She has a different theory

Dear Sir Williard,

What Miss Alice revealed to me, was both troubling and frightfully stimulating. As you will see, it made my attempt to behave in a professional manner even more difficult than ever. This is what my patient told me.

"I'm afraid, Dr. Baxter, that the feelings became most troubling after I met you on the river." I had to turn away pretending to write some notes in my book as I used my left hand to subtlety re-positioned the throbbing member. I could only hope that the bulge in my trousers would not be too noticeable when I turned back.

"I don't understand." I told her not completely honestly. It seemed to me at the time, my Lord, that it was improbable that my presence and the onset of the Blush should coincide, and as I write this now it occurs to me that perhaps the arrival of a man unfamiliar to the woman in question might actually act as a catalyst. Could it be that the sudden arrival of a potential mate might somehow bypass the carefully constructed norms of our society and cause the onset of the dreaded Blush? If this is truly the case, then the age-old custom of 'coming out' in which debutants are paraded around like prized heifers at a country fair could only exacerbate the sudden onset of this condition in the young men and women of this outpost.

"I have had some of these symptoms in a mild form for the past year," Miss Alice explained, "but when we played tag on the lawn and you chased me down the effect was so much more intense." I did not know how to respond, Sir Williard, you will recall that the feeling of my hand on her firm thigh played a part in the subsequent intense fantasies of my hunting this buxom beauty down like a caveman claiming a mate.

"Interesting." I mumbled and then in a most unprofessional display I stepped to her side. "Do you think it was my touch -" I rested my hand on her thigh as close to where it had first landed as I could remember, "- or the experience of being chased that caused your reaction."

"I don't know Doctor, but..." she hesitated and I could see the blood rushing to her cheeks; she finished her thought in a rush of words that did nothing to relieve my sexual tension. "That night, Dr. Baxter, I masturbated again and again as I lay in my bed thinking about you chasing and then catching me ... pinning me to the warm grass -"

"What?!" My shocked exclamation was not the recommended response we had been taught at King's College when the topic of female sexuality was covered.

"I know, Doctor." Miss Alice's eyes dropped to the floor. "I've been so bad, and not just that night. I just can't stop myself."