The Skin Check Begins

Dr. Tomkins adjusted the overhead lamp, its bright glow spilling across Jenn’s pale skin. The sterile paper crinkled beneath her as she shifted nervously on the table.

“All right, Jenn,” he said in a calm, even voice. “I’m going to check you head to toe. Just let me know if you feel uncomfortable at any point.”

She nodded quickly; she was already uncomfortable but it’s not like Dr. Tomkins had any sympathy for her.

He began at her hairline, parting her hair with gloved hands, scanning her scalp. “A few sun freckles, nothing concerning,” he murmured, tapping notes into his chart.

As he ran his fingers through her hair, Jenn couldn’t help but panic that her flaws were being noted and observed by Dr. Tomkins. Jenn stared at the wall, heat rising in her cheeks. Every quiet comment felt like a spotlight.

Moving to her face, he leaned closer. He looked her in the eyes briefly. And in that moment, Jenn could feel a sense of anger coming from Dr. Tomkins. He would remain professional but the thoughts of the humiliation he endured from Jenn remained with him after all these years.

“A bit of sun damage across the nose and cheeks. Very common.” Dr. Tomkins stated.

He continued methodically, running his fingers along her neck, shoulders, arms, calling out every mole, every freckle, every mark as if cataloging her imperfections one by one. He finally ran his finger along her exposed sternum until his touch brushed up against her bra.

Jenn’s breath stuttered as his gaze was locked onto her C-Cup breasts, being held pressed and high by her white bra.

“We’ll come back to that.” Dr. Tomkins brushed by ominously.

Jenn’s heart thudded harder with each observation. She could not escape the thought that this was Franklin Tomkins, the boy she had once mocked, now standing inches away, seeing her with clinical detachment she couldn’t separate from her own guilty conscience.

Dr. Tomkins lowered the lamp and stepped to Jenn’s side. “I’ll need you to turn around so I can examine your back and shoulders,” he said bluntly.

Jenn trembled as she turned away from him. She couldn’t verify, but she could feel his gaze burning onto her ass. She crossed her arms over her chest instinctively, though she knew it hardly mattered.

Franklin adjusted his glasses and leaned closer, running his fingers along her back and tracing the outline of her bra. “You’ve got a cluster of freckles along your left shoulder blade. Most are benign, but one is a little darker. I’ll take a note for monitoring.”

He traced down her spine, his voice steady. “Some sunspots along the lower back. Nothing worrisome, but evidence of past burns.”

She swallowed, throat dry. It was impossible not to feel like he was seeing everything she had ever tried to hide, not just freckles and scars, but mistakes, carelessness, her own history written on her skin.

“Oh wait,” Dr. Tomkins stated, “What’s this?”

Dr. Tomkins lowered his finger to a small black mark on Jenn’s lower back. It rested just above her panty line.

“This looks a little concerning.” Dr. Tomkins warned. “We should biopsy it to make sure it’s nothing serious.”