Attending Physician

by Vivienne Hartt Quinn

  I called Jamie. “Jamie, what’s your admin’s name?”

  “Jane,” she mumbled absently. He was in some document or other.

  “Thanks, Jamie,” I trilled as I rang off.

  “It’s Jane,” I said reprovingly to Raven.

  Gretchen laughed. “She’s definitely going to keep you on your toes, Raven.”

  “How would you feel,” I challenged Raven, “if somebody called you a girl doctor?”

  “Point taken, milady. Jane,” she memorized. “It won’t happen again.”

  Lucy interrupted Raven’s lesson. She was like a dog with a bone. “Why did the bad man’s friend want to hurt you, Lady?”

  “Because the bad man’s friend was mad at Lady,” Gretchen attempted to help.

  “Mad is bad,” said Lucy.

  “That’s not completely true, Lucy,” I qualified. “Mad for a bit is okay and then you get over it, but mad all the time is bad.”

  Lucy nodded in agreement. “Mad all the time is bad.” She ate a French fry. “How do you fix it, Lady?”

  “Fix what, Luce?”

  “Mad all the time.”

  “You forgive,” I said. “You forgive the other person, you forgive yourself, and you forgive God.”

  Gretchen stared at me like I’d poked her with a pin.

  “Forgive ... God, did you say?”

  “Yes.”

  Raven watched us intently.

  “How can you forgive God?” Gretchen asked me, sounding strangled.

  “For letting whatever it was happen,” I said softly. Admiring Lucy, I said, “I like your dress, Lucy. It’s pretty on you.”

  Then we moved on to different things, lighter things, for which, I, for one, was grateful.

  Raven could not, and therefore did not, keep her hands off me. It was a miracle one bite of my dinner made it into my mouth. I was dizzy with desire by the time we left the Shake Shack, and we still had the bedtime ritual to go. My earlier fantasy played right in the forefront of my brain as we pulled into the driveway.

  By grace, Gretchen said her goodnights and got out. Raven handed a sleepy Lucy over to Gretchen. We parked the minivan in the garage, and Raven exhaled hard.

  “Long day, milord?”

  “I was very worried, baby. Not hearing from you was tough.” She whispered, “I haven’t had anybody this close personally since Angie died, and I think I might still have some residual ... I guess, trauma, from receiving that terrifying news.”

  “That makes sense, darling,” I said, reaching over to squeeze her shoulders.

  “Ohhh,” she moaned. I kept at it. “Oh, oh, ma’am, oh.”

  “There’s more where that came from if you’ll take us home, milord.”

  We extricated ourselves from her domestic vehicle and got in the sports car to go to Somerville.

  Though a massage would feel good, no way it would release her from the fear of loss. What she needed was a release of that tension, so I began my campaign to shift the heaviness of the worry.

  I always rested my hand on her thigh when we were in the car as a way of feeling and staying connected. But I had wanted her the whole day, despite the crazy, so I began to trace her inseams gently, slowly, up and down her leg. I started with the closest and then reached to the other.

  Eventually, she was no longer able to speak. She glanced at me every once in a while, spread her legs a tad more, and began to let herself feel the sensations, and let the sensations shift her feelings. I hummed and breathed and cooed at her, and let my own arousal grow. Finally, I began to speak in a low, purring voice.

  “Milord, I wonder if you would help me fulfill a fantasy I’ve been having since early this morning? Please? I want you so much, and my mind has been entertaining this idea off and on today, darling, and I am so turned on, so very turned on. How you have tipped me into such a vast sea of desire I cannot begin to understand ... but you have. Oh, Goddess, you have. My fantasies had me so distracted at lunch that I forgot what I was talking about ....”

  Raven was breathing hard by the time we got home. “Milady—”she began.

  “Hush, milord,” I said, “let me be in charge.” I needed to remind her of the first sentence of The Femme Manual, but this was not the time.

  She hushed, helped me out of the car and brought us upstairs. Once the door was closed, she leaned against it, thankful to be home so she could let go and let me have my wicked way with her.

