The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in Dr. Jef Harper’s private examination room at the college health center, but it did little to calm the storm brewing in his chest. At 35, Jef had seen his fair share of patients, but today was different. Today, the women’s volleyball team was scheduled for their annual physicals, and the thought alone sent a shiver down his spine. He stood behind his desk, nervously arranging his medical tools—stethoscope, reflex hammer, a neatly folded stack of disposable gowns—while his mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. Intimate places. Places he’d sworn to keep clinical, professional, detached.
His fingers brushed against the bottom drawer of his desk as he straightened a pen for the third time. Inside that drawer, hidden beneath a stack of patient forms, was his little secret: a box of spare tampons and pads, an “emergency stash” he kept under the guise of patient convenience. But the truth? The truth was far less noble. He’d spent countless late nights alone in this very office, running his fingers over the crinkly wrappers, imagining the stories behind them, the women who used them. A flush crept up his neck as he yanked the drawer shut, shaking his head as if he could dislodge the thoughts.
“Get it together, Jef,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his white coat. “You’re a doctor, not a damn teenager.”
The door swung open with a force that made him jump, and in strutted Ella Voss, the 18-year-old freshman firecracker of the volleyball team. Her athletic frame filled the room with a kind of raw, unapologetic energy, her ponytail swinging as she tossed her gym bag onto the chair. She wore a tight tank top and leggings that hugged every curve, and her piercing green eyes zeroed in on Jef like a predator sizing up prey. A smirk curled her lips as she crossed her arms, hip cocked to one side.
“Well, well, Dr. Harper,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mischief. “You look more nervous than a freshman at a frat party. First time doing a physical or something?”
Jef cleared his throat, his face burning as he fumbled with the clipboard in his hands. “N-no, of course not, Miss Voss. I’ve done hundreds of these. Please, have a seat on the exam table.”
Ella sauntered over, hopping onto the table with a deliberate bounce that made the paper crinkle under her. She leaned back on her hands, legs swinging casually, and fixed him with a look that could’ve melted steel. “Hundreds, huh? Then why’re you sweating like you’ve just run a 5K? Relax, Doc. I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”
He nearly dropped the clipboard. “I—I’m fine. Let’s get started. I just need to go through some routine questions before the physical exam.”
“Fire away,” she said, grinning. “But fair warning, I’m on my period, so if you’re squeamish, you might wanna call in a sub.”
Jef’s heart stuttered, though he tried to mask it by scribbling something nonsensical on his chart. “That’s… perfectly normal. I’ll need to ask about your menstrual history as part of the assessment. When did you start your cycle, and how would you describe your flow? Heavy, moderate, light?”
Ella tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Straight to the good stuff, huh? Fine, I’ll play. Started at 13, and let me tell you, that first time was a disaster. Thought I was dying, honestly. Mom handed me a box of those giant, industrial-strength pads—Kotex, I think, the kind that feel like you’re wearing a diaper. My flow? Heavy as hell the first couple days. I’m talking crime scene levels. I use both pads and tampons now—tampons during the day, pads at night. Tampax Pearl, if you’re curious. What, you taking notes for a memoir?”
Jef’s pen froze mid-air, his mouth dry as he struggled to maintain eye contact. “I… no, just for medical accuracy. That’s very… detailed. And, uh, how was it, using a tampon for the first time?”
Ella laughed, a sharp, bright sound that filled the room. “Oh, Doc, it was like trying to parallel park a semi-truck in a compact spot. Took me three tries and a lot of swearing, but I got the hang of it. Why, you wanna know my technique? I could give you a demo if you’ve got a spare.”
His face turned crimson, and he nearly choked on his own tongue. “That won’t be necessary. Let’s, uh, move on to the physical exam. I’ll start with a breast exam, then move to a pelvic and speculum exam. If you could change into the gown—”
“Slow down, Dr. Shaky Hands,” she interrupted, hopping off the table and grabbing the gown with a flourish. “I’ll strip down, but don’t think I didn’t notice your little stutter there. You sure you can handle this? I don’t want you passing out on me.”
“I’m perfectly capable,” he snapped, though his voice wavered as she turned her back to change, the sound of fabric rustling sending his pulse into overdrive.
When she climbed back onto the table, the gown barely covering her toned thighs, she shot him a wicked grin. “Alright, let’s do this. But fair warning, your fingers are cold as hell, so don’t be surprised if I yelp.”
Jef swallowed hard, stepping forward to begin the breast exam. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed gently, methodically, trying to focus on the clinical nature of the task. But Ella wasn’t about to let him off easy.
“Damn, Doc, you got ice for hands or what?” she teased, arching a brow. “You’re gonna give me frostbite before you even find anything. Warm ‘em up next time, yeah?”
“I apologize,” he muttered, his ears burning. “I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time,” she shot back, her tone playful but commanding. “I’m not shy. Just don’t poke anything you’re not supposed to.”
By the time they moved to the pelvic and speculum exams, Jef was a bundle of nerves, his movements careful but unsteady. Ella, on the other hand, remained unfazed, cracking jokes the entire time.
“Easy there, Dr. Shaky Hands,” she said as he adjusted the speculum, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a vagina before. Need me to draw you a map?”
“I’ve seen plenty,” he retorted, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him. “I’m just ensuring everything is… thorough.”
“Oh, I bet you are,” she quipped, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Thorough enough to write a damn thesis on my cervix. You’re welcome, by the way.”
The exam wrapped up with Jef stepping back, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow as he scribbled final notes. Ella slid off the table, adjusting her gown before changing back into her clothes with the same unapologetic confidence she’d walked in with.
“Well, that was fun,” she said, slinging her gym bag over her shoulder. “Hope you survive the rest of the bloodbath, Doc. Don’t go fainting on the next girl, alright?”
She tossed the parting shot over her shoulder with a smirk, leaving the room before Jef could muster a response. He stood there, clipboard clutched to his chest, heart pounding as the door clicked shut. The air felt heavier now, charged with the lingering heat of her presence. And as he glanced at the drawer—his secret stash calling to him like a siren—he knew the rest of the day would be a battle to keep his composure.
“Next,” he called out weakly, already dreading and craving what was to come.
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