The clinic was silent except for when Dr. Marcus Kane turned the bolt of the door open. It was well past eight o’clock. The last nurse had gone home hours ago. Only one patient remained, Ms. Elena Voss, his final appointment of a very long day.
Elena sat on the edge of the exam table in the private room at the end of the hall, legs crossed, wearing nothing but the thin paper gown that barely reached mid-thigh. Her heart beat faster than it should for a routine check-up. At twenty-eight, she was the picture of temptation, long hair, full breasts straining against the flimsy material, and legs that seemed endless. She’d come in complaining of “general fatigue and pelvic discomfort,” but the way her eyes had lingered on Dr. Kane during the initial consult told a different story.
Dr. Kane wa
