by Lana Brazen
Dr. Lubton chuckles. “No. I’m not gay. I’m typically the other man in a scenario.” He pauses a second, hand resting on the side of my neck. “The light in your face is worth sharing you with him.”
My eyes pop up to his, but his immediately lower to his fingers near my throat.
“Do you do this often?” I ask when I shouldn’t. James lifts me from his thighs and sets me on the table. Hopping off himself, he leans forward to remove his condom and then pulls a wipe from the pack. He turns back to me, wiping me clean but taking his time to stroke over my core. He asks me to flip to remove excess lube. The time drags, and I think he’s forgotten what I’ve asked, or he’s strategically dismissing it.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss my personal life.” The crisp tone returns, and I blink back the prickle in my eyes. After what I’ve just shared with both men, it seems rather cold to dismiss me, but I’m reminded of my emotions before I entered. Go out with a bang.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I mutter, feeling awkward and exposed so physically naked before him. James steps aside to slip into his pants and tug the scrub shirt over his head.
I stand and cross the room for my clothes, stepping into my underwear and hooking my bra. We don’t typically dress together, and his presence feels awkward. As I pull my dress over my head and slip into my shoes, I stand to my full height and notice James standing by the door.
“You really are beautiful,” he says. “I hope you enjoyed that.”
“I did.” My mind flips through images. Andrew’s mouth on me. James’s dick in mine. Riding over James. Andrew’s fingers inside. A knowing smile curls my lips.
“You have that hungry look, like you could go again.” The comment sends a rush to my swollen folds, which ache but haven’t gotten the message our time is done.
“I think I might,” I tease, and James steps forward. He brushes back another strand of my long hair. Tender and sweet isn’t typically the professional manner he displays. Abruptly, he stops.
“Let’s step out to the other office,” he says, and tears well once again, but I quickly blink them back.
It’s the adrenaline, I decide.
It’s emotion, my heart whispers.
I follow him and then precede him as he holds the door and steps aside. Andrew awaits us in the other room, holding the clipboard. His head comes up, and he smiles at me. A twinkle in his eyes hints at knowing a secret.
“Ms. Blasen, would you like to schedule your next appointment.”
Can I do this again? Should I? My heart races as I find the strength to speak. “I think I’ll need to call the office. Check my calendar and such.”
Andrew’s pleased expression lowers a little, and he gives me an understanding nod.
“Gentlemen,” I address them both. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
+ + +
It’s another Thursday, but this time, it’s late afternoon as I enter the hallway. The end of the day for the medical offices, or so I think when I see a familiar blonde exit the podiatrist’s office, guiding a man at the elbow.
“Meredith?” I choke, swiping a hand through my hair, having no idea how my makeup must look. I smell like two men had sex with me, and I lick my lips.
“Mom?” She chuckles as she sees me. “What are you doing here?”
“I had…” I point over my shoulder down the remainder of the hall. “Another doctor’s appointment.”
“You’ve had quite a bit lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say. Hoping to change the subject, I address the person next to her. “Mr. Hudson, are you giving my daughter a hard time again?” I tease.
“This one?” He points a thumb at my daughter. “She’s the trouble.” The older man smiles as he flirts, and I laugh along with his sharp statement.
I eye the office they exited, and question, “Podiatry? Hurt your feet?”
“Got to figure out what’s wrong with them. This one keeps catching me.” He winks at me, and Merry shakes her head.
“Maybe you should stop running,” Meredith jokes back, and I smile at my girl. She works too hard for her patients. Being as it’s the end of the day, this is a case in point. She’ll take Mr. Hudson back to the center, long after her scheduled hours, and probably have dinner with him in hopes he’ll stay put for the night.
As we stand in the hall, the door of suite 3B opens. I try not to look back, but my head turns on instinct. Two men exit, one in scrubs, the other in jeans and a polo shirt. Quickly, I look away, holding my gaze on Mr. Hudson. My neck strains as I force myself not to turn back or to acknowledge either man.
