1999.
She sat for what seemed like hours in the tiny room.
The last appointment of the day.
She'd scheduled it that way on purpose - God forbid she run into anyone she knew there...
But with no other patients around, no other college-bound girls with whom to share knowing glances... she was beginning to regret it.
The lights were too bright, the tv in the corner was turned too low, the sound of the slutty receptionist's nails on the keyboard too loud.
She picked at the corner of the Cosmopolitan, staring at the articles on the cover.
How to keep your man happy - in AND out of bed!
Do you know your "ahhhh" button?
STD scare: Why protecting yourself is the most important thing you'll do between the sheets this year
She bit her lip.
Her stomach was flipping.
If Chris knew she was here... He would...
Well... it wouldn't be good.
He could never find out.
Ever.
The receptionist slid open the mottled glass window. "You. Girl. Come here."
Claire stood, shaky legs. She rolled up the magazine and wrung it as she approached the office.
"You forgot a portion of the form, on the back. Hurry up." She handed the clipboard through to her. A thick accent.
Italian maybe?
Those awful pearl earrings. That giant bun.
And the neckline that couldn't get any lower unless she was giving herself a breast exam...
Claire cringed when she turned her back.
She sat then, flipping the page over, skimming through the physical health sections she'd filled out.
There.
Sexual History.
Claire crossed her legs. The pen tapped the edge of the chair.
Have you performed any of the following in the past 6 months?
- Vaginal intercourse - Y/N
- Oral sex (Give/Receive) - Y/N
Claire frowned. She steeled her will and checked yes for both.
- Anal intercourse - Y/N
Big time no.
- Have you engaged in any type of risky sexual behavior? This includes unprotected vaginal intercourse, unprotected oral sex, or unprotected anal intercourse. Y/N
She hesitated.
Yes.
- Do you have a history of sexually transmitted diseases? If so, please describe on the line below.
N/A.
- Have you had multiple partners in the past year? Y/N
She hated doctors. She always left feeling like hell about herself.
Yes.
- Are you on birth control? - Y/N
No.
- First day of your last menstrual cycle?
Ugh, God. I don't know.
She made an educated guess.
April 18.
- What is the purpose of your visit today?
Get... on... birth control.
Her handwriting was loopy and cute.
It off-set her humiliation.
She knocked on the window and handed the Italian broad the clipboard.
"Paying in cash today, Ms... Redfield?" There was unfiltered bitchiness in that.
Too afraid someone will find out you used their insurance to be a little whore, hmm?
Claire glared. "Yes."
"$210. Labs are extra." The woman held out her hand.
Claire dug through her purse.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
He didn't even knock.
Just walked right in.
He was staring at her chart - his mouth set in a straight line.
She thought to protest - she'd specifically asked for a woman.
Her voice caught in her throat though, and she clammed up despite herself.
Her feet dangled from the end of the table.
She felt like a child.
He said nothing to her, instead walking directly to the sink. He washed and dried his hands, let the water run for an uncomfortable length of time.
He bumped the faucet off with an elbow.
And finally acknowledged her.
"Ms. Redfield, I'm Dr. Wesker."
Before she could respond, he continued in his monotonous voice.
"The speed at which we complete this examination will depend solely on your ability to follow directions as quickly as possible. If at any time you are concerned with a procedure, please recall that it is now 4:45 on a Friday afternoon and I'm almost positive you would like to begin your weekend as much as I do."
She gaped.
"I can entertain any questions you might have at a later date during regular office hours. Now, if you would please remove all of your clothing."
He sat on a wheeled stool and scooted over to the countertop, where he clicked his pen and began scribbling notes in her file.
She held her breath.
Most doctors left the room.
Most doctors offered her at least that fucking paper gown.
And where was the nurse?
"I'm afraid most of my staff is gone for the day." As if on cue. "If you feel you'd like a female presence... I can ask Excella to step in during the pap. She's a registered nurse. Though I find her true talent lies in insulting patients and chasing away drug reps..."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk a bit at his own joke, his hand still scratching on the papers.
She remembered the plaque on the receptionist's desk then.
Excella G.
She ground her teeth.
"No. No, I'll be fine. Thanks." She pulled on the hem of her shirt, yanking it over her head. Tossed it to the chair against the wall with the mirror.
Then she eased off her jeans, her face flushing... imagining him watching her.
There was something terribly intimate about someone watching her undress. The exams themselves seemed less intrusive in light of this new violation.
