Crushing On My Doctor: A Medical Romance

by Iona Rose

  It's an understatement to say that Aidan is hot. His eyes are the color of the sea on a stormy day, dark blue and deep. When he smiles, they light up and twinkle and he has the cutest little dimples in his cheeks. He definitely works out. Even through the loose white coat I could see the muscles in his arms, on his chest.

  The really weird thing is I don’t think I’m the only one who felt the sparks flying between us. I really think Aidan felt it too. I am sure he was trying to find excuses to stay longer in my room. I mean do doctors usually do the phone calls and pour water for patients? And when Stacy came in, I felt like she had interrupted an intimate moment somehow. Maybe the pain meds are just affecting my brain.

  And now, as if that isn’t all enough to make today a strange day, I’m sitting up in bed in a flimsy pink hospital gown that totally clashes with my hair and makes me look even paler than I am, waiting for the police to come and talk to me about me being the victim of a crime I don’t remember. I hope someone has told them I don’t remember anything. I don’t want them to come in here expecting answers and instead get nothing. Because that’s really all I have for them.

  I’m pulled out of my musings by a beeping sound, which I realize is my text message alert on my phone. It must have been brought in with me. It was likely in my jeans’ pocket. I swing my legs out of the bed waiting for a rush of dizziness that doesn’t come. My neck hurts a little more as I bend down to the bottom drawer of the cabinet, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

  I pull the drawer open and lift up my jeans. I feel the pockets and find I was right. My phone is in the pocket. I smile to myself as I fish it out. I put my jeans back away and close the drawer and get settled back into bed and then I read the message. It’s from Jennifer.

  “Oh my God. Just heard what happened to you. Are you alright? X”

  I type out a response assuring her that I’m fine and telling her that I don’t really know what happened to me. She texts back asking if she can come and see me during visiting hours tomorrow. I instantly text back telling her yes, that would be great.

  I look through my texts to see if I’ve missed any others. There’s one from a few hours ago, Jennifer telling me how much she’s looking forward to our night out. I feel a little bit guilty about that, but it’s hardly like I’m just flaking out on her. I notice there are no more texts or calls from Jeremy and I smile. At least one good thing has come out of today. It must have really worked when I sent the last text to him and told him one more time we were done.

  A knock sounds on my room door and I slip my phone into the top drawer of the cabinet which I can reach without having to get out of bed.

  “Come in,” I call, surprised that the nurse has waited for me to invite her in.

  The door opens and I see why. It isn’t a nurse. It’s two police officers. One is a short black woman with her hair scraped back into a neat little bun. The other one is a tall male officer. He doesn’t look old enough to be out of high school. I tell myself that’s a sure fire sign that I’m getting old. The female officer steps forward and extends her hand. I shake it.

  “My name is Officer Prescott and this is Officer Moore,” she says. The male officer nods to me from the corner of the room where he’s collecting two plastic chairs and bringing them to my bedside. “One of the nurses called and said you were ready to talk to us. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” I say, nodding my head. “But I really don’t know how much use I can be. Did the nurse tell you I have no memory of the event?”

  “She did,” Officer Prescott smiled. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t tell us anything useful. You’d be surprised how many little things people think aren’t important that actually are.”

  “Ok,” I reply, nervous suddenly.

  What if I don’t tell them the little detail that can make a difference?

  “What is the last thing you remember?” Officer Prescott asks me.

  “I stood up to go and get a shower and get changed. I think it was around four o’clock. There was a knock on my front door, and that’s the last thing I remember before waking up here,” I tell her.

  She just listens, nodding encouragingly, while Officer Moore takes notes of what I’m saying.

  “What do you remember about the knock on the door?” Officer Prescott asks.

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  “Was the knock particularly loud or did it sound urgent? Anything like that?”

  “Not that I can remember,” I say.

  “And do you remember having any ideas who it could be?”

  “I thought maybe it was Jennifer. She’s my best friend. We were going out that night and I thought maybe she had arrived early. I know that sounds crazy, but Jennifer has a habit of turning up early for everything. It wasn’t her though.”

  “You remember it not being her?” Officer Prescott asks me.

  “Not specifically, but she’s my best friend. She wouldn’t attack me or trash my house,” I say with confidence.

  “Don’t worry,” Officer Moore put in. “Your friend isn’t a suspect. She has an iron clad alibi for the time of the attack. We’re only asking these questions in case they trigger something.”

  “You checked Jennifer’s alibi? As in she was a suspect at one time?” I ask, surprised.

  “Not so much of a suspect as someone to eliminate from our investigation,” Officer Prescott says with a smile. “Are you in the habit of letting strangers into your home Ms Hart?”

  “No, of course not,” I reply.

  “There was no sign of forced entry and no sign of a struggle in the hallway. This could indicate that your attacker was someone you knew,” she said.

  “I thought of that,” I admit. “But I also thought maybe it was someone I knew at the door, or a salesman or something, and then maybe I forgot to lock the door after me. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before, but never say never right.”

