Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“How are you feeling?” she asked as she rolled an ultrasound machine over toward me.
“My throat is really my biggest complaint. Cato is worried about my legs, arms, and stomach, though.”
“Can I take a look at your arms and legs?” she asked, motioning toward the wrap holding the gauze in place.
“Sure,” I agreed, sitting back on the angled bed.
She put on gloves them unwrapped one of my legs, then the other, checking out the scratches.
“These look pretty good,” she said. “Whatever you’ve been putting on is working. But I will redress it all, so you don’t get anything in them on the way home. In another two or three days, you should be all closed up and won’t need the bandages.”
She got to work mostly in silence before she finally broke it.
“Hey, Rynn?”
“Yeah?”
“If something happened to you that you want to talk about, or want me to check out for you…” she said, letting the implications hang. “Or if you need some morning-after pills or a full STI panel run…”
She was worried I’d been raped.
Which, I assumed, Cato was worried about too, though he’d been delicate enough not to bring it up, leaving it to a professional—and a woman—to do so instead.
“I wasn’t raped,” I told her. “I mean… I think if I hadn’t gotten away when I did, that was absolutely going to happen,” I admitted, my worst fears spoken aloud for the first time. “But it didn’t get that far.”
“Okay. Well, I’m glad for your sake that is true. Now, a tetanus…”
“I’m all good on that front,” I assured her.
“Great. Then we can get right to this,” she said, cleaning up her mess, then coming back to sit on her rolling stool as she reached to roll up my shirt.
She did the same sort of prodding Cato had done the night before. “I still want to do the ultrasound, but I’m not too worried about this,” she told me even as she grabbed the gel, and squeezed a cold glob onto my skin before grabbing the wand to start looking around.
“You know, when Cato first mentioned you needing an ultrasound, I thought you might be pregnant,” she admitted.
I expected to recoil from those words.
I didn’t want kids.
Right?
I mean, I had nothing against kids.
But I just never saw them in my future.
That said, I’d also never seen a partner in my future. And if I didn’t see a husband, why would I see kids?
The possibility was hanging in the air right then, though. Intriguing. Almost… tempting. But requiring a lot more thought to wrap my head around.
“I’ve been on the Pill since I was fifteen,” I admitted. “No babies for me. Anytime soon,” I tacked on at the end where I previously never would have.
“You’re still young if you decide,” she said, shrugging as she moved the wand around. “Okay. I feel pretty confident saying this looks okay. I am going to suggest a blood test. Just to test your hemoglobin and platelet levels as well as your liver enzymes. If you were bleeding anywhere, they would be lower than usual. It’s just a good, final precaution to ease everyone’s worries.
“I’d also like to run a quick pregnancy test. Just to be sure. It’s a test I always run just to be sure.”
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding.
She left the room for a minute, coming back to draw my blood, to collect the sample for the pregnancy test, then leaving again.
When she came in the last time, she told me that the pregnancy test, as anticipated, was negative. Then she produced a bottle of liquid.
“I don’t know for sure if this will work,” she said, holding up the bottle of spray meant for sore throats.
“Girls in high school used to use that to suppress their gag reflexes to give head,” I said, getting a laugh out of Ama.
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. “Which was part of the reason I brought it in. If it helps that, it might help your throat. Just so you can eat and talk normally while you heal. But try not to use it excessively.”
I gave it a try, making a face at the taste, but slowly but surely, a welcome numbness started to spread.
“All good news,” Ama told a worried Cato who popped up out of his seat as soon as we walked out.
“I’m not pregnant!” I announced, getting a chuckle from Ama but a wide-eyed look from Cato.
“Was there… was there some concern about that?” he asked.
“Don’t worry. I pop my Pill with my morning coffee every day. No little Catos anytime soon,” I said, watching his eyes warm as I realized what the hell I’d just said.
Anytime soon?
God.
What was wrong with me?
“Ama gave me blowjob spray,” I blurted out, trying to change the topic quickly.
“Blowjob spray,” he repeated, lips twitching.
“To numb my throat,” I explained.
“Right. Right,” he said, shaking his head, looking a little flustered. Considering how much fucking we’d done, and how filthy his mouth was, it was kind of endearing to see him look uncomfortable about the topic of head.