Doctor's Virgin (Innocence Book 3)

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Doctor's Virgin (Innocence Book 3) Page 6

by Roxeanne Rolling


  “That’s for sure.”

  “Just be careful,” says Shelly.

  “What do you mean?”

  She doesn’t respond. The waitress is back, carrying plate after plate of food.

  By the end, I’ve got more than five full plates in front of me, with various juices and drinks spread around the plates.

  “I hope that’s enough for you,” says the waitress, her voice cracking as she speaks. “Will there be anything else for you?”

  “That’s it, thanks.”

  “I mean,” says Shelly, taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes widening as I start digging into the food in front of me at a rapid pace. “Your first is… well, I mean it doesn’t always work out, right?”

  “Oh,” I say, speaking with my mouth full of… the most delicious flavors I’ve ever tasted in my life. “I know that. Hey, this food is amazing, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know…” says Shelly, eyeing a forkful of her omelet suspiciously. I watch as she delicately pinches out a suspiciously thick hair from the bite.

  “It’s great!” I say.

  Shelly laughs. “It also could hurt, but you know that, right?”

  “Of course,” I say, trying to brush it off like it’s no big deal. In reality, I’m more than a little scared. It’s a weird feeling to be scared and excited about something at the same time.

  “I just can’t believe you’re out,” says Shelly. “So are you going to come back to school?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, my mouth full of bacon and fruit at the same time. “I mean, yeah, eventually. But I want to experience the world a little bit, you know?”

  “You sure you’re fine?” says Shelly. “You’re sure this isn’t a temporary thing?”

  “Liam explained it to me,” I say. “He’s a brain surgeon. He knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Yeah, he’s a brain surgeon, but he’s not an immunologist. He doesn’t specialize in allergies.”

  “That’s just because he’s smarter,” I say. “What, you want me to have to go back to my room for another year or what?” I’m a little angry that Shelly would suggest this.

  “But… look, I just don’t want you to get disappointed if something happens. You know what they say, right? Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

  “I thought you were my friend and would want the best for me?” I say.

  Suddenly, I start coughing.

  “Are you OK?” says Shelly, looking worried.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just went down the wrong pipe. I’m not used to eating proper food.”

  “You look a little red, though.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

  The truth is that my face feels like it’s on fire, eerily similar to the feeling I would get before some of my worst allergy attacks.

  I put my napkin and fork down and rush towards the bathroom, which fortunately is clearly marked.

  Closing the door behind me and locking it, I rush to the mirror to see what I look like.

  To my horror, my face is completely red, looking like some sort of rash.

  Surprisingly, my first thought isn’t that I’m going to have to go back to my room. It’s that I won’t be able to make my date on Friday. After all, how can I go looking like this? I’ll never get Liam into bed with my face a giant red rash, will I?

  Chapter 9

  Liam

  After the surgery, I have to leave the hospital through the fire escape entrance. Sure, the sound is deafening when I open the door, but it saves me the hassle of having to talk to Johnson another time.

  The surgery was a success, and I even notified the family myself of the good news.

  It was a long surgery. I’m not sure how many hours. But dangerous and complicated is how I like them. Most of the time.

  I’m not feeling like heading back indoors.

  For some reason, the thrill of finding the most nubile and busty of the nurses is fading away. I can’t seem to get up the enthusiasm to track them down in the hospital. This is the longest I’ve been in a long time without getting laid.

  Mia has something to do with it. I’m not sure exactly what. But ever since I visited her that first day in her room, I can’t get her off my mind.

  It’s not like I’m thinking about her every single second, but she’s always there in the background of my thoughts, even when I’m doing surgery.

  My phone rings.

  “Yeah?” I say.

  “It’s me. It’s Mia.”

  She sounds upset, even frantic.

  “I was just thinking about you,” I say.

  “You were?” It sounds like she’s trying to return my vaguely flirtatious comment, but it’s quite obvious that she’s simply too worried to do it properly. Her voice is still frantic, but she’s trying to control it.

  “What’s going on, Mia?” I say. “Is everything OK?”

  “Yeah, oh yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “What’s going on, Mia?” I say. “You can tell me.”

  There’s a long pause.

  “Where are you, Mia? Do you need help?”

  “I’m in the bathroom…”

  “You’re in the bathroom?”

  “I think I’m having another attack.”

  Shit.

  “What are your symptoms?” I say. “Did you eat something strange.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’d you have?”

  “Just about everything… I’m at a diner having breakfast.”

  “What are your symptoms, Mia?”

  “My face feels like it’s burning. It’s all… red.”

  “Any of your other symptoms? Is your throat closing up? Can you still breathe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “OK,” I say. “It might just be that your system still is going to have a little difficulty with a lot of different foreign substances. After all, you haven’t had a lot of those foods in a long time, and your body doesn’t know what to do with it all. Do you still have the little bottle that I gave you?”

  “Yeah.” She sounds intensely nervous, only answering me in short little bursts.