“Mom, are you sure you’re okay? Your color just drained.”
“Yeah. Nothing to worry about. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” she asks, and I don’t really want to get into my troubles, especially with the two men behind me and my daughter before me. The silence in the mostly empty hall causes our voices to carry.
“I need some stuff done around the house.”
“You know you can call Dad for those things, or Jason could come over.” My eyes close at the mention of my ex-husband and son. Stan owns a pool cleaning service, very lucrative for southern Florida, and he’s also handy around a house, but I’d never call him for help. My twenty-two-year-old son works for his father. However, I’m not interested in calling him either as I don’t really have an issue other than to get out of this hallway and home.
“I’m not calling your father,” I state a little too gruffly and a little too loud. “The house is not his concern.” I was fortunate to have a house with a pool on the inlet. My parents gave me the down payment years ago. An investment, they claimed, hoping they could visit at will.
Meredith’s brow pinches, and she glances at the men approaching from behind me. The tap of one set of shoes hits the tile hard, and I can feel their presence as they draw closer to us.
“Excuse me.” Dr. Lubton’s calm voice brushes past my shoulder, and I think he means to pass us, but he stops. “I couldn’t help but overhear your need for some home repair.”
Home repair? Did I say that specifically?
“I happen to know an excellent man in the area who does all kinds of handyman work. He specializes in house calls.” Holding out a card for me, I take it and nod in gratitude.
“Thank you,” I choke, not even glancing down at the card before slipping it in my pocket. He tips his chin while Andrew stands next to him.
“Have a great evening.”
“You too,” Meredith says as the two continue forward, and they enter the last door in the hall near the front entrance.
“Wow, they were good looking.” Meredith raises an eyebrow at me, and Mr. Hudson snorts.
“You’re objectifying them. Don’t you know you can no longer do such a thing? Keep your hands to yourself,” he mocks.
Merry laughs. “We only have to say that to you, Mr. Hudson.” She squeezes his elbow. “Let’s walk out with my mom.”
“Can I objectify her?”
“Mr. Hudson!” Meredith chastises.
“And what would you say to me?” I encourage, thinking this ought to be interesting. I’m forty-five, and the general age group I attract is Mr. Hudson’s generation—over seventy. As I’m not quite there yet, I think I’ll keep to the middle ground. It’s one reason I finally accepted Xavier’s date request.
“I’d tell you you’re a looker and then ask you to look at me.” I’m not certain if that’s a mixed-up joke, or if I’m missing the punch line, but I laugh all the same, patting Don on the shoulder.
“If only I were older,” I tease.
“I’d let you catch me,” he remarks, wiggling his brows, and Merry shakes her head again.
As we continue down the hall at the shuffling pace of Mr. Hudson, we pass the rheumatologist’s office, where the blinds remain open, and James and Andrew stand inside the outer waiting area. The remainder of the office is dark. I pull my eyes away but notice on the mai
n board that it doesn’t list a Dr. Lubton as a rheumatologist in the first office. For some reason, this solidifies that I need a break from this medical building and suite 3B.
5
Things were definitely complicated. After two months of uninhibited, unprecedented sex, I take a break. It isn’t that anything had been met inside me, but I knew I was getting dangerously close to wanting an emotional connection with Dr. James Lubton, and I couldn’t keep torturing myself. I didn’t want scheduled appointments although the time with the good doctor was deliciously spontaneous. I just wanted something…a little more. So I went on a date.
Xavier Russo was an attractive man—his rich skin tone, wide dark eyes, and a sculpted face giving away his Latino heritage. He was mid-forty like me, but unlike me, he took great pride in his body. He was physically fit, and I didn’t realize how much until we finally went out for the drinks he was constantly asking me for.
“So, then I do fifty crunches, rotating with other basics like lunges and knee lifts, and then bench pressing. The basics keep it where it’s at.” He pats his belly, and I hear the solid reverberation. There’s no jiggle of years without those calisthenics or telltale signs of childbirth.
