This short story is an entry in the 2002 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Child
The Surgery
By
Plierla Fesserla
Casting ones eye down the list, one cannot help but notice how things have changed. Dr.Bhatt, Dr.Joshi, Dr.Khan, Dr.Ng, Dr.Singh; one has to look to the end to find an English name. Why is it that English kids are so reluctant to study hard? A lack of discipline, one might conclude.
The list of learned doctors becomes somewhat less interesting when the squeak of the practice door announces the arrival of what one can only assume to be mother and daughter.
As mother waits for the disinterested receptionist to acknowledge their arrival, her daughter leans on the counter and fidgets. As she repeatedly bends her knees and then almost straightens her legs, one cannot help but think that if she straightened them fully, she would give the seated patients an uninterrupted view of her pants. Is the little minx doing it deliberately? Why else would a girl wear such a short, tight- fitting skirt, other than to flaunt her slender legs and pert young bottom? Mother should have insisted upon taking the girl to the local outfitters for a larger size, unless money's the problem.
One can even discern the line of those pants that she is almost displaying as it angles up across the fullness of her bum. Clearly not a skimpy undergarment; if daughter has won a battle over choice of skirt; mother is the victor of the battle of the knickers, clearly the regulation school type. One wonders if there is a requirement for a particular colour, navy blue, perhaps maroon to match the blazer. A blazer which looks somewhat threadbare; there's probably no father, and with limited income, she cannot afford a new skirt.
Possibly, annoyed by the tardy receptionist, mum vents her anger on daughter, reprimanding her for slouching and being slovenly.
At length the receptionist deems to speak to mum and after a short exchange, they look around for a pair of empty seats. One is obliged to divert ones gaze as the couple walk towards the two empty chairs opposite. A casual glance at the girl as she wiggles her knees from side to side, ends the earlier speculation. They are bottle green. One quickly turns to read the notices that one read ten minutes ago as mum says, 'sit still Janet, don't fidget.'
* * *
Come in Mrs Jackson and Janet, take a seat. What can I do for you? 'Dr Williams, this is all rather difficult. I think... that is, I'm pretty sure... well I believe that Janet is pregnant.'
* * *
'Over 1000 pounds! We can't afford to pay that for an abortion.' 'Mrs Jackson I think we can sort something out. The practice can pay the fee and Janet can come and see me each month to repay it. One stroke of the cane for each 10 pounds not paid off that month's instalment. There would be compound interest of course, say 20% per month.'
* * *
Mr Williams . . .
Mr Williams . . .
Mr Williams, Doctor Walker will see you now.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2002
Reviews
Pam <pamiMac(at)aol(dot)com>
Took a few reads to 'get' the end but I finally did. A good writer with an interesting view. After I read it a couple of times, I realized that I learned a great deal about the narrator. Narrow minded obviously but a bit of a perv. :)
RCG <rcg1574(at)yahoo(dot)com>
Of course one can't help calculating the potential total. There is of course a obvious but not so simple solution to avoid either caning or debt.
John <johnb(at)ssec(dot)wisc(dot)edu>
Nuanced, subtle, lovingly detailed, the ending an unexpected splash of cold water. This is a rare thing, a true short-short, whose meaning tips ninety degrees on the very last line. Nice job.