Dr. Single Dad: A Single Doctor and Virgin Romance

by Dark Angel

  Because you would probably have never gotten into the limo. You would have probably never made the choices I did. Probably never have had to worry about trying to run away from a man like Robert McIntyre.

  “Well?” Simon asks again, “How’d you get it?”

  “Switched it after sex,” I lie shrugging. “He was asleep, didn’t notice.”

  “Well they’re going to notice pretty soon,” Simon says.

  “I’m not going back, so it’s no bother for me,” I tell him and turn around to walk out.

  What? It’s true.

  Ethan basically fired me. From his company. And I’m pretty sure from his life.

  Have you ever been in a crowd of people but felt utterly and completely alone?

  Well, hun, welcome to me right about now.

  I mean, that overcast sky might as well just open up and start raining right about now as I walk down 7th Avenue because that’s my mood.

  As if deciding to play a cruel joke on me, I hear something that seems like light rumbling as I approach 52nd Street and 7th Avenue, and the first bits of water start to fall on my head.

  Great, now even Mother Nature is deciding to hate me.

  The bits of rain quickly turn into a downpour as people scramble around me. The skies darken even farther as I approach Columbus Circle, the horses whinnying along Central Park South.

  I’ll tell you one thing though, hun. It’s a good thing it's raining. Because the tears kind of get washed away when I see the giant billboard next to the Trump International Hotel & Tower advertising Illicit Escape.

  Right there, holding the futuristic glasses, is my smiling face. The tag line, “Revolutionizing Pleasure” written in a sexy font.

  I’m glad you can’t see my tears.

  It's in these moments that the biggest city in the world becomes the loneliest place on earth.

  But it’s nothing that I don’t deserve after everything I’ve just done.

  ***

  The next week is basically like that day. Cold, sad, depressing, and rainy.

  I don’t know if you’ve ever been like this. I mean, I had a chance to be happy. I had a chance to settle down with a man that truly, really loved me.

  I know what you’re going to say, though. I had an impossible choice. It was either protect myself from Robert or run again.

  And why exactly did I sell Ethan out?

  Because I didn’t want to run. Because I wanted to stay in New York City and make a home for the baby that I’m carrying. Hoping that Ethan would understand.

  I mean, I did go and tell him—at the end. I confessed to lying to him, trying to steal from him, and taking his heart under false pretense.

  And what did he do?

  He gave me everything I wanted.

  He gave me the computer coding for the software that runs the Illicit Escape. He let me keep my home.

  He gave me everything I asked for.

  But it turns out, while I was on my knees pleading to him to show me mercy, I never once asked him to forgive me and hold me.

  To take me back.

  But isn’t that the story of my life?

  Always thinking about myself?

  Leaving teaching to get into modeling full time? Not even thinking about the people who were relying on me when I began to split my time as an elementary school teacher and a model.

  And then when a better offer came along, not even considering the implications to others when I moved into porn.

  Maybe I deserved someone who used me as casually as Robert did. Maybe I never hit him, but I abused others with my lack of consideration just the same. I never thought about them. Only what was good for me.

  That’s why when I finally found out about him, I never gave a second thought to thinking about his wife and child. I just drove.

  Got out of there.

  I could have gone to the police, maybe?

  If not that, I could have tried to warn others. His wife had said there were other women, hadn't she?

  And then in New York.

  From the very first time Simon came into my life, I’ve thought about myself first and foremost.

  Sure, hun, if you’re saying I had to think about the baby at the end, I’ll agree that I thought about the baby.

  But there had to have been another way than asking Ethan to give up what he’s worked on for so long.

  I just never bothered to see what it was.

  To his credit, Ethan seems to keep going full speed ahead with the release.

  Only this time, Conners Media, led by Simon has also stepped to the plate. They announced two days ago that they too would be releasing wearable technology designed to let the user experience porn through virtual reality. They call it Wicked Wear.

  Ethan seems to not even care, if that’s the right word.

  Maybe the plans are so fully committed that he has no option now but to see things through.

  In the last week, there’s been a media blitz, including front page ads in the the New York Daily Journal, television spots, a marquee every hour at Madison Square Garden, skywriting, giveaways during lunchtime with Illicit Entertainment starlets, and a massive launch party in Times Square.

  It’s the launch party that has the entire city, and possibly nation talking.

  It’s being filmed live in Times Square and being carried by all the major networks.

  The network morning TV show, Today USA is even carrying it live.

  But that’s not why everyone is tuning in.

  In perhaps the only nod to Simon, Ethan has challenged him to publicly put his product head to head against his.

  He says that the entire nation should be allowed to decide for themselves who has the better technology.

  Today USA is even planning on doing snap polls in the moment as people see the products matched up.

  I’m a little unsure heading up to the launch date how they’re going to even do the matchup. I mean, are they going to put the glasses on people and ask which one makes them cum faster?

  Seriously, if you’re laughing, so am I—but it’s a morbid laughter.

