Playing Doctor: A Standalone Office Romance

by JD Hawkins

  She’s here. I uprooted my whole fucking life, my work, to start from scratch again, and in a flash it all doesn’t matter. The past six months meant nothing. She’s fucking here.

  And she’s my boss.

  There’s not a doubt in my mind she came for me. It was inevitable that she’d find out I was working at Santa Teresa. Inevitable that she’d pop up again like some underlying condition you can never fully shake. But I was only expecting an altercation in the parking lot. Maybe a few “professional” visits. A few rumors being spread about me. Perhaps having her use one of her many connections to spy on me here. I could have handled all of that. The whole fucking point was that she couldn’t do anything meaningfully damaging to me now that I’m working at an entirely different hospital.

  Never in a million fucking years would I have guessed that she’d do something like this. Give up the best position in Los Angeles’s best hospital just so that she could once again fuck with me. It’s insane, and yet if I told someone the truth, they’d have to be insane to believe it. Never underestimate a psychotic bitch, I suppose.

  I’m halfway through my shift and I haven’t bumped into her again since this morning. I’ve only caught glimpses of Bob giving her the tour. She won’t seek me out today. Probably not tomorrow. Not even a week maybe. She doesn’t have to rush, she’s got all the time in the world. I know Saskia—as much as I wish I didn’t—and I know she likes to take her time turning the screw. Fuck with me even more by letting me sweat it out, waiting for her to pounce. And once she starts, I won’t be able to escape.

  I look down at the girl, sleeping peacefully. She’s gonna be fine, though she’s been in a lot of pain. I feel a pang of guilt breaking the tension in my chest. Look at yourself, Colin, getting all worked up over this shit. Get some perspective. It’s hard, though. Especially when I know in two months’ time this girl’s going to be back at school with her friends, walking her dog, eating ice cream, and I’ll still be here having my balls crushed by a woman who’s had plenty of practice.

  The girl has a fluffy plush turtle under her arm. A couple of cards on the bedside table, one of them with turtles again. I make a mental note to find those old pictures of that vacation in Hawaii when I swam with turtles so I can show her if she’s awake the next time I drop in. It might cheer her up.

  The girl shuffles in her sleep, kicking off the blanket, and I realize the room is a little warm. I go to the window to crack it open, then return to the bed to pull the covers back up over her. For a moment, the sweetness of it all makes me smile, and then the door opens and I tense back up all over again. Scowling as I watch for whoever’s about to come in.

  I relax a little when I see it’s just the blonde nurse Beatrice warned me about—she’s the least of my worries right now.

  “Hey Deanna,” I say, turning back to finish scribbling off the prescription.

  “Doctor Pierce. I didn’t expect to find you in here,” she says, not sounding surprised at all.

  She’s one of the few nurses at the hospital who wears a skirt, and I’ve noticed they seem to get a little higher and a little tighter every day. My guess is that she’s been taking advantage of the lack of administrator, though as soon as Saskia gets her grip on this place, that’ll change quickly. She never liked female competition.

  “She’s fine,” I say. “Zonked out, but she’s all right. We can lighten up on the analgesics.”

  Instead of going to the other side of the bed, Deanna moves around it to stand beside me. Though “beside” implies there’s space between us. She presses against me, leaning over—cleavage first—to look at the clipboard in my hands. I get a full hit of her candy-fruit perfume. Her hand on my back as if steadying herself, breasts squeezing against my arm.

  I look at the top of her head as she pretends to read the clipboard, wondering how long she can keep this going for. It’s a bad bit of acting—but then again, I’m not sure she even wants me to believe it. After a full minute she looks up at me, smiling with lips glossed so shiny I can almost see my reflection in them.

  “Is that all, Doctor?”

  She doesn’t so much say the words as breathe them at me in a sultry whisper. I don’t need to be a codebreaker to see what’s she’s angling for. It’s like she learned her flirting technique from silent movies.

  “That’s all, Deanna. Thank you,” I say, firmly but as politely as I can.

