Sarie stifled a yawn as she combed her long, auburn hair. She'd felt so exhausted lately. This didn't worry her at first, but friends encouraged her to see a doctor and at least have a check-up. Liz, a co-worker, referred her to a young doctor who supposedly was innovative, intelligent, and compassionate toward his patients.
Sarie didn't put much stock in receiving help for her ailments whether real or imagined. Nothing really mattered since she and John broke up. According to her mother she'd "let herself go." Usually fastidious with clothes and make-up, she'd starting wearing baggy, matronly clothes. Even showering seemed like a pointless effort.
For the past six months John was her life. She wore what he liked, down to her silk and lace thong panties. She combed her hair the way he liked it. She wore shoes he picked out (usually sandals, even in the middle of winter). It got to the point where Sarie didn't know what she liked. Only John's opinion mattered.
It all, as her grandmother used to say, ended in tears. John left her for one of his Introduction to Anthropology students, a young, and oh so willing, nineteen year old with the brain of a snow pea and brand new breasts. (A high school graduation present from an overly indulgent mommy and daddy).
John's friends claimed to hate the little slut, but soon they quit contacting Sarie. They were John and his eye candy's friends now, not hers.
Despite her lethargy and ennui, she spent a half hour shampooing her hair and an hour brushing, curling, and teasing it. "Who am I trying to catch?" she mumbled to herself. She put on her favorite pink lace bra and matching panties before she could talk herself out of it. It was as if an inner hopefulness was driving her.
She'd never seen Dr. Polk before. He was probably some over-confident Dockers wearing jerk who thought women should bow down to him because he went to med school. Or some science and math nerd who was too shy or dull to care what his female patients looked like naked. Yet, the feeling of excited anticipation wouldn't go away.
After a surprisingly brief drive in morning rush hour traffic, Sarie arrived at the doctor's office. As she opened the waiting room door the sweet, spicy scent of lavender incense surrounded her. Indian sitar music played from a CD player on a teak desk. "Oh great, he's a hippie." Sarie thought. Despite her negative thoughts, her pussy twitched with excitement. Sarie gently bit her lower lip to contain herself.
A sign on the teak desk advised patients to wait patiently for the doctor to bring them into his office. Sarie hated to wait, but was well trained by both her parents and society to follow the rules. She obediently picked up a magazine and pretended to read until the doctor called her.
"Sarie Morris," a firm, yet kind masculine voice called. Sarie looked up to see a tall, boyishly handsome man in a white coat. His golden brown hair was neatly swept back in a ponytail.
Sarie grinned slightly and stood up. "Come on back," Dr. Polk responded, gently patting her on her right shoulder. Sarie suppressed a gasp at his touch. "Has it been this long since I've been around a man?" she wondered.
"What brings you in today Sarie?" Dr. Polk asked.
Sarie couldn't decide if she should be honest or coy. Before she answered her eyes traveled to the doctor's crotch. His pants were far from tight, but she was certain she could see a promising bulge. "I've been really tired lately," she began.
After asking a few preliminary questions, Dr. Polk asked Sarie to unbutton her blouse. "I just need to listen to your heart," he explained when her eyes widened at his command. "Damn!" she thought. "He probably thinks I'm some kind of prude."