The act of... unrobing, piece by piece... was perhaps one only a lover should witness.
She folded the jeans, straightened up.
And then she felt his hands.
Nimble fingers, making fast work of the eye hooks that held her bra in place.
She gasped.
"Relax, Ms. Redfield. In the spirit of expediency, I'll help you along..."
The straps slid over her shoulders, falling loosely at her crossed arms, the cups still clinging to her breasts.
"Come now - off with it." He nudged her.
Her heart was pounding and the breath she held burned her lungs.
He would see them.
Well, she'd known he would see them.
The piercings.
Both nipples.
She let the undergarment fall to the floor, her back to him.
She covered herself, afraid to move.
"Do you require my assistance with the panties as well?"
"No... I'm okay." She was surprised she could still respond.
"Good. Take them off. Get on the table. It's now 4:48."
She obeyed, albeit slowly, and sat with her feet hanging off the end again.
Her arms crossed in front of her, her thighs pressed tightly together.
He opened the closest drawer, bringing out a speculum, a sterile swab, the ice cold jelly.
Claire shivered, hugging herself harder.
"We'll begin with a breast exam. Are you checking yourself every month?"
She stammered. "I... Well..."
He moved her arms, pulling them away from her body. "You should be. Breast cancer is a very real threat, even to women your age, Ms. Redfield. It's time to start taking your sexual health seriously, hmm?" He paused, and then - "Oh."
She closed her eyes.
The barbells - through both peaks of her breasts.
He stood back then, studying her.
She could have sworn he smiled.
"Interesting choice in body adornment. You do understand the ramifications of that, I hope. Nipples are prone to infections, more so than most parts. I'm sure you also realize that your ability to breastfeed could be compromised..."
She studied him as he lectured her.
He was a handsome guy - and that made her situation all the worse.
Tall, blond, sharp.
Older than her brother.
Maybe could have been her father...
Chris would lose his shit; he was always going on about the dangers of her "daddy issues".
Inwardly, Claire agreed. Her partner preference was definitely more... dignified males.
She looked at his shoes. Pointed-toe. Smooth, lacquer-like leather. The most expensive pair of shoes she'd probably ever lay eyes on.
"Berluti Club Warhols," he said, moving around the table to see her breasts from another angle.
"Huh?" Dazed.
"My shoes. You were staring at my shoes. They're Berluti's and they were extremely difficult to get in this dump of a town..."
From behind her, he reached around, cupping her breasts.
She gasped.
"Relax, Ms. Redfield. Don't tense. It tightens the muscles in the chest, making the exam inaccurate."
She swallowed.
He felt first under, rubbing deep, seeking tumors that weren't there.
He moved up - toward her armpit. Circles with just his fingertips. Close to tickling.
"You can do this standing or lying down - a mirror helps. Try to schedule it two weeks before menstruation. Note all changes. Any discomfort here?"
"No." She whispered.
Claire felt his breath on the nape of her neck.
He was hot - his hands excessively warm for a doctor.
She shivered again as his fingers pushed deep into the roundest part of her breasts.
"Everything alright?" He asked, so close to her ear.
He smelled like a long shower... like the lather of a good soap.
She looked up. "I'm fine."
He continued to rub slowly... just avoiding the aureolas.
"A C-cup?"
She swallowed. He watched her shallow breaths. "Yes."
"Fairly dense tissue as well. Do fibrous breasts run in your family?"
"I... I'm not sure. My parents died when I was little."
"Well," he went on, all but ignoring the depth of her reply. "Keep an eye on them. When you check, push deeply."
And so he did.
She winced. Not quite pain... something on the other side of it.
The good side.
Claire fought desperately to push the thought away.
He squeezed, gentle. And then his thumbs passed over her nipples.
She inhaled deeply.
"Have you ever noticed discharge?" He pressed her nipple between his thumbs and forefingers - pulling the puckered flesh out before applying pressure again.
The metal in her ached, pleasantly.
He kept pulling and squeezing.
Milking, she realized.
He continued this until he could hear her breathe, hear her surprise.
"No, no discharge," she rasped.
Dr. Wesker walked around the table, stood in front of her.
He lifted both breasts, weighing them, thinking on them, judging them.
She stared at him.
"Very round, very full. Healthy." She looked away as he described her body to her. "The piercings are actually quite attractive. What made you choose the nipples?"
