She Does It His Way

by Jasmine Chaletra

  STORY TWENTY-SIX

  Chapter 1

  I couldn’t stop lactating. Years after the birth of my third and final child, my breasts were still producing milk. I had seen plenty of doctors, but the laxatives and steroids they prescribed me did nothing but bring me more pain and make my breasts larger. I’d had enough with them, and so I was encouraged to make an appointment with a lactation specialist. Apparently he was the best in the nation, as I had to be put on a five-month waiting list just to see him. It was about time, too; I head ruined nearly all of my good clothes with the amount my breasts still spilled.

  His name was Doctor Orlando, and he was somewhat of a prodigy. Having been the youngest man to graduate medical school in his state, he immediately became a professional sensation. I had a close friend who had gone to see him several times as a wet nurse. When asked about what made him so good at his job, she blushed a deep red, telling me to find out for myself.

  I rolled my eyes at the thought. I wasn’t too keen on going to see a male lactation specialist, but since he had been so highly recommended, and I was so desperate to get rid of my breast milk once and for all, I decided that it would be worth it.

  His office was nothing short of spectacular. When I entered, there was no waiting room - the nurse guided me to a large suite, with carpeted floors and a bed-like patient’s chair. Across one of the walls was a large poster that read, “Love”. I felt like I had walked into the Playboy mansion - and I really wanted to walk right out. As an older, middle-aged woman, I had no time for fantasies or love. I wanted to be in and out of there so I could return home to my kids. Things like fun and pleasure weren’t factors in my life anymore. I was a busy, career-driven, single mother, and I wanted things to stay that way.

  If only my breasts would dry up.

  I knew he was young, but when Doctor Orlando entered the room, I hadn’t expected him to look that young. He looked like a college undergrad, with a clean-shaven face and sparkling blue eyes. His short, fluffy blonde hair framed his face perfectly; he reminded me of a famous musician. He looked down at me, smiling, and I politely smiled back.

  “Good afternoon Mrs. Edith”, he said cheerfully.

  “It’s Miss”, I said curtly.

  “Oh, my apologies”, he responded politely. “I didn’t realize you were unmarried.”

  “No need to apologize”, I said.

  “I understand”, he said softly, “But don’t you ever get lonely?” His tone was humane and sad all at once.

  I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion, taken aback. “Of course not, I have my three kids.” I didn’t understand. Why would he ask me something so personal? It wasn’t any of his business how I felt anyway.

  He looked at me with his eyes full of sympathy. It made me feel like a child. “Alright then, Miss Edith, what can I do for you today?”

  I sighed tiredly. “My breasts won’t stop lactating.”

  “How long has it been since your last childbirth?

  “About three and a half years”, I responded.

  He looked shocked. “Oh. That’s been quite a while for you now, hasn’t it Miss Edith?”

  “I’ve even gone through menopause”, I stated factually, “and yet I still can’t get them to dry up.”

  He nodded. “Well, that certainly is strange”, he began, “but I haven’t yet ran into an issue that I couldn’t resolve. I’m that good”, he said, smiling grandly to himself.

  I lifted my eyebrows mockingly. Was this doctor really bragging about himself?

  “I’m sorry”, he chuckled, “I usually use that line to make my patients feel more comfortable with me. But you didn’t seem to appreciate the sense of humor.”

  I shook my head. Now I understood why my younger friend spoke so excitedly about Doctor Orlando, he was a huge flirt. He seemed kind, and he was certainly charming, but this doctor wasn’t my type. I was not interested in the cougar lifestyle like so many of my friends were. His attempts at dalliance would be wasted on me. I came strictly seeking medical advice.

  “What medications or holistic methods have you used in the past to try and stop the leakage?” he asked.

  I exhaled, running the long list through my mind. “I’ve tried varying doses of bromocriptine, L-dopa, and even homeopathy. Nothing seems to dry me up.”

  He nodded, deep in thought as I went into detail about the different methods I’ve tried to stop my lactation. His eyes wandered down to my breasts, which were swollen as usual. I looked down as well, wondering if I had leaked through my shirt. I hadn’t yet; he was just a peeping tom.

  “Have you ever considered breastfeeding again?” He looked at me curiously.

  “No. My children are too old for it, and none of my friends have babies that young either.”

  He nodded, his lips angled down in a ponderous frown. “Hmm. Well that might be the solution to your problem. How about giving that a try?”

  I shook my head in refusal. “No. I don’t know anyone I could be a wet nurse for, that would be ridiculous.” I sighed. “Besides, I’m way too old for that sort of thing.”

  Doctor Orlando looked shocked. He placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Oh no”, he cooed, “Why do you think that, Edith?”

