I walk into the office; this is a new gynecologist, and I hate going to a 
new gynecologist.  I pick up the flimsy paper robe and discard my 
clothing.  I get up on the table, but do not place my feet in the 
stirrups -- why lay here spread before I am told to do so?
The doctor walks in, sans nurse.  I initially feel jittery -- why isn't 
the nurse here, too?  After all, I thought most gynecologists have a 
nurse with them when they exam, to protect themselves in this day and age 
from sexual harassment complaints.  But then I get a good look at him!!!
Oooh!  Give me that speculum, baby!  Lube me up and dig right in!!!
His hair and eyes are dark; he is tall, nicely built.  I look at his 
fingers: long -- oh yes, so nice and long!!!
"Put your feet in the stirups please." he says -- no introductions, no 
innocent chappter to make me feel at ease.  No matter; I'll spread 'em.

He gives me a devilish smile; he lubes his fingers -- fingers not a just 
one -- and penetrates me, one at a time.  
"An interesting new method, Doctor." I grin.  "Have you got any other 
medical miracles you wish to share?"

He looks shocked; ah, I understand.  He wanted to victimize me, to shock 
me and make me uncomfortable.  Too bad, doc!

"Do you have any other medical miracles you wish to share with me, Doctor 
Mott?"

He was shocked.  So, he had wanted me to be frightened; he had wanted me 
to leave his office feeling violated.  Surprise!  Besides, there was no 
way I wanted to file a sexual harassment suit against him; I am Q, and I 
can see the future.  He would shoot himself if someone did this, and I 
would much rather he shoot something into me.  His wife was a nutty 
bitch, so I had been sent to quench his need for a victim -- ah the power 
he wielded as an ob/gyn.  If I were mortal and actually required his 
services, I would probably notbe so open-minded about the whole thing.  

He was staring at me still, unable to bbelieve both his luck and his 
inability to have a power trip.

"Give me some of that Mott juice, baby!" I growl, "I haven't got all 
century.  I need to cause a little hysteria of my own on the Enterprise.)

"Are you jerking my chainm Miss -- uh --"

"Quantum Deep," I answer.

"What kind of a name is that?"

"My name, and I'll thank you to keep your puny mortal opinions to 
yourself.  I want something bigger and better than your ideas about my name."

He looked a bit scared now, so I helped him off with his clothes and got 
him on the table.  I lowered myself on his instrument, and asked him to 
do a careful, probing examination.

"I want a smear all right, but not of the Pap variety," I said, my hands 
on those phenomenal shoulders.  "I want you to leave a sample rather than 
taking one."

"You're one loony bitch!"

"No loonier than what you've been married to for these past few years, my 
fine specimen of a man.  Now I'm going to reverse our positions and 
you're going to give me the best you've got.  Don't worry; I'll pay for 
the visit."