m

He said I had pretty teeth, which was strange since I know my teeth aren't pretty. Especially not by a dentist's standards. They're not as white as they should be, not as straight, and I never floss. Still, he is calling them "pretty.".. "They're really not that pretty." I replied. "You're a dentist, you've seen prettier." He stared me deep in my eyes and put his medical gloves on, the whole time not breaking eye contact.

"Open wide." he said in a straightforward and casual tone. As I did I felt his gloved fingers gently slide into my mouth. He moved them all around, in a way that didn't feel in the least bit necessary..His index and middle finger slipped beneath my tongue and felt their way backwards to my molars. While his pointer and pinky finger rested on my canines. Such an awkward position, nobody had ever had their fingers in my mouth this way before. It felt totally unprofessional.

"Pretty." He said, while inspecting my teeth, closer than felt appropriate. "I didn't say perfect, I didn't say the best, I said pretty." His gaze felt sharp and clinical. He looked facinated more than anything else. I was frozen with an emotion I had yet to register. Confusion? Discomfort? Concern? No...arousal. The second he pulled his fingers from my mouth it started to ache with an empty feeling. "You can close your mouth now." he stated, with a slight smile.

Music on and time slows down.