“Miss Nora, please remove all your clothing and lie down on the exam table.” Dr. Elias Crowe’s voice was calm, deep, and left absolutely no room for discussion. I stood in the middle of his luxurious private exam room, heart hammering against my ribs. The 40-year-old doctor was even more intimidating in person, tall, handsome, with sharp cheekbones, salt-and-pepper hair, and an aura of complete control. “Everything?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Even… my underwear?” He locked the exam room door with a soft click and turned to face me, his dark eyes slowly dragging over my body. “Everything. This is a full wellness check. I need to be very thorough.” My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I slowly started undressing. I pulled off my blouse, then my skirt, until I was standing there in just my white lace bra and matching panties. Dr. Crowe watched me silently, arms crossed over his broad chest. “All of it, Nora,” he said, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Don’t m
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