My nap must have lasted several hours because the sky outside was already starting to get dark when I awoke and got out of bed. An aroma of cooking wafted in the air, suggesting that Sarah must have already been preparing dinner.

I had an urgent need to pee but was also keenly aware that I had no access to my clothes. So, after opening the door a crack and confirming that the coast was clear, I stole naked down the hall as quickly as possible to the bathroom and relieved myself. Fortunately, the Tylenol was still working because, even though my ears were ringing, at least I didn’t have the chills. I spent a minute or so rinsing my face with cold water to try to clear my brain fog.

Once I had finished, I gingerly opened the bathroom door and started to tiptoe back toward the nursery. That’s when I heard Sarah’s voice behind me.

“Oh, Luke. You’re awake!”

I turned around to face her before remembering with alarm my state of undress. She was still wearing jeans but had replaced her sweatshirt with a white button-down blouse that accentuated her cute body. The top three buttons were open, and the slightly transparent fabric revealed that she wasn’t wearing a bra, since the I could see faint shadows of large areolae. I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights of a car while she walked up to me, her tiny breasts jiggling slightly. There was the hint of a smirk on her face as she looked me up and down then felt my forehead.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Um, OK, I guess,” I responded.

“Well, your fever doesn’t seem to have come back. That’s a good sign. It means the Tylenol is still working.”

It was once again strangely comforting to have her looking after me, which helped to allay the embarrassment of standing naked in front of her in the middle of the hall. I didn’t really understand the emotion but, like with many others that day, tucked it away in the back of my brain.

“By the way,” Sarah continued, “my friend Chrissy is coming over for dinner. She should be here in about 20 minutes. I’m making veal Parmesan and penne for the three of us.” Then she paused before continuing. “Oh, shoot, I completely forgot to put your clothes in the dryer. Here, come with me. You can wear my bathrobe in the meantime.”

With that, she took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom across the hall from the nursery. I shuddered slightly and got the first hint of an erection as I recalled the time, three and a half years earlier, when pregnant Julie Porter had taken my temperature rectally in that very room as I lay naked on my back. The event had been seared into my brain, in part because Julie had been wearing only a loose-fitting and very revealing kimono robe. The memory of seeing her swollen but pert breasts just inches from my face while we waited in silence for the thermometer to register was the object of regular fantasies for me during my college years.

Sarah picked up a beige terrycloth bathrobe from the rack behind the door and handed it to me. I suppose it would have been a normal length on her petite body, but for me, the bottom hem didn’t even reach my knees, leaving me feeling somewhat vulnerable even after I had tied it closed. Still, it was better than nothing.

Chrissy arrived as expected a while later. Like Sarah, she was a freshman at the community college, where the two women had classes together. She was also on the petite side, probably not taller than 5’4” or 5’5”. But the curves of her body were more pronounced than Sarah’s, and her bosom, while not huge, were nonetheless significantly larger, probably c-cup sized. The form of her slightly sagging breasts was visible under her blue polo shirt, and when she turned around, I could see the outline of a thin bra strap. A few discreet freckles around her nose complemented her pale complexion, full lips and short, dark hair.

It turned out that Chrissy was also studying economics. The three of us fell into an engaging conversation of world affairs, and the fact that that I was clad only in Sarah’s short bathrobe ended up slipping from my mind. After chatting for about half an hour in the den, we had the dinner that Sarah had prepared, accompanied by a bottle of Chianti. Even at her young age, Sarah was by all evidence an accomplished cook, and the meal was delicious. Unfortunately, I wasn’t terribly hungry, so mostly picked at my food and drank just a few sips of wine. I noticed that Sarah started to cough discreetly every few minutes.

After dinner, we headed back to the den to find a movie to watch on television. Sarah and I sat on the couch, while Chrissy installed herself in the armchair that was positioned at a right angle to it at the end of the coffee table. By then, the Tylenol had again begun to wear off, and I started to get the chills. Sarah noticed my change of complexion, looked at her watch and reached over to put her hand on my forehead.

“You’re warm again, Luke,” she observed. “How are you feeling?”

I didn’t want to spoil the evening with my illness so tried to project an air of indifference.

“Um, I’m OK,” was all I could think of.

