“Khrystyna?”
“Yes?”
“Doctor Abrams will see you now.”
Khrystyna stood and followed the nurse into the back. The nurse lead her into a small private room, one very familiar to Khrystyna.
“Please remove any undergarments and seat yourself on the chair, the doctor will be with you shortly.”
That was all the nurse said before quickly leaving, closing the door behind her. Without even removing her beige, form-fitting sweater top, Khrystyna undid her bra, sliding it off and placing it on one of the plastic chairs on the side. Bending over, she lifted her black, ankle-length skirt up around her waist, and shimmied her hips side-to-side as she slid her white panties down her smooth legs, and off her black heels, placing it on top of the bra on the side chair. And finally, she hopped up onto the gyno chair and scooted her but back until she was comfortable. There was a knock at the door.
“You decent?”
“Decent as I’ll ever be” Khrystyna responded coyly. The door opened and doctor Abrams slipped inside.
“For you, that’s not exactly a high bar to meet,” he joked.
Doctor Noah Abrams was a short, hairy man. He stood at 5’7”, his arms, legs, and chest were always covered in curly black hair. He was in his mid 40s, and was tan all over. He always wore the top buttons of his shirt down, with a golden chain on full display. He wasn’t actually Ukrainian, but Israeli. He had moved to Mariupol many years ago after marrying his Jewish-Ukrainian wife. Apparently they had met in Israel during a study-abroad program she took and quickly fell in love. When they got married she wanted to live closer to her family and so moved back to her home city of Mariupol where he opened up a gynecology practice. Khrystyna had been seeing him for treatment for as long as she had lived here. She enjoyed his sence of humor, as well as the fact he either didn’t mind or didn’t care about her line of work.
“Right, you know the drill,” he said as he unfolded the stirrups, “be a good girl and spread your legs nice and wide for me.”
“Ooo! Why don’t you buy me a drink first?”
“Why should I? Your privates are anything but private. Slide forward until you feel my palm. Perfect.”
“So then,” Khrystyna said, “no paper gown today?”
“Nope,” Doctor Abrams responded, “military’s rationing them. Can’t buy new ones anywhere, so we got to do this the old fashion way.”
He slid her dress up her legs until it was bunched up around her waist. He then began with the preliminary exam. His fingers explored Khrystyna’s crotch as he asked her all kinds of questions. Poking and prodding her, Khrystyna couldn’t help but feel a little flicker of warmth between her legs.
“Everything looks good on the outside,” said Doctor Abrams, “now let’s check your IUD, make sure it’s where it should be.”
He took out a speculum, dipped it in lubricating gel, and slid it inside Khrystyna. She felt a shiver run up her spine as it entered her. She never understood why speculums were always so cold, and at this point she half suspects it’s some kind of cruel prank gynecologist play on women.
“Everything seems to be where it should be. Anything you want to talk me about? How have your periods been?”
“They’ve gotten weaker than normal, but I’ve still been getting them regularly.” He looks her up and down.
“You’re too skinny, you need to gain more weight.”
“You sure you’re not just saying that because you like women with meat on their bones?” Khrystyna responded slyly. Doctor Abrams shook his head.
“Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean you can jump in her grave.”
Khrystyna felt a pant of remorse at her careless remark. Doctor Abrams had lost his wife during the war. It was a sad story, Dmytro told her all about it. He was the owner of a local funeral parlor, one of the only ones not occupied by the Russians and turned into a makeshift city morgue. Rumor has it he paid a handsome sum to stay open. He had told Khrystyna all about it after one of her biweekly visits. That man was a serial gossiper who could never keep his mouth shut, especially around Khrystyna. She still wasn’t quite sure if he was so chatty around her because he trusted her, or as a means of bragging.
The story goes that one night, Doctor Abrams and his wife decided to try switching things up in the bedroom. Instead of just lying back at taking it, she took the lead. The once “forever bottom” became a top for the first time in her life. However it would also be the last. She rode his cock like a woman possessed, thrusting up and down on his hard cock, controlling the tempo of passion. Then, just as she came to a crescendo, achieving orgasm, a ballistic missile impacted nearby. Their house wasn’t in the blast radius, but shrapnel from the explosion blasted through the bedroom window. Doctor Abrams was completely fine, as the headboard of the bed protected him. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his wife. A piece of metal hit her straight in the heart. It went clean through her. Doctor Abrams desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but it was a useless endeavor. She died in bed. That gossiping mortician even rolled her body out of cold storage so Khrystyna could see for herself. She was a curvy woman, on the larger side when it came to weight. Hazel eyes and curly brown hair styled in a bob. Her eyes lazily half-lidded like a well-fucked woman with plum lips now a light blue. On her chest rested a sizable pair of D-cup breasts, crowning each one were a pair of large, erect nipples. The shrapnel hole clipping the side of her left breast, leaving a clean hole the side of a bottle cap. Khrystyna could see straight through her body just by looking down the hole. On her lower belly was a long thin scar healed over by time, Dmytro said it was from a c-section. Adorning her crotch was a large, black bush. Clearly the curtain did not match the drapes, and clearly Doctor Abrams was a man who liked things old-school. Peaking out through the bush Khrystyna could see her clit standing at attention. Accompanied by the familiar smell of dried arousal wafting from her crotch. Khrystyna was surprised, she looked so peaceful in death. She thought that it was a surprisingly pleasant way to meet your end. Wrapped in a fog of post-orgasmic bliss. Quickly bleeding out. A husband by your side. Khrystyna couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t mind dying like that.
“Alright, and you’re all set,” said Doctor Abrams snapping Khrystyna out of her thoughts and back to reality. “Just check in with the nurse ip front and schedule your next appointment.” Doctor Abrams stood and started to leave.
“Wait!” Khrystyna said, causing Doctor Abrams to stop in his tracks.
“What I said… about your wife, I’m sorry-“
“It’s fine,” he cut her off mid sentence.
“It’s been a while. It’s ok to move on. A man needs release.”
“I can’t, she was my world. No other woman could fill the void. And I wouldn’t insult her memory by trying.”
“She was a lucky woman to have a man as loyal as you. I envy her.”