  Because I know that with the code that Simon has, he’s had a week to tweak it and make it better. Whereas Ethan probably is looking to alter his software so as not to seem like a copycat product.

  I don’t know if this is Ethan’s last ditch plan to bluff his way out of an impossible situation. To keep his head high after being stolen from and hurt by someone he let get too close to him.

  All I know is that while I don’t want to watch, I’m probably going to end up tuning in like everyone in the country. If for nothing else than to pray for a miracle.

  That’s until the morning of the launch, when I get a phone call.

  I look at the phone and my heart skips a beat.

  It’s Ethan.

  With trembling hands, I answer.

  “Hello?” I ask, a bit shaky. The butterflies are in full force in my stomach.

  “I’ve sent a car for you, babe,” Ethan says. “I want you to get in it.”

  “Why?” I ask instinctively. After a week and a half of no contact, to call me out of the blue and tell me to get in a car.

  I’m sorry hun, but the last time I got into a car, it was with Simon, and do you remember what happened?

  “Listen to me, babe,” Ethan says into the phone. “I really really really want you to get into that fucking car.”

  “Where is it going to take me?” I ask him.

  “It’s going to bring you to my place,” he says confidently. I wonder if he’s that hard up for sex that he needs me again. “We’re going to watch the product launch and the match up together.”

  Well, let’s just say that’s a surprise.

  I honestly don’t know what to say here.

  I swear to you – this is just too much.

  I’m just a simple girl from Southern California. I’m not someone who normally plays these games that billionaires play. I’m at the end of my wits.

&n
bsp; I’m all check-mated out.

  “I just got word the car’s outside, Brit,” Ethan says.

  I’ve been silent, but I know that if there’s even a sliver of a chance that I can go back and reclaim the father of my child I’ll take it.

  “I’ll be right down,” I tell him, my mind made up.

  If there’s even a chance for him and I, I’m going to do everything I can to take it.

  For me, yeah. But for him as well. And most of all, for the baby.

  Ethan

  I can fucking tell the moment the car pulls up to the curb of One57.

  I mean, fuck, I could have told you what Brittney was wearing from the moment she got in the fucking car.

  I’ve got sensors on the car, telling me exactly where it’s at. I’ve got cameras in the car that I can see the passengers.

  The cameras in the car though, that one is actually because we filmed a movie once, two people fucking in the backseat of a limo. That’s not purposely being a fucking spy or whatever. I think we called those series something like ‘Ride Me: Backseat Confessions’ or something.

  Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that it’s not a big shocker when I see Brittney getting out of the car and walking toward the entrance of the building as the doorman to One57 based on the tiny micro camera I have installed on the lobby.

  Yeah, I get shit for it. Every so often, some billionaire’s bodyguard or intelligence person finds it. They remove it or destroy it with white noise. But for times like this, where I can use this tablet to watch this beautiful woman get out of the limo in a tight black dress that’s accentuating her hips and showcasing her tits, it's absolutely amazing.

  Oh yeah, you heard me right. I watch a whole bunch of shit and keep recordings of the surveillance on my fucking tablet.

  Remember the first time Brittney came by? I was watching something and totally entranced by it and you wanted to know what it was that was so fucking fascinating but I wouldn’t tell you?

  Well, here’s me telling you right now.

  I have these cameras watching, recording, and showing me what happens in places when I’m not there. I got one in my office, around various rooms in Illicit Entertainment, in my homes, in my cars, you name it.

  In fact, what I was watching that day when Brittney first came over was—

  Fuck, there she is actually, ringing the doorbell.

  That was fast.

  I’ll tell you later, okay?

  Right now I walk to the door to open it and reveal a very wary looking Brittney Roman.

  I also gotta be a bit honest here.

  I look at Brittney, and I know you think I should be mad or something. But all I want to do right now is two things in the world.

  I want to pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her. Tell her to stop feeling down. Tell her everything is going to be alright. Make her stop worrying—stop beating herself up, which I know she’s doing. I want to make her happy and tell her that I want to protect her for the rest of her life. That I never want anything to get in the middle of us. Ever. That I fucking love her.

  Yeah, that's the first thing.

  The second thing I want to do is fuck her brains out. I’m completely serious. After I tell her how much I love her, I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her like a whore. Bring her to a whole new level of fucking pleasure than she’s ever been before. Fuck her so hard that she forgets what walking is all about she’s so fucking sore. Make her scream so loud that only the fucking birds hear her. I want to own her. Body and fucking soul.

  And mark my fucking words, darlin’, I’m going to do all that.

  First though, I hold the door open and look at her.

  “Come on in, babe, it’s okay,” I tell her. She looks at me and warily walks in the door. I smile as she passes me and turns her head back to look at me.

  I let a moment pass. Her ass is just too good to not stare.

  “Should I leave you and my ass alone so you two can catch up?” Brittney asks me and I look up. She’s got the faint hint of a smile going.

  “That’s the girl I remember,” I tell her, grinning at her. “There she is.”

  “Don’t tell me you forgot in a week and a half?” she asks me, with a small pout.

