The small, sterile examination room at the college health center smelled of antiseptic and unspoken secrets. Dr. Jef Hargrove, a lanky 35-year-old with a mop of unruly brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses perpetually sliding down his nose, stood hunched over his desk. His fingers fidgeted with a clipboard, the pages filled with a meticulously crafted questionnaire that veered just a tad too personal for a standard physical exam. His heart thrummed a nervous rhythm as he rearranged his tools—stethoscope, gloves, speculum—all laid out with the precision of a man who knew exactly what he was after.
Jef’s mind, however, was far from sterile. As he adjusted the clipboard for the third time, his thoughts drifted to the women’s volleyball team, due for their annual physicals today. He imagined the intimate details he’d soon uncover, the answers to questions he’d spent weeks perfecting. His secret fetish for pads and tampons—a curiosity he’d never dared voice aloud—burned beneath his professional facade. He swallowed hard, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, and muttered to himself, “Just another day, Hargrove. Keep it together.”
The door swung open with a force that made him jump, nearly dropping his precious clipboard. In strode Ella Martinez, an 18-year-old freshman with a fiery presence that filled the room like a wildfire. Her athletic frame was clad in the team’s signature navy-and-white tracksuit, her dark ponytail bouncing with every confident step. She carried herself like she owned the place, her sharp brown eyes locking onto Jef with an intensity that made his stomach twist.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Dr. Creepy Clipboard himself,” Ella quipped, crossing her arms and leaning against the examination table. Her lips curled into a smirk as she sized him up. “You look like you’re about to perform open-heart surgery, not a basic check-up. What’s got you so jittery, Doc?”
Jef cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up with a shaky finger. “I-I’m not jittery, Miss Martinez. Just… thorough. Please, take a seat. We’ll start with some routine questions.”
Ella raised an eyebrow, hopping onto the table with a deliberate thud. “Routine, huh? Let’s see how routine this gets. Lay it on me, Doc. I’ve got places to be and a killer serve to practice.”
Jef clutched his clipboard like a lifeline, his eyes darting to the first question. “Right, uh, let’s begin with… your menstrual history. When did you first start your cycle, and how do you manage it?”
Ella’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin, her tone dripping with playful mockery. “Oh, we’re diving straight into the red zone, are we? Fine, I’ll bite. Started at thirteen, felt like the end of the world. First time I tried a tampon, I was sixteen and clueless—thought I’d lose it up there forever. Took me three tries and a YouTube tutorial to figure it out. Happy now, or you want the gory details of my first pad disaster too?”
Jef’s face flushed a deep crimson, his pen hovering over the page as he scribbled notes with a trembling hand. “That’s… very informative. And, uh, what products do you prefer now?”
Ella leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Tampax Pearl, Doc. Best damn thing since sliced bread—smooth applicator, no leaks. But on heavy days, like today, I double up with Always Ultra Thin pads. Gotta have that extra armor, you know? Wouldn’t want a crime scene on the court.”
Jef nodded a little too eagerly, his mind racing with images he desperately tried to suppress. “I see. That’s… practical. Very practical. Let’s move on to the physical exam. If you could, uh, remove your jacket and shirt for the breast exam, please.”
Ella peeled off her tracksuit top and the tank beneath with zero hesitation, revealing a sports bra and an unapologetic grin. “Don’t get too excited, Dr. Shaky Fingers. It’s just a rack, not the Holy Grail.”
Jef nearly choked on his own spit, his gloved hands hovering awkwardly as he approached. “I’m perfectly professional, Miss Martinez. This is standard procedure.”
“Standard, my ass,” Ella shot back, her tone teasing as she watched his hands tremble during the exam. “You’re shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. What’s the matter, Doc? First time touching a boob?”
“I assure you, I’ve done this hundreds of times,” Jef mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper as he focused on keeping his movements clinical, detached. But Ella’s relentless banter was a sledgehammer to his composure.
“Hundreds, huh? You’re not acting like it. Come on, lighten up. I’m not gonna bite… unless you ask nicely.”
The breast exam concluded with Jef stepping back, his face a battlefield of embarrassment and restraint. “All clear. Now, if you could, uh, lie back for the pelvic exam. I’ll need to use a speculum to—”
“Oh, I know the drill,” Ella interrupted, swinging her legs onto the table and lying back with a dramatic sigh. “Spread ‘em and brace for impact. Just don’t get lost down there, Doc. It’s a crimson tsunami right now, if you catch my drift.”
Jef’s ears burned as he adjusted the speculum with unsteady hands. “I’m aware of the, uh, timing. Could you describe your current flow? For the record, of course.”
Ella propped herself up on her elbows, her grin wicked. “For the record? Sure thing. It’s like Niagara Falls dyed red, Doc. Heavy, messy, and a total pain in my uterus. Happy to paint you a picture, or you want me to whip out a flow chart?”
“That’s… quite descriptive enough, thank you,” Jef stammered, focusing on the task at hand while fighting the heat creeping up his neck. Every word out of Ella’s mouth was a grenade, and he was woefully unprepared for the fallout.
The exam wrapped up with Jef stepping back, peeling off his gloves with a sigh of relief. Ella sat up, pulling her clothes back on with the same brazen confidence she’d walked in with. “Well, that was fun. You survived, Dr. Shaky Fingers. Barely.”
Jef adjusted his glasses, attempting to reclaim some semblance of authority. “I’m glad everything checks out, Miss Martinez. You’re cleared for the season.”
Ella hopped off the table, slinging her jacket over her shoulder as she headed for the door. She paused, tossing a final barb over her shoulder with a smirk. “Good for you, Doc. Try to chill out before the next victim walks in, yeah? Wouldn’t want you passing out mid-speculum.”
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jef alone with his racing pulse and a clipboard full of answers he’d never admit to savoring. He sank into his chair, exhaling a shaky breath. Ella Martinez had set the bar impossibly high—and impossibly dangerous—for the rest of the team’s exams.
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