The Whore Front 1: Doctor, heal thyself

“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.