by Kara Hart
“Come on. I’m your boss. You have to talk to me, you know,” he says.
“No I don’t,” I laugh. “You’re not going to fire your best surgeon. Don’t give me that line of bullshit, Neil.”
“Fine, but I’m your friend, man. It’s good to vent every now and then. Tell me what’s up and maybe I can give you some old, sage advice,” he says.
I keep my eyes steady, but I feel myself start to cave. “It’s just some woman,” I say. “She’s messing with my head.”
“Hell yes,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “That’s what I’m talking about, man. So you’re getting back in the game, huh?”
“Nah. Don’t get too excited,” I mutter.
“Come on. I’m just happy for you. You used to spend all your free time in this office,” he says.
“Our patients’ lives are more important than anything outside of these walls,” I remind him.
“Don’t get me wrong, now. I want our patients to have the best care possible. But it’s a fact that a man needs a break every now and then,” he says. “Shit. A man needs a woman. It’s a fact. It’s been that way since the dawn of time.”
“Yeah, well. Women don’t need men. We’ve just tricked them into thinking they do.” I’m obviously feeling a little cynical. I’m supposed to be the best damn surgeon in this town. I have to admit it. My ego is a bit fucking bruised.
“Who is this game playing woman? She’s got your head spinning. Man, I love that feeling,” he says.
“Yeah, you like it because you’re a deranged masochist,” I tell him.
“No way,” he laughs. “Alright, maybe a little.”
“Shit,” I sigh.
“It’s the chase that always gets you. I love it. It’s like pain and pleasure. You never know what you’re going to get. Each new step is a chance to ruin the whole damn thing, or make it perfect,” he says. “How can you not miss that feeling?”
“It’s not like that with this girl. It’s different. She is different,” I say. I reach into my drawer and pull out a bottle of scotch. I grab two cups and pour. Neil grabs the glass and takes a sip. I do the same.
“How so?” he asks.
“She’s a virgin,” I whisper.
His eyes widen and a short smile forms on his face. “No fucking way,” he says. “Seriously?”
I nod my head slowly. “Seriously. And she’s hot as hell. She’s fucking smokin’,” I say.
“You’re out of your mind,” he laughs. “You can’t get with a virgin. How old is she?”
I lean back in my chair and feel the slow burn of the scotch hit my esophagus. I laugh when I think about the situation that I’m in. I shouldn’t be worrying about this woman. I should be worrying about the lives of my patients. I can find someone my age eventually. Problem is, I can’t wait too long to find one. My father is right. There’s something about family. I’m thirty-five. She’s twenty-three. She’s at that perfect age to start a family with someone.
“She’s twenty-three,” I tell him.
“You’re insane,” he says, jumping back. “Twenty-three?! She’s young.”
I don’t have any qualms with it. “She’s an adult and she makes her own choices,” I say.
“Yeah, but she’s a virgin? Shit, man. It just sounds like a recipe for disaster. Then again, your whole life is pretty much that, so maybe she’s perfect for you,” he laughs.
“Well,” I groan, “she’s not a virgin anymore. We sort of got past that hurtle.”
Neil starts laughing loudly and I motion for him to settle down a bit. “Sorry, it’s just a weird situation. You’re a grown man and you’re worrying about this… girl.”
“You don’t understand. She’s not just some girl. She’s actually pretty damn interesting,” I say. But I don’t know. Am I being stupid about this whole thing?
“And really hot. I got it,” he says.
“Yes, like really fucking hot,” I laugh. I think about her body. It’s perfect. It’s jaw dropping. “And her eyes… god damn, her eyes. When you look into them, you can’t look away.”
“Well, it sounds like you dove headfirst into this whole thing,” he says.
I nod and sit up, against the desk. I roll my palms over my face and breathe against my skin. “She doesn’t want to see me again.” I say the words out loud, but doing so only makes me realize how dumb this all is. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I just need myself.
