Dr. Fellatio

by Author Stella

  Candi handed me a bank envelope, and as if on autopilot, I reached into my purse to retrieve her copy of the signed contract. I could end this, right now. All I had to do was tell her I wasn’t able to help her, hand her the envelope back, tear up the contract, and this would be over. Chris would never know I’d met his girlfriend, and I’d never have to endure the sheer torture of teaching another woman how to pleasure the only man I’d ever loved.

  But when Candi grabbed me in a hug, my mouth snapped shut. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how excited I am. This is going to be perfect.”

  I gently pushed away after returning her embrace. “I’ll be in touch soon, Candi.”

  She showed me to the door, and I offered her a pitiful excuse for a smile. No wonder she thought I needed to be set up with Nick, the bartender. If only she knew just how lonely my dating life had been, or that the reason was because I was in love with her boyfriend. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t seen him in years—he had captured my heart. We’d promised each other we’d only be apart two years while he chased his dream in Washington. But at the end of that timeframe, he hadn’t come home, I’d gotten lost in trying to impress the newly acquired Miriam Pratt, and my love life stayed firmly rooted in isolation. Eventually, I found my happiness in helping other women find theirs.

  The door that had quietly closed as the two of us slipped apart with time and distance between us just flew open and brought with it every ounce of emotion I’d ever felt for the only man who’d ever laid claim to my heart.

  4

  Chris

  I’d woken up with a dull ache behind my eyes, and within ten minutes of walking into my office, it had progressed into a deep throb. I should’ve taken something then, but before I could, Martin had shown up for our meeting. And from the time he’d walked in until now, my headache had gone from pounding to splitting.

  “Sir…” Martin tried to remain calm, it was clear in his clenched jaw and narrowed gaze. He appeared to be the kind of man who wasn’t used to answering to anyone, the speak-once-and-it’s-done type of guy.

  However, what he didn’t know was, I was the same way. And considering this was the second time I had to meet with him over the same issue, I wasn’t a happy camper. “I’m not even sure why we’re continuing to have this same conversation, Martin. I came to you about this since it involves one of your team members rather than handle it myself, yet the problem still hasn’t been corrected.”

  “It’s not that simple, sir.”

  “Not that simple?” I balked. “That sounds like a you problem, does it not? Maybe you should take a hard look at Alex’s position in the company before someone does the same with yours.”

  Having the kind of power at a company that I did here was something to boast about. But I hadn’t been given enough time to enjoy it. Instead of appreciating the respect people in my position received, I’d done nothing other than terrify those who worked on the floors below me—without ever stepping foot on any of those levels. One look at Martin reiterated that theory.

  “Yes or no, Martin…can you ensure the site won’t crash again because of Alex—or any member on your team—uploading files incorrectly? Can you sit here right now and tell me this issue won’t be repeated if I drop it and let you go back to work?”

  “Well…” He glanced down, proof enough of my intimidation—and how unfamiliar that feeling was to him. “Not exactly.”

  “Then it looks like I’ll have to do your job for you.”

  His head snapped back and his gaze met mine, panic reflecting in his wide eyes. “Sir, I don’t think that’s necessary. I spoke with Alex yesterday and—”

  “Yeah, so you say. Yet you sit here now and tell me you can’t guarantee this problem won’t happen again. I can’t take that chance, Martin. Maybe you don’t grasp the severity of this, but the entire site crashed. Not just for the Atlanta office, but the company as a whole.” I wasn’t sure how many other ways I needed to reword this before it stuck.

  No wonder the turnover rate for this position was so high. Ever since my first day as the IT director, there was something that required immediate attention. I had no idea if it was because one person never stayed long enough to enforce policies regarding software, or if these people were seriously too inept to follow simple instructions. Either way, I had to convince myself every morning to get dressed and come into the office. It was that bad. I mean, I came to Atlanta to find Lexi and persuade her to give me another chance, yet I hadn’t had a single second to do that—because of my job.

  “I do understand, Mr. Moore. Believe me, I fully comprehend the kind of impact this has had on the company and how damaging it would be if it happens again.”

  “But…?” There was always a but.

  “I can’t make any promises since Alex hasn’t uploaded a single file to the site. It’s kind of hard to say it’ll never happen again when as far as I’m aware, it never happened in the first place.”

  “Excuse me?” I placed my hands on the top of my desk and stood tall, towering over him as I leaned forward. “These emails don’t lie. The site crashing because files were uploaded incorrectly is also not a lie. The username connected to the uploads—the same one listed in these emails—is most definitely…not a lie.”

  “I’m not saying it didn’t happen, just that Alex didn’t do it. But I’m working on finding out who did and once I do, I’ll take care of it. Then I’ll be able to ensure there won’t be another issue.” He apparently thought that would calm me down.

  It did not.

  I’d been dealing with furious executives from California since yesterday, and it appeared the only way I’d get the problem solved was to do it myself. “You know what, Martin? Get Alex in here.”

