Grumpy Doctor

by B. B. Hamel

  “God, yes,” she whispered.

  “But physical attraction wasn’t enough.”

  “I brought you out of your shell with my charm.”

  I kissed her neck, down to her breasts, teased her nipples again, before falling down lower, lower, until I took off her panties, and looked at her, sprawling, naked, beautiful. I kissed her inner thigh, savoring every inch of exposed skin before I finally reached her dripping pussy. I licked her, lapping her up, sucked her clit, then slid my fingers deep inside again.

  “You did,” I said, meeting her gaze. She stared at me, eyes glassy with pleasure. “Slowly though, I started to realize I had to have this.” I licked her again, sucked her harder, faster. “I realized I needed you and was willing to change for it.”

  “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, back arching again—then reached down and pushed me back. “You’re so full of shit.”

  I laughed. “What do you mean?”

  She dropped down onto the floor in front of me then pulled at my pants. She took them off, threw them aside, pulled off my boxer briefs, and took me in both her hands.

  She took me deep into her mouth, lips spreading open, her tongue rolling in quick circles, and I let out a satisfied moan.

  Fucking hell, it felt like heaven, and I completely forgot about what we’d been talking about.

  She pulled back, stroking me fast.

  “You act like you had this big revelation, but you’re full of shit. You’re still doing the same old crap, even if now you’re trying to fuck me too.”

  “I’m not trying,” I said, leaning forward, grabbing her hair, and kissing her. “I am fucking you.”

  She laughed and took my cock in her mouth again. I pressed her down and growled my delight as she pulled back, both hands working me.

  “That’s not enough,” she said. “You want more? Then you’ve got to try to change.”

  “Right now, darling, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  She smirked a little, tilting her head, and I loved the way her breasts moved as she stroked me.

  “I know you will. So you’re going to promise, right now, that when this is through, we’re going to figure out how to get out of this problem. We’re going to do it together.”

  I kissed her. “I promise.”

  “Good.” She helped me take off my shirt then kissed my chest, my hard abs, before straddling me.

  Her back arched and I gripped her hips as she slowly slid down along my shaft.

  We moved together slowly, my cock buried inside of her. I kissed her, nibbled her lip, palmed her breasts, slapped her ass. She worked faster and I dug my fingers into her back, feeling the muscles contract and tense, and goddamn, she was perfect, fit and slick, and every movement sent me into new levels of ecstasy. She rode faster, leaning her hands back on my knees, and I teased her clit with my thumb, making her eyes roll back.

  I turned her again, pinning her back down on the couch. I wanted her to feel it as much as I felt it, wanted to give her pleasure, to give her everything. She deserved better than I could provide right now. I was too enmeshed in controversy, and my future was so uncertain—and she deserved someone stable.

  I wanted to be that for her. Hell, I wanted to be it for myself.

  Which meant she was right.

  I had to change.

  I slid deep inside her, moving my hips faster. I kissed her neck and listened her panting, moaning, whispering my name. We worked ourselves into a lather, into a lovely sweat, and I moved back to gaze at her, loving her hip bones, her small shoulders, the tiny light hairs on her arms, her pink stiff nipples, the way her lips parted and her tongue showed, the way her eyes rolled back as I gave her the pleasure she needed, again and again, deeper and rougher, however she wanted, however she said she had to have it, until I pulled her back and turned her around, legs spread wide, arms on the back of the couch, and slipped myself in from behind, one hand wrapped around her hip to rub against her clit, and fucked her like that.

  She took me, back arching, and all that magnificent sweat rolled down her perfect, wonderful skin. I slapped her ass and kept going as her pleasure mounted, her moans getting louder, her words unintelligible, because there were no words anymore, this was physical, pure and animal and physical, it was the thing I didn’t know could transform me, but as I felt her come, her pussy clenching and dripping, her head throw back, her moans coming loud and wild, I knew I was changed, or at least I would change—for her, I’d try.

  I came inside her moments later in a white-hot bliss.

  We sat together, panting and sweating. It felt like hours had passed. She kissed my chest, and I kissed her lips, and pulled at her hair, and marveled at how small she was. I could throw her around if I wanted—and I did want that, I wanted it very much.

  “Is this what you had in mind when you said you had to come over?” she asked, leaning up against my chest.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “But as soon as you let me inside, it might’ve crossed my mind.”

  She let out a little laugh then looked up at me. “What do we do now? I mean, that’s a line we can’t uncross, right?”

  “I don’t want to uncross it.” I kissed her softly. “I thought I’d stay over for a while.”

  “Oh, did you?” She grinned a little and I could tell she liked the idea. “I hadn’t invited you.”

  “You will though, because in a few minutes, I’m going to want to do that again.”

  She chewed her lip. “Are you?”

  “Absolutely. Then when I’m finished with you, which might take a while, and I promise you’ll enjoy every second, then we can talk business.”

  “What sort of business?”

  “The sort that’ll help get us out of this very bad situation.”

  “Coming up with a plan already?”

