2. Fashionista Jenny

So there Jenny was, nervous as a schoolgirl, and me sitting with a mind gone blank, for at the sight of this creature, this young, beautiful woman, taking this examination, giving me this ‘tour,’ the change was so sudden I knew not what to do.

And so, when I said nothing, it was she, again, who took the floor, acting more manly than me who was unmanned by this turn of fortune.

“Dr. Johnson,” she said, with a blush oh-so-sweet, “Would you like me to start with a tour of the room, for Mr. Jones, here, may not recognize the instruments we’ve arranged. As per your instructions, I have set out all the necessary equipment, the equipment required for a full-body examination.” Her hands were fidgeting nervously, she was starting to sweat, yet the doctor did not respond, as if to see what she’d do.

Then, when he said nothing, and it was clear that he wouldn’t, she offered an alternative that seemed better selected. Pausing to think for a moment, the blushing Jenny went on, “Or perhaps I could walk him through our vast collection of gowns, ranging from classic designs to more modern cuts. For our commitment to patient satisfaction” — here she paused, for breath — “is evident from the diverse range of gowns that we have.”

Here the kindly old man only smiled. “Forgive the nerves of this student,” he said, with a look of compassion, “for tours of this sort the subject is usually examined while completely naked. Yet, Jenny, it seems, wishes to delay the event, so why don’t we have her try on one of our gowns?” Jenny blushed yet again, biting her lower lip, looking in my direction for an answer to come.

“Where are the changing screens?” I asked, having seen none in the room, wondering still more about the weird system that was ‘modern education.’

“Oh,” the Doctor exclaimed, as if lost in a thought, “usually I prefer to step out during the patient’s change, but since we have a medical trainee as our patient I’m sure she won’t mind if we stayed in the room” — thinking to myself, I’m sure she will mind, I nonetheless said nothing to contradict this strange doctor.

“Besides,” he went on, “this is a tour of our clinic, and it would be unfair not to show the full extent of the facilities; and, indeed, Jenny is wearing a uniform, for men just like you, as part of this pilot program we are testing.”

“Really?” I said, before I could catch myself, again, at the sight of this Jenny’s profuse blushing.

“Of istanbul escort course!” said the doctor, eager to flaunt the features of his clinic, summoning the nervous Jenny before us to show off her dress.

Though Jenny’s blouse was white and her pleated skirt blue, her face turned from pink to off-pink at the situation that arose. For the doctor summoned the girl to stand at attention, placing a stool directly in front of her, for me to sit down. He invited me to touch the fabric of the skirt, which felt crisp, and smooth, and that of the blouse, that felt light yet elastic. In an avuncular way, oblivious to the poor girl’s unease, he encouraged me to pull at the sides of the skirt, simulating a curtsy of sorts though the young Jenny was left standing. “We take measurements of all staff,” the doctor explained, “including these fine fashionable uniforms for the students of our tours.”

A little surprised by this, and immediately realizing my mistake, I asked of the doctor whether the dress might be “too short”? At Jenny’s reaction, I knew this was a poor choice of question, at least from the perspective of this very-shy girl.

“That’s a good question!” exclaimed the physician, while Jenny’s look of perturbation assured me that for her it was not. “As this clinic of ours is so new,” he went on, “I leave it to you, our patient, to judge!” Here, he had Jenny turn about before me and, to my shock and dismay, had the poor girl touch her toes!

Yet again, at this, I asked another question that mustn’t have been right, for, in aiming to protect the girl’s modesty, I observed, when she bent over, her panties were showing.

Thus, the doctor’s chest burst with pride, telling me this was part of their method, for teaching empathy to these young women who would soon be young doctors.

With prompting from the doctor, poor Jenny explained. “Um,” she began, as if at a loss for words, “Our clinic believes” — here she paused — “that medical exams of this sort can sometimes be shameful for men, the men who are unable to keep their passion at bay. Thus, Doctor Johnson” — here she looked towards the ground — “has requested that us female trainees wear these panties that are black.”

“And why,” the doctor prompted.

“This is because,” said the girl, her face flustered, “these male patients must see, for their benefit, that we too get aroused.”

She continued, in extreme humility: “We show them these panties.”

