Dirty Doctor
Page 7
I needed to hang up on this man right now. Any man who could soak my panties in seconds with his voice alone, was bound to be trouble.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” were the only words I could say.
“Then give me three reasons why it’s not.”
“One, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Garrett.”
“Okay, Garrett. Are you going to be a gentleman and ask for mine?”
“I’m going to ask you for the other two reasons why I can’t fuck you, first. Those are far more important at the moment.”
“Are you alright, Miss?” The cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror and I flashed him a reassuring smile. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and saw that my face was flushed red.
“Hello?” Garrett spoke again. “JERSEYGIRL7?”
“Yes?”
“What are the two other reasons why I can’t fuck you?”
“Two, you’re not really a doctor. You’ve led me on about something as simple as that for months, so there’s a high possibility that you could be a serial killer.”
“You’ve never told me what you do for a living and I haven’t assumed anything at all. Other than the fact that I think I’d enjoy the taste of your pussy against my mouth. What’s pointless reason number three?”
I stalled, thinking of any possible reason, but every nerve in my body was begging me to stop playing games and take this man up on his offer.
“Exactly,” he said, his voice low. “There isn’t a third reason and your first two reasons make no sense at all. What are you doing two Fridays from now?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
“Wrong answer,” he said. “You’ll be fucking me ... Say it.”
“I’ll be fucking you,” I whispered, not believing I was actually saying that aloud.
“Good. Glad we could finally get on the same page. Where do you want to go for the ‘date’ part?”
“Huh?” I was confused. “The date part?”
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” he said. “You’ve always told me that you need to be mentally aroused before sex, preferably on a date. So, where do you want to go for the date part?”
“Not Burger King.”
“Of course not Burger King.”
“Well,” I said, not wanting a recap of tonight’s fiasco. “What type of restaurant do you want me to pick? Like, give me a price range.”
“Price range? Price range ...” He sounded as if he was testing those two words in his mouth, as if he wasn’t sure what they meant. Then he let out that low and sinful laugh that made me wish I knew what he looked like, so I could see it for myself. “There is no price range. Just tell me where you want to go.”
“How about Delilah’s?”
“That’s a fancier version of Burger King.” There was a smile in his voice. “How about picking some place you might actually enjoy?”
I mentally flipped through the long list of exclusive and elegant restaurants in Manhattan that I’d always longed to try.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Per Se,” I said. “But I’ve heard it’s pretty hard to get a table there, though.”
“Per Se, it is,” he said “And it won’t be hard for me.”
“Because you’re that important?”
“Something like that. Can you do eight o’clock?”
“Yes. Eight o’clock.”
“Okay, JERSEYGIRL7. I’ll see you at Per Se two Fridays from now at eight o’clock and you can tell me your real name then. Don’t stand me up.”
“I won’t.” I hung up, ready to finally call my roommate and tell her everything, but D-DOCTOR sent me one final message.
D-DOCTOR: I highly suggest you don’t wear any panties the night we meet. You won’t need them ...
THE DOCTOR
New York, New York Garrett
“Dr. Ashton?” Emily knocked on my door Monday morning. “Dr. Ashton, you have a visitor waiting.”
“I’m not here.”
“We can all see that you’re here through your office blinds, sir.”
“Then close my office blinds.”
She shook her head and stepped back. “Dr. Ashton will see you now, Mr. Baxter.”
Seconds later, Mr. Baxter, a longtime client of mine who had way too much time on his hands, walked into my office. He shut the door behind him and started his usual ritual before addressing me. He walked over to the windows on the other side of the room, glancing down at the streets below. Then he smiled and walked over to the far side of my office, admiring my awards before finally settling onto my black, custom made chaise.
“What brings you in today without an appointment, Mr. Baxter?” I asked, setting down my pen.
“I just wanted to talk about the weather with someone.”
“May I suggest having this conversation with someone who doesn’t charge by the hour?” I say. “Perhaps your wife?”
“That’s the thing. She doesn’t want to talk to me right now because I told her I didn’t want to have sex anymore.”
I sighed and looked up at the clock on my wall. I really needed to raise my prices soon to prevent shit like this from happening.
“Okay, Mr. Baxter,” I said, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. “Why don’t you want to have sex with your wife anymore?”
“Ah, ah, ah.” He wagged his finger at me. “If I answer that question, you’ll bill me for this session. I’m only here because I was in the neighborhood and I was just stopping by to talk about the weather.”
I stared at him.
“It’s been raining a lot lately, hasn’t it?”
I said nothing.
He smiled at me and stood up from the couch. “Well, thank you for chatting with me about the weather, Doc. I’ll see you for our official session next week.”
The second he walked out of my office, I started to type an email to our doorman —hoping to reaffirm the rules for not letting people come upstairs without actual emergencies or appointments. I was on the fifth paragraph when Emily and every single doctor in the practice simply walked into my office without knocking.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” were the only words I could say.
