Page 6 of Stirred Up

When I’m completely satisfied she’s show worthy, I release a cleansing breath and turn off the spray, which was growing colder by the minute. I wrap myself in the comfort of my favorite extra-large fluffy towel, surprisingly, another birthday gift from Brady. He got tired of me complaining that the perfect towel didn’t exist. Turns out I was wrong, Brady found it, and bought me a whole stack, which had me in awe, especially when I went to the store he’d purchased them in and saw the price tag.

Perfect or not, it was out of my budget.

Clean, check. Smooth, check. What next? Deodorant! I go ahead and slather it on now so it’ll have time to dry, then sit on the lid of my toilet and open the first shopping bag.

Like a grab bag, I reach in blindly and pull out a deodorant, but not for my underarms. I flip it over and read the back. “Island splash. Spray anytime you need that fresh feeling.”

Sounds easy enough. Ripping the package open, I givea little test squirt in the air and I’m hit with the scent of coconuts. Not too offensive, subtle and clean. Unsure of the appropriate distance to hold it, I spread my legs and spray. The coolness covers my sex, tingling the sensitive flesh. Definitely feeling fresh. Thumbs up there.

I place it on the counter and pull out the second product, wipes. Not needed, I toss them on the sink and take out the bottle of powder. “Too messy.”

Next is a box of Norforms. “Hmm.” Clicking my tongue, I read until my eyes catch the words “melts when inserted.”Trash can!Wouldn’t that be fun? Melting goo dripping out on the man!

One by one, the products get separated out between the trash and the counter.Finally,the lotion, something simple and familiar to me. With a spurt to my palm I massage it down my leg…and we hit a snag. My senses are assaulted with the pungent odor of fake jasmine flower.

Are you kidding me? Spooling toilet paper around my hands, I scrub my leg, removing as much of the offending lotion as possible, then grab my loofah and scrub harder. Bent forward, I sniff my leg, satisfied when only a trace of cheap jasmine remains. Good enough.

Hunched down, chastising my drastic behavior, I notice my toes, or more accurately, my toe polish, is a hot mess, chipped and bright blue. No, no, no! What was I thinking?

Everything possibly located in the bathroom goes flying as I manically dig for polish remover, cotton…do I have time for this? I fumble back, resting on the floor. No, nor do I have nail polish.

Breathe in and let it out.I replay the instructions for calming I learned in the one yoga class I took last year. It works… a little. Okay, he won’t notice my toes, I tell myself. Why would he when he has all my other body parts revealed and at his perusal?

I stand on wobbly legs and leave the steamy room to search for alooseblouse; I’ll sweat through it the second I walk in the office otherwise. Once the billowy light blouse is in hand, I scour the closet for pants with no fussy buttons as well as pretty panties and a matching bra.

You know the rule, ‘never leave the house in your “that time of the month” granny panties’. The minute you do… you’ll find yourself in a car wreck…or in a gyno’s office.

By the time I’ve reapplied deodorant, blotted the clumps, and sprayed perfume up and down my body, including down south, I’m exhausted. Turns out Cherry Almond doesn’t mix well with Ocean Spray; my gag reflex hits and I race back into the bathroom and start scrubbing. Now I’ll be red and irritated,freakingfabulous!

That’s it, enough!My hands fly up into my hair, the one thing I could care less about and have done nothing with. This’s going from bad to worse to…painful. I grab my cell, finger ready to dial and cancel, when I see the text.

Brady: Don’t forget your appt. @10!

I realize all doctors take that darn oath thing, swearing to help all at any time able, but he’s a bit too worried about my hooha’s health.

Me: On my way out the door

****

There are phones that unlock with only the owner’s thumbprint. They can take a heart out of one body and minutes later, place it in the chest of another, beating new life. People speak live, continents apart, over the internet. And yet no one has mastered the craftsmanship of the “doctor visit robe” beyond crinkly paper with one big assside open…unbelievable.

The unpleasant hint of sweat building in the crease between thigh and ass cheek, as well as the backs of my knees, curtails my focus off the overly detailed illustrations on the walls. I’m left jumping up to shimmy across the cold floor with my ass hanging out to rip some paper towels out of the holder.

Wiping frantically, I dip a hand in my purse and spritz one more time, another scent—it’s like Fruitopia down there.Jesus, just kill me already.

I’m climbing back on the table, the paper cover over it, in collaboration with my robe, making the loudest crinkling sound possible when a knock on the door spins me around with a startled yelp.

“C-come in,” I stammer, straightening myself quickly.

Dr. Reynolds’ head peeks around the door, his face lit up with a beautiful, comfortable smile. “Addison, you ready?”

No!“Yes.” I manage a brave face for him.

Chapter 4

The doctor steps in, so young yet so dignified, and closes the door behind him. “How’re you today?”

My pulse is rapid, throat dry, skin prickling. “Fine.” The simple word hooks in my throat; bad start, try again. Mustering all the bravado I can find, I tear my gaze away from my clammy hands up to meet his. “Fine,” I repeat clearer. “You?”

---