I noticed she wore heavy-duty work boots. To complete the ensemble, she had on a dark blue shirt, buttoned up, the kind of shirt they always showed me...hanics wearing in the movies. When she came back, I half expected to see a patch with her name on it sewn above her left breast. Between the boots, the shirt, and her faded jeans, it seemed like she was dressed for serious work. My mind drifted in and out, and when I felt a glass being pressed into my hand, I started. A flash of confused panic. Smooth. Sounds nice. Now I hear the door. Oh, God. No escape, now. Am I sweating? Oh, no! I can feel a rivulet of sweat running down between my breasts and showing through the gown. Crap! Now he'll know I am a wreck. Stop, Domi! "Hello, Ms. Dominique Natascha. Hm, how may I address you?" Good morning, doctor." I smile at the good-looking man in a white lab coat entering the room "You may call me Domininque, or Domi for short." The man nods and moves over to the washstand to clean his hands and. More

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