“You okay, sweetie?" Marie shuts the door and pulls a tray of instruments next to the exam table. "I told Doctor Miller it's your first time, he'll be gentle."

My face must betray my mortification. I look at Luke. I thought he hesitated when he walked in the room, but now he's giving nothing away.

"Sophie"—he glances down at his chart—"Tisdale. Miss Tisdale, I think we've met before?"

Am I having an out-of-body experience? Can this moment get any more embarrassing? He doesn't even know where to place me outside of the coffee shop. The guy I have fantasized about every Tuesday for weeks is now my gynecologist, and worse—better?—he doesn't know who I am.

"Grind Me,” I blurt out. Oh my God, stupid coffee shop name. “The coffee shop, Grind Me." His expression never changes.

He glances back down at the chart in his hand. "Undergraduate, twenty-one." He trails off, his finger tapping the underside of the clipboard. Damn him and his attractive fingers. He flips a couple of pages on my chart. "You wanted a prescription for birth control?" He looks me straight on and my heart rate skyrockets. This is not how I imagined having his undivided attention.

"Right," I reply.

"Have you given any thought to what form of birth control you'd like? The pill is a pretty convenient choice for women your age. I could give you an IUD, but I don't recommend them for younger women who haven't yet had children. There's a patch and ring, they both have pros and cons as well."

"Just the pill," I interrupt him. "The pill is fine."

"I can't stress enough that you need to practice safe sex and use a condom in addition to the birth control pill, unless both you and your partner have been tested and decide to take that risk."

"Okay, I will."

He pauses. "You will or you do? It only takes one time, Sophie." He's washing his hands in the small sink along the wall, then turns back to me as he dries his hands on a paper towel. "Are you currently sexually active?"

"Um, no."

"So no sexual contact in the last four weeks?"

"Um, no. I've never had sex."

He pauses for a second then, his eyes moving from the paper towel in his hands to meet mine. "Okay, then." He shakes his head a little and tosses the paper towel into the trash. "We'll start with a breast exam and then do the pelvic. I'll get a swab for a pap smear, though I don't anticipate any issues. The clinic will call you within a week if there are any abnormalities." He glances at the instrument tray. “Marie, can you get me a small speculum? I assume you have some here." Marie pops up from her position on a stool by the door and leaves the room.

Once she's gone Luke looks at me again. My hands are folded in my lap and I'm swinging my stupid sock-covered feet off the end of the exam table while he runs a hand over his jaw.

"I can reschedule you with another clinic doctor if you're not comfortable, Sophie."

I'm not comfortable but I blurt out, "I'm fine!" Admitting I'm uncomfortable would be even more uncomfortable.

Luke flexes his jaw and rubs the back of his neck. It occurs to me now how stupid my fantasy crush was. This is the longest amount of time I've spent with him, and the only time without a counter separating us. Still, I can't help being attracted to him. I know it's wrong. Fucked up. Delusional. I'm already wondering if my future career will pay enough to cover the therapy I obviously need.

Marie is back and places something wrapped in heavy-duty plastic on the tray. The object makes a thud as she sets it down before taking up her seat beside the door again, sticking her face into an old copy of Good Housekeeping.

"Lie back on the table, Sophie." Luke's face is unreadable as he walks over to the exam table. He wraps a hand around my wrist and raises it over my head, his eyes passing over my face briefly before he sets my hand on the table.

His fingers move to the gown covering me. Do not be turned on, do not be turned on, do not be turned on, I chant to myself. I snap my gaze away and focus on the ceiling.

There's a motivational poster on the ceiling right above the exam table. I burst out laughing just as I feel Luke's hands on my breast.

"Sorry, are my hands cold?"

"No, your hands are perfect," I blurt out without thinking. I think I detect a slight smirk on his face before I revert my gaze to the poster on the ceiling.

"The poster." I gesture upward with my free hand. It strikes me funny that there's a motivational poster on the ceiling. Like that's gonna take my mind off where I'm at. Or is it meant to motivate me to stay on this table? I giggle again. Luke tilts his head and looks at the ceiling.

