Yet Another Fucking Doctor Story

The nurse took her to a tiny room, almost a closet off the main hallway really, and measured her vitals there before escorting her to one of the exam rooms where she was left to wait again. She passed a couple of closed doors and wondered if her jeans guy was in fact tying up his cock into one of the gowns right now like she had imagined, and she smiled at the thought.

As she sat she tried to clear her mind, breathing deeply. So far, so good, she thought, as she took stock of herself. Hold yourself together.

In the hallway outside, the nurse caught Dr. Scott's attention on his way out of an exam room.

"Who's up next, Janette?"

"Two college kids. Boy in room 2 and girl in room 3."

He nodded. "Who was first?"

"Boy."

He'd go to the boy first, then, to be fair, even though the idea of seeing to a girl--maybe even an attractive one--appealed to him more. It had been a busy week without much color for him. There had been communication that troubled him from his parents about his younger brother and it seemed there was always something to take care of, even from thousands of miles away.

He nodded to Nurse Sullivan and made his way to the balcony for a quick smoke break. It was a bad habit, but a lifelong one and a strong one. There was no just quitting nicotine easily. The steel door swung shut behind him with a clang and he was alone for a few precious moments of his day; he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, puffed. He liked the noise of the town looking down from the balcony back here. This wasn't much of a metropolis but in some ways this particular view of the alley with its rundown tiles and brick walls and even the trash and graffiti reminded him of Zagreb, where he grew up. Croatia.

That made him think, of course, of Papa. The old asshole, still practicing but still causing trouble. Dr. Stjepan Horvat. In a roundabout way, the old man was responsible for John being where he was here at Calgary Medical. Not just growing up the son of a doctor, learning the terminology and work from an early age, but specifically causing him to flee his own country for his own safety and that of his family, especially his mother and brother.

The trigger was Croatia joining the European Union in 2013. It caused a culture clash in many ways. One was to the long-established system of bribes in place for the navigation of people's lives, and ironically--and not well understood outside the country or by his colleagues in the American medical school--medical staff were the worst offenders of all public servants in the country.

The bribes had never been exorbitant, each about 2000 Kuna or a few hundred euros. That's not to say they were good for the ordinary people; they sucked especially for those living paycheck to paycheck. But if you wanted your tests run on time or your medications prescribed then everyone knew you paid them, in cash, usually without being asked. In a way, it was seen by many as appreciation for service, perhaps something like gratuity for waiters in the US, since government doctors were not paid much.

But things changed after 2013. At least there were attempts. The hospital of Dr Horvat, the senior--as John at that time hadn't graduated yet from university, much less medical school--was one of the members of the medical establishment that was high on the take, and his hospital happened to be the one where the EU anti-corruption hammer came down hardest.

This impacted the doctor's income equally hard, and he had several habits to feed, notably alcohol and horse gambling, both which have a deep history in Croatia. John, then named Josip, hated the alcohol because Papa was an angry drunk and hated the track because his mother never had money to buy nice things for the family, and more irritating to John, for herself.

When faced with a reduced income, instead of reducing his spend like a rational person would, Stjepan took the path of least resistance and turned to borrowing on the street to support his bad habits. Within a year, without the additional income from the patient bribes, he was far in debt, and to some dangerous people.

Josip was a uni student at the time and didn't know any of this until he returned from class one winter day and found Majka--his mother--crying on the front step. She blurted out that two men had come to the house that day and threatened her; and since Papa was too drunk most of the time they insisted that she come up with the money Papa owed, and in just two weeks. Josip grew up fast that day as Majka explained everything and he grew enraged as he understood.

He could have killed Papa that day. And in fact, he imagined several ways to do so. But that wouldn't solve the problem, so he turned his red hot anger and nonstop drive to solving the problem another way. It took the next two months and a series of steps, some which went as he hoped and some not. But he cleared the debt. He had the scars to prove that, both mental and physical.

John stubbed out the cigarette. His patients were waiting for him. He always got lost in thoughts about the old country when he was out here on the balcony of this place. The time with his own family before he came to America for med school and changed his name.

