The dentist came highly recommended by some friends at 
college, and Greg Sands knew that he'd better have the small 
cavity in his molar attended to before his family's vacation in 
Europe next week. His dad would be busy with the summit, but 
the rest of clan Sands would be busy enjoying the sights.

He opened the door that bore the plate reading "DR. RAYMOND 
NYE, DDS", and walked into the small, empty waiting room. 
Through a glass partitioned window, he could see a young, 
petite, attractive blonde working on a file. Dressed in a crisp 
white smock, she looked up at him as he was hanging up his 
jacket, and smiled broadly. She slid open the glass.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sands," she piped perkily.

"Hi," he returned. "Must be a pretty slow day, huh?"

"Yes, it is. In fact, you're our only appointment today."

Hmmm, Greg thought. For someone so highly recommended, 
he sure doesn't do much business on a Thursday.

The blonde had opened a door for him now, and beckoned him 
inside. "Come on, in. The doctor will be with you shortly."

She ushered him into a room with all the standard dental fare. 
He eased himself into the padded dentist's chair, and the young 
woman put one of those silly paper bibs around his neck.

"A cavity today, isn't it?" she asked.

Greg nodded. "Yes, I thought I should get it taken care of before 
a vacation."

"Oh, don't worry," the blonde smiled. "We'll take care of you."


In a side room, a tall, beautiful brunette sat calmly smoking a 
cigarette in a bluegray haze. She, too, wore a white assistant's 
uniform, though it seemed to strain as it covered her dangerous 
curves and ample bosom.

The receptionist's voice came through a desk intercom. "He's 
here," said the perky voice. The tall woman allowed herself a 
small smile, took a last puff of her cigarette, stood and 
smoothed her uniform, and walked out of the room.


"Hello," came a feminine voice from the side of the chair. Greg 
turned his head and saw a gorgeous dark-haired woman in 
white smiling down at him. Way down at him. She was 
remarkably tall--perhaps 6'6 in height--and was powerfully built. 
Generously proportioned, she was a fantastic body topped by a 
beautiful face.

"H..hello," Greg managed.

"I'm Miss Carlson, Dr. Nye's assistant. I'll be preparing you for 
your exam."

Greg settled back and ran a tonguetip over the surface of his 
teeth, which was a something he reckoned most everyone did 
prior to a professional cleaning or...well, just anytime a stranger 
was going to be peering into your mouth. 

The woman busied herself with a rollered tray and a large 
medical unit of some kind, and she wheeled both over to the 
chair just behind Greg's line of vision. He could hear her 
working with something. After a moment or two, he craned his 
neck curiously to see what...

Miss Carlson was finishing connecting the hose of an airmask 
to the unit and adjusting some gauges. Huh? Greg thought.

"Ummm...what's that for..?" he asked apprehensively.

"Simply something to help you sleep, Mr. Sands," she assured 
him without looking up.

"Something to...this is just a cavity..." he began to protest, and 
started to rise from the chair.

With astonishing speed and force, the dark-haired woman put 
her hand on Greg's chest and pushed him back down on the 
chair. There was a mechanized clicking sound, and thin 
restraints snapped out of the chair to close around Greg's 
forearms and his legs.

"Now, Mr. Sands," she said in a nursemaid voice, returning to the 
machine's gauges. "We do know what's best for you. Just 
cooperate with me, and everything will be over before you know 

Greg pulled angrily at the restraints, but to no avail. "Hey, what 
the hell are you doing, you crazy..." He heard a hissing sound 
and turned his head to see that the woman, now seated on a 
rolling stool, had picked up the mask and was checking one last 
gauge with clinical efficiency. He pulled at the unyielding 
restraints again. "Look, I don't know what you think you're..."

He was cut short as the woman leaned in and held the hissing 
mask firmly over Greg's mouth and nose. The little bit of gas he 
smelled as the mask approached was cloyingly sweet. 
Desperately, Greg held his breath. He turned his head from side 
to side, trying to escape, but the woman merely slipped her arm 
behind his head, and pulled him in close, pinning his head 
between the crook of her arm and the soft swell of her bosom.

"Such a fuss," she murmured with a touch of impatience.

Try as he might, he couldn't escape, and the gas hissed 
relentlessly. He wondered how long he could hold out. Past 
Miss Carlson, Greg saw the blonde receptionist appear in the 

"Any trouble?" she asked, smiling.

"No trouble," the brunette answered casually. "All be over soon. 
Sara, bring me my cigarettes, will you?"

The blonde nodded happily and turned. She opened the door 
directly across the small hall. Greg could see her step over the 
form of a man laying on the floor.

"Pardon me, doctor," he heard her giggle.

He pulled again at the restraints, perhaps too stubborn to give in 
to the inevitability of things. Even holding his breath, the gas was 
beginning to reach him, making him feel disoriented and 
lightheaded. Miss Carlson simply make a "tsk" sound, and 
shook her head.

The blonde reappeared in the room. She shook a cigarette out 
of the pack she held, placed it between her lips, and carefully lit
it with a small lighter. She approached and stood on the other 
side of the chair. She took one more puff, then placed the 
cigarette between Miss Carlson's waiting lips. The young 
blonde looked down into Greg's face, and smiled with smoke 
still wafting from her mouth.

"Sleeeepy boy," she grinned.

"Thank you," Miss Carlson murmured, taking a drag on the 
cigarette and letting the smoke flow easily from between her lips. 
"You'd better make sure the answering machine is set up."

The blonde nodded and left the room.

Greg felt as if his lungs would burst. His beautiful captor 
glanced at a gauge once more, shifted the mask slightly on 
Greg's mouth and nose, and looked down at him with clinical 
disinterest. She placed the mask's strap over his head, freeing 
her hand, though she kept his head cradled between her arm 
and breast so he could not struggle.

She took a puff of her cigarette and languidly blew out a cloud of 
smoke as she checked her watch.

"Is he out, yet?" came the blonde's voice from someplace out in 
the hall.

Miss Carlson lifted one of Greg's eyelids. "Not yet," she 
answered evenly. "He's holding his breath. Shouldn't be long 
now." She took another pull on her cigarette and smiled down at 
Greg. "Should it?" she asked him. She blew a stream of smoke 
into his face, and he moaned quietly as he began to give in.

Greg could hold out no longer, and took a halting breath. The 
scent of the gas immediately began to wrap his senses in a 
warm blanket. Unable to help himself, he took another breath. 
The effect was intensified.

The woman smiled with supreme understanding. He felt her 
patting his cheek fondly. "That's right. Just breathe it in and let
it put you to sleep. Gentle...peaceful sleep."

He took another breath, and felt unconsciousness pulling 
inescapably at him.

Miss Carlson's voice got quieter, as if following him down. 
"Sleep now...juuuust sleep...that's it..."

As Greg clung to the very last of his consciousness, he could 
hear the woman's voice dimly.

"Our boy has gone sleepy-bye, Sara. Bring the van around."

From some distant place, he was vaguely aware of the mask 
being taken away from his face, the restraints being removed, 
and of being lifted easily into the arms of Miss Carlson. There 
was the briefest sensation of being carried, and then sleep took 
him entirely.