  “Do you have it with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “OK, Mia. I think you might just need another drop of the blue liquid. It’ll help your cells produce enough energy to cope with the food you’ve eaten. It’s going to calm everything down. I’ll wait on the phone while you take it.”

  There’s a long pause, and I can hear her rummaging around in her purse.

  I almost chuckle to myself—she’s been stuck for a year in her room, and her purse is still full of all sorts of things.

  “OK, I’ve got it. I’ve taken it.”

  “Good,” I say. “Call me back if there’s a problem. I’m sure it’s going to be all right. I’ll call back in ten minutes to make sure you’re OK. In the meantime, go back to the table. If you do pass out, which is highly unlikely, you don’t want to do it alone in the bathroom where no one can find you.”

  “OK, thanks,” she says, already sounding better.

  I hang up.

  I suddenly notice that my cock is raging hard. Damn, my body wants her just as much as my mind does.

  Despite the potential seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but picturing what she looked like all alone in that bathroom. Did she have all her clothes on, or had she taken off her panties to use the toilet and forgotten to pull them up when she went to the mirror?

  These are the sort of degenerate sexual thoughts men like me, with high sex drives, have to deal with on a constant and ceaseless basis. In some ways, it’s not fair. It’s like being sentenced to something… then again, I don’t mind it. My cock doesn’t mind it. Sooner or later, I’ll have her.

  Let’s just hope it’s soon. I’m getting backed up.

  I hop on my motorcycle, which I’ve got parked on the street today, so I don’t have t
o deal with the parking garage nonsense. Slinging on my helmet, I straddle the bike, my erection making the position a little uncomfortable at first. The engine roars to life as I kick down with my boot, and I’m off, down the street, heading towards a hardcore outdoor gym I go to once in a while, when I don’t feel like working out indoors.

  The wind feels good on my face. I’ve got the visor up, and the curves of the road feel good as I lean into them. Not much in life feels better than riding a bike like this. Well, surgery, fucking… It’s going to feel great fucking Mia. I always have a feeling about these things, and I’m always right.

  If I could just get her out of my head…

  But it’s not going to happen until I sink my cock deep inside her and hear her moaning my name. The look on her face as she comes is going to be glorious, as beautiful as a fucking sunset.

  I park the bike at the park. There’s no one here. Sometimes they come after work, a whole group of tough guys who looked at me funny when I first started coming here. But all they had to do was see me benching 300 pounds, and that was that. Soon they were coming up to me, asking me for tips. Then they found out I was a doctor, and they’d come up to me and ask me, “Hey doc, what do you think I should do for my training?”

  “Eat right and work your ass off,” I’d always say.

  It works, if they’re willing to stick to it. But it takes dedication to hit the iron bars on a frequent basis, and it takes dedication to eat right, stay off the booze, making sure you carb up and get your protein sources in a row for each day out of the week.

  I do a quick warm up set on the bench press. The equipment here isn’t exactly what you’d call sophisticated. It’s just rusty steel, at least a decade old. But it fucking works. That’s what I like about this place. You can get just as good of a workout here as you can in one of those pretentious gyms. This is like one of those gyms but with all the bullshit stripped away completely, leaving just the bare essentials. It’s just me and iron. Just me and the weights. Just my hands on cold steel. I can either push the weight or I can’t. It’s a zero sum game, where the only thing that matters is determination.

  I finish my set of twelve reps, 150 pounds on the bar, and then I call Mia back.

  “It worked!” she says, as soon as she picks up.

  “Good,” I say, slightly out of breath. “I knew it would, but just wanted to make sure. I can send you the link later so you can buy some more. And I might be able to get you some purer stuff through some connections I have with the hospital, but what you have now is fine.”

  “I can’t believe it works…” says Mia. “It’s incredible. I have my whole life back… And it’s just some over the counter product… It’s insane. I always figured it would be some crazy kind of expensive treatment, and that was on my good days when I actually thought something would work.”

  I look down to see my cock rock hard, sticking up in my pants, making a huge tent.

  “Listen,” I say. “I’m glad it worked, too. I’ve been thinking about you. And I’m glad you’re out of that room because I wouldn’t be able to do what I want to do to you in that room, wearing all that crazy plastic wrap stuff.”

  She laughs, somewhat nervously.

  “That plastic was terrible, wasn’t it?”

  “You’re supposed to ask me what I want to do to you,” I say, chuckling.

  “Oh yeah, sorry, my… um… flirting skills are a little out of practice, being locked in my room for a year.”

  “I know we said Friday,” I say. “But what about today? You want to come over to my place tonight?”

  She pauses for a moment, but I know she’s going to say yes.

  “Sure,” she says. “That’d be great. Should I bring anything?”

  “Just bring yourself,” I say. “I’ll cook something for us.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “I’ll text you the address. Or do you need me to pick you up?”

  “I’m not sure my dad would like that.”

  “You’re an adult,” I say. “You can make your own choices. Do you have a way to get to my place?”

  “Only the train.”

  “That’s no good,” I say. “It’ll take you forever that way. I’ll pick you up at 8, OK?”

