Playing with Her Doctors

by S. E. Law

  Well, Ranger and Ryder are definitely more than hot. They’re insanely handsome and gorgeous, not to mention good with their hands. But I laugh like nothing’s amiss.

  “I met with both of them actually,” is my reply. “First, Dr. Stephenson, but then he asked Dr. Stevens to come in for a second opinion.”

  “And?” asks Wanda. “What did they say? So did do you have, um, a loose pussy?” she says in a whisper while stealing a look at Danny.

  I laugh.

  “Danny can barely talk, much less understand English, Wan,” I say. “And he definitely doesn’t know what pussy means apart from your regular kitty cats.”

  Wanda makes a face.

  “No, I’m just saying,” she says while sticking out her tongue. “I don’t want to corrupt your son while he’s just a toddler.”

  I laugh again.

  “I appreciate it. Danny’s fine. And yes, both doctors agreed that no, I don’t have a ‘loose pussy,’” I say with air quotes.

  Wanda lets out a huge exhale.

  “That’s good,” she says. “So no surgery right?”

  “No surgery,” I confirm. “They just said to do some kegel exercises, maybe come in for a Botox shot, and I’d be fine.”

  “Botox?” asks Wanda. “Like for wrinkles?”

  I nod, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Yes, but it’s not Botox for your forehead. It’s Botox for your pussy. Supposedly, some women get a shot of Botox to their g-spot and it really heightens arousal.”

  Wanda gasps.

  “Are you joking?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nope, it’s all true. Drs. Stephenson and Stevens are medical professionals, so it’s straight from the horse’s mouth.”

  Wanda sits back, impressed.

  “Wow, I never would have guessed. Who knew that so much good would come from cow toxins?”

  I shoot her a wry smile.

  “I know right? But it is what it is.”

  Suddenly, my friend jerks forward again, her eyes alight.

  “I know this is intrusive, and you don’t have to say if you don’t want, but how did the doctors test your pussy? Did they use an instrument? Put you into a machine or something?”

  I smile mysteriously, and try to choose my words carefully, but there’s no graceful way to say this.

  “Actually, they used their fingers.”

  “Their fingers?” she squeals. “Those men are so hot! With or without gloves? Oh my god, did you, you know, get aroused?” she whispers.

  At this I blush.

  “I did, but it’s okay because I’m sure they’re used to it. I bet it happens to a lot of patients.”

  “Used to it?” echoes Wanda disbelievingly. “How do you get used to an aroused woman on your patient table?”

  I shrug, a little uncomfortable.

  “Well, maybe not used to it, but at least them seemed okay with it. Both Ryder and Ranger kissed my pussy, you see. They appreciated the fact that I was so responsive to their touch.”

  Wanda stares at me with her mouth open. I can practically see her red hair vibrating.

  “They did what?”

  “They kissed me,” I repeat like it’s no big deal.

  Wanda stares at me some more.

  “You’re joking,” she says in a deadpan voice. I shake my head.

  “No, I’m not. They both kissed my pussy, and well, licked me a little. And then I came really hard. It was amazing.”

  For the first time, I see that my friend’s speechless. Her mouth literally opens and closes a few times before snapping shut.

  “Oh my god,” she mutters. “This is crazy.”

  “It is,” I acknowledge. “But I really liked it.”

  Suddenly, Wanda jumps up.

  “But it’s wrong!” she protests. “They weren’t supposed to touch you like that!”

  “I know,” I acknowledge, “but it’s already happened, and besides, I liked it. The doctors overstepped a little. Okay, maybe a lot, but I’m okay with it, so it’s not a problem.”

  Wanda’s still stunned and merely nods dumbly.

  “Listen, I know this is a shock, but I had a good time, and I’ve made peace with what happened at my appointment. I know you don’t agree, but Wan, can you listen to me for a moment? I. Am. Okay. In fact, I really appreciate what they did because it made me feel like a desirable woman. You know how all this dating’s been going lately. Absolutely awful, and I was starting to think there was something really wrong with me. It’s good to know there’s not.”

  My friend’s still staring at me with wide eyes, but mutely, she nods.

  “Okay,” is her one-word reply.

  “Good,” I say with satisfaction. “Now, moving on. About your dating profile. Do you want to work on it a little? I’m always happy to take new pictures of you on my phone, if you want. We could go outside and get some shots of you by that really pretty poplar tree that’s in full blown. Or we could take Danny on a walk. What do you say?”

  Wanda nods and gets up, but by her subdued manner, I can tell that this isn’t over yet. My friend’s smart and opinionated, and she’s not going to let it drop that easily. But it’s okay because I know my redheaded friend only has my best interests at heart. She just needs some time to digest the news. After all, it’s my life and my choice. This is my sexual health, and I have a right to choose my partners.

  Besides, I already have a date planned next week with the handsome doctors, and I can’t wait. Of course, I don’t tell Wanda because it would be going overboard, and yet my excitement at seeing Ryder and Ranger again has me flushed and happy.

