Anna at the dentists.

But my dentist has a new surgery assistant, or whatever they're called. Alice is about my age, and like all dental surgeries it seems, this one has a ‘brand’, an ‘image’. 

White surgical scrubs (which doesn’t seem a good idea to me) trimmed with a deep maroon edging. Surgical scrubs are supposed to be worn on top of street clothes - they only provide a level of protection. 

Maybe no one had told Alice, because as I followed her up the stairs, her dark red panties were visible through the scrub dress….oh dear. No. Hang on. Scrubs - usually trousers and a top, right? Uniform - in her case a mid-thigh dress, also white, also trimmed with dark maroon edging. There. That’s better. 

Cute little panties too - over a cute little butt. 

In the chair, my dentist told me that a scale and polish was all I needed and Alice got that sucky thing and perched herself on a chair. My dentist is left-handed, so he was at my left shoulder, Alice on her stool at my right. Since I was lying flat, I had a perfect line of sight right up that dress thing she was wearing. 

As she wielded the sucker, now and then her knees parted and I got a sight of her crotch in those dark red undies. My dentist could have pulled all my teeth and I’d never have noticed.

As I said, he is elderly, but meticulous. I think he practices now more because he loves his job than any need for the money. He owns this place which has six surgeries in it, plus another building, and I’ve seen his home - it’s almost as big as my parent's place. 

Anyway, he’s scaling (whatever that is) and doing his thing, humming softly to himself as he worked, and Alice was trying to stop me drowning in that foul-tasting water. 

At one point, Alice seemed to relax into what she was doing and her knees parted enough to show me her panties stretched across her crotch. 

I decided I must call into church on the way home to thank God for all dark coloured panties (apart from black) since dark colours really show wetness. Pretty much any dark colour turns almost black when moisture gets to it. 

No, Alice was by no means soaked through. But there was a defining line between her labia, and a widened black patch just where I judged her hole to be. 

Right - I need to divert here a moment - you’ll see why in a minute. 

I was talking to Tig recently and she was explaining to me about her clinical practice course. She is fast-tracked and way ahead of her peer group, so she’s doing things fifth year students do, even though she’s only in her third year. Here’s what she said. “I was suturing this guy who’d come to the ER with a nasty lacerated wound on his leg. It was a really bad tear, friable edges everywhere and… (Tig goes into too much detail for me sometimes) …anyway, it was coming together beautifully and I found as I worked I actually felt myself wetting up! I mean - can you believe it? This was actually making me horny! I’ve heard some of the neurosurgeons talk about when they touch the human brain it can make them - excited.” (Please God I never need a brain operation - I don’t want a bunch of guys with semis thinking about their dicks while they're wrist deep in my brain - although I do get the connection between power and arousal. 

So, back to Alice. For all I know, she was just having a wet day. We all get them, and some girls love them, some reach for the panty liners. (Guess which camp I’m in!) 

Even the high-pitched noise of the dental thing faded into obscurity as Miss Brain took me on a microscopic journey up Alice’s legs and into her panties. By the time the chair was sitting me up again, I swear I could smell her…and taste her. 

I paid and went to their restroom. This also doubles as a locker room for the female staff and I wondered which locker was Alice’s. I would imagine her taking off her street clothes and pulling her uniform dress over her bra and panties. 

And I ducked into a stall, and let Miss Brain do what Miss Brain does best. She took me into the wonderful, if totally imagined world of Alice’s bedroom that morning. I imagined her waking up, warm and sleepy, and her hand drifting lazily down into her night panties and gently rubbing her clit. Her hand worked its way up under her t-shirt to her small firm boob and she began to masturbate. Her orgasm was gentle and rolled through her like a pressure wave. She would have got up and showered, of course, maybe had breakfast, dressed ,and come to work. 

But like all of us when we have enjoyed a nice orgasm, the wetness doesn’t just stop. We leak for quite a while afterwards, and that’s what I was seeing staining her panties. 

The more I imagined her gently masturbating in that hinterland between awake and asleep, the more aroused I got. I was sitting on the toilet, my own panties still in place. I found I was leaning so far to one side my entire right bum cheek was off the seat. The sight, sound and scent of Alice filled my consciousness. 

I imagined Alice still lived at home with mum and dad. I imagined that, like all teenagers, when she first learned to masturbate, she practiced ‘silent cumming’ techniques. Perhaps a deep breath, held until she turned purple. Perhaps a pillow clamped over her face. I imagined the warm scent of a girl’s bedroom early in the morning - a mixture of scents so complex to untangle. Warmth - an undefinable scent of its own - soap, perfume, used clothes, a little sweat perhaps, that undefinable scent that could be vagina. 

And Alice, dreamily rubbing herself. For some reason I had no doubt that this wasn’t a savage, “I must cum” event this morning. It was simply a continuum of a half remembered dream. Miss Brain told me Alice didn’t even finger herself. Instead, she just stroked her clit and held her firm little breast. I imagined that at the point of orgasm, she bit the knuckle of the thumb of her left hand, her head gently bobbing up of her pillow with each convulsion, her brow furrowed and her eyes tightly shut in the so aptly described ‘beautiful agony’ of orgasm. 

As I sat there, I came powerfully into my panties. Unusually for me, especially when I cum in this position, I didn’t squirt. I was expecting to feel my panties fill up, but not this time. Keeping an orgasm silent is a sure-fire way to enhance it. To some extent it felt like masturbating in the restroom at school. I made a mental note to masturbate in public restrooms more often and then straightened myself up and walked home. 

All the way, I felt myself leaking - just like Alice was doing right now. We were sisters, joined by the biology of our sex partaking in the hidden mystery of the aftermath of the female orgasm. 

Miss Brain had provided me with a powerful image of how Alice would both smell and taste up close and personal. 

I found myself wishing I could find out for real.