by J J Loraine
The Doctor and the Curves
A Sweet Older Alpha and Younger BBW Romance
J.J. Loraine
Copyright © 2019 J.J. Loraine
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Max
Chapter Two: Emma
Chapter Three: Max
Chapter Four: Emma
Chapter Five: Max
Chapter Six: Emma
Chapter Seven: Max
Chapter Eight: Emma
Chapter Nine: Max
Chapter Ten: Emma
Chapter Eleven: Max
Chapter Twelve: Emma
Chapter Thirteen: Max
Chapter Fourteen: Emma
Chapter Fifteen: Max
Chapter Sixteen: Emma
Chapter Seventeen: Max
Chapter Eighteen: Emma
Chapter Nineteen: Max
Chapter Twenty: Emma
Other Titles by J.J. Loraine
1
Max
This has never actually happened to me before.
After so many years as a physician, I had come to believe that this type of thing only ever happened in the movies.
“Is anyone here a doctor!?” I hear a woman’s voice repeat.
I think I’m dreaming at first. I usually sleep on long plane rides, but there’s a panic in her voice that jolts me awake.
I’m more than familiar with having to suddenly jump out of a restful state and into action – I was an Army medic in my younger days – but years of mundane civilian life has dulled my reaction time.
It doesn’t take long for me to shake off the rust, though.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and rise with a commanding air. I know one of the most important things I can do right now is offer a sense of control. People will naturally panic; it’s my job to put them at ease.
“I’m a doctor,” I announce. I make my way towards the commotion with a confident stride.
“Oh, thank goodness,” cries the stewardess. She’s bent over an older gentleman who seems to be in the midst of some mild convulsions. She steps aside as I approach.
I case the scene.
The man sits in the aisle seat; an older lady rubs his arm in comfort.
“Are you his wife?” I ask her.
She nods. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He doesn’t have any illnesses. He may not be a young man anymore, but he’s got a clean bill of health.”
I nod back and give the frantic woman a look of sympathetic determination. “I’m going to do my best to help,” I tell her.
I put my hand on the older man’s forearm and feel his pulse. His heart is racing. That’s a good sign. It means he’s still alive.
I turn to the stewardess and ask her to bring some water. She dutifully hurries off to the front of the plane.
I look back at the man. His eyelids are halfway down; his pupils are nowhere to be found. It appears as if he’s having a seizure.
“Ma’am,” I say to the wife. “Does your husband have a history of epilepsy?”
She thinks about it for a moment before shaking her head.
“No... No. We’ve been together for over 30 years and I’ve never seen something like this happen to him.”
I study the husband’s shaking body and notice his seatbelt is unbuckled. That’s my first hint as to what’s happening.
I check his mouth. There’s no foam or buildup.
I turn back to the wife.
“Did he try to stand up just before he started to shake?”
She thinks about it for a moment and then frantically nods her head.
“Yes!” she says, emphatically. “Yes! He said he was going to go for a stroll up the aisle because his legs were going numb... but when he got up, he almost immediately collapsed back down in his seat and started to shake!”
That confirms it. I know what’s going on.
“Can you do me a favor, ma’am? Can you grab your husband’s hand? There you go. Just hold him nice and tight for a moment. He’s going to be alright.”
She grabs his hand and I grab his other hand and we hold him. Slowly his shaking begins to ease. Eventually, he becomes still. His eyes shut fully and his breathing regulates. His hands softly grip our hands back.
After a moment, his eyes open.
“... What...” he looks over to me and I give him a calm, cool and collected look. He seems to accept my attitude. He gently turns to his wife, who wraps her arms around him and incessantly kisses his damp forehead.
“Oh, Charles. I’m so glad you’re OK!” she cries into her confused husband’s ear.
“What... what happened?” he asks.
The stewardess returns with a cup of water. I take the cup and hand it to the man.
“You fainted,” I tell him, calmly. “You must have been sitting still for a little too long. When you stood up, all your blood suddenly rushed down, away from your heart. That slowed your heartrate enough to cause you to pass out. Your heart had to kick into overdrive for a while to get you back onto your feet, but it did its job and now you’re as good as new. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It happens to people once in a while. It even happened to me a couple of times when I was a kid. The medical name is orthostatic hypotension. The most dangerous aspect of it is the actual fainting. If you had fallen and hit your head, you might be in trouble, but since you just fell back down in your seat, you’re going to be just fine.”
I pat the man’s hand and stand up. He’s still dazed from the ordeal but his wife thanks me profusely.
“Thank you so much doctor. How can we ever repay you!?”
I wave the woman off and give her a complacent smile.
“Just doing my job, ma’am. I’m happy to help.”
Her eyes suddenly go wide and she lunges down beneath her feet to her purse. With her bent over, I get a glimpse of the passenger in the window seat.