  I step back, about to leave the room, but she quickly blocks my path.

  “You left the bar so early last night,” she says, almost pouting.

  “I’m not a big drinker.”

  “That’s a shame,” she says, slithering a little closer. “I was really hoping to get to know you a little better.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to talk more,” I say, keeping up the polite smile as I try to step aside.

  She shifts to block me again.

  “I’ve been thinking about getting some more certifications you see, and I wanted to ask your advice. Everyone talks about what a great doctor you are so I felt I should come to you for guidance…”

  It’s an innocent line of inquiry, but she asks me like she’s operating a phone sex line, and by the end of it her fingers are teasing themselves around the buttons of my doctor’s coat. I pull her hand away gently and then readjust my coat as if she left a mark on it.

  “Deanna, listen…”

  I start firmly, ready to give her a talk, prepared to draw a line under this and make sure she doesn’t come on to me anymore. Maybe throw in a compliment or two to save her pride. Give her the old “If we didn’t work together…” or “You’re hot enough to make me lose my job, so please don’t.” It’s not new to me, and at this point it’s barely uncomfortable. I’ve given the talk before, many times—to both patients and colleagues.

  But somehow, as confidently as I start, I find myself drifting away. It’s not that I’m actually tempted to do anything. Deanna’s hot, sure, but even for a one-night stand I look for more than just a good body and a lack of self-restraint. It’s not that.

  It’s everything else that’s going on.

  What am I supposed to tell her? That I don’t fuck colleagues, even though I fucked one just last night? However sure I am that nobody will find out about that. Probably. But then there’s the fact that a crazy ex of mine has just shown up as the absolute boss of the entire workplace specifically because of me. That one I’m not so sure about.

  I trail off, and I end up laughing. Can you imagine if I gave in? Screwed Deanna and ended up having Saskia find out? She’d destroy both of us. Though at least I’d have company in the tortuous hell Saskia would build for me. I laugh at how ridiculous my life has become, at how bad it’s going to get. I laugh because Deanna coming on to me so that I have to give her “the talk” is pretty much the easiest thing I’ve dealt with all day.

  Deanna’s sultry pout turns to a deep frown. All sensuality leaves her body, replaced with an upright, indignant offense. She opens her mouth to say something—and I can tell by the shape it wouldn’t have been something nice—but then decides against it, spins on her heels, and marches for the door.

  “Wait, Deanna! Hold on,” I say, quickly following her. I take her arm and stop her. “Please.”

  She continues to stare at the door for a second and then looks back at me, still glaring red-hot anger. I don’t blame her. No woman likes to be laughed at—not that I was laughing at her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Look, I don’t know why I laughed. I’m just under a lot of pressure at the moment. It’s not a good time for me and I’m… I’m going a little crazy.” Her face softens a little. “You don’t need me to tell you that you’re very attractive. It’s not that. I’m just… I can’t handle that sort of thing right now. If you really do want to talk and get some advice, I’m all for it. But that’s all I can offer at the moment. Okay?”

  It’s not my best “talk.” Pretty charmless and a little cold, but then again, there’s nothing more
unattractive in a guy than being a bumbling, nervous idiot who makes women feel terrible about themselves. And being a little unattractive is exactly what I need right now.

  Deanna doesn’t exactly warm completely to it. Her shiny lips still pursed and the hem of her skirt pulled a little downwards. But she takes a moment to assess it and eventually accepts my botched apology. She nods and I try to act the meek gentleman by stepping past her quickly to open the door for her, following her into the hall.

  Before she leaves she turns back to me, looking more confused than anything, and says, “No offense, Doctor Pierce, but I thought you’d be a lot more easygoing.”

  This time I put the effort in to hold back my laugh.

  “Me too, Deanna. Me too.”

