I Love Going to the Dentist

It's a while since I did this, but people keep asking!

I was at the dentist early this morning, so I kinda hauled myself into the shower and dressed comfortably. Autumn's in the air, so I found myself scrabbling in the back of my wardrobe for long forgotten warmth. I also need to be at least half decent when the chair tips back.

So this is how it ended up . . . Dark blue T-shirt with a tasteful 'Gatlinburg Tennessee' logo on the front; blue denim skirt (faded and a little frayed at the hem, just above the knee); brown leather belt; black, fine wool over-the-knee socks; dove grey Nike trainers with white heel and orange logo and laces; Lacosste watch; dark blue 'Alice band'. To fend off the chill en route, I wore my outrageous 'NASCAR' bomber jacket.

Stephen, that's my dentist, is one of those sweetly geeky, very kind men with foppish good looks behind his intellectual's spectacles. His nurse exudes post-teenage, hormone-driven, brooding lust. She's hot for him and the poor dear has no idea . . . but today she couldn't keep her eyes from straying to the smooth band of thigh peeking out above my socks and in the shelter of my skirt. How does the chair always manage to raise my skirt just a little?

I see her glance drop fleetingly between my knees as she walks across the room; I feel a tingle below my tummy as she imagines what I know. Stephen is intent on fitting my crown and all I see are his eyes and the brilliant light above me. Are my nipples obvious or subtle, I wonder. Mostly, the design on this T-shirt camouflages their arousal.

I don't know her name, but i feel her aura; she can't admit she's bi . . . I know what she want's to do and an involuntary smile makes Stephen pause; ask if I'm OK. Has Stephen noticed my nipples? I can feel them now . . . scrunching.

"All done! Rinse the bits away". Stephen's cheerful voice again as the chair begins to rise.

I twist sideways as she passes me the mouthwash which was waiting on the tray beside me; our fingers touch just a fraction too long and her eyes dart down as she quickly steps away. The cool air surprises me and I bring my legs under control, swinging round and raising myself to my feet, smoothing down my skirt and pulling up first one, then the other sock; as Stephen is typing at his keyboard, I notice her blush fading as she watches me openly. I smile and she toys with her stockings under the edge of her white coat, moving it just enough for me to know she doesn't wear tights.

Stephen is still typing as I shrug into my bomber jacket, letting two fingers stray across the tip of my left nipple; watching the shudder run through her as she mirrors my touch.

"All done; see you in another six months . . ." I swallow; try to sound normal, thankful that I can never speak properly after Stephen has had his way with me, and She walks me out towards reception.

"God, Cee; I'm so horny! And Stephen's going to catch us out one day, you know . . ." I lean in and peck her on the cheek, slipping my fingers between the buttons of her coat to feel Jill's hard nipple straining at soft, satin material.

"Oh Jill . . . Poor baby; you don't really think that Stephen hasn't been playing this game with us all along?"