(A Story of Alternative Dentistry)
I was the only person left in the dentist's waiting room. The last appointment of the day I guessed. I had already leafed through most of the dog-eared magazines that were strewn about the coffee table. I'd been nervous enough as it was, without this dreadful waiting, the delays, waiting for my name to be called. This was my first appointment since moving out on my own. I'd recently acquired a nice little flat right in the centre of town - handy for shops, restaurants etc.
There was no avoiding it - my regular six-monthly check-up was already two months overdue. After scanning the yellow pages for a local practice, I had finally settled on a certain Dr Joanne Smiley, D.D.S. She was the only female dentist in the area, and ever since my last one, a right 'lech' by the name of Phil McCavity, had taken the liberty of feeling my boobs on the pretence of wiping me down, I felt I just couldn't trust male dentists anymore.
The surgery door opened and a petite lady, no more than five feet tall, poked her head through and looked around. The tag on her nurse's tunic said 'Karen'.
"Doctor Smiley will see you now, Miss Pickles." The brunette smiled. Oh well, at least they seemed friendly here.
I put the fashion magazine back on the table and smoothed my white cotton skirt. I took a deep breath and followed Karen into the operating room, thinking how nicely her black seamed stockings contrasted to her crisp, clean white nurse's attire.
She showed me to the reclining chair and asked me to sit and make myself comfortable. I lay back and luxuriated on the cool leather, which felt sticky against my lightly perspiring wrists. My God, why did I get so nervous about dentists? It was only going to be a simple check-up and I rarely had to have anything done, anyway. All my family had been blessed with good teeth, but I still felt uneasy whenever I had an appointment.
I noticed Karen looking at my legs. It seemed my skirt had ridden up quite a long way and this was amusing her.
"Oh dear, that always happens," she giggled. "Here, let me sort you out." She tugged the hem of my skirt back down again, smoothing it down over my thighs. As she did this my body responded with a start.
"Oops! Sorry. You're not ticklish by any chance, are you?"
"Very," I replied, maintaining a breezy attitude.
"Good," Karen smiled. "That's something, anyway." She allowed her eyes to roam over my body.
"I'll just pop next door and let Doctor Smiley know you're ready for her."
Did I detect just a hint of mischief in those big brown eyes? And what about that strange remark – 'That's something, anyway?'
Karen disappeared through a side door, leaving it slightly ajar. Almost immediately I heard laughing and another female voice - Dr Smiley, I presumed.
I looked around me. The room was much like any other dentist's I supposed. The smell of mouthwash, various surgical instruments scattered on trays to the side of me, the big elbow-jointed spotlight above me radiating heat. I felt a bit hot myself. Probably just my nerves, I supposed.
I had on my high-collared work blouse, very conservative. I felt a bit constrained by it and knowing I was in a man-free environment, loosened the top two buttons. A waft of cool air from the open window gently played across the tops of my breasts making me feel a little better.
There was more giggling and hushed talk from the other room, the two different female voices alternating with each other. Then suddenly there was raucous laughter followed by tittering again. What the hell were they talking about? Although the door had been left slightly ajar, I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. At least the atmosphere here seemed pleasant enough. I began to relax.
It was then that I noticed something strange about the chair I was in. There appeared to be some extra bits attached to it. I studied the attachments on the arms of the chair that were right in line with my wrists. They appeared to be like short, semi-circular pieces of tubing, rather like steel collars, which were pivoted and out-turned at right-angles to the arm.
A fantastic thought then occurred to me.
I imagined that these things, these 'collars' as it were, could be swivelled back in line with the arm of the chair and would then fit neatly over a person's wrist, like a clamp...Hey, what if..? Could they possibly be..?
My God, that was exactly what they were - a pair of clamps to lock your wrists in place and hold you down while Joanne Smiley went about her work? Surely she wasn't so clumsy she had to clamp you down? Just how painful was this check-up going to be? My imagination began to run riot as panic returned. God, I was so fickle. Calm down, Polly – for heaven's sake – you're being irrational as usual – in this case, probably more so.
I remembered one time when I was a young girl my dentist had touched a nerve with his prodding-thing and I had nearly hit the ceiling. Perhaps these extra fittings were just a precaution to stop people fidgeting about when she was doing something tricky; or from jumping out of your skin perhaps, if she happened to touch a nerve.
I had heard a story about a patient at my old practice who lashed out and struck her dentist in the face when his drill had slipped. I suddenly felt a twinge in one of my back teeth. Ouch!
I heard more laughter next door and began to wonder if they had forgotten about me. It was then that I noticed that there was also a pair of similar clamps, only larger in diameter, at the foot of my chair, just about where my ankles were. Surely not... My heart began pounding again and I felt a bead of sweat trickle down from my forehead. I supposed patients sometimes kicked out as well. Well, they did - didn't they..?
At last the door opened. Karen was followed in by a tall young woman. She looked ravishing, even in her white working tunic. Her thick red hair was gathered into a long ponytail.