He headed back in to do his job.

In the exam room where Olivia was waiting, a few minutes went by, then a few more, and she started to relax out of boredom. She didn't mind the time by herself and surprisingly found her earlier irritation about her sweater fading. She wasn't in a hurry to get back to her classes and schoolwork, and there was a sense of peace that enveloped her the longer she was in this quiet room.

But that all fell apart when there was a knock on the door, and as the door cracked open a resonant male voice inquired, "Olivia?" Her knees went weak and she felt a pit widening in her stomach.

"Yes, that's me," she choked out, not sure if she should stand to greet him or not. She didn't trust herself to be steady so she opted to stay put in the little plastic chair where the nurse had parked her, and from which she dutifully hadn't moved.

"Sorry for the delay," he said. "There was a patient in front of you."

Oh crap, he was a handsome devil after all, Olivia thought, as she watched him approach. He held out a hand for greeting. Dark pants, long white lab coat, stethoscope around his neck, thatch of black hair and unusually jet black eyebrows. Penetrating eyes, but friendly and earnest. He was young, for a doctor. Maybe late 20's or early 30's, she guessed. Smooth skin and an athletic build. Tall. She couldn't have been more wrong about the bald and fat of her earlier Madge daydream.

"I'm Dr. Scott," he said politely. "It's nice to meet you. Do you have that clipboard?"

Olivia was confused for a moment, then remembered she had put it on the counter behind her after the nurse left. She reached for it and handed it over, but somehow when he took it the pen fumbled out of their hands. Maybe she had been shaking when she handed it to him, and embarrassment flooded over her. What a klutz I am, she thought. How can I already be messing up?

"Oops!" he said, surprised, as the pen went clattering on the hard floor tiles, bouncing under the lip of the cabinet. Before he could do anything, she dropped to her knees to fetch it from the floor. It bounced a few feet away and towards him so she found herself crawling in the direction of his shoes before grasping it and trying to summon her dignity to stand again before him.

"Uh... thank you," he said, intrigued by her behavior, as she rose and held the pen out. Why had she jumped down to the floor so fast to help him with the dropped pen? She was blushing furiously as she handed the pen back and couldn't meet his gaze. He was immediately curious about this beautiful woman and felt an urge to try to put her at ease and make her more comfortable. "Um... sorry about that. Go ahead and take a seat and we can talk."

He was very handsome, but Olivia tried to put all that out of her mind and answer his questions politely without staring at his face and shoulders, and for God's sake don't let my eyes wander further down to check out his body, she thought.

For his part, Dr. John Scott--formerly Josip Horvat--was trying hard not to gawk at this very pretty, very curvy college girl in the blue sweater in the chair in front of him. He had the routine of his questionnaire to work through which kept him on track. But what a beauty, and so sweet. He was surprised when she jumped down to the floor suddenly, handing him back the pen he had dropped, like it was her fault. He was trying to process it all, his mind working in slow motion.

Like almost all doctors, he spent every day in a professional mindset, focused on his duties, and rarely let any other part of his human, male brain wake up and come into action. There were usually about zero patients in his practice per day that had a chance of awakening anything remotely sexual in him anyway, so it wasn't that hard a challenge in practice, all those fantasy stories aside. But something about this girl intrigued him and to his dismay he found it impossible not to think of her as an attractive young woman instead of purely a patient.

Fuck, he thought to himself. This is really important. Keep this under control, now. Don't fuck up in only your second year at this place. You've got to focus on the job to be done here. He looked at his questionnaire list.

"Do you have the paperwork you want me to fill out? For the visa application."

"Yes, I brought it. You need it now?" She was so sweet. Eager to do the right thing.

"Yes, please. I'd like to see what they're asking for."

Awkwardly she stood up to fish it out of her backpack that she'd hung on the hook behind the exam room door. She had to brush by the doctor to do this, and she was conscious of being that close to him when she did. He smelled nice. Attractive. Musky. Was that a hint of cigarette smoke? Surprisingly, she liked it. Maybe he was a bit of a bad boy.

"Here. I hope I got it all." She really hoped she did.