  I take a few steps toward her and lean in to kiss her.

  It’s a chaste fucking kiss. Nothing at all like I’m going to do to her in a bit. But it’s all the situation needs right now.

  When I pull my head back, I see her. Her eyes are closed and she’s enjoying it.

  I wrap my arms around her.

  “Hey,” I tell her. “It’s okay. Really. Listen to me…” I say, but she doesn’t let me finish.

  “No, Ethan, it’s not okay, okay?” Brittney says with a ferocity I didn’t expect. “I played you, and it’s not okay.”

  “You did?” I ask, with a raised eyebrow.

  Despite everything that's going on, she sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Well, fine,” she says to me. “I tried to play you. But sure, I failed, but in the end you still let me. I can’t believe you just handed over the software code for the I.E. to me,” she says to me, her words rushing out like water out of a damn.

  “Listen babe,” I start again, trying to get in a word edgewise. “I think that it’s going to be okay…” Again though Brittney cuts me off.

  “How?” she asks me, pressing herself against me. “I had to give Simon the code and he had enough time to build the prototype you spent so much time on. And how the fuck can you not be freaking out at me right now?” Brittney asks.

  I pause. She’s starting to get hysterical.

  I guess I could start fucking talking.

  But instead, I take the remote near the side table and turn on the television.

  “Let’s sit down,” I tell her. “The product match-up should be starting soon.”

  Brittney sighs heavily, but she follows me to the sofa where we both sit. It takes her a moment of hesitation before she’s able to curl up into me as we both watch TV. I don’t mind. She’s probably more confused than anything right now.

  I mean, she fucking betrayed me and saw how I angry I was when we were fucking ten days ago, right?

  And now, I’m holding her close and telling her everything is okay?

  “Just watch,” I tell her.

  You should listen to that advice too.

  I mean, it's the perfect day in Times Square for the launch. No, I have no need to be there. Cheryl’s planned it well enough that our spokespeople can do the heavy lifting while I watch with the woman I love.

  Besides, it’s going to be awesome.

  Within moments, Today USA is broadcasting both Illicit Entertainment and Conners Media representatives as they stand side-by-side on a raised platform at the intersection of Broadway and 42nd Street. There’s an emcee from the network. Behind him is a giant 40-foot projection screen. The whole point of this demo is to have an user put on the respective glasses and have it transmit what the user is seeing on the projection screen.

  If you’re scratching your head and wondering if it’s a bit over the fucking top, let me just stop you right there and remind you of one thing.

  Just remember who’s telling the fucking story here, okay?

  Does it say Bonnie Believable on the cover?

  Or does it have my girl, Alexis Angel’s name?

  I’m thinking it’s the latter. Which means in this version of reality, our society has gotten to the point where it’s not just okay to do a demonstration of a gadget that is intended for explicit sexual use, but it’s celebrated enough that one of the largest broadcast networks is holding a product competition that they’ll air over public fucking airwaves.

  Over the top? You fucking bet, babe.

  “I can’t believe they’re going to actually do this demo,” Brittney says quietly. “It’s so insane to watch porn in a group.”

  Jesus, it’s like I can’t get a fucking break here.

  “You’re pretty ins
ane for doing this,” she says, turning her head to face me. She wriggles her body as she does so and all that means is that her ass is wiggling against my cock. I sigh. She knows what she’s doing. But if she enjoys teasing me now, that’s fine. I’m going to be making her scream later for every tease now.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today as we celebrate the launch of not one but two revolutionary products in the personal entertainment arena,” the announcer says into his microphone. “Throughout history, this country has been the source of innovation and ingenuity. That drive and spirit are on full display here as we pit two of the most anticipated products of the year—the Illicit Escape manufactured by Illicit Entertainment against the Wicked Wear manufactured by Conners Media.”

  The crowd cheers as the announcer continues. “Due to FCC limitations, we will only be able to show the first few minutes of the experience that each of our users will be seeing,” he says. Makes sense. I doubt they’ll be able to show full scale fucking in Times Square just yet. Maybe 10 to 15 years from now, but not today. “We’ll be using the projector screen behind us and splitting it. On the right hand side will be Conners Media. On the left hand side will be Illicit Entertainment. Are the participants all ready and wired in?”

  The announcer turns toward two nondescript men sitting on right and left sides of the stage. Both are already wearing glasses that are connected via A/V wires to a hard drive that's connected to the projector screen. They both give thumbs up.

  “Even the glasses look nearly identical,” Brittney whines to herself.

  She’s right. The Illicit Escape looks like a slimmed down and futuristic version of single rimmed glasses. The Wicked Wear is a bit bulkier but has enough similarities that it’s hard not to wonder what the fuck is going on.

  “If all sides are ready, let’s get this show on the road, and let’s focus our attention to the projectors, to see what they see!” I hear the announcer say and the lights on the stage go dim. The projector screen goes black too.

  Then both the right and left hand sides of the screen start flickering.

  I turn to Brittney and hold her closer with one hand as I grab my phone on the coffee table with another.