by Kira Barker
I waited for her to continue, but apparently everyone I was on good terms with right now had a distinct sadistic streak.
“What condition?”
“That you step in for his daughter during her pregnancy.”
That sounded harmless enough.
“And his daughter works as what?” It must be something very close to my field of expertise, or else no one would have suggested this.
“She’s a family practitioner. Has her own private practice in the suburbs and could really use some help, particularly with any measures she’s currently not fit to perform to satisfaction herself.”
I had to admit, that hit me out of the left field.
“You want me to stand in for a family doctor? Seriously?”
Zoe’s smile was, if anything, sardonic.
“I want you in my OR, saving lives. My boss wants you to prescribe antibiotics to snot-nosed kids and stitch their skinned knees.”
Just the very idea of prolonged exposure to people who weren’t under anesthesia made my skin crawl. Sure, I had my clinic hours now, too, but that was different.
“And if I decline—“
“I wouldn’t.” She cut me off before I could get any further. “You’ll be working here for another year of your life, performing under stress that you can only imagine right now. You won’t want to add to that by being too snotty to take a well-paying, if somewhat humbling, job now.”
I considered for a few seconds, but she was right. I couldn’t really say no to that.
“Am I even allowed to do that? My qualifications—“
“Here, it’s all in the contract. They’ve covered their asses well. Patients will have to sign papers that they are okay with being treated by you. You should see this as an opportunity, not a burden.”
She pushed another folder at me, this one apparently for me to peruse in detail at home.
“Honestly? I don’t quite see how I’ll manage that.” I knew I sounded terribly arrogant and conceited, but she knew exactly where I was coming from.
Zoe’s snort let me know that she did.
“First off, you need the job, and it’s a million times better than anything else you’ll get in the meantime. It will also look great on your resume, at least compared to any other work. It’s a prestigious practice, not just a foolish girl’s silly venture. Sure, another surgeon might frown at it, but virtually everyone will see it as a dash of fresh air. Kind of like voluntary community service. And the practice is barely ten minutes’ walk from here, so you can figure what kind of walk-in patients you’ll have there. Joggers who’ve sprained their ankle, the odd home cleaning and gardening injury. The commute might be hell for you, but it’s almost the same as to the hospital, so I’m sure you’ll manage.”
I still couldn’t quite believe that I was agreeing to this, but Zoe seemed to have taken my acceptance for granted already.
“Actually, it’ll only be twenty minutes or so. I moved in with… a couple of friends of mine.” I hoped that she didn’t notice the hitch in my voice. And I got annoyed with myself for feeling like I had to hide anything.
“Oh? Well, perfect then,” she agreed, not showing if she’d heard anything or not. “Can I tell Roberts that you will call his daughter presently to meet with her to discuss the details? After that, you can start here within two months’ notice. That should leave you with a couple of weeks to consider.”
I nodded, because what else was there to do? I still felt dejected, but really, the solution—imperfect as it was—did a lot to cushion the blow. And, really, what was a year more or less, particularly if I had a steady job that would let me keep my skills sharp, if not maybe even hone them?
“Please do.”
“I knew you would be reasonable,” she said, offering me her hand as she got up. Maybe it was my imagination, but her grip felt just a little more relaxed than before. Had she actually been anxious that I would decline either of her offers?
“I think you’re the first person all month that would dare tell me that to my face,” I joked, feeling just a little better about this. At least now I could stop fretting about paying my share of the rent and living expenses. The guys had agreed to just let me stay, no conditions imposed, but I’d never relied on anyone’s alimony, and I wasn’t going to start now.
“There’s a first for everything,” Zoe replied.
She might just be right. This year was definitely not about remaining in the same old rut forever.
Chapter 10
I was still a little dazed as I walked up to the front door and let myself in roughly thirty minutes later. Part of me felt like this was only a step away from the worst thing that had happened to me. Part of me was increasingly glad that problems I hadn’t even started to figure out now had a solution. And part of me just wanted to forget this had happened and ignore it until I no longer could.
It was only late morning, seeing as my meeting with Zoe had been scheduled after I’d finished my night shift. That meant Jack was at work, which I was immediately glad about. He would have nagged me about what had transpired and forced me to pick apart my reaction until I came to what he thought was the right solution—be happy and stop moping about it. But now there was only Simon home, industriously typing away at his laptop, oblivious to the world at large.
Dropping my bag on the sofa, I watched him work for a minute. His posture was far from ergonomic, and it was obvious that he’d been at it for some time already, judging from the no less than four empty cups of coffee resting next to his workspace. I idly wondered if he’d developed the habit of getting a fresh mug instead of a refill just to spite Jack, or whether it was just another tiny quirk I hadn’t known about until recently. It kind of annoyed me, seeing as I’d taken over dishwasher duty as it was something I could help with even with my odd hours, but not enough to chide him. Not that chiding would have worked. Pleading, maybe.
I felt physically tired but nowhere near exhausted enough to go to bed yet, and there was the matter of my mind not wanting to shut up. So I did what any warm-blooded female would have done and went to see if Simon could, just maybe, take an extended break.
