Andrea barely raised her eyes from her clipboard but was nonetheless acutely aware that several newcomers had arrived in the waiting room. She really didn't care if they read the ancient magazines or simply stared at the four pale walls. Their time didn't matter; in fact, the more time they waited for her, the happier she seemed to become.
What they needed was within her power to bestow.
Men shifted uncomfortably in orange and blue plastic chairs. Leftovers from the early 80s, the seats were not only harsh but also were rather backbreaking for any significant duration. Andrea was certain that at least half of the men in the waiting room sported aching asses. The thought of their bottoms almost numb from hard chairs made her giggle.
Two more males entered and she did a fast head count. An even dozen was her cutoff and by her estimation the group was full. This class would be her best yet, she vowed, and might even become the source of a new journal article she was considering. The perks of working with Dr. Caruso were significant and abundant in their intrigue.
"I trust you and like your style," Dr. Caruso remarked a few months ago. "With our new work in male impotence, it's quite critical that my staff be trustworthy... especially my charge nurse."
Andrea recalled those words with a certain warmth and comfort. With her promotion to charge nurse, she no longer had to endure those white nylon pants and tunics or those dreadful white shoes. The charge nurse, Andrea always believed, was like a plainclothes cop.
She dressed with care. Always looking incredibly professional and her blonde hair in a shoulder-length bob, Andrea mingled a few of her favorite fun items into her business wardrobe. When she wore black pants, she always added in a suede vest under a leather blazer. A little bit kinky, a little bit rock and roll. The juxtaposition of the two worlds always made her grin.
Dr. Caruso sensed Andrea's assertiveness and appreciated that quality in her head nurse. With the new impotence project, Dr. Caruso sensed that her nurse's ability to organize and keep things in place and in line would be an invaluable asset during the project's duration. Besides, Andrea's wardrobe always made the doctor re-think what she would wear to the office each day. Andrea kept her young - - alive - - and feeling just a little bit sexy.
The twelve men fairly jumped out of their seats when Andrea stood and called them to order.
"Up, gentlemen," she placed heavy sarcasm on the second word, "and into that room." Pointing with a mere pencil, she held their happiness and their futures in her hands and on her clipboard.
Twelve pair of eyes stared at the unmarked door through which they knew they would tread in search of the magical solution to their lives' dilemmas and their agonies. They sensed that inside that small, antiseptic and uncomfortable cubicle was the answer to their prayers. Between their hopes and dreams stood one short slender nurse who relished the power in her control.
The men plodded in single file into a rather plain examining room and noted the surroundings. Finding no chairs, they stood staring at one another uncomfortably, as if sizing up the other man's dilemma. They all knew why they were there, but so did the only female in the room. The fact that *she* knew was worse, each man figured out for himself.
Ignoring them completely as she gazed up and down the almost-empty clipboard, Andrea caught glimpses of their discomfort and smiled condescendingly at each discomforted male. After an excruciating silence, she looked over her glasses and began speaking without introduction.
"You're here for tests," she explained unnecessarily as each man hung onto her every word. "We are going to determine the extent of your impotence and whether it's physical or psychological." She allowed every word to hang in the air as the men stared at her mouth, as if they could not take in her words as she spoke them. Feeling their incomprehension, Andrea spoke clearly and simply, as if she were an elementary school teacher addressing her charges.
"We start with physical tests," she continued, "and if the results are satisfactory, we move on." Every male's understanding stopped on the single syllable, `if.'
She watched their eyes glaze over as they imagined the `if' she put between them and the clinical trials for the magic medication everyone was talking about. The only way into the testing program was through her, and they all knew it. What was worse was that Andrea knew it and used it to her advantage at every moment.
Without a word of warning, she uttered the single command, "Strip."
No one moved or even breathed. Twelve men stared into nothingness and thought about the scope of her order. They expected some degradation, but not one anticipated *this* kind of embarrassment. Andrea stood silently and stared at the agonized males tightly grouped in front of her. A small smile curled her lips.
She would not repeat the command and everyone in the small examining room knew it. They believed that their failure to obey now would drop them from the program automatically. That much had been made clear in the pre-exam literature she had so much fun in writing. Andrea counted silently from ten backward towards one. When she reached three, she saw the first set of fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt.
Andrea had to struggle to keep from breaking into a huge smile, but she succeeded.
As she watched the eleven others join in the disrobing parade, Andrea debated silently if she would exert more power by watching the show or if leaving the room while it played itself out was a more assertive role for herself. Perhaps she would display more control by indicating to the undressing men that she had more valuable things to do with her time. On the other hand, watching men strip had
been one of her passions for a long time and she hated not enjoying every succulent moment of their distress.
She elected to stay. To a man, each avoided her stare as he removed his clothing and crept closer and closer to bare skin. Her pre-exam directions had been clear: wear few clothes. Because their accommodations at the clinic were sparse, there was neither room nor need for much clothing. She instructed them to wear simple khaki slacks, a polo shirt and sandals or sneakers. Nothing else was required. Nothing else was desired. Failing to mention underwear was intentional and Andrea was curious at how many men followed her instructions.
Shirts and shoes were easily removed and Andrea tried to appear nonchalant as twelve pair of fingers fumbled with belts and buttons. The room's silence grew to a deafening crescendo as the men struggled with their disparate emotions and threatened egos. As they groped and floundered with their clothing, Andrea stood perfectly still and smiled.
She refused to speak again until every stitch of clothing was removed and her singular command was obeyed and she was confident that every male in the room knew it. There would be no cajoling, no reminding, and no encouraging. Obedience was all she wanted and it was exactly what she expected to obtain.
"Everything?" a meek voice stuttered from somewhere.
If possible, the silence was even louder than before. It took balls, she figured, to ask her that question but she also recognized that the most assertive of any group was a potential leader - - and a potential troublemaker. He had to be dealt with immediately. Striding over toward him in two steps, she stared into his deep-set black eyes.
"Exactly what did you *not* understand?" she asked without answering his question.
Instinctively, his hand reached for his genitals either out of fright or the need to postpone fear-induced urination spasms. It didn't matter to Andrea - all she wanted was an even dozen naked males as well as the establishment of her complete authority over all of them.
He opened the button, unzipped and dropped his pants to his ankles. Smiling, she returned to her position at the front of the room.
He had worn no underwear. The taste of victory was always sweet and Andrea licked her lips.
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