“Well, we’d better get your temperature anyway,” she announced pragmatically. She immediately got up and headed out of the den and down the hall. When she had gone, Chrissy picked up the TV Guide from the coffee table and started thumbing through it to see what was airing.

From where I was seated, I couldn’t see whether Sarah went into the bathroom or the nursery, and my heart started pounding in panic. What would I do if she came back again with the oral thermometer from the bathroom and insisted that, since there was a guest present, we should try again to take it in my mouth? Alternatively, what if she called me back into the nursery for a rectal measurement? How would I explain to Chrissy why I had to go to a more private setting to have my temperature taken? The questions raced through my mind as I tried to devise potential responses.

As it turned out, neither scenario came to pass. The reality was even more devastating.

When Sarah re-appeared a few moments later in the door of the den, her nipples were pushing clearly through the semi-transparent fabric of her white blouse. In her left hand, she held a tissue. In her right hand was the “baby” thermometer from the nursery, the tip of which was coated with a thick dollop of Vaseline.

Chrissy’s jaw dropped when she looked up from her reading and saw the lubricated instrument, evidently understanding right away what it meant. Her eyes moved from Sarah, to me, then back to Sarah with an inquisitive look.

“I need to take his temperature rectally,” Sarah explained casually in response to the unspoken question. “He hasn’t been able to keep an oral thermometer under his tongue.”

Her casual tone suggested that it was the most normal thing in the world for a 21-year-old man to have to be treated like a small child.

The idea of Sarah taking my temperature again was admittedly arousing, but I was horrified at the idea having it done right there in front of another, also rather cute young woman whom I hardly knew.

“Um… Sarah, do we really have to?” I pleaded.

Then, recalling her earlier comment about caregivers having to do all the work for rectal temperatures, I desperately tried another angle to dissuade her.

“Shouldn’t we just take it under my arm?” I suggested pathetically. “I think that would be easier, especially for you.”

“No, I’m sorry, Luke, axillary temperatures aren’t accurate enough, especially when you’re sick,” she replied. “But don’t worry, I don’t really mind using the baby thermometer,” she added, as if she were somehow doing me a favour by taking my temperature rectally.

Then came the coup de grace. “Besides, it’ll be more consistent with the earlier reading if we take in your bottom again.”

I felt like my dignity had been stripped away. Part of me said I should resist some more, if only to try to save some face with Chrissy, who was now staring at me with wide eyes, a pink blush having appeared on her pale cheeks. But after thinking it over for a few seconds, I figured I would just end up appearing even more whiny, especially since Sarah had not so discreetly divulged that she had already used the baby thermometer on me. So, I finally resigned myself to the inevitable and prepared to lie down on my stomach.

Before I could do so, however, Sarah sat down next to me in the middle of the couch, still holding the lubricated thermometer. I stared at her, dumfounded.

“Um, Sarah…. What are you doing,” I finally managed to stammer.

Her answer threw me for another loop.

“I told you earlier I was going to put you across my lap to take your temperature,” she replied playfully. “I always keep my promises! Now, come on and lie down like a good boy!” she added as she patted the tops of her thighs.

To say I was mortified would be an understatement. How could Sarah do this to me in front of her friend? Chrissy remained slack-jawed for several seconds as she assimilated the new information, after which a smirk appeared on her face. She leaned forward in anticipation of the spectacle she knew was about to unfold. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

In order to avoid more embarrassing eye contact with Chrissy, I turned away from her and reluctantly lay down across Sarah’s lap, spreading my legs slightly to get more comfortable as I settled into place. My head pointed to the other end of the couch, opposite from the armchair, so at least Chrissy couldn’t see my facial expression. But then, too late, I realized with horror that she would have a clear view of my bottom and would thus be able to watch the entire procedure unobstructed. My face turned another shade of red as the implications of my mistake became evident.

Nonetheless, despite the utter ignominy of the situation, it was strangely comforting to be across Sarah’s lap, which felt warm and surprisingly soft. I was reminded of when I was young, and Mom would do the same when she took my temperature. Despite the youthful appearance of this young nanny, who was still a teenager after all, she definitely had the same take-charge approach as Mom used to have. And, to be fair, I found the idea of Chrissy watching the procedure somewhat titillating despite the embarrassment.

