by Rosemary Rey
Keta moved out of the way and allowed him to sit at the couch. He pulled my lower leg onto his lap, removed my hand from my shin, and slowly peeled the napkins. The blood had stopped flowing, but the cut was deep enough to see the meaty tissue inside of my skin. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small flashlight. He turned it on and handed it to Chelz to hold. She illuminated the wound while he dug in his bag again and retrieved a package. He put gloves on his large hands. All I could think about were the size of his fingers and how that translates to the size of his penis. I bit my bottom lip thinking about it. Even injured, I was fixated on sex. Chelsea was right I was sex deprived. Doctor Dashing reached for another white sterile package. He opened the package and pulled out a needle, and that’s when I passed out.
FIVE
I woke up in a dark room, and I couldn’t tell where I was. I had a splitting headache. My leg hurt, and I had to pee so badly. I looked around hoping that my eyes would adjust to the limited lighting. I found a stream of light coming from the end of the curtain.
I lifted up my body, reclining on my elbows, and heard light breathing beside me. I startled and scrambled out of the strange bed. It was definitely a man in the bed. There is only one man I would’ve gone home with last night, and that was Dashing. I knew my girls would never let me go home with a complete stranger. I hoped Dashing was the sleeping giant in the bed. It took me a few seconds to think through the events of last night, which led me to this very moment. I remembered Doctor Dashing dancing provocatively with me. I also remembered the mortifying moment when I told him that he could take me home and fuck me. Did he fuck me? And I missed it?
I remembered that I cut my shin. He said he would stitch me up. I couldn’t remember what happened next.
I looked down at what I was wearing. By the feel, size and length, I seemed to be wearing a man’s undershirt. It was super soft. I reached for the collar and sniffed it. A light lavender scent tickled my nose. Underneath the shirt, I felt my bra and panties fully in place on my body. I touched my panties at my fold and it was dry. A sighed in relief that I hadn’t had sex. I wanted to fuck him completely sober. I didn’t want to forget any second of the experience. Good or bad, I wanted to be with him and revel in the experience.
I leaned in and looked to confirm that it was Dashing. His face was turned away from me. The physical size of the sleeping giant was consistent with his body. I poked at his shoulder hoping that he would turn his face toward me. He didn’t. He snuggled deeper into the bed, burrowing his body in the mattress.
The need to urinate overtook me. I walked toward the bedroom door, which was left slightly ajar. I walked into the living room on a quest for a toilet. It was also dark in the living room, but could see the outline of sunlight around the drapes. I walked over to the long heavy drapes and peeled it back, allowing the sunlight to blaze into the living room. I couldn’t tell the time from the dawning of the sun. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the brightness. When they adjusted, I saw that we we’re very high up. The view was spectacular. From the location of the building, I could tell we were in midtown Boston. I could see so many landmarks, and the view of the water was spectacular.
I could no longer hold my urine, and turned around to continue seeking the bathroom. When I looked up, I saw Dashing standing before me. He was bare chested, a dusting of trimmed hair on his chest, and he was wearing boxers. God, he looked so sexy. The pressure in my bladder was replaced with my flip-flopping stomach and aroused sex. The nerves traveled up to my throat. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to cover my body. I crossed my legs to withhold the urine that dared drip from between my legs.
“Hi.” He said with a smile.
“Hi. I have to go to the bathroom,” I said self-consciously.
“Oh, yeah. It’s right behind me,” he turned and pointed to the door behind him. I walked gingerly on my tip toes toward the door very aware of the dull ache on my left leg. I closed the door as soon as I got into the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet, the tension released as I urinated. Relieving myself after a long night of drinking was almost as good as an orgasm. Almost.
