This is the first part of a multipart longish story which sets the background, so is quite uneventful, but try and stick with it.
Sarah Stevens was walking down Main Street with her friend, Amy. It was a warm sunny day and she could feel the heat of the sun beating through the layers of her dress and cardigan. She was a little on the warm side, but she revelled in the heat after the misery of the cold, wet winter just past. She and Amy were talking of nothing in particular, just taking pleasure in each other's company, chatting about this and that. They were interrupted by the roar of an engine and the laughing and shouting from two young couples in the open top sports car that pulled up to the kerb a short distance in front of them. The girls were dressed in short skirts and loose flowing tops, their jiggling breasts suggesting the absence of bras, the hems of their skirts fluttering about the tops of their long bare legs. Sarah looked wistfully at them, wishing she could wear the same, instead of sweltering in her long cotton dress and cardigan. The two girls each took the arm of the two boys and went into the local Starbucks.
Sarah didn't recognise the girls; probably college students by the look of them, but she did recognise the boys; Simon and his friend, Jeremy. Everyone knew who Simon was, Simon Fitzpatrick, son of Marcus Fitzpatrick, the man who owned this town. While Marcus Fitzpatrick didn't actually own the whole town, he owned the mill. The mill produced timber and wood pulp. The wood pulp was used in his paper factory. The paper was used in his printing and packaging plant, which was transported out of the town by Fitzpatrick's Haulage. The mill and factory workers spent their wages in the town's restaurants, bars and shops. The shop workers and waitresses spent their money on...well you get the picture - The Fitzpatricks owned this town.
Sarah couldn't take her eyes off Simon. She'd worshipped him from afar since she was a small girl, and he was the most popular boy in senior school. She looked at him now and her nipples began to ache and her panties started to get damp. This was happening more and more often lately and not just when she saw Simon, which was quite seldom now he was at college, but it was beginning to happen whenever she saw a nice boy or young couples holding hands, or even the mildly 'racy' films her father actually allowed her to watch. Her nipples had begun to get so big she'd had to fill the cups of her bra with tissues to stop them being so embarrassingly obvious and her panties were so often damp, she kept getting an irritating rash on her privates. She looked on with envy at those college girls, so happy and carefree, arms linked with her idol. They dressed like sluts, as her father would say...but they looked so comfortable...
Well, that's what her father would say. Deacon of the church and full of fire and brimstone. He kept strict rules under his roof and his daughter on a tight leash. When she was younger, she was frequently on the receiving end of a spanking, sometimes on her bare bottom. No dating allowed yet for Sarah. No short skirts or loose blouses. Homework in the evening, chores on Saturday and Church on Sunday. Prayers every night. Bible reading after church on Sunday. No fun and definitely, no boys!
The two boys and their girls disappeared into the coffee shop and Amy cast a sideways glance at her friend. Sarah looked back at her and they exchanged such looks that communicated a thousand words, though none were spoken. Amy knew. While Amy was a different girl to Sarah, they both were outside the norm, neither of them fitting in to the different groupings at school, and so by default, they fell into each others company and over the years became fast friends. Amy was the tomboy, always trying to break Sarah out of her religious straightjacket, but at the same time having sympathy for her and not pushing her too far. Sarah often scolded Amy for her behaviour but secretly loved to share, vicariously, the experiences of her friend. Amy understood immediately the pain of jealously and yearning from Sarah's sighting of her Simon.
They walked on, silent, each to their own thoughts. At Sarah's gate they parted. "See you tomorrow, Amy, please God."
"Only if I don't kill myself over this maths homework," replied Amy.
"Well, this is our last spring at school, then the world is our oyster, God willing!"
"Yeah, fat chance. The paper factory or local college and then the paper factory!"
"Oh, Amy! See you tomorrow."
It was at Church the following Sunday that Sarah saw a new face. The face of woman, about 30 years of age, well dressed and very pretty. Sarah had a good idea of who she was, the town was abuzz following the retirement of old Doc Smithers. Talk was, there would be a new woman doctor in the town, and this must be her! The idea of a woman doctor wasn't universally well received, especially after Doc Smithers had been there forever, but here she was and Sarah was very happy about it. Not that she'd been ill a day in her life, but every now and then she'd been with her mother for check ups and so on and as she'd entered puberty, the leering looks from old Doc Smithers had made her uncomfortable. It didn't help that she'd developed large breasts and a full, round bottom in her early teens, attributes that her parents were at pains to minimise by long skirts and loose, shapeless clothing. However Doc was gone and she was eighteen now, she could make an appointment on her own. She had to see someone, her 'privates' problem was just getting worse and she felt as if she was like a spring getting wound tighter and tighter and tighter until something snapped. She couldn't concentrate on her schoolwork or on her prayers, something had to be done.
It was the following week that she'd eventually got her appointment with doctor Creasy, Evelyn Creasy. It hadn't been easy. The new doctor in town had been inundated with 'patients', all wanting to get to see and pass judgment on the new doctor. Dr. Creasy had clearly heard the distress in Sarah's voice and when she'd checked her name against the medical records and discovered nothing in her file she'd promised her an appointment as soon as she could. The only time available was the afternoon the surgery was closed, but Evelyn felt that the girl was long overdue for a check up and having met Smithers she felt she could understand why the girl hadn't been a regular visitor to the surgery. For her part, Sarah didn't really want to confide in her mother and she didn't yet want to tell Amy about it, so she feigned feeling unwell that afternoon, much to her guilt, and left school early to make her appointment. When she arrived the door was locked, but the doctor saw her through the window and let her in. Another woman, in nurses uniform came in holding a stack of dusty files
"I'm so sorry to take up your afternoon off, Dr. Creasy," said Sarah.
"Don't you trouble yourself about that, Sarah. My nurse, Susan, and I have to sort out all these old files and records and we're desperate to leave it and do some doctoring! Come in and through to the examination room."
"Now sit down, make yourself comfortable."
"Well, Sarah, how can I help you?"
Sarah looked at the doctor and blushed furiously, yet couldn't utter a word!
"The only record I can find for you, Sarah, is a note on a check up when you were 14?"
Sarah squirmed in her chair and blushed even more, but managed an embarrassed nod.
"Well, I think a general examination is very much overdue; we'll do blood pressure, standard blood counts, a cervical smear, breast examination, the whole works and if you have any specific worries, we'll cover them as we go along, OK?"
Sarah nodded dumbly and blushed again.
"Well, I'll leave you to get undressed -here's a gown to put on for the examination"
The doctor left and Sarah slowly started to take off her clothes. She got goosebumps, not because it was cold, but being naked outside her own bedroom was strange and caused her privates to tingle in the way that was becoming so frequent these days. She quickly put on the gown. She knew it sort of went on backwards, leaving her bottom bare, but it was better than nothing. She was still very conscious of the cool bench under her bare bottom.
