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The nurses were gorgeous. I had seen so many at other clinics, but the nurses here were special - long legs, dark, storm-tossed hair, confident smiles.

You pay for what you get, and today I was paying.

One nurse captivated me with her deep chocolate eyes and light olive skin. Everything about her spoke of unaffected elegance: the calm ushering of clients through to the treatment rooms, the neat placement of the client files in the crook of her arm, the casual tilt of her head so the light caught her high cheekbones. Her clothes had clean, simple lines: white flat shoes, a pale blue skirt, and a low cut white blouse that stretched firmly around her breasts.

I looked away, suddenly self-conscious. But it didn't take long for my eyes to linger again along the length of her legs, tracing the profile of her tanned calves up to her perfect knees, and further still. They really were–

"Mr Michaels. Stephen Michaels?"

Yes!

Did I say that out loud? No, she was still looking around the waiting room.

I sprang out of my seat.

She smiled warmly and stretched out her hand, palm up. "Please come this way. My name is Veronica. I'll be your nurse today."

I followed her along a bright corridor. The room at the end had white walls flecked with granite-effect grey and silver. A tall shelf unit stacked with boxes of surgical gloves stood next to a small sink and bench top. The long reclining chair in the middle of the room looked comfortable and inviting.

A picture hung on the wall in front of the chair - a maple tree in hues of scarlet, orange and gold, a spray of leaves tumbling away in the wind. The caption read: "Have you ever been a leaf and fallen from your tree in autumn and been really puzzled by it?" The line was from T. E. Lawrence, apparently in a letter to an E. Kennington.

I felt my pulse quicken. There was something disturbing about the picture. I breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly as if it might somehow stem the inevitable flood.

"Take a seat," Veronica said, and placed my file down on the bench top.

I sat down. The chair reclined under my weight like a regular dentist's chair, but moulded around my back and shoulders like something out of a racing car.

"Not that I mind," I said awkwardly. "But are there any doctors here?"

She looked down at me, her face framed in raven black curls.

"All our nurses are qualified." She tilted her head in that same way, a twinkle of conspiracy in her eyes. "Between you and me, who needs doctors? We can do the same job for half the price, without all the baggage of egos and astronomical insurance schemes."