Best Women's Erotica 2012 by Violet Blue

Author:Violet Blue
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press Start
Published: 2011-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

THE SKIN DOCTOR

Tsaurah Litzky

One morning I wake up and the little mole on my lower back is itching. It itches all day and that night it itches so much I have trouble sleeping. The next day it itches even more. I call up the skin doctor and make an appointment for the following week. A decent independent press has just published my poetry book to great reviews. How foolish, how futile it would be to be carried away by something smaller than a birth control pill, now that I may be entering the big time, now that I may be nominated for the Pulitzer Prize.

The day of my appointment with the dermatologist arrives and the itch in the mole on my back is acting like a fickle lover; it comes and goes. As I start to dress, I take great care choosing my panties because I know they are all I will be wearing during the examination. I am eager to see this skin doctor; I have seen him before and he is a very hot skin doctor. He looks like a man of experience, like Clark Gable in The Misfits, with the same little moustache above his upper lip, the same solid build and strong powerful haunches. I imagine that little moustache tickling my clit, as he teases it with a practiced tongue.

During my last visit, the skin doctor lifted and cupped my left breast gently with one hand while he used his other hand to deftly cut out a mole on my rib cage. His hand lingered, his fingers pressing my breast a few moments more than necessary.

“How are we doing?” he said with a sweet little squeeze as he let go.

I pull on my new, pink silk, French-cut panties. I stole them from Lord & Taylor a month ago because it excites me sexually to steal. I have a drawer full of purloined panties and I only steal from the best stores. All the way home on the subway I was so wet I wondered if the other passengers could smell me. I can see myself pirouetting in front of the skin doctor naked except for the panties. I know I won’t be able to stop myself from blushing and creaming just a little bit on the fresh satin crotch. I wonder how much of my eagerness to see the sexy dermatologist has to do with the fact that I haven’t gotten laid for six months.

The dermatologist’s office is crowded. I sit on a brown leather chair and take my poetry book, which I carry with me everywhere, out of my purse. I make a show of opening it; hold it in front of me, pretending to read.

I hope someone will get curious about the beautiful cover and ask about it, but no one seems to notice. The skinny matron sitting across from me appears occupied by her own concerns. She chews her lower lip, twists her gold wedding band round and round on her finger. I

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