Claire felt her face was on fire. "I dunno... We were out drinking one night -"
"Out drinking? But my file lists you at nineteen." The conversational tone was dropped completely from his voice, from his manner.
The about-face was upsetting.
She was silent.
He stared at her - his expression as dead as his words.
Shaking his head, he reached up again, tugging at her nipples. Almost playful, and then a bit aggressive.
"How is the sensation with the piercings? Any loss?"
"No..."
"You feel everything you used to then? Every feathery touch, every pinch?" He continued to work her.
She arched as he teased, just barely suppressing a moan. Her fingers dug into the table's padding.
He lifted each breast by the nipple then and let them go. The heavy flesh bounced back to her chest, pink from his roughness.
She gasped - arms shaking behind her as she held herself up.
"I see. No nerve damage... Consider yourself lucky." His fingers made a final pass over her breasts, extra care taken to bring her nipples back to painful hardness. "Alright, Ms. Redfield. Bring yourself to the end here, feet up in the stirrups."
He pulled out the leg supports, locking them in place.
Claire felt ill. She wanted to run. She wanted to escape.
This was not right. None of it was right.
"I think... maybe... I should reschedule."
He turned to her, slow. The long Roman nose wrinkling. "Reschedule? Why would you ever do such a thing?"
She crossed her arms again over her chest. "I'm not..."
"Not what?" He radiated displeasure.
"I wanted... I asked for a woman doctor."
"Why?"
She hesitated. "Because I'm just not..."
"Because you will let an uncivilized little boy have his way with your body but you will not let a man be a professional and do his job?"
Claire's throat felt as if it might close up and suffocate her.
Now he was angry.
"Let me remind you, Ms. Redfield, why you are here today, taking up my time, at the tail end of a very long week. You wish for me to prescribe birth control so that you can have as much unprotected sex as possible with the flavor of the month. Is this not the case?"
She balked.
"And I assure you that I will most definitely prescribe said birth control when you stop being a child and allow me to perform the exam which is needed so that I can legally sign off on your irresponsible reproductive choices. Once on the right pill, Ms. Redfield, you can begin heedlessly fornicating within a few days. I'm told the CVS on Market is open until nine."
He glared at her, a sneer cracking at the corner of his mouth, as he waited for her response.
The air suddenly felt stuffy, and what had been a comfortable temperature moments before, now felt like she was sitting in an oven.
Claire kept her arms over herself and laid down.
"There. Your first step toward sexual freedom, eh?" He smiled as he snapped on a pair of sticky latex gloves.
"Closer."
She inched.
"Closer, Ms. Redfield. Your buttocks right on the edge. Surely you've done this before."
She squeezed her eyes shut and moved the final two inches.
"Good. Feet up."
She felt down the leg of the one of the stirrups and slipped her heel in.
Her other leg though found it a more difficult task, searching the air, nearly catching him in the face.
He sighed and helped, guiding her by the ankle.
She stared at the ceiling.
The stirrups had footies on them. The soles of her feet felt the little rubber grips.
"Am I correct in assuming you are not a virgin?"
She nodded, the paper that lined the table rustling beneath her head.
"If I may ask, how old were you?"
"Last year. Eighteen."
She saw him over her knees, lubricating the speculum.
"A wise choice - to wait until you were a consenting adult. Not many of your peers do."
Claire kept an arm over her breasts, the other she used to fan her face.
It was so fucking hot in there.
He ignored her, taking a seat on the creaky little stool.
Was this shit on purpose? The heat? The discomfort? The fascist bastard of a doctor who looked like he might have stepped off the catwalk into this office?
Was someone going to jump out and tell her she was on Candid Camera before she died of humiliation?
Please?
"Knees, Ms. Redfield."
She very nearly gulped.
Claire let her trembling legs part.
"More."
She bit her lip.
"You're wasting my time," he growled.
And with that, he pushed the stirrups wider apart - forcing her to spread.
She grimaced, feeling the hot-cold air between her legs.
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck; once, on the left side.
"Though it isn't standard, I prefer to perform the pap smear at this point. I've found some women experience unintended results if a digital exam is first. False-positives and such. Then it's a year or two of needless worry and visits every three months, at the very least..."
Oh Jesus H. Christ... Not this every three goddamn months... no...
"Okay." She almost cut him off. "Sounds good."
He gently pushed on her thighs. "Let your knees fall apart... yes, good."
And then he patted her belly, as if to say great job, you get a treat later.
