Wrong Read Free Page B

the paper gown. I tighten around his finger and suppress making any sound.
    "Please relax," Luke says, like he's trying to be reassuring, but I suspect he's exasperated with me. His finger slides in and out a fraction as he pushes from above and I know I'm wet enough that he didn't need whatever gel he squirted onto his gloves. He moves his hand around my abdomen, pressing down as his finger moves inside of me. I really like how that feels, the pressure from above with his finger inside of me. I clench on his finger involuntarily and feel a small spasm ripple through me. Oh my god. I think I just had an orgasm. Holy shit. Did he notice? It was small. Maybe he didn’t notice.
    Luke clears his throat, slides his finger out of me and covers me with the paper gown, not making eye contact. He so noticed. Stepping back, he tosses the blue gloves into the trash on his way to the sink. "You can sit up now, Sophie."
    I remove my feet from the stirrups and sit up, immediately missing the ceiling poster because now I'm not sure what to focus on. I end up staring at a poster on STD's.
    "I'll give you a minute to get dressed and then I'll meet you up front with a prescription for you."
    Marie drops the magazine into a holder by the door as Luke exits the room. "Let me move these for you, hun." She folds the stirrups back into the table. "See, that was easy, right?" She pats my knee and turns to the door. "Just come to the checkout desk when you're ready."
    I sigh as the door closes. What the hell. I'm going to have to quit my job at Grind Me. Or hide in the back room every time Luke comes in. Dr. Miller, not Luke. This might be a new low in my life.
    I get up, tearing the stupid paper cover in the process. There’s a wet spot on the paper. Is that normal? Am I supposed to clean up after myself? Why does no one prepare you for this before going to the gynecologist? I toss the paper gown over the wet spot and grab a paper towel to wipe myself with. I make quick work of getting redressed before checking my reflection in the mirror. I look a little flushed. I just went farther with Luke than I did with Scott in two years of dating. "You're a pervert," I say to my reflection before sitting down to pull on my shoes.
    Wait. Which socks am I wearing today? I pause, shoe in hand. The ones with the pink stripes around the top. I flip my foot. Classy. That's what's written on the bottom of my left foot. And on the bottom of my right foot? Bitch. I'm wearing my classy bitch socks. That I just flashed at Luke while my legs were spread. Can this appointment get any worse?
    I open the exam room door and walk to the checkout desk. It's a counter really. Just inside the exit. Luke is standing there, writing on a chart as I approach. He sets down the pen and checks his watch. It's big and expensive-looking and looks perfect on his wrist. What is it about a watch on a man? It's so hot. Most guys my age just whip cell phones out of their pocket to check the time. Maybe they'd wear watches if they really understood the appeal to women.
    Luke sees me approaching now and slides a paper bag off the counter. "Here's a three-month supply of birth control. The clinic will refill your prescription for free as long as you're a student. Do not let it lapse because you can't make it to the clinic to pick up a refill. You can refill with one month remaining, so that gives you a month before you run out. Understand?"
    His tone is firm and I'm somewhat offended. I'm not stupid. "Yes, I understand, Dr. Miller."
    He continues on about the dangers of antibiotics decreasing the effectiveness and using backup birth control while on antibiotics and for a week afterward. Really, it's stuff I learned either in sixth-grade health or from watching Lifetime movies, but I listen.
    "You can start the pill today. You'll need to use backup birth control for a week. You should still use condoms unless your partner has been tested. There's a supply in the bag and you can always get more