Page 98 of Darling Venom
Oh, God.
She thinks I was…
Jesus.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I just…” I shook my leg. “Well, I’m a virgin.”
“Oh.” She perked up, smiling. “Don’t you worry about that at all. Many of our patients are virgins. I will make sure Dr. Marchetti is aware, so he is super careful. As it is, I can assure you he is extremely gentle and respectful.”
Somehow, I doubted that based on how he’d screwed that woman in his office. Frankly, his general personality screamed callous and aggressive, but I didn’t defy her.
“No need to make a note of that. I’m not attached to my hymen or anything.” I paused. “I mean, spiritually. Physically, I am. Still.”
God, Charlotte, shut up.
“Okay, we’re ready!” she chirped, standing up and slapping the tablet on her thigh.
Grace led me to an examination room with bright lights, grabbed some sort of hospital gown and a giant folded tissue sheet, and placed them both on a cushioned table adorned with flowery stirrups.
“Please get completely naked and put this gown on. Dr. Marchetti will be with you shortly. I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
Grace left, finally giving me a second to hate myself properly for going through with Reagan’s genius idea to have a man I was extremely attracted to shove his fist into my vagina.
I contemplated changing my mind and switching to Dr. Bernard, but I didn’t want to look like a complete wuss. Besides, getting examined by him would just present a totally different set of problems and would still be cringeworthy.
You can walk right out of here.
But then Reagan would know I didn’t have that Pap smear, and she’d be disappointed, which I’d never hear the end of.
I shook my head.
It’s just a test. You were always an A student.
And that was the wrong thing to think, because it reminded me of the age gap between Tate and me.
When was the last time he’d even been in school? Half a decade? A decade?
I cleared that line of thought before it spiraled out of control.
Quickly, I removed my clothes, extremely aware that my body was far from perfect. I’d seen the woman Tate had sex with. Stick-thin with a perfect tan. I carried a little excess weight and some cellulite around my butt.
Also, his job description included practically feeling up vaginas and boobs. What if mine fell short of the Manhattan elite’s average?
I’d shaved most of myself down there in preparation, and suddenly, I feared it might look like too much. Like I was nestling a bald eagle between my legs.
Why can’t I turn off my freaking brain?
I folded my clothes, set them in a neat stack on the crème counter, then proceeded to tie the hospital gown around my neck and waist as tight as possible. Which was still not good enough, because this thing didn’t have any back. My ass literally hung out there, bare and feeling the breeze.
Finally, I got to the weird tissue sheet. Grace hadn’t explained what to do with it, so I decided to tactfully wrap it around myself.
At least my behind was now covered.
Yeah. That’s much better.
Now you can forget all about the fact that he’s about to rummage inside your vajayjay.
In my bid for modesty, I wrapped my arms around myself to ensure I was all covered up. I sat on the edge of the exam table, literally a human toilet roll, and wondered where it had all gone wrong.