I nearly faint at the sight.
Oh my God, who is that!? She’s gorgeous!
My wonderful view is quickly blocked off as the older woman sits back up in her seat.
She pulls a card out of her purse and hands it to me. I take it, reluctantly. I only want to look at the gorgeous woman in the window seat again.
“We own a restaurant downtown,” says the older woman. “It’s the best steak-house in the city. Please come by for dinner some time. It’s on us. We insist.”
She hugs her husband’s arm and he nods gratefully.
“Will do,” I sputter out, suddenly not so composed.
This time, it’s my heart that’s racing.
I shift a little to get another look at the woman behind the old couple.
Our eyes meet and I feel myself go faint with desire.
Her sparkling gaze invades my heart. Her big rosy cheeks push up in a shy smile. I suddenly feel like the plane I stand in isn’t all that necessary; I’m convinced I could fly just from the heat of the passion this woman arises in me.
All my silent confidence goes out the window. I feel like kid again.
This woman’s special. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.
She’s perfect.
I have to make her mine.
2
Emma
I can’t take my eyes off the handsome doctor.
We stare deeply into each other’s souls and I feel like I’ve known him for a lifetime. All the scary excitement of my seat neighbours medical scare has melted away into a puddle of warm desire.
The tall man towers over us from his place in the aisle. He has broad shoulders that are barely contained by his crisp, buttoned up shirt. He has sharp, stunning cheekbones and a square jaw covered in dark, sexy stubble.
His eyes are the most gorgeous shade of steely blue that I’ve ever seen. They peer into my spirit and lift me up. For the first time on this flight, I feel like I’m actually flying.
I want to say something, but my mouth is dry and my brain is racing too fast to settle down.
Our passionate eye contact is broken, suddenly, when the stewardess taps the doctor on his shoulder.
She tells him something I quite can’t make out and he reluctantly nods and turns back the way he came. I follow him with my eyes down the aisle. People are clapping and shaking his hand. He modestly accepts the praise, but I can see that all the attention is making him a little uncomfortable. He clearly didn’t do what he just did for praise or attention. He did it because he thought it was the right thing to do.
I feel myself swooning over the stranger. I can’t take my eyes off him.
He finally stops at his seat, some 12 odd rows back from me. Before he sits, his gaze turns back to me. Even from this distance, his stare is so intense that the passion that radiates from it nearly burns a hole in my heart. I’m overcome by the sensation. I turn away like a child caught doing something she shouldn’t.
I feel my cheeks flush. I shift in my seat, anxious about what my future holds. I just want to run to the doctor and jump in his calm, stoic arms. I imagine a life with him. I slowly gain the courage to look back towards him. By the time I do, though, he has already sat down and is out of view.
I sigh and slink down into my seat.
I feel like I’m in love.
I look over to the older couple next to me. They’re snuggling up against each other. Their whispers are filled with pure joy and love.
I want that...
The older woman had said that she and her husband had been together for over 30 years.
If only I could find that kind of stability in my life. If only I could find the right man.
If only I could get a chance with that doctor.
I hear the familiar growls of my insecurities bite at that thought.
He’s out of your league... they say. Forget about it. You’re destined to die alone... unless you settle.
I don’t want to settle, though. I don’t want to die alone. I only want the doctor.
I rummage around in my immediate memories, trying to remember if I saw a ring on his rugged finger. I can’t recall one, but then again, I was too caught up in the action to take such notes.
First, I was knee-deep in the medical emergency beside me, and then I was overcome by the doctor’s manly beauty. I didn’t have a single moment to spare for his hands.
I become desperately anxious about catching up to him before the flight’s over. This moment is so precious and fragile. If I miss him, we could be separated forever, and my chance at true happiness goes right out of the window.
I peer out of the plane and into the clouds below. Nothing’s surviving that drop.
I take deep breaths and try to calm myself. I formulate a plan of action. I’m in front of the doctor, so I’ll be out of the plane first. I’ll just have to straggle behind, or walk slowly enough to luggage that he catches up.
What will I say? How do I get him to talk to me?
I’m so nervous.
I check the flight log on the screen before me. There’s still an hour left before we land.
This is going to be the longest hour of my life.
3
Max
When we land, I’m called ahead of the other passengers. The flight crew wants me to help out the older couple as they deboard. I oblige them.
I know that the old man’s going to be fine, but there’s no harm in lending a comforting hand.
I stand up and grab my bag from the overhead compartment. I’m a little hesitant to stand out so much. All the praise lavished on me after I returned to my seat before was a little too much. I’ve been far braver in the past, but when you’re in the Army, that kind of courage is expected.
I take it all in stride, though. I’m only happy to have been of help.
People thank me as I walk back to the old couple’s row.
I’m actually kind of glad that I’ve been given the chance to get out before everyone else. Not because it puts a spotlight on me, but because it’ll allow me to see that woman again.