  She says nothing more, just turns on those heels again and steps away, her casually sexy sway back in her hips now that she’s in public. I breathe a sigh of relief that I handled the situation—not well, but still—then quickly look around for any sign of Saskia. The last thing I need is for her to see me being friendly with a hot young nurse who wears skirts and lip gloss. For Saskia, that would be enough to destroy a career. She almost caught me talking with Mia in the morning, and I almost quit right there at the idea of Saskia going after her.

  Mia. Fuck. Talk about bad timing.

  I try to push it all out of my mind as I visit the children’s ward to check on a young girl with a spinal injury, get called away to an emergency involving a baby’s allergic reaction, and then chase down the final results for a test that will let an anxious eight-year-old recovering from cancer finally leave the hospital—nothing out of the ordinary. All the while, I’m wondering if my savings are enough for an early retirement in Mexico.

  For my lunch break, I decide to finally move my things to the new office Mia secured for me yesterday. I was pretty happy about it at the time, but now a window and some space is little comfort. Besides, there’s no such thing as a break when your mind is spinning at a hundred miles an hour.

  When I get back to my office to stare at (and maybe complete) the giant pile of paperwork there, I check my phone and find a message from Jake.

  How’s it going, dude?

  I know that he’s probably just chilling on the beach watching girls walk by, sending me a message with one hand while he finishes a beer with the other. Some guys have all the luck.

  It’s all going to shit, dude, I text back. Saskia’s here. She’s our new admin.

  WTF. What’s the blonde ballbreaker done so far? he replies.

  I let out a heavy sigh and hesitate before replying.

  Nothing…yet. But I know it’s coming. The waiting is torture enough and she probably knows it.

  I can see that Jake’s typing, and while I wait for his reply I realize just how much an impatient, frustrating angst has built up inside me. An uneasiness that I’ve been using work to distract myself from since I began my shift. My phone buzzes with Jake’s words of wisdom:

  Dude. You can’t fall to pieces over this. So the blonde ballbreaker has moved hospitals just to be near you. So what? Santa Teresa isn’t Dunhill—she won’t be spending all day with her feet up on a desk making executive decisions and high-priced sales, right? She’s going to be busy. She’s going to have her hands full. She probably won’t even have the time to breathe down your neck and make your life hell. Besides, what can she even do to you that hasn’t been done already?

  I immediately set about responding. Jake’s question is the one I’ve been turning over in my mind since I saw her here.

  She could give me a work schedule that’ll grind my sanity into dust, and conspire to create any situation where she’s alone with me so that she can attempt to tear my clothes off, blackmail me with threats to my reputation, use her power to turn anyone she can against me, lie about me, make any professional advancement I want difficult if not impossible, and find out if there’s anyone I care about at work so that she can go after them just to fuck with me…

  But I guess you’re right—apart from all that, what can she really do?

  I scrub my hands over my face, trying to get myself back under control. The problem is, I’m already fully aware what Saskia is capable of. Not knowing when she’ll strike—or how—is what’s going to drive me to the edge, and she knows it.

  This time it takes Jake a long time to respond, and it’s not because he’s typing a lot.

  Shit, dude. I dunno.

  For some reason, his response makes me laugh out loud. The first laugh I’ve had in a while. I’m about to reply when I see he’s typing again. I get up and head on outside, remembering that I needed to have a word with Doctor Choudhry about the repair on a machine a patient of mine needs. My phone pings just as I’m about to put it back into my pocket and I read Jake’s follow-up message as I stalk through the hospital, one eye dodging a couple of gurneys flying through the corridor.

  You know what the craziest thing about this is? That she thinks she can still have you. What is she even going for? Does she think if she just puts the right amount of pressure on you that you’ll give in and propose? Or maybe, at this point, it’s not even about that. It’s just about getting revenge on the one guy that rejected her. Psychotic, dude.

  I slow my pace a little as I turn a corner and think about my reply before sending it.

  Maybe she finally figured out that she enjoys the pleasure of torture more than love, and I’m the guy who happened to teach her.

  “Doctor Pierce! Doctor Pierce!”

  The familiar voice stops me in my tracks. A voice I like. A voice I wish I could hear more of.

