Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
It’s true. Being a plastic surgeon is a difficult slog. First, there was four years of undergrad, followed by four years of medical school. Then I had to do a specialty in plastics, followed by a residency and an internship. By the time I was ready to practice on my own, I was in my early thirties, and deep in debt. Tuition wasn’t cheap, and the hospitals pay very little when you’re a resident.
But in the ten years since, I’ve more than made back my investment because our practice, Epinine Medical is doing gangbusters. My friend from medical school, Ryder Stevens, and I opened up this joint as soon as we could find office space, and women flowed in the doors from Day One. We divide and conquer, is what we like to say. I do body-related plastic surgery, while Ryder does facial plastic surgery. We complement one another, and often call on one another’s expertise when confronted with difficult cases.
After all, this is New York City and there’s a lot of botched plastic surgery walking up and down the streets. Sometimes, it’s someone’s nose which has been shaved too much, or someone’s breasts which are crooked. Other times, it’s even worse. I’ve seen sores large enough to fit a cat, and wounds that are black and crusted, rotting on themselves. As a result, Ryder and I do a lot of revision surgery in order to help people look their best after a first attempt gone wrong.
The good part about our business is that it doesn’t come cheap. Revision surgery is necessarily time-consuming and expensive, and we charge top dollar. As a result, the women coming into our office are often socialites and ladies who lunch. Unfortunately, our services just weren’t designed for the average Jane.
But this girl is different. Bethany McLeod stands out to me because there’s nothing immediately wrong with her, from what my professional eye can see. Her features are dainty and symmetrical, and there are no obvious scars or misshapen lumps. Then again, I haven’t seen under her gown, and that’s where the problem could be.
“So how can I help you?” I say in a neutral voice while seating myself on a stool next to the exam table. Her legs are long and pale, delicately formed at the ankle. Mmm, I love a woman’s ankles.
“Well, I’m here to learn about a v-vaginoplasty,” she says on stammer, her cheeks flushing. She’s so beautiful and I long to stroke her hair, but instead, grip the clipboard in my hand.
“I see,” I continue in my best doctor’s voice. “And why do you think you need a vaginoplasty?”
She goes beet red then, from her hairline down to the neckline of her gown.
“Well, I went on a date, and when he … well, put it in me, you know, he said I wasn’t tight because I’ve had a baby. But my baby’s two years old now. I should be okay, right? Maybe not exactly like before, but guys shouldn’t be complaining that I’m loose.”
I stare at her chart. Ah ha, yes this curvy girl gave birth to a child a mere two years ago. Maybe that explains some of the generous flesh on her frame, like the dimpled knees and the thick thighs that I can see just peeping out of her exam gown.
I nod, as if in deep in thought.
“Well, childbirth definitely stretches out a woman’s birth canal, but most women recover. It’s actually quite rare that someone doesn’t bounce back, especially someone of your age. How old were you when you gave birth?” I ask.
“Twenty-three,” she says almost in a whisper. “I’m twenty-five now.”
I nod.
“It’s not unheard of. The labia major, labia minor, and interior of a woman’s vaginal passage can definitely sag and loosen with time. But there’s a difference – some fixes are just cosmetic. For example, a labioplasty is where we tighten the labia itself. We trim down the folds and make the entire region more aesthetically appealing. Is that what you’re looking for?”
She bites her lips, her cheeks on fire.
“No, because everything looks okay from the outside. It was when he went in. He said he couldn’t feel anything.”
I frown.
“Is your partner a particularly small size?”
She bites her lip again.
“He’s not my partner,” she says quickly. “It was just a date with someone I know. But what counts as small size?” she adds.
I nod, unperturbed.
“Generally, a length of three inches or less, or in this case, a diameter of less than a quarter.”
Bethany goes bright red.
“He was as thin as a pencil,” she says in a near whisper. “To be honest, I could barely feel him when he was inside. Does that count as small?”
I chuckle deep in my chest.
“I’d say it does, but the only way to tell for sure is to do a pelvic exam. Is that something you’re interested in?”