Doc she said, nodding her head and tossing her well where was that long flowing dark shimmer that would tangle and flow? I have to have this surgery. Kindly the doctor looked up at who was before him. He loved this role. Leading man to Natalie Ruffo the villain of a hundred pictures was something he had watched in dozens of ads and premieres. At first he reached for one of the brochures he handed out to all his patients. Then a faint voice in his head told him to call her publicist. He looked up almost in shame. Just one moment then he walked out into the hall and reached into his breast pocket for something that wasnt there. The activist was missing. He reached back and felt for his wallet. What was he going to tell her when he went back into the office? Instead he walked into a closet off to one side. He reached up and clicked on a monitor. Looking into the monitor he could see the whole of his recently vacated office through a fisheye lens. Natalie had gotten up as soon as he left. She was moving around the room looking at the pictures of his family with their dogs and swimming pool. Then she was rummaging through his top desk drawer and looking for the black book he kept his telephone numbers in. She began to dart around furtively gazing into space and at the floor. Why hadnt he taken his little black book? How was he going to call her publicist? He almost stepped out of the closet to meet her breathlessly in the corridor racing back to his office. She put the book back and spotted it. Behind a book on his bookshelf entitled Relationships was a picture of a woman in faded black dance attire. She took the picture and turned it around to read the note. To my beloved Dr.Gsthetic. Love always, Benjameeri!!! The woman looked terrible. Her eyes were droopy. Her jaw line sagged. There were furrows in her forehead. But you had to admit she had a fantastic body. Natalie smiled. Then she began to hum a passage from the Indian national anthem. Dr.Gsthetic felt he had the hook set. He clicked off the switch on the monitor. He reached up and pressed a red button. A muted siren could be heard far off in the clinic. Natalie quickly replaced the picture and the book and sat back down in the chair facing the doctors desk. The door burst open and three figures in white nylon burst into the office. Natalie Ruffo scrunched down in her chair so the back blocked her from view. They began to talk excitedly, confused. Where is Dr. Gsthetic? One asked. There was no answer. Natalie suddenly sat up and looked back twirling the chair around. They could see her clearly. The hacked hair and dour expression of clinical depression was clear. He was just here. She offered, Hes making a call for me. Its going to change my life!! Her voice was rising, shrill. Damn it! one of those dressed in white said. As quickly as they had entered they left. Shit! the expression from Natalie was not a curse but a way of life. They did not even notice me. Now Im talking to myself. Dr. Gsthetic slipped noiselessly back into his office. Yeek! Natalie had not heard him as she was talking to herself. Then she quickly came to her senses and reached into her purse and pulled out a small pack of folded money. Pressing it into his hand across the wide desk she looked dreamily into his eyes, which highlighted the surprised expression on his face. I..I he stammered. What is this for? Oily skin she explained. I have oily skin and dry hair. Oh! he began to laugh. Of course the treatment. Well he said, Its a good thing Im not a G.P. or a O.B. GYN. He imagined something frightful in the stirrups. No, she continued, Im an actress. An actress with oily skin and dry hair. Now he understood the overwhelming sense of public exposure, which had seized his most intimate spaces. Frowning again he stood up. She opened her coat, which she had been clutching tightly to herself since the interview began. He was going to look away at the shelf of before and after pictures on glass shelves but was compelled to look at her. The black dancers tights were very low cut at the top and ran tight over the lower body. With her coat now opened and thrown on the chair arms beside it was like looking at his zipper opened. She began to squirm a bit in the chair and then did a sort of sideways rotating flip with her upper body and head. He decided not to put a spin on what he was about to say. The scrubs and alcohol rubs were what he remembered from dermatology. What could a plastic surgeon do about oily skin and dry hair? Then he realized. Of course she was an actress. His impulse to call in a consultant and split the fee was dropped. He could see her warm as she thought of the other woman behind the book. They both entered a common sense of frugality based on his observation of her behavior on the monitor. I hope I did not upset you with my candor. They both spoke at once. Then they laughed heartily at the private joke. The interview was going nicely and the room was pleasant. The idea of an oil transplant was beginning to gel. After all some women have light fuzz on their face. It was simply a matter of stronger roots for the facial hair and transplanting it to her skull and transplanting some of the dry nodes to her face. Sort of like British comedy and American comedy swapping laugh lines. He caught himself and picked up the phone to call an assistant. Rogerson! Come in here and take a sample of DNA from Ms. Ruffos inner cheek could you? Rogerson arrived promptly and took out a disposable surgical kit. Leaning over Natalie he asked her to open her mouth and she opened her top even farther settling into the chair in a very relaxed mode. The sample was quickly taken. Ill post these results to your computer Dr. The technician was not foiled by the obvious charms of the patient. He walked out closing the door behind him. Weve a few more minutes. Dr. Gsthetic was cordial. Natalie sucked at her cheek like she had a fruit gumball in her mouth. Then she yawned and coughed. The doctor offered her a wipe from a pack on his desk. He remembered the money he had in his hand. Holding it up to her he opened a side desk drawer and opened a cashbox. Ill just put this in here against the final result He carefully unfolded the bills and placed them on the top of whatever was in the cash box. DNA is a marvelous thing, he said cheerfully. It wont be long and well have some precursor catalysts to begin trials of changing the oil in your face and hair. Oh! I know you are concerned. There wont be any surgery of the general anesthetic kind. Well use a small topical for the removal of one or two oily and one or two dry follicles and glands to make our growth tests and then see how the mutate. She was grateful for that and said so. Reaching into a small wooden box on his desk he withdrew a business card and gave it to her. Then he pressed a few keys on his computer to wirelessly transfer the record