I knew that he’d heard me when he stopped typing as I approached, but he hid it by reaching for his mug—the one that wasn’t empty yet. Smiling, I loosely wrapped my arms around his shoulders, not quite incidentally pressing my boobs into his arm as I leaned close.
“Do you have a deadline breathing down your neck?”
From the side, I saw the corner of his mouth quirk up.
“Right now it seems like I have a horny woman doing just the same,” he replied.
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” I pointed out, and playfully licked along the shell of his ear.
Simon grinned, but still didn’t turn his head to look at me.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Whatever you’re up to?” I suggested.
He pursed his lips, thinking about it.
“I’m not the one who’s been up all night,” he reminded me.
“Okay, then, if you want to play dumb. I need to get fucked. I kind of had a weird day, and right now I don’t want to think about it. I have no patience whatsoever, and if you think it’s cute that you’re playing hard to get, well, it’s not. But I know where you keep the toys upstairs, so if you’d rather work, I’ll just go ahead and take care of things myself.”
That finally got his full attention and made him turn his head to face me. He was almost too close for my eyes to still focus on his, but his mouth was right there for me to devour. Not that I did, but I could have, and judging from the twinkle in his eyes, I doubted he would have stopped me.
“Seriously? You live in a house with two guys, and you badger one of them into having sex with you by threatening to use a vibrator?”
“I wouldn’t call that a threat yet,” I replied, sharing his grin. “And, for the record, I’d prefer this to be a team effort rather than a solo exercise.”
H
is eyes dipped to my lips, and I wondered if he’d actually prefer it if I did kiss him, but Simon was hardly the kind of guy who was too shy to make a move himself.
“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t mean just screw around on the couch or something?”
I shrugged, the gesture intimate as hell now that I was pretty much wrapped around him.
“Maybe because it’s been going on two months since we’ve last been up in the attic together? Not that I think you spend much time there alone. Do you?”
“I might have vacuumed once or twice. And of course I got my toy bag for the party. Most of the time I’m too lazy to get up if I want to wank, so I do that downstairs.”
I tried to heave a theatrical sigh, but the barely suppressed laughter pretty much ruined it.
“Seeing as you’ve already cleaned up, shouldn’t we put all that unused space to good use?”
Simon hesitated with his answer, but I was sure he was just doing it to annoy me. I didn’t know if that boded well for me for the next hour or so, but except that once when he’d wanted to prove a point, he’d never let me walk out of the attic on steady legs.
“Tempting. But don’t you want to talk about what made your day weird first? We could eat lunch.”
I checked the clock on his screen.
“It’s barely past ten.”
“Only had coffee this morning. I skipped breakfast,” he explained. “And I doubt you’ve had anything to eat that qualifies for dinner.”
“Well, if you’re hungry—“ I started, but stopped when his grin turned lopsided.
“Not particularly. And the fact that you’re trying to change the subject tells me that we really should talk about this.”
I wondered if this was something he’d picked up from Jack, or if familiarity was making my tells more obvious.
“Actually, I don’t want to right now. I’d only have to repeat everything when Jack comes home, so, I don’t know, I’d rather you’d just fuck me into oblivion than listen to me.”
With amusement plain on his face, Simon reached up so he could pull my arms away from around him, getting up in the same motion. That left him standing deliciously close to me, towering over me. As if my ovaries needed another excuse to remind me of the fact that while frequency of sex hadn’t been an issue for the past month, quality was a different matter.
“Five minutes okay for you, or should I give you ten?” he asked, very courteously. A hint of annoyance sparked to life inside of me—more likely because of my recent conversation with Jack rather than the memory of what had actually happened after the party—and Simon caught up on it immediately. I didn’t even get a chance to wipe my face of any telltale signs before his hand was in my hair, wrenching my head back just enough to make a point. It was as if he’d mentally flipped a switch—one moment he was all calm and relaxed, the next there was tension in his body, his gaze intent on my face. “Five minutes, and I better find you kneeling naked upstairs,” he growled, following up with a smile that was a long way from nice—and made me so fucking wet.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, my throat tight but for all the right reasons, then pulled away as soon as he let go of me. Grinning, I turned around and skipped away toward the back hallway, giddy enough to forget that I hadn’t really gotten any quality downtime last night.
In record time I’d shirked my clothes and taken care of business, then hurried up the barren stairs into the attic. Heat met me as I opened the door, but I ignored it as I crouched down close to the entrance, and assumed position—kneeling, knees spread, arms crossed behind my back.
The last time I had been up here it had been nighttime, and spring to boot. Now it was summer, hot enough to make sweat break out on my forehead within seconds, but even as I wondered about how that might affect my performance, I felt the cool breath of air coming from the AC kicking in caress my bare shoulders.
Simon had never let me wait for long in the past, and he didn’t start now. I’d barely begun to get uncomfortable when I heard steps come up the stairs behind me, followed by the door closing ominously.
What I didn’t expect was to be pelted with my light satin bathrobe, and Simon sitting down in front of me, looking delectable as usual in his tight black T-shirt and leather pants.