If he could get more condescending, it would be unreal.
"You're being such a good girl, Ms. Redfield."
Her mouth dropped open; she caught herself halfway to a stunned smile. Fucking... unreal.
She heard him playing with something metal.
"I've chosen the smallest instrument in the office, Ms. Redfield. I wouldn't want to... spread you too much..."
She held her breath. What was that in his voice?
What the fuck was that in his voice?
"You'll feel some discomfort of course. That's to be expected, what with no preparation, no arousal... You're not aroused... are you?"
She sat up. "What?"
He leaned back, that sick smile. "Some women become aroused during examinations. It's not uncommon, nor is it anything to be ashamed of. I am in..." He corrected himself to make it more politically palatable. "The doctor is in a position of power. Someone with, for instance, an Electra Complex..." Their eyes met. "Might find this entire situation stimulating."
Claire laid back down, her eyes wide now.
She blinked.
The fluorescents were making her dizzy.
Her stomach was in her throat.
Heart beating against her ribs like a caged animal.
"Well, I'll discover whether or not this is... your thing, so to speak, in a few seconds. Are you ready?"
Claire was sweating. "Yeah." Her reply squeaky.
"Excellent. This may pinch."
She felt the lubricant first - cold, sterile jelly - along her sex.
With his free hand, he spread her lips and slowly inserted the speculum.
She gasped.
It was freezing.
And it was huge.
Smallest instrument in the office.
Dr. Wesker was a motherfucking liar.
"I'm going to open it now. Here's the pinch."
She heard it clicking into place - tick, tick, ticking. Until it held.
She let go of the breath she'd swallowed.
"There. Not so terrible, hmm?"
He used a penlight to stare into her.
"No growths."
Growths? What the hell?
"Lovely pink dermis... Your cervix is in a fertile position." He checked the date on his watch - a diamond-dripping square-faced piece. "Which is just about right, according to your cycle, although it doesn't bode well for the breast exam. Next time, Ms. Redfield, make an attempt to see me when you are not ovulating."
He clicked the light off, pocketing it.
Then he yanked apart the swab packaging.
"Please stay still for this."
She felt the cotton, rough and scratchy on her insides.
She whimpered a bit.
"Is this uncomfortable?" His voice was low, his hand on her knee, pressing it ever wider.
"A little."
He rubbed harder then and she turned her head to the side. "It will be over soon... And I believe you'll find the next portion of the exam to be... easier."
She watched him withdraw the swab and tuck it into a culture bag.
He clicked the pen again and wrote her name on it.
"This will go out on Monday morning. Results usually arrive in ten to fourteen business days. Should we discover anything unsavory, I'll call you back in for a consultation - perhaps a colposcopy, at worst, a biopsy. There's informational paperwork on all of those procedures in the waiting room. If you are in the clear though, Excella will contact you with the good news."
He dropped it in a box on the counter.
Turned back to her, easing between her legs.
With a flick, he'd loosened the speculum.
He wound it down enough to remove, and he pulled it out... slowly, watching her face.
The speculum dropped to the metal tray.
"Are you alright, Ms. Redfield?" Sly.
He was stripping the gloves off his hands.
Why?
"Mmhmm... fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine." She felt breathless. "I'm fine."
He watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
"I'm going to use my fingers to examine you for any abnormalities now. I need you to relax."
He spread her again, gently petting her.
She fought to keep her hips still.
"Just relax... Let yourself open for me... just relax..."
He was whispering now, and his cruel fox eyes were on her - they saw everything, all of her, every secret.
She couldn't breathe.
She clung to the sides of the table, the paper crinkling under her grip.
"Shhh..." He reassured her and then hummed, thoughtful. "This would appear to be your thing, wouldn't it, Ms. Redfield?"
He eased a bare finger between her lips, massaging, playing - but not entering.
Her hips rolled, almost imperceptibly.
But nothing evaded him.
He raised his eyebrows. "So swollen... All the blood rushing here." He tapped her sex then, a beautiful wet sound. "Rushing so that you might feel every stroke, every touch... Engorging so that you almost... hurt for pleasure..."
Claire yelped.
And he twisted a finger into her.
She cried out then.
"You think me arrogant, pig-headed. Perhaps even a misogynist." He slowly fucked her with the finger - long, boney, curving up as he pulled it almost all the way out, touching a fleshy, ridged part of her, making her gasp every time. "But I'm hardly a misogynist, Ms. Redfield. You see, I positively love women... and they love me."