  “I’ve got ideas. You’re very inspiring.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “Should I stay then?”

  “Yes, doctor,” she said, sitting up and looking at me, one elbow on the back of the couch. I let my eyes roam along her body, along the graceful curve of her neck, her chin, her nose, those bright, pretty eyes.

  “This might take a while. Think you can handle it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her with every intention of taking my fill of her and much more.

  19

  Lori

  He picked me up in a black car I didn’t recognize. I was cold in my short, forest-green cocktail dress, and it took two hours to get my hair just right.

  He smiled, cocked his head, and noticed. “You look good.”

  “You look good yourself.” I smiled and leaned across the car and kissed him.

  He caught me before I could move back to my side and kissed my lips for a long moment.

  I sat back, flushed a little, and smiled like a moron.

  He hadn’t been kidding that night, when he said he wanted to take me some more. It wasn’t until after midnight when we finally started talking about what to do, and even then, he wanted more—one final taste before bed. I felt sore and happy for the week after.

  Part of me thought he was joking when he invited me to a charity gala. The idea of Piers going to any sort of event seemed too hilarious to picture, especially not one that required fancy outfits and plenty of mingling with donors and the like—and yet he really did show up, and he really was dressed in a black, perfectly tailored suit, and he really did look fantastic.

  “Phase one of the plan,” he said, pulling the car into traffic. “Now, remember, you’re not here as my date.”

  “What is the story, anyway?”

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he sped toward a banquet hall out in west Philadelphia, near the University of Pennsylvania. “I’m bringing you to network. Which means you have to network.”

  “You could always tell people I’m your assistant.”

  He snorted. “Nobody would believe it.”

  “And would they believe that you’re g
oing to an event like this to begin with?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll make the rounds and see if there’s anyone you should suck up to.”

  His jaw flexed. He wasn’t happy about this, that much was obvious, but that night we’d talked about the plan, which boiled down to this: Piers was going to do his best to play the game, make nice, and hope that Caroline and Gina changed their minds about him.

  It was spotty at best, but this hospital gala was the first step. He’d been invited, like every prominent doctor was invited, and normally he would’ve ignored the whole thing—but I talked him into showing up.

  Of course, I hadn’t expected him to really follow through, but it was a pleasant surprise.

  He parked in a garage reserved for the event and we crossed the street to a relatively large and upscale hotel. It had a classic facade with lots of extensive brickwork and columns, while the interior was on the modern side, with lots of marble floors and simple but chic decorations. The main ballroom was over near the bar, and men and women in expensive clothes lounged around, drinking and talking.

  I stuck close to him, but not too close. I wanted to hold his hand, or show any sign of affection, but I knew we couldn’t, especially not here of all places. “Recognize anyone?” I asked.

  “That old guy at the bar,” he said, indicating a frog-like gentleman with bright white hair and a scowl. “He’s a donor. Don’t know his name.”

  “Go say hello.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Piers. It’s the reason you’re here. Will he know you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then go.”

  He gave me a pained look. “I’m getting a drink if I have to go over there.”

  “Go ahead, just don’t overdo it.”

  He grunted in response and stalked off. I watched him go with a smile, feeling like I just released a captive condor back into the wild. He leaned up against the bar next to the frog-like man and struck up a conversation, and though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, he frog man looked surprised, but delighted.

  I headed into the ballroom. It was packed with people, most of them older, though I recognized some from the hospital. I wasn’t sure what the charity was for, some sort of cancer, I couldn’t tell from the signage, and it didn’t really matter. These things weren’t about the cause, though of course the money was always appreciated.

  No, events like this were about the hospital admins pimping themselves out to the wealthiest people in the city in the hopes that they’d get a few thousand more dollars out of them. I drifted over toward an open bar at the far side of the room and got a gin and tonic. I sipped it, and marveled at the empty dance floor, the empty stage, the long red drapes hanging over the walls. Nobody seemed interested in anything but socializing, and that was fine with me.

  Piers entered the room a few minutes later. I thought about going up to him, but a group of older men and women beat me to it. He smiled at them, gestured with his drink, and said something that made them all laugh. I watched, a strange sense of pride spreading through me.

  He was trying. He hated this, but he was trying. We both agreed this sort of thing was going to be necessary—he had to go above and beyond simply being nicer at work at this point. He was too far down the rabbit hole, and only drastic measures might help.

  Besides, these people in this room, they could be useful. The Tippett family likely had some representative somewhere, but beyond them, there were other powerful people that could help. I wasn’t sure if he would actually form any alliances, but it was a start.

  “Dr. Court?”

  I looked to my right, surprised to hear my name. Gina stood nearby, wearing a simple black dress, diamond studs in her ears. She looked ten years younger outside of the hospital.

  “Hello, Gina,” I said.

  She smiled a little, uncertain and confused as she joined me. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  Which meant she thought I didn’t belong.

  “Piers brought me,” I said.

  Her eyes went wide. “He’s here?” Then she laughed. “Or did he force you to come in his stead?”

  “He’s here,” I said, gesturing toward him. “Seems to be enjoying himself.”

