The Blush

Dear Sir Williard,

The following, to the best of my ability is the conversation that followed in the examination room. It seems that this buxom young lady had been struggling with the curse of this planet, aggravated in part by my encounter with her.

"So Miss Alice," I asked in my best professional tone, "what seems to be the problem."

"I've been having troubling thoughts," Miss Alice's whisper was so quiet that I had to lower my head and lean forward to hear her clearly. In hindsight, this was a poor decision on my part as it directed my gaze naturally down into the bodice of her dress and the pillowy breasts that were pushed up by the tightly laced gown. "I have been plagued by hot flashes, difficulty in catching my breath, rapid heartbeat and the inability to concentrate; I'm sorry to have to bother you, but I just cannot discuss this with that creepy Dr. Miller."

"I see." I told my patient, and indeed I did have a very clear idea of what was troubling Miss Alice, I was also quite pleased to hear that this fine citizen had the sense to steer clear of my supervisor. "I'm going to prescribe a sedative that shou -"

"Aren't you even going to exam me, Doctor Baxter?" My patient demanded, a little more confident now and quite sure that I was not giving her the time and attention that she deserved. She was right of course, but I could feel many of the symptoms she described afflicting my own person; still I took her pale wrist in my hands and felt for her pulse that was indeed beating wildly. The softness of the skin on her hands and wrists was particularly noticeable compared to my hands that had developed callouses from the daily sculling on the river. Distracted by the feel of her hand in mine and the fluttering of her veins under my fingertips I couldn't concentrate even long enough to get the actual count, but the was no doubt that her heart was wildly beating and her skin was flushed.

I next used my stethoscope to listen to her lungs. I have done this again and again, Sir Williard, with other female patients (some even as pretty as Miss Alice) and never had difficulty with the process; this time though, as I pressed the brass circle along her back and ribs all I really heard was the flow of blood rushing through my own ears. Her young body was firm and toned and the sweet scent of her hair as I brushed the soft curls to the side to position the stethoscope on her back was intoxicating. I almost lifted her blonde hair in my hand and pressed it to my face, only my rigorous training kept me from completely losing my professionalism.

"When did you first notice these changes, Miss Alice?" I asked her desperate for anything that might clear my thoughts. The feeling of her firm very feminine figure through the layers of her dress had made my cock stiffen painfully and I had yet to move the stethoscope to her front. Even the thought of pressing the cool metal cup against the delicate flesh of her bosom was making it impossible to stand straight.

"I'm afraid, Dr. Baxter, that the feelings became most troubling after I met you on the river." I turned away pretending to write some notes in my book as I used my left hand to subtlety re-positioned the throbbing member trapped in my trousers hoping that the bulge 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, but as I write this now it occurs to me that perhaps the arrival of a man unfamiliar to the woman in question might act as a catalyst.

"I have had some of these symptoms for a while," 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."

"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."