He shuffled through the forms as she took her seat again. "Looks like the normal things. Do you have your passport?"

The pit in her stomach that had been abating while he had been talking with her came roaring back in force. "Oh, crap!" she blurted out, shaking her head in dismay. "Sorry. I mean... I don't. I knew I would mess up!"

"No, no," he said gently, smiling in sympathy and right away attempting to calm her again. "Don't worry. You haven't messed up. We can get that information later. Just drop it off or send us a pic from your phone. It's only a few things we need from it, the passport number and expiration date I think." He patted her knee, trying to soothe her obviously agitated state.

Then he realized he had never touched a patient like that before, outside of examining them. Fuck. It was a natural move to console her, a pretty but unsure young woman. A woman like that is just asking to be comforted. She showed no sign of noticing anything unusual when he touched her, thank God. But he'd have to watch himself.

He was surprised how ready and willing he was to interact with this young woman intimately, and for her part she seemed to embrace it, and both those things signaled a danger light deep in his brain. It was flashing bright red, on and off, like a fog light on a lighthouse. John, it said, do not fucking get in trouble here with this girl. The question was would other parts of his brain acknowledge the warning.

"Okay, thank you so much," she gushed in relief. "I'm sorry. I'm always forgetting things. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

She said this last part with such honest intention, and without intending a double entendre he was sure, but his mind raced a hundred miles an hour after hearing this pretty thing say something like that. He couldn't help himself.

Do anything I want?

Sure, here's what I need you to do, he envisioned. Just kneel down right there in front of me, good girl, and open up those cute lips. I'm going to stick my fat cock right in there, okay? A little more open, that's it honey, you don't have to say anything. Easy now, that's right. Just look up at me and close your lips a little, just like a little kiss, and I'll slide in and out. Okay?

Fuck. What the actual fuck was he doing? He blinked and shook his head visibly, and turned back to the counter to gather himself before he did something really stupid. He breathed deeply three times and stared blankly at her visa health forms. This girl's beauty and innocence had knocked him out of his normal zone.

From her sitting position in the chair, Olivia watched him as he went quiet for a long moment then turned away. He was distracted in some way but it wasn't clear why. She hoped she hadn't done anything too wrong. She wanted to get everything done for her visa, yes, but in addition to that she wanted to please this man very much. He was a handsome, competent doctor; so capable in his responsible job.

She felt an overwhelming yearning for a man like that to love her. For it to be that he was the man she dreamed about. The one to care for her and protect her, wrap his strong arms around her and say that she was his and that nothing else mattered, and to make everything okay, to deal with all those pesky things that caused her so much trouble. She would do everything she could to obey him and hope that he would notice and appreciate her.

"Well, let's start the exam then." Dr. John Scott had corralled his brain the best he could from that entirely unexpected and shocking fantasy sequence, and returned to business mode. "Hop up here on the table." He patted the exam bed where the crinkly white paper had been pulled across it. It made a funny sound when he pressed on it.

She stood up too quickly, hitting the side of the chair when she did and scratching the floor noisily. "Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed, and stepped over next to the table. Then she stood there in her cute little blue sweater and jeans, looking unsure.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to arrange herself up on the table, but she seemed frozen in place. He wasn't sure why. Interesting girl, he thought. What the heck is she thinking?

He was about to ask her if there was a problem when she started. "Do I... I mean, sorry," she gushed, gathering her thoughts. She wanted to do the right thing without a fuss, but she was awfully shy. She got the courage to blurt it out. "I mean, should I undress?"

"Oh, no," he replied, smiling gently. So that's what was going through her mind, he thought, as he understood the situation. What a sweet girl. Fuck. The image of her kneeling in front of him reemerged. I probably could live out my fantasy. Then he shook his head to clear the distracting images. "Not yet. We'll just check a few things first."

"Okay," she said, relieved, but also that "not yet" phrase hung out there hinting that yes, she would have to take off her clothes, but later. The red flushed to her face again while she arranged herself up on the high exam table, thinking about that. She cursed how awkward it was to climb up there, but then she knew they were designed for the doctor's comfort and not the patient's.