Shit, are my nipples hard? That's normal, right? He's not doing anything erotic, but his hands are on my breasts. Yeah, my nipples are hard. His fingers are flat against the sides of my breasts now. He's rotating them around in what feels like a spiral pattern before lightly pinching my nipple. I have to stop myself from moaning a little. His hands feel good. I'm sure they're not supposed to, but they do. Luke slips the paper gown back over me before moving around the table to repeat the process.

I should probably stop thinking of him as Luke and start thinking of him as Dr. Miller. I stifle another giggle. I thought he was a banker or a lawyer in his expensive suits and trendy ties. Freaking gynecologist. Not one of my Luke fantasies ended like this. Yet, maybe they should have. I’m oddly turned on right now.

Chief of obstetrics, Marie said. Which would make him a surgeon, I think. So I wasn't wrong about him being good with his hands. I think about how many times I've masturbated pretending it was Luke touching me and I feel a rush of heat between my legs. Wrong. This is so wrong. Who gets aroused during a doctor appointment?

Luke is snapping plastic gloves onto those perfect hands. They're dark blue, which catches my attention. Aren't medical gloves always white on TV shows? Why am I thinking about this now?

"Sophie, I need you to slide to the end of the table and place your feet in the stirrups."

I glance over at Marie. Her nose is still stuck in Good Housekeeping. I scoot to the end of the table and wonder if I'm wet enough for him to notice. Is there a normal amount of wet for this situation?

"A little more, all the way to the edge. That's good."

My heart is racing now. He may be hot, but this is beyond awkward. I place my feet in the stirrups and lie back. My hands are clasped below my chest and I start twisting my fingers. It's too quiet in this room.

"So you're the chief of something? At the hospital? The nurse mentioned you're only here on Tuesday mornings."

He pauses. "Yes. Chief of obstetrics."

"So you do surgery and stuff? When you're not volunteering at the free clinic?"

"Yes, Sophie. I do surgery and stuff." He slides up to the end of the table on a rolling stool. "You're going to feel my hand on the inside of your thigh."

He adjusts the light attached to the end of the table and flips it on. Jesus, there's a light? The fluorescent lights in this room aren't enough?

"Relax. I'm just checking externally first." I feel his fingers on me, his touch gentle.

How many times have I imagined his head in a similar position? This is so awkward. Focus on this sterile room, Soph. Do not embarrass yourself.

"So you just like college students or something? So you volunteer?" Oh, shit. I think I just accused him of being some kind of creep.

I feel him pause. On my vagina. Because he's touching my vagina as I accuse him of being into examining college girls. Help me.

"My family donated this clinic years ago, long before your college days, Miss Tisdale. My great-grandfather was a physician and he believed in giving back, donating his time to help when he could. I donate a few hours a week in his honor.”

I hear Luke pick up the plastic-wrapped item off the tray and pry the plastic open. It reminds me of the sound when they open the sterilized instrument pack while I'm getting a pedicure. Great. Now I'll probably get turned on getting a pedicure. As if I need another fetish. I think being attracted to your gynecologist is enough fetish to last a lifetime.

"I specialize in infertility and high-risk pregnancies. Patients with financial resources." The wheels of the stool squeak across the linoleum floor. "The flip side of women desperate to have a child are women desperate not to. One of the goals of this clinic is to provide students with easy access to contraception and preventative care, so their futures are not derailed by a baby they didn't plan for. That's something I can easily help out with by volunteering a couple hours a week."

Oh.

"We keep the gel room temperature so it's not too cold," Luke explains as he coats the speculum. I stare at it as his hand glides over the instrument, back and forth. I feel his fingers on me again, spreading me open. He places the tip at my entrance. "You're going to feel some pressure. I'm using the small speculum so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable." He slowly slides the instrument inside of me.

Fuck, that is tight. My toes curl in the stirrups and I arch my back a little.

"Relax." Luke's hand is on my thigh again, his thumb rubbing reassuringly back and forth. "I need to dilate this enough to check your cervix and get a swab, okay?"

I feel a slight spreading sensation and a click. The light is re-angled again as he grabs something from the table.

"Quick swab and you're done. Your cervix looks great."

My cervix looks great. Is that a gynecologist pickup line? I laugh internally.

"All done." I hear the release on the device as he dials it closed. "Relax for me, Sophie. I need to slide the speculum out. It's easier on you if you relax." I can feel the fingers of one hand spreading me open as he slowly slides the instrument out.

