Eventually, through sheer force of will, she managed a small trickle. Enough to fill the bottom of the cup. She capped the warm sample and washed her hands.
When she emerged, Dr. Tannhäuser was waiting.
“Excellent.” He took the sample and set it aside. “Just a few more things and then you can go.” When he waved her back to the table, she hesitated.
“We’re not done?”
“Not yet.” His voice was soft, almost tender. “I need to examine your abdomen.” He patted the table as if calling a dog. “Up you go.”
She reluctantly climbed up and sat on the edge. Clutching her wrist and holding her back for support, he eased her back.
“Just relax.”
She was really getting tired of being told to relax.
He set her arms at her side and opened her gown, smoothing out the paper to fully expose her. His hands, once again covered in gloves, moved over her front. Fingers pressed into her stomach, prodding and poking, but not causing any pain.
“Good. You can sit up.”
She pulled the gown closed and awkwardly sat up.
He removed a tongue depressor from the jar on the counter and held it up. “Open wide.”
Her jaw unclenched as her lips slightly parted.
“Wider,” he said slowly, dragging out the word.
She stretched her jaw.
“Wider,” he repeated in the same teasing tone, pressing the flat wooden stick onto her tongue. He lifted a small light to look inside her mouth. “Say Ah.”
“Ahhh.”
“Good girl.” He set down the light and examined her glands, pressing his fingers to the sides of her throat, then finishing with a soft stroke down her larynx. “Stick out your tongue for me.” He made a small purr of praise, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back. “Is that a new filling I see?”
“Uh-hu—gnhg?—”
“You don’t like that?” he laughed, withdrawing his finger from her mouth.
She frowned, certain it wasn’t normal for a doctor to stick his fingers in a patient’s mouth without warning.
He made a note in her file. “You have an overactive gag reflex. Nothing that’s a concern, just something to note.”
The blood rushed from her face as she thought about why that information might be relevant in her file.
He turned and cocked his head. His presence became a unique sort of violation, his stare all too penetrating. His unnaturally blue eyes dilated, and her spine rounded, her shoulders lifting to her ears.
He returned to the table. “I just need to examine your lymph nodes for any swelling, and then you can be on your way.” When he reached for her gown, her hands tightened into fists, holding it closed. “We talked about this, Daisy. I can’t send you off until you’ve completed the examination.”
“I thought…”
“The female body is a complex study.” He pried open her fingers and parted the gown. He lifted her right arm and gently probed the tender tissue beneath it. “Knees open.”
Her feet dangled off the edge of the table, no longer in the stirrups. He guided them wider, so he could stand between her thighs, his fingers squeezing experimentally as they worked closer to her pelvis.
“There’s no need to be tense,” he murmured, voice low. “I’ve done this hundreds of times.” He pressed over the glands by her groin. “Look at me.”
She did so without understanding why. “Doctor?—”