I washed my hands. I looked around the bathroom. A pretty little half bath with marbled tile throughout the room. I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh, God, I looked horrible. Note to self: never drink again. My face was puffy. The makeup from last night was caked and streaked in parts on my face. My black, curly hair was frizzy and wild around my head. I turned on the cold water, pulled up the stopper, and let the cold water collect in the sink. After turning off the water, I dunked my head in. It would be great if I could spend ten minutes soaking my face in the cold water to reduce the puffiness. As I dipped my face into the water for a third time, I felt the dull pain and remembered that I’d hurt my leg. I remembered, he’d left to get his medical bag when I cut my shin. Think, Perla. What happened next?
Dashing knocked on the door. “Are you okay in there?” He must’ve thought that I was looking through his medicine cabinets, which would be the thing I would do.
“I’ll be out soon.” I yelled. I knew I had to get out and face Dashing. I took some of the water into my hands and ran my moist hands into my hair, hoping to reactivate the products I’d used last night to smooth out the frizz. I pulled my hair to the side and twisted my long curls into a loose bun. I smoothed out the curls at my temples. After pressing down the stopper, I watched the water drain out quickly. I rinsed my mouth with warm water. I took the hand towel and patted my face and hands. I wiped down the sink to dry everything. I saw water on the floor. Nice. I bent down and wiped the floor. Not knowing what to do with the towel, I held onto it. I said a little prayer, sign of the cross on my forehead, deep inhale, and exhaled on turning the door knob.
I stepped out into the bright room. I could see the skyline clearly now that the sun was partially covered by clouds; gorgeous view. From my peripheral vision, I saw Dashing coming toward me from the kitchen. Nervous bubbles rose in my belly to my chest. I felt flushed.
“I made coffee. How do you take yours?” He asked gently.
“I’ll just take it black.” He looked at me quizzically, raising a dark, full brow that he’d raised when I met with him in his consultation room.
“Really? I thought you would want it light and sweet.” It was my turn to question that remark.
“What does that mean? Is there a way people take their coffee based on personality. I’m neither light or sweet.” I declared. He smirked and grabbed at my hand.
“When you came into my office, you were drinking a latte. I could smell the sugar when I leaned over you to test your legs. What’s this?” He looked at my hand. I raised the towel. I was still mulling over his recollection that I drank a latte and that my breath smelled sweet. I almost came.
“I used it to clean up some of the water off the floor. I couldn’t find a place to put it for laundering.”
“No worries. Glynnis will take care of that.” He took the towel.
“Glynnis?” I asked. A bit of concern that he may have a girlfriend, or worse, a wife.
“My house keeper. She’ll wash it when she comes in on Monday.”
I was relieved that Glynnis is his house keeper, but I was more intrigued that he had one. It always sounded like such a luxury, one that I couldn’t reconcile when married to Ben. There was an expectation that I take care of work and home.
He took my hand and walked me toward the kitchen counter. He pulled out the stool and lifted my arm to have a seat. He’s such a gentleman. I experienced it last night when we were at the club. I found his manners and control irresistible, but I needed to proceed with caution. Alcohol, on both of our parts, could have been the reason for why he approached me at the club. If I hadn’t had a few shots of liquid courage, I wouldn’t have had the courage to tell him that I was sober enough to fuck him.
Despite having a house keeper, he looked very comfortable in the kitchen. He retrieved two glass mugs and poured
coffee into both. He poured steamed milk into one and stirred. He handed me the black coffee. I’m lactose intolerant. I didn’t want to get into it with a doctor, albeit an orthopedic surgeon.
“Thank you.” I took a sip and while I knew it would wake me up and beat back the lingering hangover, it was horrible without steamed almond or soy milk and five raw sugars.
“Would you like something to eat? I can make you some eggs or something.”
Mmm, ‘he cooks’, I thought. I couldn’t stomach any food right now. I would’ve loved for him to cook for me because it would be a nice change of pace. “You cook?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes. I can make a few things. Breakfast is my specialty.” He replied confidently.
“I’m not really up for food right now, but I’ll take you up on breakfast some other time.” I said hopefully. He smirked and closed the refrigerator door.