  I reached for her shoulders and began to stroke the exhaustion out of her body, running my hands down from her scalp to her neck, over her shoulders down her arms through her hands, and then doing it again. I left tiny bites along her jaw line, along her neck, along her collarbones. I had no urge to mark her—that was a butch’s prerogative with her femme—but I could delight in the taste of her, murmuring nonsense sounds of desire and delight.

  “Come, darling, come with me,” I tugged her down the hall toward the bedroom, feeling the tiredness begin to leave her. I propped her against the space between the closet doors and dropped gracefully to my knees in front of her. Her eyes widened as she gazed down at me. I began running my hands up her inseams and pressing her sex through the center seam.

  Not all butches always pack, and someday soon, I would probably have a conversation with her on the subject, but lately, mine did. She was ready to take me day and night,

  I reached for the belt at her hips, and very slowly, very slowly indeed, undid the shiny brass buckle, holding her eyes unwaveringly with mine. Then I unbuttoned the button at the top of her fly.

  “All day,” I breathed as I slowly worked that zipper down. “All day, my darling butch, I wondered if I could get you to fuck my mouth. I know you could. But would you? Please? I’ll beg if you need it, but I’m hoping that a civilized request will work.”

  I drew her eyes to mine again. “Please, my love, will you fuck my mouth? Please?”

  I tugged her trousers to loosen them so that I could release my prize.

  I looked up again.

  Waiting for her answer.

  Chapter 52

  Her chest heaved, and she peered at me like I was not to be believed.

  “Please, sir?” I said.

  “Yes, baby, God, yes.”

  I lifted her cock out of her trousers and sighed a happy girl sigh. Her mouth quirked slightly at the edges.

  Then I leaned forward and swirled my tongue around the head. Her eyes were riveted on my face. She sucked in a breath. I opened my mouth and covered the tip, sucking gently, and let her see my cheeks hollow, moaning as I drew more of her into my mouth. My hands grasped the base together and pulled her toward me.

  I let go of the head and began to lick up and down the shaft of her cock, listening to her breath change. I rubbed my thighs together as my fantasy came true. God, she turned me on.

  I traced the bottom of her with a long lick where there would be a pulsing vein and then I got serious, and sucked the head into my mouth. I began to take in as much of her length as I could, opening my throat, and allowing her to hit the back of it, and I encouraged her to move.

  At last, I pulled away and spoke to her, “Come for me, darling, come in my mouth, and let me swallow the essence of you, milord, please.”

  Then I gathered all of her into my throat and she grabbed the back of my head and started to thrust into me in a rhythm of need, panting my name, “Baby, baby, baby ....” Her voice grew more hoarse as she got closer to her release. I could tell she was on the edge when I swallowed and the vibration of my throat against her pushed her over. As the spasms subsided, she threaded her hands into my hair, and rested her body against the door.

  It felt like a benediction.

  I pulled back, and let her see my swollen lips. I kissed the head sweetly as a sort of thank you, and then I glanced up at my dear butch.

  “Baby, milady, I ... you’re a ...,” I smiled up at her, “dream come true. I don’t know what to say to you.” She shook her head. “Come here, baby, come to me,” s
he pulled me up by the arms, and cocooned me into her body.

  I curled my face into her neck and snuggled breathing in her scent. Bless my darling’s heart, I may have been in deep need of a butch of my own, but she needed a femme as much. I wasn’t going to point it out.

  “Baby, can I be selfish?”

  “Selfish?”

  “I said I needed to take you this morning.” She paused with such longing on her face that it took my breath away. “I still do.”

  “Oh, goody!” I said. Then I batted my eyelashes at her coyly, “What is your pleasure, milord? How would you like to do that?”

  “Can we be traditional, milady?”

  I thought she referenced a particular missionary position. “Oh, yes,” I said.

  She reached forward and began to kiss me, walking me gently toward the bed, shedding my clothes on the way there. When my legs hit the bed, she tossed aside the covers and shifted my legs onto the bed, pulling off my boots, socks, skirt, and panties. My sweater and bra were already gone. I lay on the bed wearing jewelry, make-up and perfume. She stood over me, “God, milady, you are so sexy.”

