Sexually Dysfunctional Pt. 01

The view in the mirror was much better. It was cleaner cut and smoother without the tights. But, there was still the clear outline of the thong. The highest quality Egyptian cotton, whilst wonderful to the touch and great to look at, is thin and becomes almost see through when stretched. The coat had been made to such tight margins that it was stretched in most places, especially across Sammi's small breasts and womanly rounded bum. Two alternatives she thought. A thinner thong or this she pondered, removing the garment, pulling the coat down and again bending forward. The look was fine; no unsightly lumps, seams, or bumps. Smooth as a baby's bottom, she thought smiling. Could she really go to work commando though? Could I spend all day without panties? God it did feel sexy though, she thought as she walked round the small room imagining she was in a consulting room working with a consultant.

It took a week or so for the agency to process everything.

"How are you set for Monday?" Emma asked down the phone the following Friday.

"Great, nothing on at all."

"Mmmmm what a thought, the mind boggles," Emma said.

"No, I didn't mean I was naked, I meant."

"Yes luv, yes I know I was just joking with you."

She gave Sammi the details, said it would be confirmed by e-mail and told her to be there at 7.30 sharp on Monday morning. Just as Sammi disconnected her mobile she heard the ping of the e-mail arriving on her PC. Hmmm pretty damn efficient she thought.

"Hello," Sammi said to the male receptionist at the ultra smart, small hospital in Bedford's Way just off Harley Street. "I am here to see Mister Mike Stevens, it is mister and not doctor isn't it?"

"Please take a seat; I will let his office know you are here, your name please? Yes he's far above being a mere doctor, but I'm never quite sure about these bullshit medical terms," he said flashing a set of amazingly white teeth at Sammi. "What's your name?"

"Sammi, Sammi Cannock, well nurse Cannock I suppose," she replied.

"You have an appointment, I assume?" the dusky skinned, outrageously good looking guy said.

"Yes, I have my agency papers, and was asked to meet him here this morning,"

"Wonderful, my name is Cal, and if you have any questions while you are here, I'm the one to ask," Cal said looking Sammi up and down, rather flirtatiously and, in many ways, probably inappropriately, but nevertheless quite flatteringly.

As Sammi learned later, this was quite a common occurrence with Cal. He was of Pakistan background and came from a moneyed family. He liked to think, not unjustifiably either, that he looked like Imran Khan, when he was younger of course. He was very lazy and thus disappointed his family considerably by being a receptionist. To him, though, it was fine, for it meant he three days a week he had the afternoon and evening shift, thus enabling him to going clubbing several nights a week from which he met an almost endless stream of young women. They were his total passion in life. He often told his mates and sometimes the women he was trying to conquer and indeed did conquer that he lived to fuck and fucked to live.

"Mister Stevens will be VERY pleased to see YOU" he replied, the emphasis not lost on Sammi, although it did rather surprise her for nothing like this happened in the NHS; they never had cool, dishy, young male receptionists in the hospitals where she had worked in the public sector.

Cal had arranged the chairs in the waiting area so that wherever any of the nurses sat, he would be able to see their legs. Not only was he a real player, but he also was an avid voyeur. His day was made when a girl leaned forward a little too much and he caught a glimpse of her bra. It was equally made when sometimes he would see the top of a uniform, perhaps a blouse, stretched tight across a pair of full tits so that he saw the outline of a hardened nipple. But mostly it was made, as it was being made now by looking at the girls' legs, as he was looking at Sammi's legs, as he was looking up her skirt that had slithered up her thighs as she sat. She had good legs and like all of the nurses from La Crème she was wearing white tights, or stockings. Cal was pondering as he thought how attractive all the girls seemed to be that came from that nursing agency whether Sammi was wearing tights or stockings and was willing the coat to slip up just a few more inches. Crème girls as he called them were always better looking, with nicer figures and a sexier appearance than most of the nurses and technicians from other agencies; not once had he seen a dumpy, ugly or plain La Crème nurse and he often wondered why.

The door beside Cal opened and out strode a tall man who Sammi assumed was the consultant. He was dressed in an immaculate lightweight, navy pin-stripe suit and a pink shirt with gold cufflinks and a silk, blue and pink tie, striped tie. He was gorgeous and relaxed yet so sophisticated.

Cal stood up and walked over to him. Sammi was surprised at how familiar he was.

"Hi Mike, this is Sammi. Nurse Cannock, this is Mister Stevens our consultant psychiatrist on sexual dysfunctionality."