Afternoons of a Woman of Leisure (9781101623565) by Elizabeth Bennett Page B

stomach, then, lifting two of its corners, they hook it overhead to tall steel poles. When they are finished, there is a wall of green between Joanna’s upper and lower half. Her spread legs, her heels cold in the stirrups, her rapidly dampening cunt are all out of sight behind it. She sighs, closing her eyes. Joanna’s wrists are lifted and stretched above her head. She feels the supple rubber of surgical tubing being wrapped around her wrists, not too tight. Then they are fastened to something unseen at the end of the examining table. The two men stand over her for a moment, their eyes on Joanna’s face and the soft bulges of her breasts beneath the white paper. “Let’s begin,” says Dr. Simon.
    Slowly, he begins to unfasten the paper gown, untying each knot then moving to the next, his fingers lightly tracing the visible inch of skin down her body. When the last tie is undone, he carefully spreads the gown apart, bunching it against her sides, then stands solemnly, examining her breasts. “Please watch carefully, Dr. Stein,” he says. He leans over her slightly. Joanna, looking at the ceiling, feels his palm softly press the underside of one of her breasts, gently pushing it up. With his other hand he lightly brushes the upper part of the breast, softly, with his fingertips, avoiding the nipple. Over and over in slightly decreasing arcs, bringing his fingers closer to the hard and throbbing point. Joanna, forgetting herself, moans quietly. “Try to relax,” he mutters.
    Finally, the fingers reach her nipple and glide over it, teasing it, then pressing it. He rolls it firmly but clinically between two fingers, his face only inches away from it now. Then, straightening up, he asks for something from the steel table across the room. Joanna hears the squelch of a tube, then something cool at the edge of her breast. “This shouldn’t hurt,” he tells her calmly, beginning to rub lubrication over her skin, everywhere but against the nipple. Warm palms massage her breast, smooth and firm, unhurried. Then, the flesh is squeezed between them, pushing it straight up. Joanna, glancing down, can see the dark tip rising above his fingers. Dr. Simon bends down and tentatively begins to lick it. Joanna groans loudly, loving the rasp of his tongue, the warm and sticky palms holding her steady beneath his mouth. At her head, the medical student places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just relax,” he tells her, trying to sound professional. Joanna, nonetheless, hears a wisp of urgency in his voice. She moans again, aware of intense heat between her legs.
    Dr. Simon sucks her nipple, rhythmically, his tongue gliding over it inside his mouth. She hears his sounds and gasps, her eyes shut, rolling her head back and forth. The medical student’s hand is cold on her shoulder. She wants to cry out. The mouth sucks and sucks. She feels the blunt edge of teeth lightly bite down and groans, almost in pain. He straightens up.
    â€œDr. Stein,” he says calmly, “would you like to examine the other breast?”
    The cold hand leaves her shoulder and moves down, fumbling through the same process on Joanna’s other side. The breast is touched and felt, lubricant is massaged over it, then her nipple is firmly sucked and licked and nearly bitten. When he has finished, he looks up expectantly at the older man, who briefly nods, then turns to Joanna. He looks carefully at her, taking in the flushed cheeks and quickened breath, but says nothing. Then, finally, he tells her that she will now be examined internally, that they will try not to hurt her, that, again, she should relax, try to relax and remember: they are doctors.
    â€œYes,” Joanna says. “Oh yes, I will.”
    They move down the table and disappear behind the green curtain. She hears the roll of steel balls, a chair being wheeled between her spread legs. Then breath, warm and quick over her crotch as a