  “Ready?” I say to Wanda while gathering Danny and strapping him into his stroller.

  She shoots me another long look before nodding.

  “Ready,” she says with false cheer.

  “Great,” I say. “Let’s go. Come on, Danny boy. Oh Danny boy, Danny boy,” I begin to sing to my son. He coos, and as the three of us leave the apartment building, a large shaft of sunlight falls on my features, warming my skin. But from the warning glance Wanda throws me, I know I’ll be hearing more from her later.

  9

  Ranger

  Bethany’s stunning as she approaches the table, and both Ryder and I stand as she comes closer. The woman is wearing a dark blue cocktail dress which hugs her generous curves, and her hips sway tantalizingly with every step. Her hair is done-up in a twist of some sort, and she’s got a necklace on that highlights her creamy cleavage.

  She’s perfect.

  Absolutely stunning.

  But I admit, Ryder and I debated calling her. What we did was wrong, point blank. We shouldn’t have touched her, and the wisest course of action was probably to leave her alone after our steamy encounter.

  But then again, Bethany had enjoyed it, and against our best interests, we made the call and invited her on a date to this restaurant, La Grenouille, in Midtown. It’s a sumptuous French fine dining venue with the discreet hush that only money can buy. Each booth is enclosed in a semi-circle of luxurious padded leather six feet tall so that other diners stay invisible, and the staff has been trained within an inch of their lives. They know exactly when to appear and disappear discreetly.

  As Bethany arrives at our table, I take her hand and press my lips to her wrist.

  “Hi,” she says breathlessly.

  “Hello,” I say in a deep voice. “It’s good to see you.”

  Ryder merely growls hungrily behind me, his eyes fixed to Bethany’s curvaceous figure. The maître d’ knows to disappear, and makes his exit on the left quickly.

  “Your server will be right with you!” he calls.

  Meanwhile, we take our seats at the enclosed booth.

  “How are you?” I ask. “Thanks for coming.”

  Bethany blushes prettily, and I watch, entranced, as the pink flush spreads down her chest. She’s so gorgeous, and I’d love to press a kiss in that dark valley between her breasts, but this is not the time. I make
myself stay still, as she smiles again.

  “I’m good,” she says in her melodious voice. “How are you doing?”

  “Better now that you’re here,” rasps Ryder before I can reply.

  “Ignore him,” I say as Bethany blushes prettily again. “Dr. Stephenson is nothing but a beast. We wanted to ask you here because of our professional relationship. We want to set out some guidelines.”

  Immediately, the smile on Bethany’s face fades a little.

  “Oh, you mean this is about business?” she asks quietly.

  “No, no,” I reply quickly. “This is just about making sure we’re on the same page. This dinner is definitely not about business. In fact, we want to make clear that you are no longer a patient of Epinine Medical, and that we’re meeting in a social sense. Given what happened, well, you can’t be one of our patients.”

  Realization dawns in her eyes.

  “Of course,” she says with a gentle smile. “I’m not a patient because I’m fine physically. That still stands, doesn’t it? I don’t need an operation or anything?”

  Ryder replies.

  “You’re perfect down there,” he says in a low growl. “We’ve never seen such perfection before, in fact. But those other things we talked to you about, like Botox and kegel exercises? We can’t counsel you on them anymore, baby. You’re no longer our patient, and if you need medical advice, you need to see another provider.”

  She scrunches her brow in confusion.

  “I can’t just ask you questions every now and then? Even though this is your specialty area?”

  I shake my head slowly.

  “I’m sorry baby, but no. Of course, we can give informal advice, but nothing truly substantial.”

  She looks confused, and I sigh.

  “There’s a fine line between doling out medical advice to friends and family, and actually treating a patient in a formal sense. They sound like they’re at opposite ends of the spectrum but in fact, they’re not. But that’s okay. We’re just saying we can’t do the formal stuff with you anymore, okay? Of course, you can ask for our professional opinions, but only in a “friend” sense, okay?”

  I can tell Bethany’s confused, but she nods.

  “Okay, I kind of get it,” she acknowledges. “I’m not your patient anymore.”

  “That you’re definitely not,” growls Ryder.

  She shoots him a quick look.

  “Is it because of what happened last week? You know, how our appointment became sensual?” she asks, blushing fetchingly again.

  I nod.

  “Yes, and that’s why we need to take this out of the professional realm. What happened wasn’t supposed to happen, and that’s why we need to make this relationship private.”

  She looks at both of us before nodding.

  “Okay,” she says quietly. “That sounds fine. I completely understand.”

  I let out a long breath that I didn’t even know I’d been holding. Evidently, Bethany has a good head on her shoulders. She understands the importance of what we’re saying, and is able to follow along with logic and reason. My appreciation for this woman grows. Clearly, she’s intelligent and astute, not to mention perceptive to the intricacies of our business. After all, optics and reputation are very important to Epinine, and if we want to pursue this relationship, it has to be strictly in a personal context.