to the card he asked her when she would like the surgery done. I hoped now, she offered. He was still standing and walked over to a cabinet and got out an implant mining device and walked over to her. Pressing several buttons on the device he set up the immunizing shock to the nerves and proceeded, drawing up a small bounce up stool on wheels that retracted as he sat on it. The implant mining device now held the mined oil glands and the waste hair follicles. I just remembered I have a gross hair on one of my nipples she offered cautiously. Could you remove it also now? She waited. All right he said. Can you show me which one? Ummm, I think its the right one she began to peel back her blouse and undo the strap to lower the cup. Looking at the nipple now she was a bit embarrassed. Im used to seeing it in the mirror and I guess its the left one. Now she had the whole top of her dance tights pulled down to her waist and was standing up pulling off her brassiere. Oh! Why do I wear these silly French things, she asked unconsciously. He waited as she approached him on the stool and sat back in her large armchair again. Ah! Here it is. She thrust her breast at the doctor pointing at a spot in great detail. He looked at it studiously. Bzzzt! The mining tool drew the hair follicle out and cauterized the small opening. Take a look. He offered a hand mirror held up to the tip of her breast so she could see the result. Then he turned it so the profile of her torpedo-like breast could be seen in profile. He studied it carefully. She was about to throw the brassiere she had taken off into the trash basket when she stopped herself and continued looking at the image. Im not the fashion police the doctor was being kind. She had never been overly endowed and now felt almost like a widow in the heat of his study. Veggan studies and yoga had not had any effect on the smallness. As her body had shrunk it seemed that the proportion of womanliness was strengthened and yet now she had to admit that maybe oily skin was not why she had come. Take a moment to get dressed. His voice was kind. She pulled the top of her tights back up and placed the brassiere in her purse. He began to drum his fingers on the desktop. Then he stopped. Oh, well she thought with a rush. Doctor? her voice cracked. Yes, he tried to make her at ease. My big toe, she offered. The hairs on it may be too large. He was staring off into space leaning back in his chair. All right then. I do want to be a doctor. Now he began to look self-satisfied. It would be only a moment until she told him why she was there. A doctor he coached. Yes, I want to have all the things that make a doctor a doctor. You should have gone to one of my female colleagues. He was contemptuous of what was being insinuated. That doctor is not what I meant. Her tone was hurt. Get to the point. I can see you are a forceful woman of considerable talent. What do you want? Then he relented. Standing to his full six-foot height he reached up higher and took off the top shelf above a door what looked like a magazine. He showed it to her and she blushed. Those are gays. She smirked a bit recalling how it was about the time she noticed the oily skin she had been puzzled by what else was new. A man is a man he played it back as his wife had set it down before the divorce. Well yes sort of when revenge is to be extracted. She sneered. Get out of my office!! His voice was threatening. No! She said not until I get what I am after. He glanced at the crossed letter openers on the corner of his desk. She saw them a quavered a bit realizing that this was it. No Hollywood just Natalie and Dr. Gsthetic. She hoped peer pressure would freeze him as she leaped to the side and grabbed for a letter opener. His hand slammed down on the desk just before she had it in her hand and swept it onto the floor. Pick that up! She tried an anonymous stand. He just stood out of arms reach. Then she stomped out of the office. Im through now!! she tossed recklessly over her shoulder. Five attendants were at the door in response to the doctors buzz. Let her pass the doctors demeanor was cold. She was shaking and in a cold sweat as she walked down the corridor. Jesus she thought to herself. What a jerk! Now The doctors command was ruthless and his stare caught her by surprise. Bring her in here. Were ready to clone those oil ducts now. He began to get out a mask. One of the attendants placed it over her face. In a moment she was out in dreamland. She could hear a voice counting slowly. One potato. Two, potato. Was she about to be assaulted by Dan Quayle? A banging and clamoring at the door began. The doctor and attendants looked up temporarily diverted from the mask. Yes! Who is it? the doctor was calm not wishing to betray the irritation in his voice at being interrupted. Is Natalie in there? Were her fans a voice penetrated the door masked by the air conditioner duct noise. What are you doing to her?" This time the voice was imploring. Try her website at www.natalieruffo.com was the reply. Nothing doing that website hasnt been updated in two years. We know shes in there and has news. Natalie brushed the mask away and took on one of her powers. Its all right fans. Im in here on a break from filming. The doctor was just going to prepare a consent form. Natalie was suggestive in tone. Thats it were breaking down the door. The aggressive tone changed to one of violence and a crashing began. Turn the knob. Press the lever and turn the knob. The doctor was protective of his property. A rustle came quickly then the whoosh of the door seal being broken on the cool air inside. Natalie slowly approached the fans and hugged the biggest one. The fan jerked off her jacket and ran out to her car with ten others in pursuit. Several hands were pulling at Natalies tights trying variously to pull them over her head and slip then down off her ankles. One fan began to dump out the contents of her purse with the appearance of the brassiere being greeted with a roar of approval before it was grabbed and out the door. Please, doctor, help me. Natalie was surprised at the sound of her voice. Theyre stripping me of all I have. You should have put it on ebay The doctor was disgusted with how little dignity this great actress had in time of stress. Then just when it seemed that the actress truly would become a naked waif she summoned all of her strength and grabbed top and bottom and pulled her tights back into rough array. She bared her teeth and made menacing gestures at the fans that began to circle both Natalie and the doctor and the attendants. Elbowing quickly Natalie made a run for her car realizing too late that she did not have the keys. Fortunately she had voice control and yelled, door open just as a skinny little fan reached nearly to where she was. Slipping behind the wheel she yelled. Door lock. Engine start Reverse. Accelerate hard.