I feel my breaths deepen as I approach. The anticipation of meeting her wonderful gaze again fills me with an exhilarating mix of anxiousness and happiness. Her eyes were so gentle and sweet and caring. I only want to look into them once more.
Unfortunately, when I arrive at her row, she’s asleep.
I feel a sinking in my gut. I had thought that I had felt a connection between the two of us. It was so strong for me that I couldn’t rest the last hour of the flight. Obviously, it wasn’t as intense for her, if she could fall asleep so easily.
Oh well, I still want to have her. I can make her love me, I’m sure of it.
I’ve had so many women fall for me in the past that I’m ultra-confident in my ability to make it happen again. I’m not sure what it is about me that makes them swoon so hard, but they always seem to fall head over heels.
I’ll be honest, usually I’m not too crazy about the kind of women who come onto me. Some of them only want to be with me because of my physique. Sure, I keep in great shape, but that’s for me and no one else. I could care less about body build; all I care about is the person. That’s why it can be so demotivating when I find out that a woman who is crushing on me is completely obsessed with her body image. I find it an instant turnoff, or, at least, I do when they’re doing it for reasons other than their own happiness.
If they’re starving themselves so that they can reel in some hot doctor, I’m not interested. Unfortunately, I only seem to attract those shallow kinds of mates. Just once, I’d like to meet someone who’s real; someone who doesn’t care about that kind of stuff; someone who wants to be with me for me.
I can’t seem to shake the feeling that the woman in the window seat is exactly the kind of girl I’m looking for.
Could she be my happily-ever-after? My forever girl?
I think she’s the one.
I need to do everything in my power to get closer to her.
4
Emma
I wake up in a confused daze.
The plane is nearly empty.
Did I really fall asleep? All that nervous energy must have really gotten to me.
I slowly sit up in my seat and wipe my eyes as the last stragglers wander out of the front.
I sigh at the memory of the handsome doctor. He was so sweet and confident. I feel a warmth wash over me when I picture his steely blue eyes. I sigh again, already daydreaming, when I suddenly feel a panicked wave of realization hit me.
Oh shit! Am I the last passenger on the plane!?
I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt and frantically look around.
The doctor’s seat is empty.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My one chance at true happiness and I blow it! That’s so typically me.
I race from my row and towards the exit.
Before I can get out, though, I’m stopped by a stewardess.
“Excuse me, Ma’am. Did you forget your carry-on bag?”
She points back behind me and I turn around. Sure enough, there’s my bag. It’s the last one left.
I feel like I’m going crazy. I scuttle back and grab it. It feels like a boulder on my back as I scurry out of the plane.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the stewardess, as I rush by her.
“We hope you enjoyed your flight,” I hear her fading voice call out from behind.
I’m nearly running now.
It will only have been a nice flight if I get to see the doctor again.
I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if I mess this up.
I shuffle through the winding airy tunnels of the airport like a maniac. I catch my reflection in the windows. I’m a mess. I’ve got sleepy head; my hair is all mussed up; my eyes are wide but heavy;
my top is crinkled from slouching in my seat – I couldn’t look worse.
What will this doctor think of me? I swear I felt a strong connection when our eyes met earlier... but maybe the dim airplane lighting was just working in my favor.
I’ll be the first to admit it, I’m not the skinniest girl out there. I’ve got some extra cushion on me. It makes for a great pillow on a long flight, but other than that, I feel it’s made my life harder.
I can sense the judgmental looks from both guys and girls sometimes. I don’t know why I get the look from other girls. Like, I get it – you’re skinny, and I’m not. In this society, that’s an advantage to you, right? Why look down on me for it, then?
Once in a while I almost convince myself that maybe these girls are jealous of my curves, but then they end up with some hot guy who’s way out of my league and I start doubting myself again.
I understand it a little more with guys. I’m still young – only a year out of college – and I can get crushes pretty easily. I know there’s a pressure for guys to have a skinny, traditionally attractive girlfriend. I get some attention – I’m not completely hopeless, after all – but when push comes to shove, almost every guy seems to choose someone else for a public relationship.
It makes me so insecure.
It hasn’t been so bad so far in my life, but that’s only because I’ve never really felt like I’ve met someone who I truly loved.
Crushes are crushes. They come and go in the blink of an eye. I get over those quickly... I have experience with that.
What I’m worried about, right now, is what I’m feeling towards the handsome doctor. It’s different than what I’ve felt before. It’s stronger. He feels special; like a bright marker in my monotone life.
I start to sweat as I trudge towards the baggage claim area.
I’m almost more nervous to actually find the doctor, and be rejected, than to not find him at all.
If we never see each other again, then at least I can daydream about the wonderful possibilities of a relationship with him. I have a good imagination; it’s served me well in the past.