Kennington Kiss
"Dental hygienist Amina has patients requesting her specifically at the Kennington practice. When nervous patient Derek comes for his checkup, she shows him relaxation techniques they don't teach in dental school."
Derek hadn't been to the dentist in five years—pure terror had kept him away. But a broken crown forced his hand, and he found himself in Amina's chair.
She was unexpectedly gorgeous—Somali features, dark eyes above her mask, and even in scrubs, curves that made the chair seem suddenly very small.
"Scared?"
"Terrified."
"I can tell." She lowered her mask, revealing a smile that could calm anyone. "Let me help with that."
Her touch was gentle, her voice soothing. She worked slowly, explaining everything, and somehow the terror receded.
"You're good at this," he said between procedures.
"At teeth?"
"At making people feel safe."
Her eyes crinkled with a smile. "That's the real job. The technical stuff is easy. The human stuff is what matters."
After the appointment, she handed him her card with something written on the back.
"If you're still nervous about the follow-up. Call me. I'll help you... relax."
He called. She invited him to her flat in Kennington for "pre-appointment relaxation therapy."
What she served wasn't therapy. Or maybe it was.
"Lie down," she said, guiding him to her couch. "Let me work on your tension."
She straddled him fully clothed, her thick thighs framing his hips, and began massaging his jaw, his temples, his shoulders.
"Where else are you holding stress?"
"Everywhere."
"Then let's address everywhere."
Her scrubs came off to reveal lingerie that was definitely not work-appropriate—red lace against dark skin, curves spilling from every edge.
"Fear and pleasure use the same pathways," she explained, her hands moving lower. "Replace one with the other."
"Is this evidence-based?"
"It's about to be."
She took him in her mouth with the same gentle precision she brought to dentistry, and Derek decided he never wanted to miss another appointment.
"Now," she said, climbing on top, "deep breaths. In..." She sank onto him slowly. "And out."
She rode him like it was therapy—slow, measured, designed for maximum release. Her thick body moved in waves, her dark skin glowing in the low light.
"Let go. Let everything go."
He came harder than he had in years, and she followed, both of them breathing through the release like she'd taught him.
"Feel better?" she asked afterward.
"Miraculously."
"Good." She kissed him softly. "Same time before your follow-up. We'll make sure you're completely relaxed."
"Is this part of your standard patient care?"
"Just for the special ones." She traced her fingers down his chest. "The ones worth helping."
His Kennington kiss had cured more than his dental phobia. And Derek had found a reason to keep his appointments—every single one.