by Katy Kaylee
I tried to ignore the way my gut melted a little at his words. “You’re not an old man,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. He was older than I was, sure, but he was handsome as sin and still seemed to be in the prime of his life.
“I’m flattered. But please, take my advice, Dr. Montague, your boss definitely has a thing for you.”
This guy had clearly lost his mind. “I think, with all due respect, that I’ve been working with Dr. Franklin for almost two years now and he’s never been inappropriate.”
There were his friendly invitations, like the one he had given me earlier. An invitation to join him for dinner at a fancy new restaurant. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered something like that and I’d reminded him of the professional boundaries that we had to hold ourselves to. And it wasn’t the first time that Philip’s response had been to point out how restricting those fraternization policies were.
Could he have been trying to get me on a date without even telling me that was what it was? I felt… gaslighted. Lied to. Betrayed.
Of course, this was all if Mr. Conner was right, and he could be wrong. I had to cling to that. It was better than the alternative, the idea that someone I had trusted all this time was just trying to get into my pants.
Mr. Conner leaned closer, until we were only inches away, and he gave me a slow, warm smile, one that had me wanting to squirm as heat slid down my body, between my legs. I had never had such a strong reaction to a man before, had never felt this deep, aching want. A brief moment of attraction, sure, but this? This was entirely new.
“Don’t waste your time on Dr. Franklin,” he told me. His voice was dropping lower, getting softer, more intimate. His gaze bore into mine, making me feel like a butterfly pinned to a wall, but I didn’t mind the feeling in the least. I could smell him, like pine trees and leather, and a shudder worked through me. His smell was intoxicating, the heat of his body, those eyes… I found myself ludicrously wondering if he would pin me to the wall properly and kiss me.
My legs trembled at the thought. I wanted him to do that, I realized, to my own surprise and a bit of embarrassed horror at myself.
Mr. Conner’s voice was a near-whisper as he next spoke. “A man like Dr. Franklin wouldn’t know what to do with you, a woman like you.”
The implication was clear—that he would know what to do with me. There was so much promise laden in his words, in his voice, that I found myself wanting to spread my legs and whisper show me.
How would he touch me? How would he kiss me? The implications made my head spin. I wanted to do it, I wanted his hand to creep up my thighs, get between my legs to where I could feel myself starting to get wet underneath his intense gaze. He was looking at me like he knew exactly how to touch me, feather-light and soft, teasing, until he worked me up and sent me crashing into wave after wave of orgasm.
Jesus Christ, my knees were practically buckling and all he’d done was stare at me. Get it together woman, for crying out loud!
I realized to my shame and embarrassment that I was blushing from head to toe. “I—I have to go,” I blurted out. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Conner.”
I’ll see you later? What kind of—I was such a mess. I practically stumbled into the nearest bathroom, running cold water over my wrists and splashing it on my face to calm myself down. My mind was in a whirl, like a tornado was crashing through my brain.
I didn’t understand, or appreciate, how my body was reacting to Mr. Conner. This was so much more than I had ever felt with a man before. I’d thought that I knew what attraction was, that I understood it and had a handle on it. Nobody had ever been enough to distract me, to make me feel the way I had when I’d been fourteen and just starting to realize what sex and sexual attraction were. I’d figured that it was all for the better, that it meant that there was nothing to distract me from my work and my career.
But now—now it was like everything, all my desires, had only been waiting in the wings, holding back until they picked the right person, and then bam. I was in the middle of a hurricane.
Oh, God, if only Mr. Conner knew the truth. He probably thought that I was experienced in sex, that I’d had a ton of experience. It wouldn’t be the first time that people thought that. I was so determinedly in charge in the rest of my life, I was so on top of my game, such an overachiever, and I defended my skill and knowledge to anyone who even thought about opposing it.
People seemed to think that confidence translated into the bedroom, that because I was so on top of things in one area, so sure of myself and experienced, that I had to be the same in every other area of my life. Which had always struck me as a bit odd and unfair. Nobody would have claimed that because I was a confident doctor I could be an expert pianist or painter. Yet they assumed that with sex.
It was baffling to me.
The truth was that I was a virgin. More than that, I’d never even had a boyfriend. I hadn’t done… anything with a man. I had been obsessed with my career my entire life, finishing school early, enrolling in college at age fifteen. Most people my age were just beginning high school, but not me. I was lining up my fall freshman courses at university. And then I’d been starting medical school as the youngest person in my university’s history.
It had been hard work, but rewarding hard work. It wasn’t that I regretted it or thought that I should have done things differently. But the truth was that this had left little room in my life for any kind of socialization, never mind dating.
Even if I’d wanted to date, I’d never been around anyone my own age. Everyone had been older than I was. My classmates and fellow residents had all been at least four years older than I was. I couldn’t have really dated them, it would have been an imbalance of maturity and therefore an imbalance of power.
I’d never really felt like I was missing out before. But then, I’d never had such a strong reaction to anyone before. And to someone who was decidedly older than I was—although I supposed that part made sense. I was always ahead of everyone else my age, so of course when I was attracted to someone I would of course go for someone who was older and had that intelligence and maturity level to match mine.