  She shed her clothes as she drank her fill. I so wanted the feeling of her hard nakedness against my soft yielding. When she got on the bed, and laid herself gently over me, balancing her weight on her forearms, I gasped in contentment. “I waited for this all day, sir,” I murmured against her mouth.

  “You did?” she said softly in my ear. “Baby, you’ll never know.” Her tongue snaked into the shell of my ear and sensation cascaded down my spine. “Milady, do I need to see to you first?” I think that was code for: did I need a slew of foreplay? I didn’t know for certain, and I made a mental tick to ask her later. Right then, I wanted what I wanted.

  “Darling, no. I need my butch to fuck me. Now.”

  She spread my legs around her waist and took me at once. I moaned.

  “More, darling,” I urged her. “Harder, faster.”

  She quickened her movement and that ancient rhythm delivered us both right where we needed to be for ourselves as individuals, but more, for us as a pair. I gasped as she pulled me over the edge into spasm after spasm of pleasure. It felt endless. And, joy of joys, she came with me. Finally, she shifted to beside me and tucked me protectively against her side.

  “Thank you, milord,” I said.

  “Oh, no, milady, thank you. I’ll remember that as long as I live.”

  “Wanking material, darling?” I teased.

  “You bet, baby,” she grinned. “Let’s get some sleep, and hope that tomorrow is less eventful than today.”

  I groaned. “But the biopsy is tomorrow.”

  “I know, babe, but the biopsy itself won’t be too bad. It’ll be the two weeks of waiting that we have to work to navigate.” She kissed me gently. “Go to sleep, milady. Tomorrow is another day.”

  “Goodnight, milord. Sweet dreams.”

  “Very,” came her cat-that-ate-the canary reply.

  We wakened in exactly the same positions in which we’d fallen asleep. I laid there and savored how safe I felt in Raven’s arms. Such a small thing making such a big difference.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” wafted into my ear and down my neck. “Sleep well?”

  “Mmmm, yes, very well. Did you?”

  “Yes,” her chest rumbled behind me. “I had good incentive, milady. Very good,” her voice deepened. “Baby, I still don’t know what to say to you about last night. You were—a dream come true. I have never had a femme ....” She trailed off.

  “Go on,” I said, “you can say it.”

  “You’re like a butch fantasy!” burst out of her.

  I leaned in to kiss her and said, “My pleasure, my love. Completely my pleasure.”

  “I don’t think so,” she started.

  I interrupted, “Coffee, darling?”

  “Yes,” she refocused on the day, “and we need to talk through how today will go.”

  “Yes, darling,” I said, sliding out of bed and into a robe. “Tea and schedules. My favorite breakfast.”

  “Verity?” Raven spoke from where she sat on the edge of the bed as I was one foot out the door.

  “Hmm?” I swivelled toward her.

  “I’m falling in love with you.”

  I paused and let that hang in the room, then I crossed to her, and knelt in front of her, taking her face in my hands. “I know, darling, and I’m so glad, so very glad.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “When I let myself be,” I owned it. “You?”

  “Same.”

  “Well, good, we can be scared together if we want and get it over with. How ‘bout that?”

  “Sounds like a plan, baby.”

  “Raven, you know I’m falling in love with you, too, right?”

  “Nice to hear it.”

  Once the kettle was on, and Raven was at the table, I said, “I had the sense you needed to hear it said aloud. I’ve been acting on my intuition more lately.”

  “I did. Yesterday scared me more than I admitted. No news feels like bad news because of what happened with Angie.”

  “I get it, darling. I’ll do everything I can to communicate, I promise.” I sat on her lap and kissed her, “Even if it has to be telepathic.”

  She pushed me off her lap. “I’m never gonna let you get dressed, baby.”

  “Something to clock,” I trailed my hand down her arm and watched the goosebumps rise.

  As I made coffee and tea, we went through the plan.

