The tall blond woman barged through the door into the Doctor's office as though she owned the place. Her eyes swept the room and ended looking at a small Hispanic woman seated at the receptionist's desk.
She strode to the desk and announced, "I am Mrs. Margret Burns and I am here for my appointment with Dr. Michaels, when may I expect him to attend me?"
She ignored the fact she was no longer a Mrs. and hadn't been for several years. She felt the title of Mrs. gave her some additional importance.
The seated Latina looked startled and said. "I'm sorry, lady, but the office is closed for the day. You'll have come back some other time."
Mrs. Burns drew herself up to her full 5'9" height, 5'11" with today's heels. "I have been waiting for over three weeks to be seen by Dr. Michaels. I am only..." she glanced at her watch, "only 15 minutes late." Just then her gaze fell on a tall thickly built man walking through the back office. "Dr. Michaels? Dr. Michaels I am here to be seen by you. I have been waiting to see you for a long time and I demand you attend to me now!"
The man walked to the desk. "Miss, I am sorry but the office is officially closed. You'll have to contact them on Monday. That's the best I can do for you. Sorry." He swore he could see flames coming from the tall blonde's eyes.
"Damn it, Doctor, if this is the way you run your business I am surprised you have any patients at all! If you refuse to see me I will report you the BBB and the AMA and anyone else I can think of."
Dr. Michaels was startled. "Miss, please have a seat and..."
Mrs. Burns interrupted, "No, damn it! I am not just some anonymous Miss. I am Mrs. Margret Burns and I'll thank you to remember my name, Doctor."
He raised his eyebrows. "Mrs. Burns, I will most certainly remember your name. I apologize but we were not expecting you. An error on the part of my office staff perhaps, and I will address that issue. Now, please have a seat while I speak with my nurse and we will get everything ready. It should only be a few minutes or so."
Mrs. Burns snorted and sat down. Dr. Michaels pulled the nurse aside and begin talking to her. She could not hear the words but it looked like the doctor was trying to convince the nurse of something and she kept shaking her head no. Finally the nurse shrugged her shoulders, nodded in the affirmative and walked out of sight.
Mrs. Burns was pleased with the effect she had on the doctor and nurse. At work she insisted on being addressed as Mrs. Burns although she was well aware she was referred to as MB when out of ear-shot; and sometimes as BM, as in Bitch Margret. It really did not bother her as long as her staff knew she was in charge, and she made sure they damn well did.
In a surprisingly short time the nurse came for her and led her into an exam room. She was given a paper gown and told to strip and put the gown on opening in the front and not to bother with the ties. The nurse told her the doctor would be with her shortly as she left the room. MB stripped off her business suit, white blouse, bra, and panties and slipped into the paper gown.
She hated this part; the waiting, knowing she would soon be spread on the table, open, exposed, seemingly available. Margret shivered with that thought; with the idea of a man sitting between her open legs--looking, fingering and doing gawd knows what to her most intimate parts. Testing, prodding, and pushing his fingers inside her, manipulating her most special place.
Margret shivered again at the thought and felt herself getting wet. Damn, she thought, that's the worst part, the most embarrassing part. She didn't understand why but she got wet, not damp, but dripping almost gushing wet. She hated her body, especially when the nurse had to put those blue things under her to catch her female drippings and keep them off the floor. She could feel the heat rising from her chest, up her neck, and across her face.
At last there was a light tap on the door and Dr. Michaels, in a long white lab coat, and the nurse walked in. "So, Mrs. Burns, is there a special problem, or is this simply a routine exam?"
MB felt her face flush even deeper red. "Well maybe a combination of both."
The doctor gave a deep sigh. "Mrs. Burns, I can't help you unless you are more forthcoming. You need to be totally honest with me. After all, I am a physician. There is nothing you can tell me I haven't heard before. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have our own special needs."
MB took several deep breaths and steeled herself. After all, these were medical professionals. "Dr. Michaels I have no problem reaching orgasm. My problem is they are small and not very satisfying; not as strong as what I need or deserve. They are not enough to really satisfy me. It's rather like watching a movie preview and never seeing the entire picture. My orgasms are more like a tease then what I really need. Does that make sense, Doctor?"
"It makes perfect sense, Mrs. Burns. I need to ask you some very personal questions about your lovemaking. I know they may seem very intrusive, but they are important to determine the proper treatment to resolve your problem."
MB nodded. "Yes, Doctor, I understand. I'll answer the best I can."
"Mrs. Burns, how often do you have sex?"
"Not very often Doctor, understand it is certainly not from a lack of very willing male attention. It is just that I am very choosy about whom I allow in my bed."
Dr. Michaels shook his head. "Mrs. Burns." Suddenly his faint German accent was more pronounced and his tone more demanding. "I really care very little, if at all, about whom, why, or when you decide to allow in your bed. Now answer the question; exactly how frequently or infrequently do you have sex?"
MB couldn't believe his tone or attitude and she would not put up with it. "Doctor, I will not be spoken to in that tone or by someone with your attitude! I am, after all, paying you."
Dr. Michaels stood and stripped off his gloves. "You are not paying me. This appointment is finished. There will be no charge. Get dressed and leave the premises."
As he turned to leave, she suddenly realized this was the only doctor who had paid attention to her complaint and seemed to imply he had a treatment for her. Then she thought about how long she had waited to see him and just knew he would never see her again.
"Oh please forgive me Dr. Michaels! My job is hard and demanding, and I sometimes forget to leave my work attitude at work. I am truly sorry. Please continue my examination. I promise to cooperate fully."
The doctor looked at her with hard eyes for several long seconds. "Very well, do not forget!"
He re-gloved and looked at her. "The question," he demanded.
"Perhaps once a month and sometimes less," She responded
"Good." He grunted. "Do you masturbate between times?"
"Yes Doctor." MB replied. Admitting she masturbated, even to a doctor, was humiliating. She could feel her wetness running out of her and flowing down the crack of her ass, and she blushed even more knowing it was puddling on the table.
"How often?" was his next abrupt question.
Oh gawd, she thought, she couldn't tell him the truth.
He noticed her hesitation. "Only the truth Mrs. Burns, if you are not truthful I may not be able you help you."
MB moaned to herself. "Every day, Doctor." As she spoke the image of her favorite masturbation toy flashed to her mind. Gawd she loved her Hitachi Magic Wand. Her orgasms were incredible. With that image she moaned aloud, and she gushed.
"Only once a day?" the doctor queried.
MB shuddered as she answered. "No, sometimes several times depending how stressful the day is or was."
"Do you use toys when you play with yourself?"
MB wondered at the change of terminology but his demeanor, commanding presence and German accent would not allow her to question him. "Yes Doctor, I have several different ones I use." Damn, she thought, I hate my body as she gushed and more of her wetness ran down the crack of her ass.
She noted Dr. Michaels was breathing deeper and his huge chest was rising and falling with each breath. She remembered what he looked like with just his slacks and a light knit pull-over on. Gawd, he was so big and thick! His upper arms were massive; his forearms were covered in thick ropes of muscles ending in big hands with long thick fingers.
In her mind's eye she could see his chest; not bulging but thick slabs of muscle meeting, overlaying each other, slipping smoothly over and under each other, rippling his smooth skin. She shook her head to clear the image or she felt she might cum without even being touched.