual chaos that he expected. A monitor was checking her blood pressure and heartbeat. It beeped and huffed. A doctor was leaning over her bare and gel-covered giant belly with an ultrasound scanner to monitor the baby's heartbeat. A nurse was behind the head of the back, dabbing sweat off Anna's forehead. Another nurse fuzzed around in another part of the room. The husband sat at her side, held both her hands, and looked around panicked and helpless. Dr. Clarence stood out of the way with a tablet in her hand, checking off boxes. He found an empty space in the room to stand calmly until he was called upon.

After about ten minutes, an alarm went off in Dr. Clarence's tablet. She was wearing high heels, a tight skirt, and a fluffy wool sweater. Her appearance made clear that she wasn't going to do any hands-on work. She stepped forward and tapped the doctor with the ultrasound on the shoulder. The doctor nodded silently, stood up, and left the room. Dr. Clarence put her hand on the shoulder of Anna. The nurse behind Anna's headboard knew what was going to happen and moved a couple of steps back to give them privacy. It's those subtle signs that let patients know to prepare themselves.

"We've tried the first line offensive of herbal teas and massage. The first line has failed. Don't think of it as you having failed. We simply want to try the lightest means possible and work our way up. We expected to have to take the next step, but we wanted to give it a first chance. You are very pregnant. The baby has to come out, but you aren't even dilating yet. We are going to use the prostaglandin that naturally occurs in sperm to induce your labor," Dr. Clarence explained.

The couple looked shocked like they weren't ready even after all the forms and consultations.

"Mr. Richards, you can of course attempt sex with your wife. That might be the preferable option for you," offered Dr. Clarence.

"I can't get hard," burst Mr. Richards out. "All this stress and beeping, I can't get it up. I see her in pain. I can't get it up. Dr. Abrams has to do it!"

"No problem. We have a solution for that. My tablet is loaded up with literature from Brazzers and Reality Kings," offered Dr. Clarence.

"I can't look at another woman. That's cheating. I can only get aroused by my Anna," Mr. Richards started losing his composure.

"Okay! Okay!" calmed Dr. Clarence Mr. Richards down. "I understand that it takes a professional to perform under these conditions. And that's why we've brought the best professional in for you. I'm going to have Dr. Abrams take over now."

He was still uncomfortable being called "doctor" because he lacked a medical degree. The hospital had insisted. The hospital lawyers had insisted that there was wiggle room on what calling someone doctor meant. You can call a stripper doctor and your honor. Wasn't he simply a glorified stripper? He didn't like the comparison, but the hospital was very money-hungry and the lawyers were very money-hungry as well and made anything happen. He was also money-hungry also didn't like the term. He preferred to consider that proper reward for his skill was a sign of respect that meant a lot to him.

With calm, he walked around the bed and pulled a bedside tray stand with him. He took his time to open up the STD kit. He pulled the shrinkwrap off, unrolled the contents, lined up the test panels, and finger pricks. He found that setting a calm rhythm made patients and their partners become focused on what he was doing methodically and stop thinking about all the wild thoughts in their heads.

"This is going to sting a little!" he warned before he pricked her index finger. Then he guided her finger over the test panel to squeeze a drop of blood into each circle. He repeated the blood drops with his own index finger on his own panel. He explained to them the different STD tests and how long they had to wait.

The couple got focused on the process of it, but in the silent moments in between, all three of them were thinking about the impending intercourse. He enjoyed the tension that build up beforehand when nobody could really say anything anymore. Mr. Richard's face was tense. Upset was playing on his face. Anna started relaxing. She smiled a little bit, trying to hide her anticipation of a little fun. He couldn't help but feel a bit giddy looking into Mr. Richard's face fully knowing that he was going to fuck his wife while Mr. Richard sat a little hunched over like he lacked the stature to do anything about it. What he really liked about the job was the sex with women on the labor table, but he had to wrap it really well in professional demeanor. He was so close to his treat. He simply had to keep it professional a little while longer.

"We are both STD-free!" he announced. "I'm going to help you into the most comfortable position for intercourse. You want to be flat on your back, but turn your knees and hips to your husband. Yes, that way, you are a bit twisted. There won't be pressure on your baby, but I'll have good access."

All the medical staff except for the nurse monitoring the sensors and displays cleared out of the room for privacy. The couple still held hands. The nurse was at the headboard. The machines and blankets packed her in tightly. She was wearing a paper hospital gown already. He relished the look. This was going to be his playing field, his domain!

He pulled his black pin-stripped slacks down. Early in his career, he had deliberated on how to best undress. At first, he had tried to only minimally pull his pants down, but then during the heat of the action, his pants would slip down. And with his pants around his ankles, he had looked very unprofessional, more like a smitten teenager in the attic. Then he had taken off his pants and underwear, but standing barefoot had been barbaric. He had tried felt-tipped slippers, but the absorbing fabric didn't seem right for hospitals. So eventually, he had settled on thin, black merino wool socks and rubber clogs with his butt bare. He kept the legs hairy because it seemed less like a stripper and more like a medical professional too busy for shine and flash.

Having folded his clothes neatly in the visitor's chair, he walked around the bed to in front of her and the husband. He presented his erection. "Here, touch it for a moment so that you become familiar with it, and it'll be less surprising when I insert it." Mr. Richard's face wanted to protest but knew that he had to hold it in. Anna touched his penis cautiously and softly at first like a foreign instrument. After feeling his smooth skin and vein-rippled surface beneath, she took a fuller grip of his member. A smile flashed across her face, which she quickly hid from her husband. She moved it around like one tests merchandise in a store. "Comfort and understanding procedures is very important to us," he assured her.