  Even as I say it, I know that’s an unlikely scenario, but is it any more unlikely than thinking someone I knew well enough to invite inside my home would do this to me?

  “That’s also possible and we’ll be checking the nearby area to see if there are any CCTV cameras close enough to maybe have picked something up. You don’t happen to have any cameras installed at home do you?” Officer Prescott says.

  “No,” I say. I think for a minute. “You think this is personal don’t you?”

  “It does look that way,” Officer Prescott admitted. “But it could just have been an opportunist burglar who saw a chance to rob your house, however it is quite rare for a burglar to trash a room such as occurred in your house unless they are after something of particular high value and they won’t usually hurt someone unless you could identify them. Whether either of these situations is relative we will obviously need you to go through your things and confirm nothing is missing, but on first glance it doesn’t appear that you have been robbed. Your TV is still there though damaged and there’s a laptop and jewellery sitting out in plain view in your bedroom. Your purse wasn’t touched either. There is of course still a chance that this was a burglary and that the police arrived quickly enough to scare the person off without them having time to take anything. But harming you is still puzzling were that the case”

  “Do you know of anyone who might want to harm you Ms Hart? Anyone who dislikes you or who you’ve had a run in with recently?” Officer Moore puts in, his pen poised ready to note down my answer.

  I think for a moment. I don’t for a second think everyone in my life adores me, but I really can’t think of anyone who hates me enough to do this to me. I shake my head.

  “Not that I can think of. I mean I get on reasonably well with all of my colleagues and I haven’t been sleeping with anyone’s boyfriend or anything if that’s what you’re thinking,” I say, smiling to show I’m at least partially joking about that last part.

  Officer Prescott returns my smile but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

  “Be honest with me Officer.
What are the chances of you catching this guy?” I ask.

  “We have two officers on the scene right now. They are collecting finger prints and DNA evidence from the scene. Chances are most of the samples will be yours. We will have you come down to the station once you’re feeling better and give us a DNA sample and take your finger prints so we can eliminate those. If we find any other samples, then we will try to find a match in our database. You will also need to provide a list of current relationships, any boyfriends past and current, acquaintances and any other potential persons we can look into. If the crime was an opportunist, then there’s a chance they’ll be in the system having done this before and then we’ll catch him. If it turns out to be personal, and the person who attacked you doesn’t have a record, then honestly, the chances of finding him are quite slim. There is also the possibility that you will regain at least some memory of the incident which could be invaluable to catching the person.’’

  “Like I said, we’ll be looking for any CCTV of the area and we’ll be going door to door to talk to your neighbors, but it’s not a lot to go on.”

  I nod my head. It’s pretty much what I expected to hear. Another thought comes into my mind.

  “What will happen to my house? I mean is it left unlocked?” I say.

  “The officers on the scene collecting the evidence will secure the property when they leave and you will be able to collect your keys from the station whenever you’re ready,” Officer Prescott says.

  “Thank you,” I say. “Officer, should I go back? What’s the chances of this guy, whoever it is and whatever motive he had to hurt me, coming back to finish the job?”

  “I would say that’s unlikely, but I wouldn’t like to say with one hundred percent certainty that won’t be the case. If you have someone you could stay with for a short time until we conclude the investigation, that might be for the best,” Officer Prescott said.

  “In other words, wait long enough for him to realize he’s gotten away with this and then hope he’s clever enough to take the win and stay the hell away from me?” I say.

  “Pretty much, yeah,” Officer Prescott says, surprising me with her honesty.

  My surprise must show on my face because she goes on.

  “I know that is a little disheartening, but it’s the truth Ms Hart and I don’t want to mislead you. Please don’t think we aren’t taking this seriously though because we are. I promise you we will do our best to catch your attacker.”

  “There’s just not much to go on at this stage of the investigation,” I finish for her.

  “Exactly,” she says. She digs in her pocket and hands me a small card. “Here’s my card. If you do start to remember anything about the attack, even if it seems small or insignificant, give me a call ok? Remember that nothing is totally insignificant and no matter how small a detail something seems to be it could turn out to be important.”

  I nod my head and she smiles again and then stands up. Officer Moore puts away his notebook and stands up too. He gathers the chairs and takes them back to the corner.

  “Once you are released, please do let us know where we can find you Ms Hart,” Officer Prescott says as they head for the door.

  “I will. Thank you Officers,” I say.

  I lean back against my pillows and sigh. They have as good as told me that they’re not going to be able to find whoever did this to me. So that leaves me with two options. I can lay here and feel sorry for myself, or I can put the attack behind me and get on with my life. I choose option B. I decide the first thing I have to do is to take a look at my face and neck. I want to see how bad the damage is.

  I slowly get up out of bed, pleased to note that there’s still no rush of dizziness. The movement makes the pain in my head a little bit worse, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I walk slowly to the small bathroom in my room and approach the sink. I keep my head held high, needing to see how bad I look before I change my mind about looking.

  To be honest, I was expecting it to be worse than it is. I had blown it up out of all proportion in my head, imagining a Frankenstein’s monster style nightmare of stitches. I don’t know why – the only stitches I have are the ones in the back of my head. Maybe I’m crazy as well as bruised.

