She gasped as he inserted the metal device and opened it.
“Beautiful. No hymenal lacerations. Everything looks…healthy.” He paused for an eternity. “Ripe.”
She stared, unblinking, at the ceiling.
Her jagged breath disrupted the silence.
He breathed in—slow and deliberate—as if smelling her.
Her eyes widened.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
When his breath ghosted against her most intimate flesh, she knew something was wrong. Doctors weren’t supposed to touch women like this.
Her mouth wobbled around soundless words.
“You don’t say much, do you?” He adjusted the speculum and withdrew the metal device, only to cover her sex with the palm of his hand. “Sometimes, that’s a good thing.”
He stripped off his glove, but not before touching her one last time. Then he moved to the bin and tossed the latex away.
“You did great, Daisy. Before we do the contraceptive injection, I’ll need a quick urine sample. Bathroom’s through that door. Cups are on the counter. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He gathered the blood samples and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Daisy sat up so fast she nearly fell off the table. Her hands shook as she shouldered into the gown so forcefully that the paper seams tore. Her body trembled as she stood, the ghost of his touch still lingering between her legs.
Was that normal? How the hell was she going to make it through this weekend if she couldn’t handle a medical exam?
Her gaze darted to the file on the counter marked 1922.
She flipped open the file, scanning quickly over the typed font to the doctor’s scribbled notes.
Aesthetically striking. Startles easily. Obedient. Subtle scarring on left kneecap. Submissive tendencies. Virgin Level II.
* * *
What the hell was a level two virgin?
Knowing she didn’t have much time, she focused on the terms she understood.
* * *
Avoids eye contact. Non-disruptive. Positive response to authority. Mother deceased—resistance trigger. Low risk.
* * *
Her head jerked at the muffled approach of footsteps in the hall. Shutting the file, she snatched the plastic cup off the counter and rushed into the bathroom. Corpse pale under fluorescent lights.
“Get it together,” she ordered her reflection, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear, the root damp with sweat.
He was right. She was too thin. Her sharp, gaunt cheekbones stood out prominently beneath her haunted stare. Her freckles showed like rust spots on her ivory skin.
Her gaze turned away, dropping to the floor. She wasn’t used to being seen this way—by men. She didn’t like…the inescapable awareness it bred as she became self-conscious of every flaw.
Moving to the toilet, she uncapped the sample cup, but when she tried to pee, her body wouldn’t cooperate, too tense to perform even a basic function.
“Come on…” She took a few slow, deep breaths.