  Chapter 53

  I expected my little playmate around one. I’d decided I was going to put make-up on her, and let her wear my pink sweater as a dress. We were going to play dress-up which I could do half asleep. Gretchen’s appointment was at two, and Raven thought it would take just over an hour depending upon whether they were running on time, which is always a crapshoot with physicians. They should be at my house by teatime; Lucy and I would be hosting.

  Then if Gretchen felt alright, she’d take Lucy home. If she didn’t, I’d drive Gretchen and Lucy home in the minivan, since it was an automatic, and Raven would follow us in Chérie. We’d put both of them to bed, and return to my condo.

  “Do we need to be prepared to stay at your house?” I asked Raven. “Just in case?”

  “I don’t think so, but we can maybe plan that for this weekend. The thing is: to be at my house is to have Lucy if Lucy is awake, and, I’d rather focus on us.”

  “You were never meant to be an everyday parent, were you?”

  “I don’t think so.” She ran her hands through her curls. “A while went by before I admitted that though. It’s not my gig. Fortunately, it is very much Gretchen’s. Maybe not one she’d planned on having permanently, but she does love it.”

  “It’s not mine either, Raven, but I love the idea of time-sharing a little poppet with her Nana, and,” I warned, “we’re going to have to step up if Gretchen has cancer.”

  “I know. What if I hire a live-in nanny?”

  “I think you’ll probably have to, but, no matter what, we’re going to need to be more hands-on.”

  “Please, God,” Raven said, “let Gretchen be cancer-free. Amen.”

  I contemplated her worried face, then I kissed the lines out of her forehead. “Dr. Lange, I’ve been praying for Gretchen, and I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I don’t think she has cancer.”

  Raven jerked away from me. “You don’t?!”

  “No, I don’t. I think this is a wake-up call. Still, I’ve been wrong before, and I’ll be wrong again. Don’t tell Gretchen. Let’s let the docs tell her. In the meantime, we have two weeks to improve her attitude. I think we should spend the weekend in Newton.” When she started to protest, I said, “Days anyway, and let’s invite the guys for a last fall barbeque. Maybe we’ll have Indian summer.”

  Raven stared at me. “You’re a miracle, Verity. A bloody fucking magical miracle.”

  “Of course I am, darling. I’m a witch,” I said,
as I let my robe slide down and off my shoulders and tore helter-skelter buck naked down the hall and into the shower. I left a wake of chuckling Raven behind me, which brought me a feeling of deep satisfaction.

  I thought she was a miracle too.

  In the streaming water, I was hit with memories of trying to have that kind of fun with Shelby but she didn’t/wouldn’t/couldn’t play the way I wanted to play. Play, I decided, is crucial in a vital, living, breathing relationship, and it has to be play that both partners can participate in, want to participate in, and love participating in.

  God, Shelby made me feel so sad and mad at the same time. Then it hit me broadside: I needed the same healing Gretchen did albeit for a different reason. I almost passed out in the shower.

  I needed to forgive Shelby—which I was well on my way to doing, I needed to forgive myself—which I don’t think I’d taken the first step toward, and I needed to forgive Goddess for letting it happen.

  Raven banging on the door brought me out of it. “Baby, are you drowning?”

  I wrapped myself in a towel, and opened the door.

  “A mermaid,” she said under her breath, eyes riveted to my form.

  I smiled.

  Then she detected how pale I was. “Milady? Are you—?”

  I walked into her arms though I was principally still soaking wet. “I realized something that scared me, something important.”

  Raven tipped my chin to capture my eyes. “Gonna tell me?”

  “Yes, but later.”

  “Whenever you want,” she said. “Can I change the subject?”

  “I wish you would,” I moaned plaintively as I began to dry off.

  “Let me do that, baby,” she said huskily.

  Shivers. Christ Almighty, shivers on shivers. A fully dressed hot butch in my loo drying off every speck of a sopping wet me, and kissing whatever she touched in the meantime. Not designed to make me want to put on clothes, believe me.

  Finally, I was dry, and she wrapped me in a towel, and said, “Did you get a close-up at Ellie’s eyes yesterday?”

  I thought for a second. “Sort of,” I said, beginning to do my face for the day. “Why?”