  There’s a smallish bruise on my cheekbone that annoyingly looks like a smudge of dirt due to the dark colour of it. I discovered it was a bruise when I tried to wipe it off and found the spot tender. My neck is a mess of bruises, some clear fingerprints sitting darker against the yellowish tinge of the entire area. It makes me shudder to think how close I seem to have come to being choked to death and catching my attacker seems to be way down a long list of crimes for the police. Stacy, the nurse who was here earlier, even told me I was lucky that my windpipe hadn’t been crushed.

  Overall, I have looked better yes, but it’s not that bad. And it’s not like anything will permanently scar. Actually, my head wound might. I don’t know how deep the cut was. But nothing that is visible will permanently scar. If it’s possible to have your home broken into and vandalized and to be physically assaulted and still be classed as lucky, then yes. I guess I am lucky.

  I hear the door to my room open and I leave the bathroom. Aidan is back and I smile at him, feeling a tingling sensation in my clit when he returns my smile. I love that I’ve gotten to meet Aidan, but I hate how it happened. I mean talk about embarrassing. I can only hope I wasn’t drooling while I was unconscious. And the hospital gown is doing nothing to make me feel better about the way I look.

  “How are you feeling?” Aidan asks me.

  “Better,” I smile. “The nurse gave me some painkillers which have taken the throbbing in my head down to more of an irritable ache. And I’ve just taken a look at my neck and it’s not quite as hideous as I imagined it was going to be.”

  “Nothing about you is hideous,” Aidan says.

  He blushes as he says it and then he clears his throat, looking away from me and grabbing my chart. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. This attraction I am feeling is definitely not one-sided.

  “Everything looks in order here,” Aidan smiles at me. “Assuming everything stays like this, I can see no reason why you shouldn’t be home within the next couple of days.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  Aidan frowns slightly and drops my chart back in its holder and then he comes to sit down on the side of my bed. He faces me and I am aware of how close his body is to mine. I can feel the heat coming off him even through the sheets. I can feel my pussy starting to dampen as I imagine reaching out and pulling him closer, him slipping beneath the sheets with me.

  I want to shift positions slightly so that I’m even closer to him, but I’m scared that if I move I’ll spook him and he’ll jump back away from me.

  “Why not? Did the police say something about who did this to you?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Not exactly. In fact, I’m confident they won’t find the person who did it which is what is worrying me. They said that the chances of my attacker returning are slim, but I’m not sure I want to take that risk you know.”

  “I don’t want to worry you further Erika, but I actually think it might be a good idea if you find somewhere temporary to stay until everything quietens down,” Aidan said.

  It was basically what the police had said. Give the guy time to realize he had gotten away with the attack and then hope he was smart enough to take that as a win and stay away from me. It made me angry that everyone seemed so sure he would get away with it, but I couldn’t fault the logic of it. I couldn’t remember anything and that meant the police had nothing to go on.

  “I think you might be right,” I say, forcing myself to smile although I’m a little worried about where I will go. I will worry about that later. Aidan said I have a day or two in here before I have to start thinking about that.

  He stands up and smiles down at me.

  “My shift
is about over and I just wanted to check in on you before I finished for the night. I’ll be back in tomorrow, and the doctor who is working tonight is very good so don’t worry,” Aidan said.

  “I won’t,” I smile. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight Erika.”

  I wait until he’s almost out of the room before I’m brave enough to ask what I want to ask.

  “Aidan?” I say.

  He turns back to me.

  “Do you go around and say goodnight to all of your patients like this?” I ask, a flirty smile on my lips.

  Aidan returns my smile and shakes his head.

  “No. But none of them have ever had an effect on me like you have Erika.”

  He leaves quickly before I can even begin to respond to that. My stomach feels warm and swirly and my pussy aches for Aidan’s touch. Hearing that I am having a similar effect on him is both reassuring and exciting.

  I think I’ll have a hard time sleeping tonight, thoughts of the attack and visions of Aidan stopping me from switching off my brain. I am wrong though. I drift off to sleep almost as soon as Aidan leaves the room.

  I wake up to a light tapping sound on my room door. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, and as soon as I do, the throbbing pain in my head starts up again.

  “Come in,” I croak.

  I clear my throat and push myself into a sitting position as Officer Prescott comes into my room. I frown in surprise. I hadn’t expected to see her so soon.

  “Is everything alright?” I ask.

  Officer Prescott nods and smiles.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” she says. “But the team from your home have managed to identify two different strands of DNA in your living room right around where the attack took place. We believe one to be yours, but we really need to be certain just so it can be eliminated from the investigation before we cross match the sample with our records. I wondered if you would be willing to provide a sample of your DNA now?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” I reply after taking a moment to consider if this is good news. It probably wasn’t. Unless the guy was a repeat offender, it wouldn’t help because his DNA wouldn’t be on their files if he hadn’t done anything wrong before. “Do you need me to call the nurse to take the blood?”