“Wow,” istanbul escort bayan I thought to myself, “could this really be true? I’m sure these two must be pulling my leg!”

“You shall see them!” said the doctor, “for indeed they are important, to help our new patients, in their struggle, to emote with their doctors!”

“So how about one of those gown,” he continued after a moment.

“Here,” he said, throwing one of the gowns to Jenny. “Here’s my favorite of our gowns.” Jenny looked at me pleadingly as she opened up the little package and held it in the air.

The gown looked very light, and almost transparent, but immaculately cut. Additionally, there did not appear to be a back to the thing, which made me expect I was in for quite a show. With a smile the doctor observed, “we shall compare how much this gown lifts with the regular uniform, and you may judge for yourself whether our design is sufficient!”

Oh, God, how to describe it! The agonized expression of utter shame on the young Jenny’s face as she stood there before me, mere seconds after we had been chatting so casually. It was clear that she knew exactly what was coming — the embarrassing spectacle that would leave her exposed, vulnerable. And yet, despite her obvious discomfort, I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of witnessing such intimate details of her body.

With eyes fixed straight ahead, Jenny removed her shoes, followed by her shirt, revealing a classic white bra underneath. Her breasts were of average size, though they would become more apparent during the examination. After donning the short hospital gown that barely concealed her undergarments, she proceeded to undress completely, save for her panties.

As she stood before me, I couldn’t help but marvel at the delicate fabric draping her curves. It was truly a work of art, if somewhat impractical for a medical examination.

“Jennifer,” Dr. Johnson instructed, “would you please turn around and describe the features of our fashion to Mr. Jones? Remember, our methods are unique and the best in the world.” At this, she pondered before speaking.

“The gown,” she said, “is made from a special blend of materials designed to be both comfortable and practical. It’s partly see-through, but that’s intentional. Our doctors believe that treating patients should involve a holistic approach, which includes considering the upper as well as the lower body.”

“Although escort istanbul the gown is not branded,” she continued, “it was designed to the specifications of the clinic managers by the college’s school of fashion.” “The black panties,” she noted, “are decorated with the school crest.” She then lifted her gown to reveal the corresponding area of her upper thigh, where a crest that I assumed to be the symbol of Palmer College was prominently displayed. Letting down the lifted part of the gown, she turned around in my direction, so that her reddened face was once again visible. With a hint of a deeper blush, she remarked, “Each pair of uniform panties has a special message on the tag, which you can inspect should you like.” At this point, I couldn’t help but notice another slight blush on her cheeks as she spoke. Perhaps sensing my gaze, she quickly turned away, avoiding eye contact.

Feeling uncertain, I glanced over at the doctor for reassurance before attempting to examine the tag on the underwear. I thought it would be located on the inside of the panties, and I awaited his nod of approval before proceeding. I moved my stool closer to the lovely Jenny and, using my left hand, I carefully turned down the waistband of her panties to reveal a tiny tag and illegible writing.

Observing my frustration, the doctor interjected, “Is the message too small to read?” he asked with a hint of amusement. “The fashion department promised they’d stitch it on at an appropriate size!” Then, addressing Jenny directly, he said, “Perhaps it would be best if you were to just hand over your panties now?” I couldn’t help but think that if I could see Jenny’s face, it would be blushing even more.

Without warning, Jenny spun around and grabbed my shoulder with her right hand while swiftly pulling down her panties with her left hand. Her thin gown fell down as far as it could, still hiding what was beneath. She quickly passed me her panties, which were drenched with her juices, and explained the message written on them. “Tuum sumus ut explorarent” was the clinic’s motto, meaning “We are yours to explore.” Underneath was another Latin phrase: “Disce manibus tecum, non oculis,” which translated to “Learn with your hands, not with your eyes.”

After handing me the clipboard, Jenny remarked, “When you’re done with my panties would you please put them with my clothes in that little cabinet over there. Please keep the key safe for me, since I don’t have any pockets.”

I was more excited than ever for the exam to begin.

—

Author’s Note:

– The Latin at the end plays off Chaucer’s use of Latin to convey a moral message throughout his Canterbury Tales.

– Dedicated to my favorite model, K.B.