He stands up and squirts a clear jelly onto the tip of his blue-gloved right index finger. "I'm going to press down on your abdomen from the outside while I insert a finger to check your internal organs."

Holy fuck. He's sliding a finger inside of me. It feels good. Smaller than the speculum. His other hand slips under the paper gown. I tighten around his finger and suppress making any sound.

"Please relax," Luke says, like he's trying to be reassuring, but I suspect he's exasperated with me. His finger slides in and out a fraction as he pushes from above and I know I'm wet enough that he didn't need whatever gel he squirted onto his gloves. He moves his hand around my abdomen, pressing down as his finger moves inside of me. I really like how that feels, the pressure from above with his finger inside of me. I clench on his finger involuntarily and feel a small spasm ripple through me. Oh my god. I think I just had an orgasm. Holy shit. Did he notice? It was small. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Luke clears his throat, slides his finger out of me and covers me with the paper gown, not making eye contact. He so noticed. Stepping back, he tosses the blue gloves into the trash on his way to the sink. "You can sit up now, Sophie."

I remove my feet from the stirrups and sit up, immediately missing the ceiling poster because now I'm not sure what to focus on. I end up staring at a poster on STD's.

"I'll give you a minute to get dressed and then I'll meet you up front with a prescription for you."

Marie drops the magazine into a holder by the door as Luke exits the room. "Let me move these for you, hun." She folds the stirrups back into the table. "See, that was easy, right?" She pats my knee and turns to the door. "Just come to the checkout desk when you're ready."

I sigh as the door closes. What the hell. I'm going to have to quit my job at Grind Me. Or hide in the back room every time Luke comes in. Dr. Miller, not Luke. This might be a new low in my life.

I get up, tearing the stupid paper cover in the process. There’s a wet spot on the paper. Is that normal? Am I supposed to clean up after myself? Why does no one prepare you for this before going to the gynecologist? I toss the paper gown over the wet spot and grab a paper towel to wipe myself with. I make quick work of getting redressed before checking my reflection in the mirror. I look a little flushed. I just went farther with Luke than I did with Scott in two years of dating. "You're a pervert," I say to my reflection before sitting down to pull on my shoes.

Wait. Which socks am I wearing today? I pause, shoe in hand. The ones with the pink stripes around the top. I flip my foot. Classy. That's what's written on the bottom of my left foot. And on the bottom of my right foot? Bitch. I'm wearing my classy bitch socks. That I just flashed at Luke while my legs were spread. Can this appointment get any worse?

I open the exam room door and walk to the checkout desk. It's a counter really. Just inside the exit. Luke is standing there, writing on a chart as I approach. He sets down the pen and checks his watch. It's big and expensive-looking and looks perfect on his wrist. What is it about a watch on a man? It's so hot. Most guys my age just whip cell phones out of their pocket to check the time. Maybe they'd wear watches if they really understood the appeal to women.

Luke sees me approaching now and slides a paper bag off the counter. "Here's a three-month supply of birth control. The clinic will refill your prescription for free as long as you're a student. Do not let it lapse because you can't make it to the clinic to pick up a refill. You can refill with one month remaining, so that gives you a month before you run out. Understand?"

His tone is firm and I'm somewhat offended. I'm not stupid. "Yes, I understand, Dr. Miller."

He continues on about the dangers of antibiotics decreasing the effectiveness and using backup birth control while on antibiotics and for a week afterward. Really, it's stuff I learned either in sixth-grade health or from watching Lifetime movies, but I listen.

"You can start the pill today. You'll need to use backup birth control for a week. You should still use condoms unless your partner has been tested. There's a supply in the bag and you can always get more from the clinic. Any questions?"

"I thought you were a lawyer."

He just stares at me for a second. I think we're both surprised I just said that.

"And I thought you were… not a student." His gaze lingers on mine for a second. I could never get tired of looking at those eyes, not that I'll have the opportunity to see them again.

"Take care, Sophie. Good luck." He pats my arm and walks away.

Did he just wish me good luck with getting laid? I stuff the paper bag into my backpack and exit the clinic. I look back over the entrance. Rutherford Miller Memorial Health Center is engraved into the stone above the door, underneath big black metal letters affixed to the building spelling out Student Clinic.