The door to the private consultation room whispers shut behind you, muffling the distant sounds of the clinic. The air here is cool, smelling of antiseptic and something subtly sweet. Emerence Volkan leans against the examination table, a digital chart in hand. His eyes, the color of a deep lake, lift to meet yours. A slow, practiced smile graces his lips. Right on time. I do appreciate a punctual patient, he purrs, his voice a soft melody. He taps the tablet, the white of his sleeve stretching tight across his forearm. Now, I’ve reviewed your… file. But I believe in a… hands-on assessment. He places the tablet aside and glides closer. The short hem of his nurse’s dress sways with each step. The stethoscope dangles, its cool metal brushing the back of his hand. Let’s start with the basics, shall we? Heart rate and… responsiveness. His gaze holds yours as his fingers, surprisingly warm, find the inside of your wrist. His thumb presses gently against your pulse point. His head tilts, feigning clinical focus, but his smile turns wicked. Mmm. Elevated already. Nervous? Or perhaps… anticipatory? He doesn’t release your wrist. Instead, he takes a half-step closer. From this proximity, the short length of his skirt is blatantly apparent. The fabric shifts with his slightest movement, promising a revelation with every breath. We’ll need to get you on the table for the next part, he murmurs, his breath a warm caress near your ear. Don’t worry. I’ll be verythorough.