  Gina stood in stunned silence and watched as Piers told another joke, and got another warm laugh from his growing crowd of admirers.

  “What the hell?” Gina asked softly, shaking her head. “He never comes to this stuff. I asked him about it once, and he told me, and I’m quoting now, charity galas are for rich old assholes to spread their assholes and let everyone get a good peek. I don’t know, it’s a crude metaphor and doesn’t make sense, but he said it.”

  I shook my head. “Sounds like him.”

  “And now he’s here.” She gave me an appraising look. “What did you do?”

  I decided a little honesty might help us out here, and besides, I didn’t feel like lying about everything. “I told him what you told me.”

  She grimaced slightly. “I suppose you would.”

  “Can you blame me? He didn’t take it well.”

  “And yet he’s been relatively good this past week. No complaints, at least.”

  “Gina, can I ask you something?”

  She shrugged and sipped from her wine glass. “Go ahead. Might as well.”

  “Who makes those complaints? Patients?”

  “Nurses, usually. Sometimes other doctors.” She pursed her lips. “Rarely patients. Never patients, actually.”

  “Doesn’t that say a lot to you?”

  “Hospitals aren’t all about patients, unfortunately.” She looked at me over her glass. “It’s a workplace, Lori. If someone acts like an asshole at a normal office, they don’t get to stick around just because they’re good at their job. Assholes get fired.”

  “Not when they’re exceptional.”

  “Maybe, that’s probably why he’s lasted so long.” She shook her head and watched Piers. “But unfortunately, I’m not sure it’ll help.”

  “He’s trying, you know.”

  “I see that. I’m guessing you had a hand in convincing him.”

  “Not really. I think he was ready to change before I got here. I think I’m just one more project to him.”

  She laughed softly. “I can see that. Why’d he bring you, by the way?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He said I should network. I think he just wanted someone he could boss around if things got bad.”

  “You don’t have it easy, do you?”

  “But I wouldn’t change it for the world. He’s making me a much better surgeon.”

  She tapped her finger on the glass then shook her head. “I’ll admit, I’m happy to see him here, and I’m happy to see him performing. But I’m afraid it’s not enough. Tell him I said hello, I was on my way out.” She smiled at me and walked off, leaving her glass on an empty table, and skirting around the edge of the crowd.

  I watched her go, my face a cloud of anger and confusion.

  I knew this wasn’t going to instantly fix everything, but I thought at least it would be a start. Gina seemed to think it was a good thing—but she also didn’t seem like she wanted to give Piers a chance at all.

  Like it didn’t matter what he did. They were still going to fire him.

  I finished my drink and got another. Piers joined me a while later, sitting at a table toward the back as the rest of the crowd continued to mill about. A woman gave a speech about the charity—breast cancer, as it happened—and most of the people in the room gave her barely more than half their attention.

  “You’re killing it out there,” I said as he leaned toward me.

  “Not too hard. I’m a novelty to these people.”

  “Are you? I don’t know. You can be charming sometimes.”

  “Obviously, since you’re so smitten.”

  “Easy there, tiger.” I turned my glass around in little circles. “I ran into Gina earlier.”


  “What’d she have to say for herself?”

  “It was weird. She seemed surprised and happy you were here, but then almost like it didn’t matter.”

  His face clouded as he drummed his fingers on the table. “How do you mean?”

  “Like no matter what you do, you’re getting fired. Win, lose, didn’t change anything, they wanted you gone, and so you were gone.”

  He leaned back in his chair and watched the woman speaker. She was young, in her thirties maybe, straight dark hair, conservative dress.

  “I got that sense,” he said. “Talking to some of the people here.”

  “Really? They know what’s going on at the hospital.”

  “No,” he said. “But they know about the Tippett lawsuit. They just keep saying, they’re so sorry, so sorry, they wish they could do something. And you know what? They could, if they wanted. It’s like I’m already dead and I didn’t even know it.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought this could be a turning point.”

  “I’m starting to think there’s no turning point. There’s no going back.”

  “Piers—”

  “This was probably a waste of time.” He pushed his drink away. “I should go.”

  “Piers,” I said as he stood and walked off. I followed him, hurrying out into the lobby, my heels clacking over the marble. I caught up as we stepped out into the evening, and he didn’t look at me as we crossed the street toward the parking garage.

  He slowed as we walked down the sloping concrete ramp toward the cars, then stopped and faced me. “You know what’s sort of sick?”

  “What?” Shadows lengthened all around us in the dim gloom of the structure.

  “I wanted to change,” he said. “I still want to change. It’s not easy for me, doing all this socializing shit. If I had my way, I’d keep my head down and concentrate on my procedures. For a long time nothing else mattered.”

  “But now you see maybe there’s more.”

  “There shouldn’t be.” He turned away, looking out across the gloomy structure. “It should be about the patients, but it’s not.”

  “Gina said it’s a workplace. We’re with other people there, whether we like it or not, and you can’t only be nice to the patients. You have to keep the other doctors and staff in mind.”