They went through the usual routines and Olivia tried to hold still as he inspected the ordinary parts of her body: her eyes, ears, mouth, neck, arms, knee reflexes, feet. She liked his smell as he moved around close to her and touched her here and there. She thought that she was being a good patient so far, but she was nervous about what she would be asked to do in the remaining part of the exam. There was still a pit in her stomach.

"I'm going to listen to your heart next. If you don't mind removing your sweater."

In her mind she might have imagined that she could resist such a request, that she would have some choice in the matter; some free will. But in reality he was the professional, standing there next to her, telling her to strip down to her bra for him. There was no way she could do anything but obey. You will undress for me and I will start looking at your naked body, his tone of voice said.

He watched with interest as she pulled one hand then the other into the sleeves of her sweater and then slowly the whole thing went up and over her head, exposing her flat stomach and a white sports bra. While her head was lost in the sweater and blocking their eye-to-eye contact he peeked at the bulge of her breasts which had a very pleasing round shape, and again he had to shake his head just in time for her head to pop out and the sweater to drop down on the table beside her.

"You look like you are in shape. Fit, I mean." What the fuck was he doing. He never said things like this to his patients.

She blushed again in response to his praise. It was adorable the way the color rushed across her cheeks. "Yes. I love to do yoga."

"Perfect. I mean, that's really a good exercise for the whole body." Again he had to steel himself to get back on track. This pretty woman derailed him so easily from his professional manners. "Take some deep breaths and I will listen to your heart."

Sometimes if a female patient wore a low-cut bra he'd put the scope down on her naked skin above the bra line, slipping it under the top seam if he needed a position further down. Olivia's full breast was enclosed by her sports bra so he placed the stethoscope onto the fabric over her upper chest so he could listen to her heart, far above her nipple. The telltale bump showed through the bra, gently elevating the white fabric, and the circle of areola could faintly be seen. A perfect feminine form, he thought. As she breathed, the mass of her chest rose up and down. She even closed her eyes, relaxing for him, while he listened. What a perfect girl.

"Now turn for me." He moved around the end of the table to her back side, pressing the scope on the broad swath of fabric that ran below her shoulders and across the wing bones, supporting the weight of her breasts on the front. From his vantage point behind her, he bent his head to stare at her ear, neckline, shoulder, and breasts as they rose up and down. A beautiful side view and he wondered how she would look naked.

"Good," he said, tearing himself away from that lovely view. Then he panicked. Did I just tell her she was a good girl? Fuck. Watch what you say, he thought to himself. But let's just keep this rolling.

"Go ahead and take off your pants for me and I'll look at your abdomen."

"On the table?"

"Yes, please." The doctor thought for a minute. "Olivia, have you had regular checkups? Like this one?"

"No, I can't remember one since I was little."

"You haven't had an exam of any kind since you hit puberty?"

"No."

"Now I see. It did seem to me that you were nervous."

Olivia blushed and looked down again, half way through pulling her jeans over her hips. She was doing all this while on the table, lifting her butt up and rocking back and forth to get the tight jeans off. He didn't mean to imply that she had to stay on the table while undressing, but at this point he was starting to enjoy some aspects of this physical examination so he didn't interfere, and merely observed.

"Yeah, sorry, doctor. I'm really nervous, to be honest." The jeans popped all the way off and she sat back down, dressed now only in the white bra and simple cream-colored panties. She breathed out in a mini-exhaustion from undressing while balancing on the exam table. "I don't know what to do. That's why I was nervous about messing up."

"You aren't messing up. You are doing fine."

She looked up at him with a grateful smile, and his dick hardened inside his trousers. Fuck, I hope that doesn't show, he thought.

"Just lie back now and relax. Right. Like that."

She leaned backwards on the table but it felt awkward; exposed in front of him, practically naked in bra and panties and it didn't help that he was fully clothed, with a tie even. She hadn't noticed that before, but there it was under his lab coat. He was sharply dressed. But she wasn't, being almost completely unclothed, and her natural instinct was to cover herself as she settled down to the table. He wasn't going to leave it that way, though, she found out quickly.