Author's note:
This is one of my shorter stories. It gets to the point quickly and features themes of dubious consent. All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Thanks for reading!
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I provide a service.
Outsiders, if they knew what happens most afternoons at my practice, would be horrified. They'd call me a predator, a rapist, or a monster. Perhaps all three. Hell, I'd have been shocked if five years ago you'd told me what I'd be getting up to. But my clients don't mind, not at the end. Like I said, I provide a service. A service they'll pay the price for.
Take Haylee as an example. She's thirty-one, which is about average for my clients' age. She's pretty; that's also typical. And Haylee was referred by a friend, which they all are. My business runs on word of mouth.
"Haylee, can you tell me why you've come to see me today?"
"Okay." She pushes back her fine blonde hair and smiles hopefully. "It's my sex life. With my husband," she adds, lest I think she's unfaithful.
"And tell me about that."
Haylee hesitates. I've tried to make the examination room as inviting as possible, but it's still an examination room. Patients need to be reminded that I'm the doctor, the keeper of the mysteries, so to speak.
"Well, it's not so great lately. I, uh, don't want to as often."
This is also typical of my patients. For many women, the sex drive begins to taper off in their early thirties, especially after several years of marriage.
"May I assume, Haylee, that your diminished sex drive is affecting your marriage? Have you and your husband seen a therapist?"
"N, no," she says. "My friend Ella recommended your treatment, and I wanted to try this first."
"That was very kind of her," I say, unable to hold back my smile. I've been treating Ella for two years and always look forward to her appointments. "Tell me, Haylee, and please be as descriptive as possible, what your sex life is like lately."
"We don't have much," she says. "Sex, that is. I kind of avoid it, to be honest. Tell him I'm tired or don't feel well. When we do have sex I'm sure he can tell that I'm not into it. I feel awful!"
I offer a patrician smile. "Haylee, what you're experiencing is quite common, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. The stresses of modern life, changes in your hormone levels, and the challenges of maintaining a relationship all affect your sex drive. I hear stories like yours all of the time."
"Can you help me?" she asks with imploring blue eyes.
"Yes, Haylee. I can administer medication that will boost your sex drive. Not just that, it will also improve your enjoyment of sex. The medications work in tandem."
I can see hope growing in her. "It's a pill? How often do I take it?"
"The medication needs to be injected," I explain. "And I'll need to monitor you afterward, in case you have an adverse reaction. Most women need to be treated every three months."
Haylee nods, processing what I've told her, but she's already decided to give the treatment a try. I know from her pre-appointment questionnaire that she married a wealthy man several years older than her. She's a borderline trophy wife, but if the sex dries up she'll be replaced.
"Okay," she says. "Yes, I want to try it. Can I start today?"
"Absolutely!" I fetch a dose from the refrigerated cabinet. Haylee is wearing a pair of snug designer jeans and an equally tight t-shirt. She pulls up a sleeve and I wipe her deltoid with an alcohol swab.
"I'll warn you," I say as I tap the syringe, "the effect is quite pronounced at first. It will taper off and remain effective for months, but the first hour can be intense. That's why I have to ask that you stay in the office for monitoring."
"Sure." Haylee looks away as I jab her with the syringe and then apply a tiny adhesive bandage.
"You may feel a bit warm." While Haylee pulls her shirt sleeve down I complete her chart. She doesn't notice when I lock the outer door.
"You can wait in here," I say, opening a door to the adjoining room. When Haylee steps in she gives me a questioning look.
"A bed?"
I get that reaction every time. Patients are used to sitting in a sterile waiting room and don't expect a cozy room with a full-sized bed, a Persian rug, and a lounge chair.
"You can lie down if you have an unusually strong reaction. For now, you can have a seat in the chair."
My new patient settles into the chair and I step out to get a chilled washcloth. I also take off my lab coat and tie before stepping back inside.
"Here," I say, offering Haylee the chilled cloth.
"Thanks," she says, dabbing her forehead. "I do feel a bit flushed."
"Mmm hmm," I say. It's been five minutes since I gave her the injection, which should be enough time. "You can take your top off," I suggest.
She gives me a quizzical look. "My top?"
"Yes, you'll be cooler."
She keeps staring at me. Her higher brain is telling her that she shouldn't be disrobing in front of a man she barely knows, even if he is a doctor. But a new and urgent chemically-induced voice is telling her brain stem that it's okay, that she'll need to be naked soon anyway.
"I... can you turn up the air conditioning?"
"It's already seventy-two," I explain calmly. "Take your top off."
Haylee looks at me, mouth slightly open. For a moment I wonder if she's unusually resistant to the medication but then she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt. "Okay," she says softly, then tugs it up.
She does have a trophy-wife-grade body. Her breasts aren't huge, but they're full enough and perky enough to challenge the skimpy cream-colored bra she's wearing. Whether through pilates or some other routine she's kept her body tight, too.
"And also your bra."