He added another finger, wetting it first and then pushing it in.
She tightened around him.
"Yes, squeeze. Harder. Keep your legs spread. Squeeze, Claire."
She closed her eyes, her head thrown back.
He'd used her name.
Her back arched so sharply she was sure it might break in two.
He kept at her though - deep, unrelenting.
She tried to move away from the edge of the table, but she found he followed her.
He wouldn't stop.
He smiled.
"That's it... fight. Try to force me out. As a doctor, I can tell you that resistance makes the orgasm so much more intense... for both parties..."
Claire mewled - pretty little cries at the end of each panting breath.
The hand that was helping the violating one pulled the skin of her mons taut.
A skillful finger stroked her clitoris.
She jerked herself up then, moaning.
"Yes, Claire... You might want to watch this. You strike me as the type of girl who would... The kind of girl who isn't afraid to be thoroughly fucked in the light of day, who isn't afraid to look up at her lover as she swallows every... drop... of... his..."
He punctuated each word with a thrust of his curled fingers.
"Shut... up..." She wheezed.
He laughed.
She spread herself wider, feeling her hips protest. She needed to be open, her modesty abandoned - in its place, something wanton and needy.
Something demanding.
She felt her teeth grind, her mouth so dry from the gasping, from the breath that never seemed deep enough, leaving her light-headed and high.
He stroked, and thrust. Never tiring, never backing off, never letting up.
And then his pinky passed over her ass, already wet with the jelly, wet with her own honey.
She hissed, teeth bared at him. "No. Not there."
"Oh yes, Claire. There. Now be a good girl and cum for me..."
She wept in orgasm before he even worked half of his littlest finger in.
She stared at his hand, scrawling out a prescription.
"We'll try Ortho Tri-Cyclin. If you find the side effects too severe, we'll move to something with lower hormone levels. Follow the instructions closely. If you forget to take a pill, double up. Any more than three days of skipping the pill though could have consequences. Stop having intercourse and let the pills work for a week. Ms. Redfield?"
She looked up, dazed. "Yeah?"
"Did you hear any of that?" He handed her the paper, annoyed. "I'm not going to repeat myself. Just... follow the directions on the packet."
Claire nodded, her eyes going back to the floor.
He walked her up to the front of the office.
The lights were dimmed, the tv in the corner was off, magazines stacked neatly.
Excella long gone.
Just outside, a cleaning crew was organizing in the hall.
He turned the deadbolt and pushed the door open for her.
Claire glanced up at him.
"Ms. Redfield, I mentioned a CVS earlier... on Market."
She nodded, looking down at the prescription in her hand.
"They're quite efficient with filling these kinds of orders. Turn around is usually under half an hour."
She waited for whatever slick punchline he was going to deliver.
But instead she got: "I'll be here until seven."
She stared at him.
Breath ripped away from her again.
He stepped closer to her, his hands clasped behind his back.
He leaned in, his voice low and full of delicious threat.
"Next time... I'll use more than my fingers... and I promise I won't stop until you pass out."
Claire had almost no idea how she'd gotten to the pharmacy on Market, but there she was, sitting next to the blood pressure machine.
She checked her Nokia.
A missed call from Kelly.
Another from Chris.
The last from Kyle.
Her flavor of the month.
She moved in the chair, feeling the jelly still leaking out of her.
She frowned.
"Ms. Redfield?"
She looked up.
The pharmacy tech held up the white bag.
The white bag that contained her "sexual freedom".
Claire paid and left.
In her car, she swigged the Dr. Pepper and threw back the little pill.
She looked at the dial. Twenty-one tiny blues, seven miniature whites.
Her entire reproductive cycle - hell, her life - was in her own hands now.
Montell Jordan was on the radio.
It was Friday night, and he was feeling alright.
She switched it off.
Her thoughts were enough company for the ride.
The pressure of her newfound choice was heavy.
To fornicate heedlessly... or not to fornicate heedlessly?
That was the question.
Claire parked the car and took the sidewalk up to the building.
Kyle would wonder what she'd been doing.
He would be thrilled that she decided to get on The Pill.
Bareback all the live-long day.
She knocked, crossing her arms and looking around.
He turned the lock.
Let her pass through the door, silent.
He smiled.
She headed down the hall.
Dr. Wesker secured the door again, and turned the sign over.
Closed for Business.