Doctor Jenny Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Doctor Jenny Pt. 01

Doctor Jenny

1. Be Patient

It was a fine, brisk morning early in September when I cast my glance at the old clinic of my neighborhood. Once a staple for the locals, it had been taken over by the University, for I live in a bustling university town of middle England. My secretary had made an appointment for me, which I was reluctant to attend, sure to last much of the day.

As I stepped into the small waiting area, I couldn't help but reflect on how much everything had changed. The dingy interior one would expect from the impressive, red-brick Victorian exterior had been renovated completely. Gone were the typical, utilitarian furnishings of a clinic run by His Majesty's N.H.S. The walls had been painted a soothing shade of blue, with the antique benches replaced with chairs of a pattern influenced mainly by colors of navy and cream white. Even the magazines on the coffee table looked fresh, and untouched.

Reluctantly, I meandered my way to the counter and was greeted by a young woman with brown hair and plenty of smiles. She seemed fit, of good construction, and, were it not for the stylish dress she was wearing, I'd have thought she was a doctor.

Her eyes met mine briefly, before darting away shyly. She looked to be around twenty years old with her hair tied neatly in a ponytail.

"Hey," I said, trying to strike up a conversation, "I have an appointment for today. Name's Aloysius Jones, but you can call me Al."

At this she giggled a bit. "Oh, curse my ...

... parents for naming me after some silly storybook doll."

But after this amusement subsided in the girl, she proceeded to explain that this was her very first day on the job, and that she only assisted the real "Doctor" of this place, an elderly man -- a professor -- named "Doctor Johnson." "Our clinic is brand new," she said with a blush, "and I'm just doing my practicum in medicine with this rather eccentric guy." When she said the word "guy," I thought she might have some French in her, but I didn't inquire more.

As she spoke and told me the doctor would be in shortly my eyes kept being drawn to the flash of her teeth. "Man," I said to myself, "this woman sure has a great smile."

While my mind started drifting into this daze, it was then that there suddenly came a knock on the door. Jumping from her chair to get it, as if dazed herself, the girl almost ran to the door to usher in an elderly gentleman. This elderly gentleman, she proceeded to introduce us, was "Doctor Johnson." He was imposing, tall, with frizzled grey hair, but nonetheless with a broad smile that caught my attention almost as much as the girl's fine teeth. "Nice to make your acquaintance," he said, throwing forth his hand for a shake.

And so I listened to the doctor make an eager 'salesman-like' spiel, that seemed more fitting of an American than a Brit. While he did so, I reflected, "Well, these are the times!"

And he went on, and continued, and drifted in pleasantries, while my mind drifted in ...