  I laughed at his naivety. He was still so young and pretty; he wouldn’t understand the feeling of growing old. My body had changed, and parts of me looked different. I appreciated myself as looking quite beautiful during my youth, but lately everything had gotten so wilted.

  “Well, I don’t exactly look like a porn star”, I said forwardly. “I’m not even sure what quality of milk I’ve been producing lately. Surely it can’t be healthy, it’s been so long.”

  His lips turned upward into a half smile. “Oh Edith, you’re just kidding yourself. You are a beautiful woman, with still so much of your body to offer.” He rubbed his hand down my arms, placing them on the sides of my body. “You just need to learn to love yourself.”

  I cackled out loud. “Excuse me?” Who was he to tell me that? And what did that have to do with my current medical problem?

  He chuckled in reply, shaking his head knowingly. “A lot of my other patients have the same reaction that you did, Miss Edith. But after my consultation, they thanked me for helping them realize that loving themselves was a very important key to their health and well-being.

  I gave him a ridiculous look. “How would that help me at all?”

  He stroked my arm again. “I’m sure you’ve been on an airplane before, Miss Edith. You know when the flight attendant implores you to put on your own oxygen mask before helping someone else with theirs, even if they are your children?”

  I nodded. What did that have to do with anything?

  “Well, the same is exactly true with your health and well-being. You have to learn to take care of yourself before you can successfully take care of others. Do you want your children to be happy?”

  “Of course I do!” I snapped, offended at his question.

  “Don’t you think they would be so much happier and able to succeed if they were able to come home to a happy, healthy, relaxed, and loving mother?”

  I felt my cheeks flush. I had to admit that he was right; I knew that I was uptight around my kids, and that it had an effect on them. They deserved to see me smile every once in awhile.

  “I’ll say it, you do have a point”, I responded hesitantly. I hated letting Doctor Orlando know he was right. He was so much younger than me, and yet he was acting as if he knew better than me. And he was really turning on the charm, too. My arm began to warm up to him as he stroked me. The look in his eyes as they locked with mine was nothing short of stunning. His blue orbs were full of deep, personal interest - I could tell that he actually cared about my situation. I felt my body relaxing in his presence.

  He flashed me a big smile. “I’m glad you see it, Miss Edith. I would hate to see someone like you living a miserable life. I think you just might find that there is a simple solution to stopping your lactation - give your
body some love. Shower your breasts with affection, let someone into your body, to show you how beautiful you are, and allow yourself to open up to the possibility of all of the pleasure you can still experience in your life.” He lifted a hand towards my breasts, outlining their shape in the air, almost touching them, but hovering slightly above them. “I’d hate to see breasts as beautiful as yours go to waste.”

  I reluctantly noticed my mouth turning up in a quick smile. He really was making me feel better. “So what you’re prescribing is love, doctor?”

  He nodded. “Just that.”

  “Is there anything…” I carefully chose my words. “...specific, that I should do to my breasts? Or have someone do to me?” I felt my face blushing again.

  This time, Doctor Orlando’s cheeks flushed too, just slightly. In that moment he looked like a young boy, talking to his crush for the first time. “Well, you have to get rid of the milk that’s forming in your breasts somehow, don’t you? I would again recommend breastfeeding.”

  I shrugged. “But I told you, I don’t know anyone-”

  “It doesn’t have to be someone you know”, he interrupted. “Perhaps it would even be better if it wasn’t someone from your personal life. As long as they can appreciate your breasts, and help you get the milk out, then it’ll be just fine.” He smiled at me sweetly, enticing me with his eyes.

  I felt something I hadn’t felt in many years - a heat forming between my legs. Was I really starting to become turned on by this young doctor? I shook my head in resistance; this couldn’t be happening. I was definitely not a cougar, as I learned from observing my friends who frequently picked up younger men at the bar. I wasn’t about to adapt to that lifestyle.

  But Doctor Orlando was so sophisticated and gentle for his age. He possessed so many qualities that I hadn’t seen in a young man before. I watched as he again let his eyes wander around my body. It was as if he was mentally undressing me, and I never felt so delicate. I felt valued, I felt appreciated. I felt wanted.

  I felt my heart begin to race as Doctor Orlando lifted a hand to my cheek, caressing my face gently. “You really do have a beautiful figure, Miss Edith. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “No”, I responded sadly.

  “I’ll share with you a valuable secret of mine”, he whispered softly in my ear. “I have learned throughout the past several years of my practice that love is the most powerful medicine I can prescribe.” He leaned down, planting a soft butterfly kiss on my cheek. “No matter the shape, size, age, or experience, each woman deserves to be treated like the beautiful gem that she is. You don’t have anyone in your life that can treat you that way, do you?”