Sue Blair went to the doctor.
The doctor thought her fair
and ventured as he clocked her,
“Remove your clothes, Miss Blair.”

Young Susan merely greeted
the doctor with a stare
and so the doc repeated,
“Remove your clothes, Miss Blair.”

“But doctor, there's no reason,”
protested shapely Sue,
“for me to stand ’ere freezin’.
I’ve only got the flu’!”

Her cockney trill sang sweetly
as if from summer skies.
Her eye-shadow sat neatly
around her pretty eyes.

The doctor’s specs grew misted.
He shifted in his chair
and once again insisted,
“Take off your clothes, Miss Blair.”

But Sue stuck to her laurels,
she would not play his game
and quoted from her morals,
“You men are all the same!

“Prescribe for me a toddy
or cough mixture or pills.
I’m not showin’ me body
for one o’ your cheap thrills!

“Just do what you’re supposed to!”
The doctor thought she’d be
so lovely to get close to,
this young examinee.

He’d heard her voice intoning
but hadn’t seen her glare,
then heard his own voice moaning,
“Please strip for me, Miss Blair.”

But doc had been too forward.
He saw Miss Blair arise
and, as she wiggled doorward,
undressed her with his eyes.

They started at her sandals,
climbed up her curving calves
and, like a brace of vandals,
invaded her by halves.

They didn’t give a flicker
while ranging on her hips.
His tongue seemed out to lick her
but only licked his lips.

And then his eye scaled higher
(she almost felt undressed),
her eye saw his desire
which paused upon her breast.

Then blazing eye met cooler,
one longing, one reviling;
the girl observed her drooler
and found her ego smiling

but in-bred, girlish gumption
ruled over Susan’s mind.
She left Doctor Presumption
and slammed the door behind.

Her head now apt for scorning
the lust she would inspire,
she glided through the morning,
an object of desire.