“Interesting,” I drone, and everything in my voice hints at the evidence—I’m bored. Xavier clears his throat.
“So tell me more about you? You’ve been out of the office quite a bit lately. Hot prospects?” He means real estate, but instantly, my mind wanders to James and Andrew, but more so to James. He was hot. But there was no prospect of him being anything more than a male specimen. A clinical term. Medical. Professional.
Strangely, I miss him.
“Nothing spectacular. A few on the waterfront.” Waterfront property is nothing to sneeze at. Everyone wants waterfront property—the view, the status, and the price tag—and as much as water surrounds Florida, it’s still a limited commodity.
“That’s cool. My last deal was on Outer Front Drive.” Nothing to complain about there, but were we really going to discuss work after the topic of his fit body? If we hit up the weather next, we’ll have covered all three of my small-talk pet peeves.
Xavier pauses, circling a finger around his drink. He’s had two tequilas on the rocks, but he hasn’t shot them back like I first expected he might.
“Can I ask you something? Why have you shot me down so much?”
“I…” How do I explain the failed dates, the fear of rejection, and the puzzle inside myself? “I’ve just been trying to figure out who I am lately. Dating didn’t make the top of the list.”
Xavier nods with a slow smile. “You know, dating doesn’t have to be complicated.”
“Really?” I tease. “I find it awkward at best and downright humiliating at worst.”
Xavier’s brows rise. “Really? Gosh, where does tonight fit?”
Brutal honesty might have been too much.
“Well, this isn’t so bad,” I lie, deciding I’d been too candid. “I know you. It’s different.”
“How?”
The question gives me pause. “Dating off apps, you never know who to trust. And the survey types that match you, how do I know the person didn’t lie? Then I’m mismatched with a supposed match. There are adventure clubs and singles nights and just a red arrow over your head saying I’m single, so I must be desperate.”
Xavier lowers his gaze, but I can’t seem to stop. “I mean, why do men assume that just because I’m over forty and available, I must be desperate. Is it written on my forehead? Sonar detection? Do I basically look that neglected?” I take a deep breath and reach for said forehead, scrubbing at the invisible words. What am I saying? And more importantly, why am I saying them to Xavier, a colleague?
“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know where that came from.” Reaching for my wine, I pull the glass to my lips and take a long drink.
“You know, I think you’re onto something. As a man of forty, I become a mystique. Why is he single? Why hasn’t someone snatched him up? What’s wrong with him? Because I’m not married and never have been, people wonder is he gay?” He hushes like it’s a crime. “Is he bi?” My face heats. “No one wants to accept maybe I just don’t want to be married, or haven’t found the woman for me, or don’t want to give up women in general.” He chuckles. “Which isn’t something I should say when a beautiful woman sits across from me.”
I laugh as well. “You don’t need to say that.”
“I’m not just saying it to get in up your skirt. I know how it is. We all see ourselves differently than others see us. I see a capable woman who works hard and doesn’t see her worth. You’re a success in your own right as a mother, a working woman, and a homeowner. You’re attentive, and for all those things, you are beautiful.”
I brush back my hair, long and blond but colored to cover the gray. His words light a spark. Not the flame of James’s touch, but James hardly speaks. This flicker is different. It’s warm, and my face glows. The compliments are sweet. It’s nice to be noticed, and it hits me that that’s what’s been missing in what I’m doing. James is with me at the moment, but he doesn’t notice me.
Swinging isn’t about emotion; it’s about the physical connection. I’d read that somewhere, and while I knew it to be true, I can no longer separate the two. I need physical and a connection.
As I’m thinking this thought, I look up and see a man passing behind Xavier’s seat. A crisp navy-blue suit covers him along with a starched white shirt and complementary tie. Unable to stop myself, I speak.