“How’s your leg?” He asked seriously, walking around the counter. He pulled up the stool beside me and sat down. He reached over to my left leg, turning my stool in the process. At his touch, I felt the jolt of electricity rise from my belly to my chest. He lifted my left leg up to his lap and laid it on his tight quad. I could feel the hardness of his thighs under my calf. He stroked my leg with the tips of my fingers. I had to stifle a moan by biting my lower lip. The saliva collected in my mouth because the lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. And I clenched my pussy to reduce the wetness that was pooling. I took a deep breath and swallowed.
“It hurts a little.” I looked down when I felt him pulling up the tape around the cotton gauze. Thank goodness I shaved. Twice I’ve shaved for this man. Well, once; when I visited him at his clinic. I shaved yesterday for the party, and the unintended effect was him now touching my freshly shaved leg. I just wish it were under different circumstances. Thankfully, I’d also lady-scaped my mound, which hopefully will come in handy.
He pulled up the gauze and inspected the three sutures that he inserted to close the gash that I created by being silly while dancing with Keta. I guess I must’ve passed out because I didn’t remember him stitching me up. I let out a loud sigh. He looked up at me with a serious face, almost reading my thoughts.
“It looks fine. There’ll be a small scar. These are dissolvable stitches, so no need for follow up unless it gets infected. I’ll keep an eye on it.” That last statement was a surprise. So ‘he’ll keep an eye on it.’ Does this mean we’ll see each other again? What would be the circumstances?
I felt him put the gauze back down over the stitches and gently pressed down the tape to hold it in place. For such big hands, he was extremely gentle. He didn’t lower my leg off his thigh. He kept it on his lap, even after he retrieved his coffee mug and took a sip. His fingertips lightly caressed my skin. As he drank, he looked straight through me as if trying to read me. My heart skipped several beats as his grip started to tighten and he began kneading my calf. My muscles tightened above his grasp. My toes started to curl. I could feel the stirrings in my groin. I needed to break his gaze because it was so sexy that it was making me uncomfortable.
“Thank you so much for taking care of me last night. I don’t want to keep you from your day. I’ll just get dressed and go.” I said not-so-convincingly. I attempted to pull my leg off and he held me firmly in his grasp.
“I don’t have much to do today. I have to go to the hospital later this morning and do a few rounds. I’m not on-call. I’d like to spend it with you, if you’re free.” I felt like my heart would burst in my chest. I needed to play this cool.
“I’m free, but I think I should go. I’ve imposed enough. You’ve been really kind to me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for taking care of me last night.” Again, I started to slide my leg down so I could get up from the stool. He held a strong grip on my calf and with his left hand he held me onto the chair by the waist.
“You’ve already mentioned how you can repay me. Remember? Last night? When we were dancing.” I shuddered internally at the memory of our first kiss. My nipples hardened in my bra. My breasts felt heavy and uncomfortable in my bra. It was suddenly hot in here. I felt my face flush.
“Hmm. I don’t remember. Remind me again what I said.” I played it coy. He set his mug down and leaned close to my face. Mouth so close that I could smell the sweet coffee on his breath. Not wanting him to smell my morning breath mixed with black coffee, I kept my mouth closed and tilted my head down slightly. He moved his hand from my waist and reached up to touch my chin. His hands were so warm.
He lifted up my chin so my eyes looked into his. “You told me that you, and I’m paraphrasing, were capacitated enough for me to take you home so I can fuck you. But you wouldn’t come home with me. You went back to your friends, drank more, danced more, fell, hurt yourself. And then you passed out when I pulled out the needle for the anesthetic so I could stitch you up. I didn’t get a chance to fuck you last night, but will I today?” With that question, he leaned in close to my face, his eyes wide open waiting for me to lean in and acquiesce. I leaned in to meet his lips. He parted my mouth with his tongue.
His hand rose up my leg onto my thigh, and he squeezed my leg tightly as we kissed. He could kiss. I touched his neck, my fingers snaking through his dark, wavy hair. He groaned at my touch. I massaged his scalp with my fingers while exploring deeply in his mouth with my tongue.
