Medical check-up

Kati kept her checkups at this hospital for years. Not just for the scans. Every three months brought the same brown-haired nurse into the room—Betty—and Kati never hid what that did to her. Today Betty peels off the paper gown and runs her gloved fingers under each heavy breast, searching for lumps. The touch lingers. Warm lips replace the plastic and the nurse closes around the hard nipple, sucking until Kati gasps. She slips her own hand beneath Betty’s scrubs, finds the damp cotton, pushes the panties aside. Two careful fingers slip inside, curl, explore the slick grip until Betty shudders around them, the clinical visit drifting into something louder, needier, unmistakably alive.