“Then give me three reasons why it’s not.”
“One, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Garrett.”
“Okay, Garrett. Are you going to be a gentleman and ask for mine?”
“I’m going to ask you for the other two reasons why I can’t fuck you, first. Those are far more important at the moment.”
“Are you alright, Miss?” The cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror and I flashed him a reassuring smile. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and saw that my face was flushed red.
“Hello?” Garrett spoke again. “JERSEYGIRL7?”
“Yes?”
“What are the two other reasons why I can’t fuck you?”
“Two, you’re not really a doctor. You’ve led me on about something as simple as that for months, so there’s a high possibility that you could be a serial killer.”
“You’ve never told me what you do for a living and I haven’t assumed anything at all. Other than the fact that I think I’d enjoy the taste of your pussy against my mouth. What’s pointless reason number three?”
I stalled, thinking of any possible reason, but every nerve in my body was begging me to stop playing games and take this man up on his offer.
“Exactly,” he said, his voice low. “There isn’t a third reason and your first two reasons make no sense at all. What are you doing two Fridays from now?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
“Wrong answer,” he said. “You’ll be fucking me ... Say it.”
“I’ll be fucking you,” I whispered, not believing I was actually saying that aloud.
“Good. Glad we could finally get on the same page. Where do you want to go for the ‘date’ part?”
“Huh?” I was confused. “The date part?”
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” he said. “You’ve always told me that you need to be mentally aroused before sex, preferably on a date. So, where do you want to go for the date part?”
“Not Burger King.”
“Of course not Burger King.”
“Well,” I said, not wanting a recap of tonight’s fiasco. “What type of restaurant do you want me to pick? Like, give me a price range.”
“Price range? Price range ...” He sounded as if he was testing those two words in his mouth, as if he wasn’t sure what they meant. Then he let out that low and sinful laugh that made me wish I knew what he looked like, so I could see it for myself. “There is no price range. Just tell me where you want to go.”
“How about Delilah’s?”
“That’s a fancier version of Burger King.” There was a smile in his voice. “How about picking some place you might actually enjoy?”
I mentally flipped through the long list of exclusive and elegant restaurants in Manhattan that I’d always longed to try.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Per Se,” I said. “But I’ve heard it’s pretty hard to get a table there, though.”
“Per Se, it is,” he said “And it won’t be hard for me.”
“Because you’re that important?”
“Something like that. Can you do eight o’clock?”
“Yes. Eight o’clock.”
“Okay, JERSEYGIRL7. I’ll see you at Per Se two Fridays from now at eight o’clock and you can tell me your real name then. Don’t stand me up.”
“I won’t.” I hung up, ready to finally call my roommate and tell her everything, but D-DOCTOR sent me one final message.
D-DOCTOR: I highly suggest you don’t wear any panties the night we meet. You won’t need them ...
THE DOCTOR
New York, New York Garrett
“Dr. Ashton?” Emily knocked on my door Monday morning. “Dr. Ashton, you have a visitor waiting.”
“I’m not here.”
“We can all see that you’re here through your office blinds, sir.”
“Then close my office blinds.”
She shook her head and stepped back. “Dr. Ashton will see you now, Mr. Baxter.”
Seconds later, Mr. Baxter, a longtime client of mine who had way too much time on his hands, walked into my office. He shut the door behind him and started his usual ritual before addressing me. He walked over to the windows on the other side of the room, glancing down at the streets below. Then he smiled and walked over to the far side of my office, admiring my awards before finally settling onto my black, custom made chaise.
“What brings you in today without an appointment, Mr. Baxter?” I asked, setting down my pen.
“I just wanted to talk about the weather with someone.”
“May I suggest having this conversation with someone who doesn’t charge by the hour?” I say. “Perhaps your wife?”
“That’s the thing. She doesn’t want to talk to me right now because I told her I didn’t want to have sex anymore.”
I sighed and looked up at the clock on my wall. I really needed to raise my prices soon to prevent shit like this from happening.
“Okay, Mr. Baxter,” I said, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. “Why don’t you want to have sex with your wife anymore?”
“Ah, ah, ah.” He wagged his finger at me. “If I answer that question, you’ll bill me for this session. I’m only here because I was in the neighborhood and I was just stopping by to talk about the weather.”
I stared at him.
“It’s been raining a lot lately, hasn’t it?”
I said nothing.
He smiled at me and stood up from the couch. “Well, thank you for chatting with me about the weather, Doc. I’ll see you for our official session next week.”
The second he walked out of my office, I started to type an email to our doorman —hoping to reaffirm the rules for not letting people come upstairs without actual emergencies or appointments. I was on the fifth paragraph when Emily and every single doctor in the practice simply walked into my office without knocking.