I pulled away briefly and I hopped off the stool, leaving my left leg on his lap. With my right hip, I turned into and parted his legs and I stood in between them. His hand rose up my thigh and he reached for my ass. His other hand slowly dropped to my neck and onto the skin exposed on my chest.
With both hands, he cupped my breasts. He squeezed them together, and his thumbs circularly stroked my nipples. I moaned with the sensation. I was completely soaked. I pulled his head even closer to mine and started to suck his bottom lip and darted my tongue in and out of his mouth. I couldn’t get enough of him.
He moved closer to the edge of the stool and planted his feet down on the floor, bracing himself. I brought my hip closer to his groin. I could feel how hard he was. I lowered my right hand and touched his hardened penis, covered by the flimsy fabric of his boxer shorts. He pulled his head back, let out a slight groan, and he tightened his grip on my ass. I found the opening in his boxer shorts and slipped my thumb in feeling the pulsating veins. His skin was satiny soft. With my thumb, I trailed upward to the head and circled around feeling the wetness emitted from his opening.
His fingers pushed through the elastic lining of my panties and he caressed the flesh on my round, left buttock. He widened his fingers, caressing between my ass and pussy. His arm pulled me closer to his pelvis. From behind, he entered a long finger into my opening, he groaned when he confirmed that I was wet. My breath hitched and I moaned at the touch of my inner folds. It had been a long time since a man’s strong hands touched me so gently.
He held me tight to his body. My breasts crushed by his chest as he kissed my chin then nuzzled my head to expose my neck. He kissed and bit my neck as I arched my back wanting more of his fervent kisses. He picked up my right leg over his lap. I wrapped my legs around his waist and braced myself on his shoulders The butterflies fluttered inside of me. With both hands on my ass, rocking my bottom up and down, and grinding me against his hard penis. My clit was on fire, and I was on the brink of orgasm.
The heat from our bodies overtook me and made my breath shallow. The kissing consumed me so much that I lost my breath. I felt light headed and overwhelmed with the sensations coursing through my body. I hadn’t felt this kind of hunger. The physical and emotional sensations he brought out of me were indescribable. I’ve never wanted a man so much. I continued to writhe, arching my back as the climax built up. His thumb circled my clit as I wriggled to come. I came with a release of tension and anxiety, clutching him for dear life. I wanted more.
“I need to be inside of you.” He growled in my ear, and continued to grind
me, but slowed and loosened the pressure, allowing me to recover. I was still aroused and wanted him inside of me, but common sense tried to prevail over my delirious passion. He sought my mouth and we kissed deeply. I pulled away from his mouth to slow down the fury. Resting my forehead on his cheek, I took deep breaths, suppressing the dissipating waves of orgasm.
With one deep breath, I asked him, “What are we doing here? I shouldn’t be here. I’m your patient. I’m sure there are rules against this. Right?” I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. He sighed audibly. Not answering, he stopped gliding me over him. He leaned away from me, his hard-on softening slightly with the cold splash of reality that I had thrown at him.
“I didn’t say ‘stop’.” I whined. He laughed. I laughed. It broke the tension.
“I like you. I’m attracted to you. When I saw you yesterday . . . dancing with your friends . . . dancing on your friend, I couldn’t stay away from you.” He said softly in my ear, blowing warm air. The hairs on the back of my neck rose up, goose bumps stood at attention, and a flurry of nerves coursed through my belly. I smiled. Internally, I beamed because I’ve never had a man reveal his feelings. Since divorcing Ben, I’d been caught in a game with men that I was attracted to. They were aloof, acted like we were buddies, but never showing any interest in me as a desirable woman. I’d never considered myself attractive to any point of desirable.
“How did you learn to dance like that?” He inquired. I smiled at him and began kissing him again, avoiding that question and wanting to make him hard again. He held me in his arms. My legs still wrapped around him, he walked. I pulled away from his mouth again, looking in his eyes.