This wasn’t good, though. Not at all. I stared at myself in the mirror, gripping the edges of the sink. “Get a grip, Claire,” I told myself firmly.
The next day was my day off, Thursday, so I met Pippa for breakfast at our favorite diner. I couldn’t stop myself from filling her in on everything.
Pippa latched onto the Philip thing immediately. “I’ve always thought that Dr. Franklin had a crush on you. I think that Mr. Conner is right.”
“Oh, Pippa, please, not you too. I think that it’s ridiculous.”
“I think that maybe you don’t want to consider the possibility because you’ll feel betrayed if you do,” Pippa replied, spearing a piece of pancake with her fork. “Look, Claire, I think he’s into you and I think he’s been trying to subtly get you to date him for some time. He knows that you would object if he just asked you out properly so he’s trying to… lure you into it, so to speak. To get you dating without realizing that’s what it is and then…”
“And then, what, we both get fired?”
“I meant more like then you have feelings for him and you won’t want to stop dating him, against the rules or not, but yeah, I mean, it could very well get you fired.”
“I just can’t believe that of Dr. Franklin. He’s been so supportive of me all this time and now you want to tell me that it’s just because he wants to get into my pants?”
“Well, no, I don’t think it’s just because he wants to get into your pants. He believes in you as a doctor and I think that’s genuine, whether or not you date him. But would he like you to date him as well? Yes. Yes, I think so.”
“I can’t believe this.” I rolled my eyes, even as my stomach clenched uncomfortably.
“Honey, you know I love you, but I honestly worry sometimes that you’re too naïve when it comes to men. They’re not somethin
g to dismiss. You have to watch out for them. Especially the ‘nice’ ones. There are a lot of assholes out there.”
“I suppose.” I picked at my food, suddenly feeling not so hungry. More like I wanted to throw up what I’d already eaten.
“You know, I think maybe Mr. Conner would be good for you.”
“What!?” My fork slipped out from between my fingers, clattering against my plate. “Pippa, you can’t be serious, what the fuck?”
“Oh come on, Claire, it’s not that insane of an idea, is it? You’ve never been with anyone.”
“I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“Exactly!” Pippa leaned forward eagerly. “This would be a no-strings-attached fling! This would be the perfect opportunity for you to try it out, to see what everyone’s talking about, to enjoy some sex and get confident! No pressure to be perfect because you’re not in love with the guy and Mr. Conner is older, experienced, he’ll show you a good time and teach you how to do everything. I bet he’d be real patient. And you can’t deny that he’s hot as sin.”
Well, Pippa did have a few valid points, especially the hot as sin part, but… “I don’t have time for a fling. Besides, it’s against the rules to date a patient or a family member of a patient.”
“Normally I would agree with you but come on. You and I both know that you would never do anything to hurt Tabitha or hinder her treatment process. It would just be a fling, nothing serious. And how else are you supposed to meet someone? You have no life outside of the hospital. This way you can, y’know… get that cherry popped the right way. And nobody has to know. I think it could be good. And once you know what you’re missing out on maybe you’ll actually want to come out to bars with me.” Pippa winked.
“Oh my God, you’re crazy.”
“Mmm, am I?”
“We’re changing the subject.”
Pippa was always trying to get me to date and to have new experiences. Usually I ignored her advice, or took it only when it came to certain things, certain ways I was comfortable getting out of my usual zone. But this…
As much as I brushed it off to her out loud, I couldn’t help but wonder if Pippa was right.
7
Alex
We’d been moving forward on Tabitha’s treatment for three weeks and so far things seemed to be going well. Treatment like this was always a bit up and down. Everything would be going well for a bit and you’d be feeling relaxed and like there could actually be a light at the end of the tunnel, and then everything was swinging downward again and you were filled with fear for your child and your own sanity and wondering how to hold your chin up high.
Everyone was always telling me that this was a marathon, not a sprint, and I was trying to keep that in mind. But for now at least things seemed to be going as they should and I was just trying to be vigilant.
Tabitha was doing well, being a real trooper. I was amazed at how much optimism and energy the kid had. It often felt like she was handling this better than I was. I made sure to try and keep her life as normal as possible. We watched movies together on my laptop, I read her books, and participated in a program that gave kids hospital gowns that were fashionable and had fun designs and colors on them so that Tabitha—and the other kids—felt like they were wearing normal clothes and could still express their personality, even if they couldn’t really wear the same things as other kids. She played with the other kids in the playroom, and I arranged for service animals to come through the ward so that she and the other kids could spend time with cats and dogs and even, one time, a llama.
I wanted her to have the most enriching experience she could. When I couldn’t be there, when I had to do some work, I had audiobooks for her to listen to, and classic movies. She was only eight so I didn’t think much more than some basic math games were really needed for schooling. I had her watching shows like Liberty’s Kids that talked about the American Revolution and fun books like Horrible Histories for history and figured that having her listen to classic literature was enriching enough. Any kid could learn memorization and facts for a placement test. I wanted her to be a person of character and to have fun.
Today, Tabitha had just one thing on her mind: Halloween. It was next week, and like every kid, she was pumped.
