Archive for elliot gould
She walks down the crowded Wednesday afternoon street. The occasional (mostly male) passer-by’s give her a glance; a beautiful young woman, dressed dazzlingly in a green summer dress which barely conceals her voluptuous body. It is clear she is wearing little or no underwear and her breasts swing freely as she negotiates the pavement. She turns into a grey building its dark interior lit by harsh fluorescent lights in contrast to the bright summers day. As she negotiates the entranceway, she rummages in her bag and withdraws a slip of paper, checks the writing, then glances up and reads the sign in the lobby of the building. She approaches the lifts and, when the doors open, enters and presses the No3 button. The lift lurches up the old building.
She alights on the third floor and enters the reception area of a dentist’s office. An assortment of child’s toys lay strewn in one corner. Across the room a line of faded yellow backed chairs provide seats for an audience for whom the receptionist is the central performer. The walls are covered with signs alluding to the many different payment methods the dentist favours. The receptionist glances at her and indicates that she approaches the front desk. She does so and announces her name as Mrs Hymas. The receptionist checks her list and indicates she should be seated and the doctor will be with her in a moment. The young woman reflects on the arrogance of men calling themselves ‘doctor’ when, in fact, they have no covenant on the title. She crosses her legs, picks up a magazine, flicks through it in a bored and distracted fashion, and waits.
After a few minutes an elderly women emerges from a door marked ‘surgery’ and speaks briefly to the receptionist, presumably to make a further appointment with the dentist. She continually runs her hand over her cheek as she does so. The other occupant of the waiting area edges to the front of her seat, in anticipation of her being the next to be called. She looks anxiously at the receptionist, the women, and the dentist’s door. The dentist, a portly man in his late fifties, sweat beading his brow, his white uniform crumpled and worn, opens the door to the surgery and using his finger indicates that the young women we have seen enter the building from the crowded street and negotiate elevators and reception, should now enter his surgery. She rises from her seat, smooths down her green dress which has risen up her tanned thighs, and, glancing briefly at the other patient, enters the surgery. The other patient slumps back in her seat and makes a loud noise to indicate her displeasure at being the next person to physically arrive at the surgery but to end up still waiting in line. She idly picks up the discarded magazine of the young woman and glances at the front cover and the titles of the stories contained within.
Once inside the young woman dispenses with her handbag and then unzips her dress. Our assumption that she was wearing no underwear is revealed to be true, as she stands naked, apart from a pair of black, short-heeled shoes, in front of the dentist who is impatiently ridding himself of his gown and trousers. We see that his t-shirt has a dark stain over the stomach area as if he has spilled food while he has been watching a late night TV movie and has either not noticed it or it is of no import to him. The young woman sits in the dentist’s chair and drapes her legs over the arms at each side. Her sex sits above the sterile plastic of the chair, mocking the dentist and forming a strong contrast to the white and grey machinery around her. The dentist struggles out of his final piece of clothing and starts having vigorous sex with the young women. She stops him before he enters her and asks him for the $500 they had agreed on in their telephone conversation. He reluctantly stops and picks up his crumpled trousers that he has hastily thrown on the floor. He extracts his wallet and carefully counts out the bills, throws them on his tray, then resumes vigorous sex with the women.
As we back out of the surgery see from the rear of the dentists chair a scene of the young woman’s elegant legs with shoes firmly attached protruding from the sides, and the bald head of the dentist pumping up and down as he reaches his rapid climax. As we back out into the reception area and close the door, all sounds emanating from the grunting wanabee doctor are muted.