  “Sir, that’s really not necessary. If you’d just hear me out, you would—”

  “I don’t have the time nor patience to hear you out. This should’ve been handled yesterday. As it is, we’ve spent too long working on getting the site back up, and the last thing we need—me, you, the Atlanta office, Seneca as a whole—is for the system to come down again in a few days. Which will happen if Alex isn’t effectively schooled in the process of uploading files.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” He fished his phone out of his pocket, but I stopped him before he dialed the first number.

  “You’re dismissed,” I muttered while reorganizing the stack of papers on my desk.

  “E-excuse me?”

  I glanced up, ignoring the beating going on inside my head. “You heard me.”

  “But I thought you wanted me to call Alex up here.”

  I smiled, although it wasn’t the kind that accompanied happiness or pride. It was the mocking kind—the same smile I typically gave CeeCee when she did or said something stupid, which was a daily occurrence. “Yes, I did. But you don’t need to be here for that. It’s clear you couldn’t handle the situation yesterday, so now it’s my turn to do both of our jobs. Trust me, Martin…” I leaned forward on my elbows. “You don’t want to be here when that happens.”

  With his jaw clenched, his face turning a nice shade of red wine, he nodded and stood from his seat across from me. The kicker was when he exited my office without so much as a parting word. Although, I’m sure he mentally flicked me off and cursed me out.

  Making friends was my favorite part of a job.

  And so far, I was well on my way to a one-man bromance.

  If Alex was smart—that thought made me laugh since he clearly wasn’t—he would rush to my office. But his intelligence had already been called into question, so I straightened my desk and caught up on the abundance of emails from the corporate office that had come in while Martin wasted my time.

  “Mr. Moore, sir.” Martha, my admin assistant, caught my attention with her meek, shaky voice.

  I turned my focus to where she stood with only her head peeking through the cracked door. “Please, call me Patrick.” She had to be at least forty years older than me, so hearing her address me as “sir
” was odd and stuffy.

  “Okay…Patrick. Um, I know you told me to hold your calls while you’re in your meeting, but sir, they’re getting rather angry. I’m not sure how to handle this. I don’t think I can keep putting them off.”

  I dropped my head into my hands and blew out a harsh exhale. When I met her gaze again, the panic shining back at me made my heart plummet into the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry about that. They shouldn’t be taking their frustrations out on you.” Yeah, and neither should I. “Give me a minute and I’ll set my line on do not disturb, that way, you can transfer the calls and they can leave a message. They can be pissed at me all they want.”

  A small grin tugged at the corners of her thin lips. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Patrick.” I raised one eyebrow and pointed a non-serious stare her way. “My name’s Patrick. This is the last warning I’ll give you,” I said, making sure she heard my teasing tone. When she nodded, her smile now wider, I added, “Next time you use anything else, I won’t respond.”

  “I’ll make a note of that.” At least her voice was stronger and lacked any semblance of a tremble. “Thank you,” she said on her way out.

  I turned back to my computer and the emails waiting for me. After a few minutes, Martha’s voice came through the intercom to inform me that Alex had arrived. I instructed her to let him in, and then remembered I hadn’t changed the phone settings like I told her I would.

  I stood and leaned down, bending over the top of my desk to send the calls to voicemail before I forgot again. And when the door to my office opened, I gestured to the chair Martin had vacated.

  “Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you in one second,” I instructed in a distracted tone, too focused on the seven hundred and twenty-eight options on the phone. Okay, there weren’t that many, but it certainly seemed like it as I quickly tried to find the one I searched for.

  I pressed a few keys, then a few more until I found what I was looking for. If the bigwigs in California wanted to scream at me for sending them to voicemail, then so be it. Just as long as they left Martha alone. Once I had the calls redirected, I held up my index finger in a gesture to ask for another minute and pushed the intercom button.

  Movement blurred in my peripheral vision, growing closer until there was a body seated across from me. Then a gasp came from a few inches away and caught my attention. Not because it was sharp or loud or even riddled with fright. It was slow and soft, a barely audible inhalation. My gaze inched to the edge of my desk, just enough for a folded pair of hands to come into focus.

  A folded pair of delicate hands.

  A folded pair of delicate hands with fingernails painted pink.

  Bright pink.

  I gradually shifted my eyes to those fingers until I had a better line of sight to the other person in the room. I’d instructed Martin to send Alex to my office, so I was a little thrown off finding a woman here in his place. She had on a pair of grey slacks, which appeared to have been made for her body by the way the fabric hugged her thighs. I had to move along, refusing to be caught in the middle of a sexual harassment scandal in week two. But when I made it to her top, my already unhurried observation slowed. And by slowed, I meant stopped. The first three buttons on her cream-colored top were unfastened, showing off a sneak peek of her cleavage.

  It wasn’t that I was gawking at her. I was simply observing who was in my office.

  I might’ve also taken a moment to appreciate what was in front of me.

  If the definition of “moment” was a really long time.

  Surprise became confusion when I realized Alex wasn’t here. While lingering on this woman’s chest—outfit, I regarded her outfit—my confusion transitioned into interest. And that interest burned bright as my gaze deliberately traced her long, elegant neck. She remained unmoving, only the subtle thrumming of her heartbeat just below her jawline proved she was alive and not a doll. My sight drifted from her dark locks that were brightened by strands of honey and caramel to the strawberry hue decorating her prominent yet feminine cheekbones. Her pale-pink lips were barely parted, offering somewhat of a shocked pucker.