“She’s probably in love with you. You took her virginity, you sick man,” he says. “What you should do is stay away. Stay very far away from all of this. It’s likely to all blow up in your face.”
“Yeah.” I glance at the half-empty glass in my hand and down the rest of the scotch. “Well, you’re right. I think I’m just going to let it go. I don’t need to press any further.”
“Exactly,” he says. He finishes his glass as well, sighs loudly, and taps his fingers against the bookshelf, alerting me that he’s about to leave. “Well, I got work to do. You’re done for the day, right?”
“Right,” I say. “I’m just going to check in on Mom before I head out.”
“Alright. Stay up, man,” he says. I nod at him as he leaves the room.
I put away the scotch and heave my heavy body out of the leather chair. I turn off the lights in the room and exit, feeling my boots drag against the shiny hospital floor. I walk toward mom’s room. It’s the daily ritual I have to take.
Every single time I walk these lonely halls, I wonder to myself, “Will this be it? Will I even get a last word from her?” I know it’s selfish of me to even ask that, but it’s something I would do anything for.
When I walk into the room, I see my father standing solemnly in the corner. He’s talking to her, but of course she’s not moving, except for her eyelids. He looks over at me, but continues talking. I wait for him to finish by the door.
“Son.” He puts his arms out for me. I hug him and pat him on the back.
“Hey dad,” I say. “How is she?”
“The same,” he says. “You know she’s not getting any better. We can stop with the formalities.”
“You never know,” I reply. But I know all too well what will happen.
“I ran into Neil outside the room,” he says. “He says you’re seeing someone. Is this true?”
“Dad, is this really the time to talk about this?” I ask him. I look at my mother, lying on the bed, with tubes running all around her.
“It’s the perfect time to talk about this. You need a wife,” he tells me.
I look around the room, as if someone might be nearby, listening to this lunacy coming from my father. “I don’t need a wife, dad. Besides, she doesn’t want to see me again. Women these days don’t necessarily want to settle down right away. It’s not the 1950’s.”
“No it isn’t. That’s for damn sure.” His voice growls when he says it. “But if you want the house, you’ll do me this one favor.”
“I wish you could see how messed up this is,” I laugh. “You’re bribing your own son.”
“It’s not a bribe. It’s an offer and it makes sense. All I’m asking you to do is see this through. She’s probably a nice girl,” he says. I open my mouth to tell him, once again, that it’s just not going to work out, but he shuts me up before I can even speak. “I know, I know. She doesn’t want to see you again. That’s a bunch of baloney and you know it. She’s scared. You’re powerful, successful, and you have a good head on your shoulders. She’s afraid you might leave her in the dust if she gets too involved.”
“Still. Maybe it’s just too much to deal with right now. I’d rather just keep to myself,” I tell him.
“Wednesday we’re having family dinner. Me, you, your sis. You’re inviting this girl over and we’re going to have a nice time,” he says. It’s not a question. It’s a command.
“I’ll ask,” I groan. “But I’m not making any promises. She’s got finals.”
“A college girl?” he asks, raising an ey
e.
I ignore his question and walk out of the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him.
Olivia
It takes a few hours, but I eventually calm myself down. When he doesn’t text me back, I send a question mark to him. He reads it, but doesn’t reply. “That bastard,” I whisper to myself, as I stretch out on my bed. After a couple more hours pass, I finally get a reply. It says, “Dinner this week with my family. You’re invited if you want to go.”
I quickly reply, “Did you not read what I wrote earlier? I said we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” What the heck?
“I read it,” he types, “but I’m choosing to ignore it. I have too much fun with you.”
Maybe I should be happy with what he’s telling me, but I’m not. I don’t want to just be someone’s plaything. I want to be adored. I want to be respected. I am not just some hole for him to use.
“So you have fun with me. So what? You’ll find someone else to have fun with,” I text back.
