The episode in which our heroine visits the dentist ...

Frankly, there is a long, long, LONG list of things I'd rather do than go to the dentist.

Things like ...

Getting my eyeballs waxed

Limbo dancing naked in front of several hundred jeering strangers

Discussing foreign economic policy with a German street mime

Attending a week long film festival of such "classics" as Pearl Harbor, Legends of the Fall and The English Patient


But, I like having nice teeth ... so I make myself go.

Today I had to go for my 6 monthly check-up. I grumpily trudged round on my lunchbreak, having obsessively brushed and flossed my teeth at least 3 times beforehand (I also wash, condition and style my hair before I go to the hairdressers ... go figure).

To be fair, my dentist is lovely; a tiny little Indian lady with gentle hands who says everything in a somewhat impish manner. She's one of the few things that makes going to the dentist bearable. So I was rather put out when on arriving at the front desk I was informed that she wasn't there! Apparently a family matter had called her back to India unexpectedly.

The self-preservation part of my brain started to work overtime, this could be the perfect excuse to get out of my appointment, I thought cunningly. But alas, the receptionist was a canny one, giving me a knowing look that scarily reminded me of my mother she said brusquely "But don't worry! We have someone filling in for her. Mr McKenzie will see you instead". There was no room for argument in her tone and I knew without a doubt that Mr McKenzie would indeed be seeing me. Giving her a sulky, resentful look I slouched over to a seat in the waiting area and awaited my doom.

After about 10 anxiety-filled minutes of staring longingly at the doorway to blessed freedom the nurse came and called my name. As I followed her down the corridor, dead man walking style, she looked back over her shoulder at me and grinned, "Don't look so fed up" she said "You're in for a treat".

I barely had time to give her a slightly suspicious yet enquiring look when she pushed me through the door.

"Hi Kate, I'm Tom McKenzie, I'll be filling in for Nisha today"

I stood staring at him, in all likelihood slack-jacked and looking like the village idiot.

Because this couldn't be the dentist! Surely this was Adonis' younger, hotter brother with bigger wedding tackle (hopefully) come down from Mount Olympus just to make my day! He was well over 6', dark golden hair that was just long enough to curl slightly, broad shoulders, slim hips and the most charming grin.

I grinned back at him inanely, still incapable of speech ... until he asked me if I was alright, which embarrassed me enough to break the spell. He told me to hop onto the chair, which I did, lasciviously thinking of how much fun you could have in a dentists chair if you were so inclined.

He moved in close and told me to open wide. Good gosh, he smelt good, I actually felt a bit weak at the knees and thanked my lucky stars I wasn't standing up. He was very gentle, which was even more amazing given the fact he had hands the size of small hams. There's something extremely intimate about having an attractive man's hands in your mouth and I could feel my cheeks growing pinker by the second.

He did the usual dentist thing, asking polite questions such as "So, got any holidays planned this year?" ... why do they do that? They must know it's impossible to answer when you've got somebody's hands half way down your throat. Is it some kind of sick dentist humour? Not that I could've answered him sensibly anyway since I was too busy staring at his thighs. I figured that at least if I drooled I'd have a plausible cover story.

The nurse was flirting with him outrageously. I squinted menacingly at her, sending mind bullets flying her way, thinking "Back off bitch, you get to flirt with him all day, this is MY time!" ... I must work on that whole threatening telepathy thing.

In five minutes he was done. Disappointingly I didn't need any work doing, except for a quick polish. I think it was the first time I actually longed for there to be something wrong. Maybe a couple of fillings, or a nice lengthy root canal. But no! Fate was against me. That bastard.

He wrote up his notes while I was putting my coat back on. The nurse left the room and suddenly I realised it was now or never.

"So are you new to the area?" I asked, I imagined him replying "Why, yes! I am! I don't suppose you'd like to spend an excessive amount of time with me and show me round?"

In actuality he said "No, I'm commuting from London. It's a bit of a drag really".

I mentally adjusted the goal posts, thinking how much I liked London and how I wouldn't mind spending some time there and framing my next question, when he said "My partner certainly isn't impressed with me getting home late every evening".

And there went all my pretty, cosy dreams, spiralling down the spit basin like used mouthwash.

I admit, I may have pouted at this stage.

Knowing I was obliged to say something out of politeness I remarked how difficult it must be, and hoped there was enough sympathy in my tone to appear genuine.

"Oh well" he said, "he's very understanding. I can't complain".

I looked heavenward and muttered something that was most definitely blasphemous.




*I didn't actually do this ... but I wanted to