Walt and I had almost reached the restaurant when he suddenly gave the steering wheel an exasperated smack. "Damn, I forgot my pager at the office." Glancing over at me, his face was full of apology. "Do you mind if I swing by to get it, Debra?"
"Of course not," I replied. We hadn't bothered to make dinner reservations, figuring it wouldn't be difficult to get a table on a Thursday evening, so it wasn't as if we had to be at the restaurant by a certain time.
It was the summer of 1989, and Walt and I had been married for just a couple of years. We were both in our early thirties and still immersed in newlywedded bliss. I secretly hoped this phase, when lust and love so readily intertwined, would last forever.
Walt was a gynecologist, and the medical office where he and several other doctors practiced was nearby. On the way there, I caught him glancing at my legs. My lavender dress wasn't all that revealing, but it apparently showed enough skin to get his attention. Though I tried to hide my grin, he noticed it.
"Have I told you," he said, flashing his own grin, "how beautiful you look in that dress?" Before I could reply, he added, "And out of that dress?"
Now I laughed low and soft. It was all I could do not to place a hand on his thigh and slide it upward toward his crotch. Somehow, I managed to behave. If I kept pawing at my husband all the time, he might think he'd married a nymphomaniac.
The office was deserted at this hour, its parking lot empty. Once Walt had taken the keys from the ignition, he turned to me. "I'll just be a sec, honey. You want to wait here or come inside?"
"I'll come with you." I couldn't resist leaning over to plant a kiss on Walt's mouth. With his dark, wavy hair and charming smile, my husband made plenty of women swoon. They often complimented him on his lovely brown eyes. My best friend once asked me if I ever felt insecure that my sexy spouse spent his days examining women's vaginas. Actually, she worded the question a bit more crudely than that, but I was quick to respond that I trusted Walt completely. A marriage couldn't work without us having faith in each other, and I was far more certain of my husband's goodness than I was of anything else in this world.
My friend seemed satisfied with my answer. Then she gave me a sly smile and said, "It does help that Walt has a beautiful wife who's fucking his brains out every chance she gets." When I feigned outrage, she only laughed and rolled her eyes. "Come on, Debra, that man looks exhausted, and it's not from all the hours he puts in at work!"
Thinking back on that conversation, I wondered if I should give Walt a break in the bedroom. But he'd never complained of being worn out. Instead, he always enthusiastically responded to my advances.
While I now waited for him to circle around the car and open my door for me, which he still insisted on doing, I glanced at my reflection in the side mirror. My ash blonde hair was already losing the curls I'd given it before leaving the house. Despite my best efforts with a curling iron, the long strands didn't want to hold any kind of wave. My makeup still looked nice, at least. The shadow I'd chosen brought out the blue in my eyes.
Daylight was slow to fade at this time of year, and as Walt and I walked hand in hand to the office entrance, the setting sun cast a glow all around us. He unlocked the door and then held it open for me. The office was shadowy and quiet, so different from the times I'd stopped by during normal hours. My husband locked the door behind us before heading toward his personal office.
"I can't believe I walked right out of here without my pager," he said. "I'm really sorry, Debra."
"It's no problem at all." As I spoke, I wandered down a tiled corridor, peeking inside the darkened rooms lining it. When I reached the doorway to an exam room, an inexplicable urge made me flip on the light. This was where my husband saw patients, I knew. My gaze swept over the exam table and the small desk in the corner. I could imagine him sitting there, jotting down notes in a chart.
Walt came up behind me then. Brushing my hair from my neck, he planted an open-mouthed kiss on my skin. "Ready to go?"
Leaning against him, I closed my eyes. Before I could stop myself, I whispered, "I think you'd better examine me first." Simply uttering those words made me wet.
"Examine you?" I heard the confusion in my husband's voice even as he smiled. "How so?"
Instead of answering, I strolled into the room. "You know how." Our eyes locked, and I knew my stare held a challenge.
Walt glanced over his shoulder, as if he feared someone would appear out of nowhere and find us fooling around. "Are you serious, Deb?"
"Absolutely." I stepped out of my low heels, then waited for him to tell me to continue.
When Walt looked at me again, I noticed his gaze held a new heat. It moved over me, almost calculating in its scrutiny. Finally, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Get undressed."
I hurried to obey while he slipped into the room and closed the door. My hands trembled with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Though it was unlikely any of the other doctors would stop by the office this evening, there was always a chance. Walt and I would be hard-pressed to explain why I required an examination after hours.
The small room was warm, so I was comfortable being completely naked. Once my clothes were folded and placed on a nearby chair, my husband put on a clean lab coat, then offered me one of those paper capes to put on. It opened in the front to facilitate a breast exam. He didn't bother giving me a paper blanket to drape over my legs, so I remained exposed from the waist down.
As Walt placed a sheet of crinkly paper over the exam table, I noticed his demeanor had grown clinical. Would he act this way the whole time? I wondered. It wasn't what I'd had in mind when I suggested this, but I couldn't very well critique his performance. Instead, I moved to climb onto the exam table and lie back against a pillow, which was also covered with paper.
My husband washed his hands at a small sink before approaching the side of the table. It was strange, not being able to easily read his expression. He lifted my left arm above my head, then parted the sides of the paper cape so my breasts were exposed.
Walt's gaze settled on my bare skin as he examined my left breast with a firm but gentle touch. "You're making sure to do this every month, aren't you?"
"Yes, Doctor," I replied demurely, "and my husband is very helpful in feeling my breasts for me as well."
A smile played at his lips, but he continued the exam, his fingers lingering over my nipple. I was so wet that I wondered if I was dampening the paper beneath me. When he rolled that hard peak beneath his thumb and forefinger, I gasped.
His expression remained neutral as he asked, "Any discomfort or painful sensitivity in your breasts?"
"No," I breathed.
"Good." Walt withdrew but left the cape open. "Now I need to check your reflexes."