  I was undoubtedly drawn to her.

  But the moment I found her eyes, wide and locked on mine, the fiery interest that I’d felt half a breath ago had detonated. Those steely pools with strokes of green and dashes of blue exploded within my chest in a myriad of pain, longing, and unbridled love. They stole the life from inside me and left a glorious wreckage in its wake.

  “Hey, beautiful.” I had no idea what had happened to my voice, but it had taken a hike and replaced itself with a desperate, throaty imitation as I recited the greeting I hadn’t uttered in five long years. It was like autopilot. I saw her, and the words just came out like we hadn’t spent a day apart.

  “Excuse me?” The voice came from in front of me, even though her lips never moved.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “You have?” She sounded concerned. I had no idea why, though. “I’m right here. What do you need?”

  “You.” It was such a simple answer, and probably the most honest thing I’d ever said.

  “Oh, uh…okay?” Her shocked eyes didn’t match the bewilderment in her tone. Nor did her mouth match the words that were spoken. It was like Lexi had mastered the art of throwing her voice. “So…is there anything else you need from me?”

  “There’s not enough time in the world to list everything. Right now, I’ll just take you.”

  “I, uh…I’m not sure how to respond to that, sir.”

  “Why are you calling me sir? My name’s Chris.”

  “Oh. I thought it was Patrick.” Her words were delayed, broken and slowed by uncertainty.

  “Baby, you know my name. Why are you acting like this?” I wanted to jump over the desk and shake her, make her wake up from whatever dream she was in.

  “Is this a test?” She paused long enough to gasp—this time, the kind that was filled with worry. “Are you having a stroke? Do I need to call for help?”

  I studied Lexi’s mouth as her fearful questions filled the room, but rather than move to form each word, a wicked smile stretched across her lips. It was the strangest thing. She sounded so scared, yet she appeared to be stifling her laughter.

  “Mr. Moore? Sir? Can anyone hear me? Is Alex still there? Oh, God…”

  I pinched my brows so tightly that it gave my headache a migraine.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m still here.” Finally, her lips moved, but this time, her voice was drowning in hilarity. Uncontrollable laughter erupted from her chest and glittered in her watercolor eyes. “Don’t worry, he’s okay.”

  A sigh of relief mingled with Lexi’s amusement in front of me.

  That’s when I dropped my attention to the phone between us. The one I had used to call Martha right before Lexi’s gasp and hands and pink fingernails had caught my eye. “Oh, shit,” I muttered to myself and fumbled with the receiver to take her off speaker. “Martha, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine, really.” She was embarrassed, but if she only knew the catastrophic levels of humiliation that ran through me, maybe she’d feel better. “Is it okay to transfer your calls to your office now?”

  “Yes. That would perfect. Thank you.” I didn’t waste a second returning the receiver to the cradle and turning my focus back to Lexi. “What are you doing here?”

  “You, um…you told Martin to send me up here.”

  “No. I told him to send up Alex.”

  She blinked a few times and cocked her head. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “No,” I repeated, wondering if this was all some sick game. “You Lexi. Me Chris. No Alex.”

  “You about to beat on your chest, too, Tarzan?”

  She was supposed to laugh at my joke.

  She did not.

  I fell into my seat, probably with far more exaggeration than needed. “Lexi…”

  “No one calls me that.” Her voice was hard, nothing like how she
used to speak to me. Nothing at all like the fit of giggles that had rolled through her moments ago. “And from what I can tell, no one calls you Chris anymore, either.”

  “Uh, no…not really. Apparently, that’s a rather popular name among IT guys. I started going by my first name at DigiTech to lessen the confusion.”

  Her lips twisted to the side. “Patrick doesn’t suit you. You look nothing like your father.”

  She’d said those same words to me years ago when I told her the whole story about being named after my dad and why I went by my middle name, but this time, I ignored it, considering she only said it to push my buttons. “Why are you going by Alex? I thought you hated that.”

  She swallowed hard, her throat moving with the action, which did nothing but remind me of how quickly I could make her melt with one touch along her neck. But that daydream was ripped away when she said, “Why did you call me up here, Mr. Moore?”

  “Really? That’s how you want to do this, so formally?”

  “Considering we’re at work, yes.”

  “Fuck the formalities.”

  “Kind of like how you fucked our relationship? Our plans for a future?” She licked her lips as if preparing herself to say more, but she must’ve thought better of it, because she ran her hands along her thighs, smoothing the creases in her pants. “If you don’t have a reason for me to be here, I should get back to work.”

  If this was how she wanted to play it, then so be it. Once I had this issue taken care of, we could discuss everything else. I grabbed a few of the emails and began to scan them—or, at least, pretend to.

  “Are you a member of Team F? Specifically, Seneca Marketing Atlanta Team F?” It literally killed me inside to speak to her with such coldness, as if we’d never met before this, let alone once been in love.

  “Yes.”

  “And your user ID is Alex-C-four-one-three?”