Halloween was the one holiday that was fun at any age, if you asked me. Christmas was really sort of for the kids. Once you got older it became more about the pressure of family and responsibilities, or if you had no family, feeling miserable and alone and like everyone else had someone to be with besides you. Thanksgiving was the biggest traveling time of the year. Easter and other holidays, depended on your religion and there was always family bullshit that came with that. Valentine’s Day was a way to guilt couples into doing things for each other and made single people feel awful about themselves.
But Halloween?
Halloween was fun.
As a kid who got to dress up as whoever you wanted, stay up late, walk around and see all the cool decorations, carve pumpkins, and eat a bunch of candy. As a teenager you got to dress up as whoever you wanted, party, watch scary movies, get drunk and eat candy. As an adult, you got to dress up as whoever you wanted, go to festivals and haunted houses and parties, drink, dance until dawn, hook up with a stranger and pretend to be someone else for the night.
No matter your age, it was a blast.
Tabitha had heard that the kids in the ward got to go trick-or-treating around the hospital, and that the nurses set up candy stations. I thought it was a great idea, but now Tabitha was obsessed with picking the perfect costume, as kids tended to be.
We were using my computer to look up possible costumes, trying to find one that Tabitha liked that also wouldn’t be too crazy to make happen. There were some costumes that were just a little bit too elaborate for us to pull off, especially since we had to be able to rip it off Tabitha quickly in case of an emergency.
“Uncle Alex?”
“Yes, Ladybug?” I had started calling her that when I’d first met her, since ladybugs were supposed to bring good luck and I believed, truly, that she was bringing good luck into my life. She was my lucky charm, as I always said, and she could win over anyone, even the crankiest person.
“I want us to do a costume together. Like a pair. We can match!”
“Okay, sure thing.” I was sure that we could find something that wouldn’t be too embarrassing for me to wear. I doubted she’d want to be the Robin to my Batman but we could find a compromise. Perhaps I could be a dragon and she could be a princess?
The first few options were quickly vetoed. She didn’t want to be Red Riding Hood to my Big Bad Wolf, for example. She wanted to be something a little less ‘generic’.
Yes, the eight-year-old literally told me that. Kids, I was quickly learning, were absolute savages with no mercy whatsoever.
“What about this?” Tabitha asked. She was pointing at a Tinkerbell costume. “I could be Tinker Bell and you could be Peter Pan! You’d be a great Peter Pan, Mom said you never grew up!”
Ouch, thanks kid. Lacey had a point, though, with my partying and all of that. It had taken her death and my adopting Tabitha for me to settle down. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing tights, but, for Tabitha? Sure, I could sacrifice my dignity a little.
“Sure thing,” I said. “If that’s the costume that you really want to go with then that’s what we’ll do.”
“I’m sure,” Tabitha replied, nodding her head vigorously.
“All right, I’ll stop by the costume store this evening and pick it all out for you.” I took a few measurements so that I could be sure to get the right Tinkerbell sizes for her, and then helped her settle in for a nap. She was napping all the time, far more than most kids did. It was the biggest sign of her illness—how quickly she would get tired. When I saw other kids playing on my way home from the hospital, they seemed to be full of boundless energy. But Tabitha would get tired just from listening to me read to her.
I could only
hope that she’d get better, stronger, and that soon she’d be exhausting me with her antics instead of the other way around.
Once I got her asleep, I headed over to Claire’s office. Seeing Tabitha so tuckered out so quickly made my skin feel too small, made an itch start up in my bones that I couldn’t scratch. I knew it was paranoid, but I wanted to check up on with Claire on Tabitha’s treatment.
Even though that was probably the worst idea I could’ve had.
I hadn’t been able to stop myself from flirting with Claire a little in the hallway. God, she was such a firecracker, so self-assured, she deserved to be wooed and taken apart and teased until she was a shivering, pleasure-filled wreck. I wanted to spend hours on her, my fingers and cock inside of her, until she’d come so many times she’d lost count and couldn’t remember her own name.
And so when she’d seemed so disbelieving about her boss’s interest in her… I’d had a momentary lapse in judgment. I’d come onto her, told her that he couldn’t take care of her the way that she deserved—the way that I would take care of her. I hadn’t said that last part out loud but I was pretty sure she got the message anyway.
It was unprofessional of me, I knew that. But Claire sparked a desire and a recklessness in me that I had never felt. Being a playboy and picking up women was one thing but risking getting in massive trouble because I was flirting with the doctor taking care of my niece? Yeah, that was a level that I had never reached before.
But something about this woman made me feel reckless. Like I just had to get a taste of her.
Of course, Claire didn’t seem to regard this idea with all that much enthusiasm. She’d all but fled from me after I’d flirted with her in the hallway and she’d been careful to keep her distance since then. Every interaction we’d had she’d been frosty to me. With Tabitha she was nothing but warm smiles. Tabitha loved her and thought that Claire had to be some kind of fairy or something. I was inclined to agree, at least a little bit. Claire really did have a way with the kids that she seemed to lack with the adults, going stiff and professional when talking to parents but warming up immensely around the children.