Immediately, the phone buzzes against my lap. I groan and slam my back against the mattress again. Why are men so insufferable sometimes? They just do not give up. “Why won’t you let me get to know you better?” he asks me.
I sit, dumbfounded, holding my phone. I squeeze my thumbs against the screen, trying to think of an answer besides the truth. I’m scared. But I can’t let him know that. I need to come off as stronger than I am. The major problem is that he did take my virginity and now I feel so damn foolish for liking him so much.
“Because it’s wrong,” I type. “I’m way younger than you. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
He knows me better than to believe what I’m saying. Even as I hit the send button, I feel the truth sink in. I like that he’s older than me. Of course I do. The moment I saw him, I knew I wanted him. He knows this better than I do. “Bullshit,” he sends. “You love it and I know it.”
“What makes you say that?” I text him.
“I made you cum harder than you’ve ever came before. I know you can’t live without me and I can’t wait to see you again,” he says. “Take my words and view them whichever way you want to. I’ve said my piece. I want to see you again. I want to feel you again. I want to take you again.”
My body grows warm. I set the phone down and breathe deeply. I gulp down, as my heart pounds against my chest. “Fuck,” I mutter. Why am I playing these games? Why don’t I just accept the reality that we want each other? Maybe it really is that simple.
Then the phone starts to ring, causing me to jump out of my bed and pace around the room. Of course I have to answer the damn thing. I do, but I don’t issue the greeting he wants. “This is easier,” he says. “Plus, I want to hear your voice. It’s been too long.”
“You’re too cocky,” I tell him. “You think you can get whatever you want. Well, you can’t. Life doesn’t work that way and I want to just be left alone.”
“Stop it, Olivia. I’m not asking that much of you,” he says.
“Yes, you are,” I reply.
“I’m asking you to be honest. Is that so hard?” he asks.
I look out of my window and watch as the cars pass by the darkened streets. I think about my future and what’s in store. Growing up and leaving college always seemed like the best thing in the world. Now, I’m not so sure
“Sometimes giving into every whim and desire isn’t the best choice you can make. I think we’ve had our fun,” I tell him.
“One more time,” he says. “Just one more time.”
“One time is never enough,” I tell him. “I know how this goes.”
But I’m already caving for him. I’m already feeling his warm hands grip around my body. “When is the last time you’ve been to the doctor?” he asks me.
“That’s besides the point, isn’t it?” I ask him.
“Not really, actually.” I can picture him smiling, leaning against the doorway to my kitchen. I can see his swagger as he walks toward me, as he hungers for me. I hunger for him. I fall to my knees and look up at him, so tall and strong. I yearn for that interaction with him. I just don’t want to be left in the dust like so many other women.
“I haven’t been in at least three years,” I admit.
“Time for a checkup,” he laughs.
“Don’t get gross,” I warn him.
I can hear his boots click against the ground. What is he wearing right now? I wonder. Is he wearing a nice Italian suit, complete with gold cufflinks? Or is he wearing his blue surgeon outfit? Or maybe he’s wearing nothing at all.
“You love it,” he says. “Admit it. You’re more disgusting than I am. It just takes a little prodding.”
“You like to prod me, don’t you?” I ask him. My body loosens up as a fucked-up smile forms across my face. I’m a bad girl. I’m the worst there is. I can hear his heavy breathing, mouth pressed against the cold receiver, lips touching the holes of communication. I can imagine those same lips pressed against mine, as I give a slight protest. “You like that I’m innocent. You want to tame me. No, you want to taint me.”
“You’ve already been tainted.” The words come out harsh and brittle. They hit my eardrum and dissolve away, almost as if they never existed. But they do, and he’s right as ever.
“Maybe,” I whisper. “Maybe not.”
“Are you touching yourself right now?” he asks me. The static language funneled into my phone makes me wonder if our words don’t exist forever in those satellites up above. Maybe our desires hold true in the stratosphere, always preserved in milky-white space debris. I look down and my fingernails are dragging across my inner thigh. The tips of my fingers tickle my lips. I’m wet. Always wet for Dr. James Mason.
