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I took myself back to the gyne’s office so that it could be ascertained whether the device was sitting where it was meant to be or if it was instead crunching its way maliciously toward my heart.
Once again I was surprised to find a former student of mine working in the office. I’ve seen her a dozen times in the years since I’ve taught her, but for some reason I am startled anew each time I find her there.
Thus far she’s appeared only when I’ve been clothed. I’ve not yet seen her face peeping up from between my widespread knees. Every time I leave the office, I’m ever so slightly relieved that I’ve made it through another appointment without her having seen my bits and pieces.
And then I wonder why that seems important. Surely she’s seen hundreds of naked ladies in the time she’s spent working for the gynecologist. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t go back to her next class reunion and whisper behind her hand, “You should see Mrs. XXXX’s vagina!” There’s nothing all that unusual about it!
Well, except maybe for the clouds of magical golden pixie dust.

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