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her car.
    They arrived at a nondescript office. The unlocked door led to a vacant reception area with the lights off. Behind the counter, Wendy could see a light on in an exam room.
    “Dr. Romero,” Gloria called.
    “Hello Gloria, be right there.”
    When Dr. Romero stepped out through the door that led to the exam rooms, Wendy’s jaw dropped. Her mother used to watch hospital soap operas and the actors on those shows were always too good looking to be doctors. Here was proof that a tall, sexy, well-muscled man with a thick head of gorgeous blond hair could be a doctor.
    “You must be Wendy,” he said extending his arm. “Come on back. This won’t take long.”
    Wendy’s power of speech vanished. She followed him back, forgetting Gloria was there.
    Dr. Romero kept up a steady stream of conversation—about the weather, did she surf, and what her plans were for after graduation. Wendy answered in monosyllables as he took her blood pressure and listened to her heart, which she was sure had stopped due to his stunning good looks.
    When he told her he was going to take a small blood sample, she finally found her voice.
    “Why do you need blood? What’s all this for?” she asked.
    “Our club is exclusive and we want to make sure everyone is in good health. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, and if someone gets hurt or ill it could lead to…well, liabilities.”
    “That makes sense. Anytime you have an admissions process, you open yourself up to lawsuits.” Wendy nodded and held out her arm to allow him to take her blood.
    “Now I have a questionnaire for you to complete. It’s not too long. Maybe you could go out to the waiting room and fill it out.” He handed her a clipboard with a few sheets of paper on it. “And please have Gloria come back. I have a few things I’d like to discuss with her.”
    Wendy took the clipboard, returned to the dimmed waiting room, relayed the message to Gloria, and took a seat.
    The first questions were about her health history and her family history. She scanned through them and realized she didn’t have a pen, having left her school bag in Gloria’s car. Rooting through the bottom of her purse, she pulled out the little idol. She smirked.
    Tiki idols’ faces expressed the personality of the god they were carved to represent. They were almost always depicted in a power pose, with their knees flexed and their arms curved at the sides. That old lady was crazy if she thought this was an authentic tiki. This one looked like it might be sitting in an easy chair, its legs lax and a goofy grin covered most of its face. Someone probably used sandpaper to wear it down and make it appear old.
    She threw the idol back into her bag and found a pen. When she lifted her head, she was overcome by a surge of dizziness. For the third time this week, a heat washed over her. Again the sensation surged though her body, collected between her legs, caused an ache that needed to be soothed. Was Dr. Romero really that handsome she couldn’t control herself?
    She glanced back through the receptionist’s open window and into the exam room she had just left. Gloria now sat on the exam table. Only the doctor wasn’t taking her blood pressure, not unless he could gauge her heart rate with his tongue.
    The doctor licked Gloria’s nipple. Her shirt lay crumpled to her side, and her bra hung off her arm. He stood between her legs at the edge of the table. Gloria threw her head back and a soft moan flowed from her lips.
    Wendy shouldn’t watch, but the heat that attacked her compelled her to keep her eyes glued to the action.
    Gloria reached out and undid the button and zipper on his pants. She pushed them down to reveal a taut, tanned ass.
    Wendy licked her lips. Her urges demanded to be sated. Her own hand found its way down her pants and under her panties—already damp.
    Gloria lay back on the table as Dr. Romero pulled her skirt off, leaving her naked. He stood at the side of the exam