Birth Control Pills are Sweet
an excerpt

Jeff was the admitting technician that year. He was not too tall and very skinny. His mother was Dominican. I was not attracted to him. The policy was never to dress up on Halloween, but he was wearing a set of fake “ugly teeth” that were gnarly, with brown gums, and the scraggly teeth were painted the color of candy corns.
“You know, they just recalled those fake teeth,” I told him, leaning over the desk in a way that thrust my best attempt at cleaveage into his face. “They found unsafe levels of lead in the paint.” He blinked at me and said nothing. The normally blank expression on his face was distorted by the fake teeth, which he desperately tried to curl his lips over to keep his tongue from drying out. “So… you might want to consider taking them out.”
“I’m not taking them out.,” he said, his words given only a slight lisp from the ugly teeth. “I’m doing just fine. If I start to flop around uncontrollably, if my eyes roll into the back of my head and I pass out, then you come over and take them out for me.”