  There’s a pause. “I guess that’s OK.”

  “See you at 8,” I say.

  Slipping the phone in my pocket, I head back to the bench press. This time it’s not a warm up. This time it’s for real.

  I arch my back slightly with perfect technique and grip the cold, rusty steel. Bits of rust flake off and fall onto my body. That’s just part of the fun. I’ve got more weight on this time. I’m ready to go to my max, and Mia’s ready for me. She’s been locked in that room for a full year, dreaming about guys like me and what they’d do to her. She’s going to moan all night long. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she’s a complete wild woman in bed already—I know her type. And after a full year without a single cock, she’s going to be simply dying for it.

  Chapter 10

  Mia

  I’ve never felt so nervous for anything in my entire life. I didn’t feel this nervous when I had my first attack and woke up in the hospital hyperventilating with anxiety about what had happened.

  The big question is: should I tell him I’m a virgin or not.

  Shelly assured me that I should most definitely tell him.

  “But what if he’s not interested in me after that?” I asked her at the diner, after I’d taken my extra drop of the bitter tasting blue liquid that made me completely better. My face cleared up almost immediately.

  “Are you kidding? Guys love fucking virgins. It’s like a fantasy for them or something.”

  “Really?”

  “Have you been living under a rock or something?” she said.

  “I’ve been in my room for a year. And I’m a virgin. Basically new to the world.” I laughed uncomfortably.

  “Oh yeah,” said Shelly.

  I’m all dressed up, wearing the one dress I have that still fits me. Somehow, over the last year, I’ve gotten bigger in my bust, my ass, and my hips. I’m surprised to see myself in the mirror, nearly spilling out of the dress in all the right places.

  “Where are you going dressed like that?” says my dad, sitting in front of the television in the living room.

  “I’m going out,” I say.

  “On a date?” says my mom, sitting in a chair next to my dad. She has her hair up in curlers and is wearing a cream face mask that’s supposed to help with her skin, a mania that started years ago—there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her skin in any way, shape, or form.

  I nod. “Maybe,” I say.

  “Yes, or maybe?” says my dad.

  “Look,” I say. “I need to get out. I’ve been in this house for a year. I thought you would both understand that.”

  “We do, dear,” says my mom. “We’re just worried about you. What if you have another attack? What if something happens?”

  “You’ve been in here a long time,” says my dad. “This world is a… tough place.”

  For some reason, this makes me angry. I feel like they’re trying to control me. It’s not like I’m a kid. I’m an actual adult. So what if I’ve never had sex and I’ve been locked in my room for a year? That doesn’t make me any less of an adult…. Well, that’s what I tell myself.

  “I’ve got to get going,” I say, opening the door.

  Through the screen door, I can see Liam’s sports car pulling up to the curb.

  I need to meet him at his car before he comes to the door. The last thing I want is some kind of confrontation between him and my dad.

  “You’re not going to meet Liam, are you?”

  Surprisingly, he doesn’t sound angry, like he was before.

  “I am,” I say, speaking the words definitely. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Listen,” says my dad, his tone reasonable and calm, which somehow annoys me even more. “I just want you to be
careful. I’ve known Liam for a long time, and he has a… reputation. He’s been with a lot of women, and he’s a bit older than you are.”

  “Good,” I say. “That’ll mean he knows what he’s doing.”

  The look on my dad’s face is priceless.

  My mom actually gasps as I say this.

  “See you later,” I say, pushing my way through the screen door.

  Liam is waiting in the car for me and he reaches across to the passenger side to open the door for me from the inside.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Your dad upset?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, not sure if it’s the truth or not.

  “I got some stuff to cook us a curry,” says Liam, pointing to the small back seat of the sports car where there’s a bag of groceries.

  For some reason, I feel nervous all of a sudden, sitting next to him in his car. He doesn’t look much older than me. He’s probably six years older or so, maybe more? I don’t know. He’s in great shape, either way. But he does seem much more mature. Next to him, I feel completely foolish, really.

  “Looks like a lot of fresh vegetables,” I say, since I can’t think of what else to say.

  “I figure you’d enjoy all the different flavors,” says Liam. “After eating that hypoallergenic gruel for so long.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say.

  On the rest of the drive through the dark night, the conversation becomes easier and easier, and by the time we pull up to his house, I’m acting and talking like I’m relaxed. The conversation flows easily. But inside, my heart is thumping. After all, I’m about to lose my virginity to Liam. There’s no question in my mind that this is what I want. I don’t just want it. I need it. And it’s clear from the way he looks at me, as if he’s devouring me, that he wants me just as much as I want him. I’m not used to guys looking at me like this, especially not guys like Liam.

  Before getting gout of the car, Liam leans over and kisses me.

  It’s a gentler kiss than our first one, but it’s still intense. I can feel his stubble prickling me, and I love it for some reason, even though I always thought it seemed gross. That was before I met Liam. I have a feeling a lot of things in my life are going to go that way—ways I felt and thought before I met Liam.

 

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