"My back is killing me." I groaned to my husband, as I hobbled into the house after three hours gardening.
"Don't look at me for sympathy!" He shook his head in despair as he continued typing a report "I told you to leave it until tomorrow when I could help."
I mouthed an obscenity behind his back. He had offered to help, but it was such a glorious afternoon and I wanted to make the garden look nice before the weather changed for the worse.
"Go and have a hot bath. That usually works." He muttered.
I did just that. Half an hour later I was up to my chin in hot soapy bubbles. It didn't help.
I could hardly move the following morning. Even after taking painkillers, my back had virtually seized up.
After phoning in sick at work I rang the doctors' surgery for an emergency appointment.
"Can I see a doctor this morning please? My back has seized up," I told the receptionist.
"I'll see what I can do." She seemed more sympathetic when explained how much pain I was in. "Doctor Richards will see you at the end of surgery – 11.15."
As my husband of 15 years had already gone to work I took a taxi to town.
The dull ache in my back meant that I could only edge along the corridor to the receptionists' window. I struggled onto a chair and waited.
I was the last person in the waiting room when Dr. Richards' buzzer went 15 minutes later.
I grimaced as I entered his room.
"That looks painful," he smiled. I'd never seen him before. Dr. Richards was in his late 30's, about 6 feet tall and ruggedly good looking with short dark curly hair. My first thoughts were that he had probably been a rugby player.
He stood up and towered above me, still smiling.
"Stay there," he told me in a Scottish accent. I did as I was told. "Let me take your jacket." He continued as he slid my coat down my arms.
I was only wearing a skirt and a loose shirt that buttoned up the front, as I hadn't been able to fasten my bra because of my bad back. I felt very frumpy as my 32DD breasts flopped around.
Dr. Richards moved around me stroking and squeezing my shoulders and back. I winced as he touched my very tender lower back.
"Mmmmm." He mused, "Can you climb onto the table and lie face down? I'll try and relieve the tension in your back muscles with some physiotherapy and massage."
As I moved across the room he stopped me by touching my arm, "Oh, I'm sorry to ask, but can you take your skirt off?" He asked me, "It'll make things much easier for you." The Doctor turned to look at my file on his desk as I disappeared behind the curtain.
"I didn't think... Ehm... I suppose... I didn't expect that..." I mumbled as I unzipped the skirt letting it drop to my ankles.
It was only then that I realised that I was wearing a small pink transparent thong.
"I see that you've had problems with your back before," He told me as he read my file, "and your abdomen." I didn't reply as I was gingerly sitting on the edge of the table then slowly rolling onto my front.
"Oh!" he exclaimed when he pulled the curtain back and faced me. A cheeky smile lit up his face as he looked at my ample arse, which was hardly covered by two square inches of pink cotton and Lycra.