“James?” My voice cracks as the close-cropped gray temples and light tan skin are instantly recognizable. He turns his head, and those cool pale eyes hit me. His face stills from the smile momentarily on his lips.
“Ms. Blasen.”
I clear my throat. How could this be happening? My eyes fall to Xavier, who twists in his seat to look over his shoulder.
“James, who is this?” A beautiful woman has her arm looped through his elbow. Equally tan skin, perfectly smooth and glowing, her smile appears genuine while her brows wrinkle in question. She’s friendly-looking while lovely, but she’d claw my eyes out if she knew what I’d done with the man at her elbow.
“Lana Blasen. She’s a…patient.”
“So nice to meet you,” she offers, before smiling up at James like he hangs the moon. “The doctor does great things.” I swallow at the nomenclature. Is this confirmation he really is a doctor? It isn’t all a play-act, or is she one of his other women?
“You missed your last appointment,” James says with a calm, collected glare. I didn’t miss it. I just hadn’t scheduled another one yet.
“I’ll need to call the office and reschedule.” I hold his eyes a moment before I can’t take the intensity and draw away.
“Well, it was lovely to meet you,” the woman crows as she takes a step forward, a clear hint she’d like to walk away.
James steps with her and then halts. “Oh, did you ever happen to contact the handyman I recommended? The one who does home repairs and such.” And such? I want to snort.
“No, actually, I haven’t yet.” The card nearly burned a hole in my pocket after I walked my daughter to the parking lot and then took her up on dinner at the assisted living facility. I figured an evening out, even if it was at an old folks’ home, as Don called it, would be a good distraction from the thoughts in my head.
“You should call him,” James states, his eyes holding mine once again.
“Thank you. I will.”
“What was that?” Xavier asks as they walk away, and the tension in the air follows. The woman on James’s arm looks back at me one last time, and I quickly turn my head to reply to my date.
“I don’t know what you mean. He’s my doctor.”
“Doctor?” Xavier snorts. “Are you so familiar with them you call them by their first name? If he pissed on you, it couldn’t be more obvious.”
“What’s obvious?” I laugh, feeling all the tension release from
my body.
“That man wants to be more than your doctor.”
I laugh again. “How do you know?”
“I recognize the look. It’s like I want to be more than your colleague.”
Oh my.
I don’t have a response, and I’m grateful for the waiter who interrupts the awkward silence, asking if we’d like dinner. Before I can say, this is just drinks, Xavier speaks, “Yes, please. I’m starving,” and his eyes latch onto me.
At the end of the evening, the question remains do I kiss him or not. Xavier walks me to my car, and we pause at the side. His hands slip into his pockets, and I don’t miss him adjusting himself. For some reason, front porch kisses and back-seat sex come to mind, and I miss all the first moments of dating. This isn’t one of them.
I step forward, place my hand on Xavier’s shoulder, and go in for the friendly cheek kiss. Surprising me, he turns, and his mouth meets mine. I stop, but he doesn’t pull back. His hand comes to my neck, and his mouth opens, taking the kiss deeper. It isn’t awful. It’s more a rush. The spontaneity and surprise and I follow suit a few seconds before pulling back.
Nothing. There’s nothing there, and while I admit I miss kissing, I don’t feel anything for Xavier.
“Well…” He smiles. “This is the moment when I suggest friends with benefits and your place or mine.” He’s teasing me, and I laugh as his hands lower to my hips, and his forehead comes to mine.
“You’re a nice guy, Xavier, but I don’t think office romance is for me.”
“Who needs romance?” He chuckles and leans back, his eyes dancing in the parking lot lamps. For a moment, I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. It’s another mark on my tally to no longer make doctor’s office calls.
We don’t kiss.
It isn’t romantic.
He has another woman.
The reality hits hard, and suddenly, cheap and tawdry whisper through my head.
“I say, this is where you go to your place and I go to mine.” I pat Xavier’s firm chest. He’s correct; those reps are paying off for him. Lowering his hands, he steps back.