  Mia steps toward me, holding a sheet of paper almost accusingly. She looks a little irritated, but I don’t care. I’ll take a pissed-off Mia over anyone else any day.

  “Yes?” I say.

  Just the sight of her face makes me feel better, a balm to my frantic thoughts. I immediately think of last night, and how perfect she was. I’d give anything to turn the clock back twelve hours and just have time stop there. Or hell, if I knew then what I know now, I’d have stayed a little longer, maybe even asked her to run away to Mexico with me.

  “You checked up on a baby this morning,” she says, holding the paper out so I can see it. “Frances Tevez.”

  I nod and quickly check both directions of the corridor we’re in. “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “You marked them down for a circumcision.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Mia waits a beat for me to meet her hard gaze before saying more. “The baby is female.”

  I stare at her for a second, then take the sheet from her and inspect it.

  “I don’t know how you could make that mistake,” she continues, then points a slender finger over the sheet. “My guess is you somehow mistook your own ‘e’ for an ‘i’ somewhere along the way, but even then—”

  “Yeah. Fuck. Yep. My bad. I… Shit. I don’t even know how I’d… I’ll go do a proper checkup right now. Thanks for telling me.”

  I turn to leave but Mia stops me.

  “Colin,” she says, and the use of my first name immediately reminds me of last night again. I turn back to her. “Is, umm…is everything all right?”

  “Yeah,” I say quickly, my eyes drawn by a group moving closer from the far end of the corridor.

  “I don’t want to sound weird,” she continues, her tone slow and calm. Patient and careful. “I… I mean I know we said we wouldn’t… It’s just a vibe, you know. That I’m getting. But… Are you avoiding me?”

  “What?” I say, my eyes flicking between her vulnerable face and the group that’s getting nearer. Is that Bob? He’s the same height as Bob… “No. Of course not.”

  “Okay…” Mia says, sounding unconvinced, and I feel every bit of the frustration in her voice. “Well… Good. I just… You know… I got a vibe and—”

  It looks too much like Bob, and I know that Bob is showing Saskia around, so I decide to do the only thing I can do other than rudely walk away. I take Mia’s arm and
usher her into the nearest private room I can, closing the door quickly.

  There’s an old man sitting upright in a bed. He looks like Danny DeVito will in twenty years, with glasses the size of tea plates and a remote control in his hand. The sound of a baseball game from the TV mounted in the upper corner of the room.

  “Are you Doctor Choudhry?” he says in a slow, tense croak. His eyes squinting, magnified so large I could count the eyelashes.

  “No,” I say, taking a quick look through the door’s porthole out into the corridor before turning back to him. “We’re just… We’re here to check the machines.”

  “Colin, what are you doing?” Mia asks, sounding as confused as the old fella.

  “It’s kind of complicated,” I tell her in a low whisper so the guy can’t hear. “I didn’t mean to give off any vibe, trust me. But I—”

  “Doctor Choudhry was supposed to come and see me this morning,” the patient grumps. “Where is he?”

  “He’ll be along shortly. We’re just checking the machines,” I call out to him more loudly, before checking the porthole once again, then turning back to Mia. “I can’t really talk about it here. Like I said, it’s complicated, but—”

  “Doesn’t Doctor Choudhry check the machines?”

  I open my mouth to give another half-assed placation but Mia steals the moment.

  “If you could just be quiet for a few minutes, sir, and let us finish, we’ll be able to get Doctor Choudhry here a lot quicker, okay?”

  It’s a firm tone, but not aggressive. You can hear the honesty in it, the organic authority. I learned pretty early on as a doctor how important tone is, and Mia wields it like a master. Christ, I think, even in the frenetic moment, if only this was the woman who was obsessed with me instead.

  Danny DeVito gives a little “humph,” folding his arms and turning his attention to the game, leaving us to speak. I glance through the porthole and see the group pass. No Bob. No Saskia. I breathe a sigh of relief, and Mia notices, scrutinizing my face like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.