Sarah didn’t waste any time. She pulled up the bottom of the short robe and folded it onto my back, completely baring my raised bottom. With her left hand, she slid two fingers gently (indeed, it seemed almost sensually) down and inside my crack then slowly forced my buttocks apart to expose my anus to the cool air of the room. I heard Chrissy gasp quietly as she watched and could only imagine the view that she had. Sarah quickly inserted the thermometer, and it was my turn to gasp as the cold glass slid deep into my rectum. I immediately got an erection, which pressed down on her thighs.

“There, that’s a good boy,” Sarah said, almost as if teasing me. She cupped my buttocks with the instrument held firmly between her fingers. “I can tell you like having a thermometer in your bottom. Now, just lie still for 5 minutes while it registers.”

She was surely referring to my erection, which made me redden even more. I hoped that Chrissy didn’t pick up on it, but she probably did. In any event, the fact that Sarah was talking to me in that tone while my most private body part was on full display to both women was incredibly humiliating. To make matters worse, they started talking as if I wasn’t even there, just like Mom and the nurses used to do when I was younger.

“How often do you have to take his temperature?” Chrissy asked.

“Theres no fixed schedule,” Sarah replied authoritatively. “Most childcare books say 3 or 4 times a day. The Tylenol usually wears off after about six hours, so I like to get a measurement before giving another dose, just to have a better idea of which way the fever is going on its own.”

“That makes sense,” Chrissy noted. “When I used to get sick, Mom would take my temperature before meals then give me Tylenol. But starting when I was 6, she only used an oral thermometer. I don’t even remember what it’s like to have a thermometer up my butt!”

“Yeah, same for me,” added Sarah. “I was 6 or 7 when my mom switched me to oral readings. But for some reason she kept using the rectal thermometer on my big brother Rob until after he was a teenager. I remember one time when he got the flu during his last year of junior high, when I was still in grade school. I peeked through the door of his bedroom while Mom was taking his temperature. It was so cute! He was complaining the whole time, especially after he saw me watching. Mom finally ended up threatening to give him a spanking if he didn’t calm down. Fortunately, our patient today is more cooperative!”

I couldn’t tell if she was trying to comfort or tease with that observation. In any event, to my further embarrassment, the women’s conversation moved on to the size and shape of my butt, which they both clearly enjoyed eyeballing. Chrissy even commented jokingly on my “crinkly ball sack”, confirming that my scrotum was visible between my spread legs. Even more embarrassingly, she also noted that I didn’t have much in the way of pubic hair.

“I actually think I have more hair down there than he does,” she remarked with an air of amusement.

“Haha, yeah, me too,” added Sarah. “But I think it’s adorable like that.”

After that exchange, the women went silent, and we all waited for the thermometer to register. Sarah coughed again a couple of times, but the room was otherwise quiet as she gently caressed my back. At one point, she re-spread my buttocks, pulled the thermometer about halfway out and pushed it to the side for several seconds, a move that caused waves of pleasure throughout my body. She then pushed it back deep inside until I could feel the tip pressing again against the side of my rectum. I could only imagine Chrissy’s eyes trained on the scene, and my face continued to redden.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sarah finally pulled the thermometer out of my rectum. There was a soft sucking sound from the melted Vaseline as the tip came free from my anus. She used the tissue to wipe the instrument then held it up to read it.

“You’re definitely still running a temperature, Luke,” she said, a slight hint of worry having crept into her voice. “It’s a good thing we have an appointment for you tomorrow with the doctor.”

Sarah reached across me to place the thermometer and tissue on the coffee table and allowed me sit up. I tried retying the robe as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it got tangled underneath me as I got up, so my erection was on full display to both women for several seconds until I was finally able to get it closed. Chrissy had become visibly aroused by watching the procedure, and her nipples pushed insistently through the fabric of her bra and polo shirt as she watched my clumsy actions.

Once Sarah had brought me more Tylenol from the bathroom, we settled down to watch the film, a romantic comedy that Chrissy had selected. As the Tylenol kicked in, I started to feel better and enjoy the show. After about half an hour, though, I was overcome by fatigue and started to nod off. Seeing my eyelids drooping, Sarah reached over and gently pulled me down to lie with my head on her lap. The last thing I remembered as I drifted off to sleep was hearing her pounding heart as she cradled my head in her arms and my cheek was pressed against her small, erect breast.