The Blush

Dear Sir Williard,

The following, to the best of my ability is the conversation that followed in the privacy of my parlor as I sat with Miss Alice. It seems that this buxom young lady has been struggling with the curse of this planet, as much as I. Perhaps in fact, because of her lack of experience, the sudden surges of desire that wracked the poor young woman's body must be particularly troubling.

"So Miss Alice," I asked the young woman carefully, "what seems to be the problem, and how does this involve me?"

"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 yellow 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 anyone in my family."

"I see." I tried to maintain my neutral tone, but I did indeed have a very clear idea of what was troubling Miss Alice, I was also quite pleased an honoured that this fine citizen trusted me enough to share this most intimate of afflictions. "Perhaps I could prescribe a sedative ..."

"I was hoping you could exam me, Doctor Baxter?" The buxom young woman shifted nervously, "I do not want to have to seen again by Dr. Miller. No offence, but last time I was in his examination room I felt like a month-old filly being eyed by a hungry bearcat." She was right of course to fear the attention of my licentious senior colleague, but I doubted my ability to behave and more appropriately myself as I could feel many of the symptoms she described afflicting my own person.

With reservations, Sir Williard I retrieved my medical bag and agreed to give her a cursory look. I started by taking her pale wrist in my hands and feel for her pulse that was indeed beating wildly. The softness of the skin was particularly noticeable compared to my rough 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 not 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 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. "And again, Dr. Baxter when we were dancing together in my parents ballroom."

"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, "- and the experience of being chased that caused your reaction, or being held in my arms that provoked a stronger response?"

"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. "On both those nights, Dr. Baxter, as I lay in my bed thinking about you ..." her eyes lowered and voice dropped, "I masturbated again and again until my bedding was drenched in my juices."

"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 on those two nights. I just can't seem to stop myself."