“We need to talk,” he repeated with a wry twist coming to his mouth, then flashed me a quick smile when he caught my frown. “Not about whatever soured your usually sunny disposition. You and I need to have a talk. Feel free to wear the robe if you get cold, or if it makes you feel a little less like we’ve already started.”
I hesitated for a moment, then got up and shrugged on the robe but let it gape in the front before I sat down, mimicking his position.
“So no consequences for me mouthing off to you now?” I hazarded a guess.
“Not until we start the scene.”
I couldn’t hold back a snort.
“And now I feel like a porn star,” I observed, fiddling with the end of the robe’s sash.
Simon shrugged and briefly looked over his shoulder at the equipment distributed around the room. “There are sets that don’t have as many props as we do,” he supposed.
“True,” I admitted, still unable to wipe that stupid grin off my face. “Although I’m not quite sure what exactly to make of that porn-star vibe. I think I’m a little too old for that.”
With anyone else, the once-over Simon gave me might have made me feel a little self-conscious, but there was absolutely no judgment to his look—except maybe the leer it ended with, but then that was the kind of appraisal I could never get enough of.
“I’m pretty sure that thirty isn’t too old to do porn,” he observed.
“If you call me a MILF next, I’m going to scream. And likely walk out of here with that vibe we were talking about,” I threatened.
His smile only grew.
“Considering that most women still have their first child in their twenties, it’s not exactly a derogatory term for someone your age.”
“Please, don’t remind me of that.” I groaned. “But I still feel closer to the fresh-faced girl than the fifty-something cougar, so spare me the mental image if you want to do anything else but talk.”
Simon kept his mouth shut for five seconds, but then ended his silence with a snort. “Those are all stupid, artificial labels that don’t mean anything. Seriously. If you look young enough to not have graduated college, you’re a ‘teen.’ Everything below thirty is a ‘horny co-ed,’ then you have the MILFs, which really could be anything age-wise in the entire range if she has a more mature-looking face. And everything above that, well, shouldn’t we be the kind of people not to throw stones at someone else’s fetish?”
“Hey, I’m not knocking granny porn if the women have fun and can make a living of it,” I replied, but felt rightfully chastised. “It just weirds me out. Being considered a MILF, I mean. I just associate that with a more mature woman, you know, and cellulite, gravity or a botched boob job, flabby skin, or worse yet, super tanned skin…” I trailed off there, making a face. “And how the fuck did we get to discussing this? Can we please stop?”
“Actually, it was you who started and continued it,” Simon remarked, but seemed happy to drop the topic. “As I said, we need to talk. And I figured it would be a good idea to wait until the room has cooled down a bit.”
“We could have talked downstairs, too,” I remarked.
“But then I wouldn’t have you sitting here, virtually naked,” he replied.
That made me grin again. “Okay, shoot. What do we, you and I, need to talk about?”
He shrugged, not in the least bit self-conscious.
“It’s been two months since we were last up here together, as you so aptly reminded me. Not that I needed reminding. I guess I was just waiting for the right occasion, but I didn’t exactly realize before just how little time you have in your daily schedule if you don’t make time for something.”
That observation shouldn’t have been so
amusing, but it was, particularly with the face Simon was making.
“Well, here we are. And we’ve found the time before, and now I don’t even have to consider the commute, so, nothing’s stopping us?” I proposed. Simon hesitated, and that alone made me a little wary. Something else occurred to me. “Did Jack talk to you about that talk he and I had the morning after the play party?”
Simon looked away, his smile somewhat self-deprecating now, giving me my answer already.
“He did. And it wasn’t pretty. I’m glad you weren’t home at that time because that wasn’t one of my finer moments.” He paused there, but when I didn’t speak up, he went on, although I could see that he had to force himself. “I’m sure that, by now, he’s complained about me. I have no idea why, but he just has a way of getting under my skin of late…”
“Oh, I have an idea why that is,” I interjected, a little surprised about myself that it was more a sense of good-natured goading than jealousy that put emotion into my voice.
Simon sent me a long look, then gave another small shrug.
“Maybe. I don’t know. That’s one thing I’m really not an expert on. Anyway, he told me that you, well, you know. Weren’t exactly happy with my behavior. And this, also, is the reason why we need to talk.”
Sighing loudly, I settled back onto my elbows, letting my posture slouch.
“He’s exaggerating. And he probably failed to mention the part where I explicitly told him not to tell you because I was still making up my mind about what happened.”
“No, he actually did mention that,” Simon offered. “He also told me that you got angry with him for once for interfering where his interference is neither wanted nor required.”
“If he said it like that, I can’t hold it against you that you went off in his face,” I admitted. I really didn’t know what to make of all this. On the one hand, I was glad that Jack really seemed to care about all of us getting our shit together. On the other, I’d really thought that our talk was confidential.
“It was sadly more the insanely childish, moping kind of hissy fit, not the righteous anger kind,” Simon went on, then offered a small laugh. “It really was kind of ridiculous, but for the life of me, I just couldn’t make myself stop. But that’s not the point. You really need to tell me when something just isn’t right. Even if you’re just confused and don’t know what exactly is bothering you, tell me, okay? Chances are, it’s really just a small thing that can be easily rectified.”