Free Provocative Professions Collection by Angela Graham, S. E. Hall

actually deranged and badly in need of an alignment to my priorities, because in spite of it all, one lingering thought induces a shiver…
    I'm headed back to see Dr. Reynolds.
     

Chapter 8
    Again with the paper robe? Why even pretend? We all know I'm as good as naked minus my favorite pair of smooching frog socks snuggling my toes.
    There's no fancy schmancy prep this time; I'm in far too foul a mood. Only a rushed hot shower, one squirt of lavender and a quick leg and pit shave. I did, however, brush my teeth twice , now keenly aware he prefers to be up close and personal with more than just my cha-cha.
    Other than that, this is as good as it gets.
    I spent all night tossing and turning, anxious about my results, mad I'd missed more work, and positively distraught at the current state of affairs with Brady and Dylan.
    So when Dr. Reynolds knocks and steps in bearing that charming smile, and dear God wearing the sexiest pair of blue scrubs I've ever seen in my life, I almost feel bad for the scowl I'm throwing back.
    "Addison," he regards me, airing on the sign of caution, "how're you?"
    "Not great, Doc, not even close. Kinda wanting to speed things along and go straight for a drink. It's gotta be five o'clock somewhere, right?"
    He glances around, noticeably uncomfortable, before blowing out a long winded breath. Obviously he was expecting the universally acceptable response of, "fine, how are you?"
    Not today, sorry, Doc.
    "I, um," he stammers, concentrating on the damn all-knowing chart. "Anything I can do?"
    "Ha," I scoff. Doesn't matter—doctors, lawyers, trash men, janitors—they're all still men , so they have no clue what to say.
    "You could explain my test results. My first ever exam was nerve-wracking enough. Getting a call that my results are," I air quote, "'inconclusive,' well, it scares the shit out of me, quite frankly."
    With that admission, my catty, sniping anger is gone, replaced with a trembling lower lip and watering eyes. "And I couldn't even call my best friend to get a medical opinion on it, because again, quite frankly, he's an asshole."
    Another thing all men, any walk of life, have in common—they can't stand it when a woman starts to cry.
    Dr. Reynolds rises from the stool and moves to stand directly in front of me. "Hey, shhh." He rubs my knee. "Addison, everything will be fine, I promise."
    I wipe my palms down my face, a mess inside and out. "Th-thank you for fitting me in, by the way. I appreciate it." I sniffle, long past simply feeling vulnerable. "I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed, worried, exhausted." I wave my hand as though "shooing" away the unbearable list. "Anyways, please, can we just get this over with? I need to know what's going on."
    Head ducked to meet my eyes, his empathic smile soothes me. "Inconclusive means just that. Not good, not bad, not anything. Something made it impossible to get any results at all."
    That's my vagina alright—never getting any results.
    "Addison," he taps the hand still on my knee, bringing me back from thought, "did you by any chance douche before you came in that day?"
    Oh dear God, he'd smelt the vinegar! My entire body flushes with morbid embarrassment as I fidget away from him.
    "Maybe," I mutter, unable to look anywhere besides my lap.
    With a gentle hand, he lifts my head, forcing our eyes to meet. "It's a common thing, don't feel like you're the only one. So that's a yes?"
    I nod, and very slowly he steps back, releasing his hold on my chin as well as my gaze.
    "That's it then," he says, his voice reassuring. "The chemicals in the douche render the swab unreadable. We'll simply take another sample, alright?" He rolls the cart holding the tray of torture over and my spine stiffens, arms and legs nervously crossing together.
    "T-take another?" I stutter.
    Abruptly he turns back. "You didn't do it again today, did you?"
    "No," I reply with a bit of haste and indignation. How rank does he think it is down there? Sheesh.
    "Good. It's not