“No,” I tell him.
“Liar,” he replies back, almost instantaneously. “I know who you are, deep down.”
“Deep down?” I smile and move my hand over my clit. I press down, firm, until I feel the pressure increase. I let go and repeat the process. There’s something about keeping things at bay, with a slight increase, only to know that in just a few minutes, you could explode, taking down everything around you.
“Deep down. Past that short, plaid skirt of yours. Past your perfectly clean panties. I know what you want. You want me. You want to be owned,” he says.
“And you want to own me. Don’t you?” I ask him.
“You’re damn right I do,” he says. “I want to own every bit of you. From those gorgeous lips of yours down to your tight pussy.”
“But there’s something you never anticipated,” I say. My fingers press firmly against my clit again. I move them around and around, until I feel the pleasure thicken. Then, I release again, only to be forced to take in a deep breath.
“Oh yeah? And what is that?” he asks.
“I know my worth. I know most men would kill to have a night with me,” I tell him. “So you’re going to need to get some leverage.”
There’s a strange silence. He takes it all in and then chuckles to himself. “You’re right. This poses a dilemma for me,” he says. “But I’m not as bad a guy as you think I am. At least, I won’t be that bad to you. Tomorrow. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, like I promised. And when we’re full, I’ll take you home so you can study.”
“Fine,” I say. “No sex. This is just a nice dinner date. You really think you’ll be able to handle yourself?”
“I’ll have to try,” he says.
“This is your final,” I laugh.
“If I fail the test, you can stop talking to me. But I’m not going to fail,” he says.
“You really think your willpower is strong enough?” I ask him.
“I do,” he whispers.
“Well then. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?” I ask him.
“7 PM. I’ll come pick you up,” he says.
“Okay, doctor. See you then,” I say. “Bye bye.”
I hang up the phone and lay across my bed, sexually frustrated and exhausted. I can’t help but deny that I think about
him all of the damn time, even if it is against my best interest. And I can’t help but feel excited for our little date tomorrow. I still don’t know what I’m going to do in the long run, but for now, I’m stuck in the game. Of course, I’m loving every second of it.
James
I close my eyes and the first thing I see is her ass in my face, round and smooth, hanging in the air, just like a ripe fruit hanging from a tree. As soon as I reach out to take a bite, it pulls away. Female laughter can be heard in all corners of my room.
I open my eyes and I’m awake. I look down at my cock and I’m so fucking hard I could cum bullets. All I can think about, dream about, is Olivia. It’s been days since I’ve had her and it’s starting to get to me. I thought I could hold strong, but this is the worst it’s ever been. I can just picture her, sleeping sound in my bed. I can smell her, taste her, feel her youthful skin. It’s too much for a grown man to handle.
When I’m at work, I can barely concentrate. Even with the scalpel in my hand, I’m trying not to think of her. I make my incisions. I look back up and Neil is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask him.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asks me. “Scott, take over for a minute.”
The other surgeon grabs my tools and starts to work. Neil and I walk out of the room silently, but I’m pissed. In all my years as a surgeon, I’ve never had anyone pull me outside, let alone Neil. He’s frustrated, but I was doing fine. “What the fuck?” he asks me, as if I’m a mind reader. “You’re sweating bullets in there, man.”
“I’m fine, Neil. It’s hot. So fucking what? I was following the procedure to the full degree. What else do you want from me?” I ask.
“Nah, man. You were shaking in there. Trust me. You barely made the correct first incision. I saw you hesitate. Everyone did,” he says.
I shake my head and throw my gloves off into the waste bin. I take my mask off and throw it against the wall. I run the scalding hot water onto my hands and soap the shit out of them. I do all these things so I don’t slam my fist into Neil’s face. I’m the best there is in this business. That’s a fucking fact. I’ve got the awards plastered on my wall to prove it.