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head the night before. I couldn’t find a bump anywhere.
    “What’s wrong?” His voice suddenly sounded concerned, all doctor-like again. “Does your head hurt? Are you feeling dizzy?”
    He approached the bed and sat down next to me. He took my wrist to feel my pulse and I let him. His touch was gentle. My skin felt like burning under his touch. I gazed at his face while he checked his wrist watch to determine my pulse. He was handsome in a very primal kind of way and looking at him made me feel like I was in heat. I wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who immediately threw herself at any guy with a pulse, despite the fact that I dated a lot, but the kind of lust his presence awakened in me was entirely new to me. My heart started beating faster, much faster.
    He abruptly let go of my wrist. Had he caught me staring at him again?
    “Your pulse it irregular. Do you have a history of heart problems?”
    Does right now count as a heart problem?
    “No, never.”
    “Hmh.” He seemed uneasy. “Do you mind if I listen to it?” He took the stethoscope from the bedside table.
    “No, no, sure, please,” I babbled. My heart was already racing again. I had to slow it down somehow before he thought there was something wrong with me.
    As he placed the stethoscope’s listening device on my chest, I was only too aware of his knuckles brushing against my breast and remaining there. I could feel the warmth of his hand stream through me. I was sure he didn’t even notice. He probably did this all day long. Would he notice that I had shifted slightly so that I could feel his hand against by breast even more intensely? I relished in the sensation of his little finger suddenly making a small involuntary movement against my breast as if stroking me.
    I closed my eyes to concentrate on something else, something boring: Des Moines, the monotonous life at my aunt’s home, the long winters and the endlessly repeating conversations. It helped. I could feel how my heart beat slower, but I didn’t dare open my eyes until he removed the stethoscope and his hand from my chest.
    “It’s fine now. But I’d like to keep an eye on it.”
    You may keep an eye on anything you want to.
    “Ok.”
    I desperately had to splash some cold water on my face to cool down. I was sure my face was flushed.
    “Could I use your bathroom?”
    “Of course. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that. Wait, don’t move, I’m going to carry you.”
    “No, that’s ok,” I protested automatically.
    “Sorry, doctor’s orders.”
    Judging by the throbbing pain my thigh was sending my way, he was probably right, and who was I to refuse a handsome man who wanted to carry me in his arms?
    “Wait just a second.” He got up and walked toward the bathroom and I lost sight of him again. I heard some noises in the bathroom and shortly later he was back.
    He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom. It reminded me of my dream when I had felt like floating on a magic carpet all wrapped in cotton wool. His masculine scent drifted into my nose and I soaked it in hoping he wouldn’t notice how deeply I inhaled to grasp as much of him as I could. In the bathroom he placed me onto a stool. All of a sudden not feeling his body heat anymore, made me shiver. I knew that my nipples suddenly hardened, but I was sure he didn’t notice this potentially embarrassing detail as he pointed to the wheels on the bottom of the stool.
    “You’ll be able to roll yourself around between the toilet and the sink.” He walked to the door. “Call me when you’re done.” He was about to close the door, when I stopped him.
    “Wait!”
    He looked at me, surprised.
    “What do I call you?”
    “Oh.” He smiled and showed me a full set of brilliantly white teeth. “Call me Vince.”
    Vince . The name was a little old fashioned, but it suited him.
    I reached to lock the door, but noticed there was no lock. I shrugged my shoulders. If he hadn’t raped me during the night