My Boyfriend’s Dad Is My Gynecologist
I was halfway through sending a message when Adam wandered into my office, utterly unaware that I was about two seconds away from committing a felony.
“Man,” he said cheerfully, dropping into the chair across from me, “some of these women are bold lately. I swear they read too many damn books.”
I didn’t look up.
“We are professionals,” he continued, amused. “We’re not getting all worked up just because their pussy is literally in our face.”
Still nothing from me.
“Oh—and you’ll love this,” he went on. “One lady today acted like she didn’t know she didn’t need to spread her labia for me. Said that’s how her last doctor did it. Thirty years, apparently.”