"That's better," he said professionally, leaning back on the couch, his hands on his thighs, ignoring her excitement. "Much better. We can see what we're talking about."
If her c******s was now exposed, Dottie couldn't feel the difference. His mouth was no longer close to her p***y, but the memory was still there. Why had he stopped? Did she smell bad? She knew all the jokes about dead fish-she had heard David recite them often enough-but they had never meant anything to her. Maybe she did smell like dead fish. The doctor wouldn't tell her so. Shalimar! Why hadn't she. doused her p***y hair with Shalimar. That intoxicatingly heavy perfume drowned out all smells. How stupid of her.
The doctor reached into his breast pocket absent-mindedly, his eyes still on the indented mound of bright re
