Gräfenberg Fulfillment

Gio Clairval

Dental Assistant Letitia liked her men bald: the muscular and the skinny, the biologist and the forklift driver — any type would do so long as his genetic makeup had predestined him to lose his hair.

Bald is sexy, she thought. Bald is virile.

On the technical side, Letitia welcomed all dental conditions: periodontal pathologies, granuloma, edentulism. Her favorite, however, was the simple cavity. When a patient turned up for his first consultation, sweet expectation of what she might find made her tremble. Cavities opened the door to her wildest fantasies.

That day, as a bald man staggered into the dental practice, howling in pain, her head swam. She prayed for a carious process, hoping the decay had already developed, affecting the dental pulp. In her opinion, it was the best moment to start an odontoerotic treatment.

The man (Luka, an art gallery owner of forty-two — she read in his file) sat in the waiting room, hands gripping the armrests. Letitia sprayed him with nitrous oxide. Luka let go of the armrests as the gas weakened his socio-immune defenses.

Letitia’s following move was to hypnotize her patient in order to induce a classical Lorenz’s imprinting. Swing-pendulum-swing. After Luka was brought through from the waiting room, following her like a duckling, Letitia had him recline in a dentist’s chair sprinkled with a rutting female bear’s scent. The dernier cri in pheromone fragrance.

She had previously mixed the anesthetic with an aphrodisiac substance excreted in her own brain — namely, by the serotonin-gorged epiphysis cerebri.

The dentist, Mr. Heinz, proceeded to inject anesthetic into his patient’s palate, in the most sensitive spot of hard cartilage. Luka, instead of wincing or groaning, let out little moans of pleasure.

“You’re . . . er . . . very brave, sir.” Mr. Heinz cast a puzzled glance at his assistant, who glanced back with Bambi eyes.

Letitia then handed a special amalgam to her unsuspecting boss. “Amalgam” was an old-fashioned word, dethroned by the modern “composite.” She however preferred the vintage term, which evoked a scent of forbidden alchemy. The mélange consisted of the usual ingredients enriched with bits removed from her body. Letitia mixed the formula in her quarters. She had a range of specially tailored treatments at hand: the ovarian follicles she kept for her shiniest patients, while the men afflicted with patchy alopecia received fillings based on piliferous bulbs from her bikini line.

She liked to know that a patient would exit the dental practice carrying a little something of her. Eyes closed, she saw herself experiencing vicarious masculine lives: bar fights, flurries of dirty jokes, fishing tournaments, ball games and muscle car racing, not to mention porn and culinary feasts that even Babette, her favorite restaurant’s cook, would never have dreamed of.

And there was more. Letitia sensed when someone touched her bald man. From the depths of the filled cavity, she partook in her patient’s sexual interplay. The Sandrized men attained such erotic expertise they all became unparalleled lovers.

Was she content with her invasive practice? She still felt something was missing, a rough-edged cavity in her heart that her soul’s tongue could not leave alone.

She sometimes ran into a man who’d been treated at the dental practice with her special amalgam. She would spot him treading High Street, or in a shop, or at a bus stop. The clue that gave him away was the sudden flash of tingling that blossomed in her nether regions, progressed to her nipples and finally reached the scalp in a paroxysm of white-hot shivers.

Each time, the temptation to reveal herself and the secret of the odontoerotic treatment assailed her, although the dental assistants’ strict deontology — already frazzled by her procedures — prevented her from crossing a further line.

Until that very day.

Luka was an attractive man, but it would have been another patient to receive amalgam enriched with the usual parts of her body, had she not noticed a singularity. To counter his receding hairline, he’d shaven off all his hair. She remarked a geometric implantation of the hair growing back on the shaven head.

A perfect rose, starting from the crown, unfurled clockwise, not unlike the pattern of sunflower seeds.

A star-struck Letitia leaned over her patient while, at the same time, tilting the chair back. Now, the dentist’s chair had been designed never to keel over. Luka, on the other hand, could flex and contort his body. The generous chest that was drawing close, threatening to press against his face, triggered a sudden movement. The tray supporting dental tools tipped over. Luka, in an attempt to catch something, gripped Letitia’s white coat, ripping it, along with the blouse underneath. Patient and assistant fell on the floor among the din of tools hitting the tiles like stainless-steel hail.

An unknown feeling washed over her.

In the dead silence that ensued, “I’m afraid of dentists,” Luka murmured. “And I’m truly, truly sorry. Please forgive me, madam. It’s my fault.”

A few minutes later, Letitia reached for the tiny box that contained an amalgam never used before, a composite enriched with tissue excised from her Gräfenberg spot. The best ingredient. Sublime.

When Luka left, Letitia asked a colleague to stand in for her and exited the practice, scrubs still on.

On High Street, the men stared, perhaps made curious by the white coat open over a half-ripped blouse. But Letitia only ran after Luka. Desperately.

Their encounter, or collision, in front of his house, produced a series of shockwaves.

“You’re mine,” she said.

“I love you,” he replied, unaware of the G-spot inserted in his maxillary first molar (N. 26).

He elbowed the door open; she kicked it shut behind them. They ripped each other’s clothes off on their way across the apartment until they lay intertwined under a flashing skylight. Maxilla and mandible interlocked, impervious to the dentist’s burr.

The Gräfenberg Spot fired them up in unison. Transplant success.

GIO CLAIRVAL‘s stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Postscripts, Weird Tales, Fantasy Magazine, Daily Science Fiction, several anthologies, and elsewhere.

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