  Relieved that we’ve gotten that out of the way, both Ryder and I relax a little into the leather seats.

  “So tell us a little about yourself, sweetheart.”

  Bethany brightens and sits up a bit straighter. Her breasts bounce, and both my partner and I watch, rapt, as the creamy mounds settle.

  “Well, I have a son,” she begins. “I think you knew that from my chart, right?”

  “Right,” I confirm. “And your son is two, isn’t he? What’s his name again?”

  Bethany smiles, almost glowing.

  “It’s Danny. He’s the light of my life, and he’s the most important thing to me in the world. Not many women in New York have babies at twenty-three,” she says in a lilting voice, “but I wouldn’t give up my baby up for anything.”

  “Of course not,” I say, nodding. Ryder growls his agreement. We sometimes date mothers, and we love MILFs for what they offer. They’re open-minded and so sexy, having given birth to a child, or sometimes even multiple children. But a question rises to my lips.

  “Do you mind if I ask about Danny’s dad? Are you guys still in touch? Dating even?”

  My partner and I hold our breaths in anticipation. We don’t know the answer to this, and our hopes and expectations could come crashing down with her reply. But Bethany shakes her head.

  “No, Chris and I split while I was pregnant, if you can believe it,” she says in a wry voice. “Actually, split probably isn’t even the right word,” she sighs. “We were sort-of dating. It’s not like we were in love or anything. We were just kids having a good time, and then the next thing you know, whoops! There was Danny.”

  I nod, even though I’m quite curious.

  “Are you still in touch with the father of your baby?”

  She nods.

  “I am, but he doesn’t see Danny on a regular basis or anything. Chris lives in the UK. He was just here for a temporary work assignment, and when I said he could go home to his “real life,” I think he was pretty relieved.”

  Ryder and I snort in unison. We’re not fathers yet, but we hope to be one day, and the thought of leaving a child behind is absolute anathema to us. We would move heaven and earth to be with our offspring. Not just that but we’d completely re-locate our lives and practices if need be. That’s how seriously we take fatherhood, but evidently, not all men feel the same.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” growls my business partner. “Hopefully he pays you a little in child support?”

  “A little,” shrugs Bethany. “But not enough. He never wanted this baby, so I think he’s kind of resentful about having to pay anything. Besides, New York is an expensive place. It’s hard to have enough for a child here.”

  I nod.

  “But the UK is expensive too. Is he in London? Cost of living there is even more than it is here.”

  “I know,” she says wryly. “But it’s never enough. And he always has weird excuses about the small amount he contributes. He’s always blaming it on the exchange rate between the dollar and the pound, and stuff like that.”

  Ryder and I snort derisively. Bullshit. No man should duck his obligation to his children, and this guy already disgusts us. A man should be generous and giving to those he loves, even if the baby was unexpected. This guy is already a hapless douchebag in our opinions.

  Ryder steps in.

  “So how are you able to get by in New York?” he asks in a low voice. “Are you doing okay?”

  Bethany shrugs a little, blushing.

  “Wow, we’re really telling each other everything, aren’t we? I know we just met, but still …”

  “Are you uncomfortable?” I ask, point blank.

  “No,” she says in a lilting voice. “It’s just that are you sure you want to know this much about me? It’s not all pretty,” she warns.

  Ryder interjects.

  “We want to know everything about you,” he growls.

  She smiles helplessly again.

  “Well, in that case, I’m happy to tell you the best parts,” she quips playfully. “Danny and me? We get by. We’re happy,” she adds. “I lucked into a rent-controlled apartment a while back, and so we actually have a two-bedroom on the Upper East Side,” she says. “It’s not fancy, but it’s enough for me and my baby. There are parks nearby, and good schools too for when he gets to be school age.”

  I nod thoughtfully.

  “Do you have a babysitter?”

  She smiles.

  “I do, but just occasionally. Danny goes to day care full-time during the week because it’s the only option,” she says a little hesitantly. “I work full-time, so he has to be
somewhere safe and clean. He likes it,” she adds a bit defensively. “And they’re good there. He’s learning a lot and enjoys playing with the other kids. Well, they don’t exactly play together,” she says ruefully. “At their age, they independently play alongside one another. Kind of like they’re in the same room together, aware but ignoring one another.”

  I laugh out loud. My sister Nicole has three kids, and I love my nieces and nephews to pieces. In fact, seeing Nicole’s happy family has made me think more seriously about becoming a father recently. It seems nice to come home to kids who run to welcome you with excited smiles and cries of “Daddy! Daddy!”

  Ryder nods too. I know he’s been thinking about fatherhood recently as well. After all, we’re men in our forties, and whoever said that guys don’t get baby fever is totally wrong. We definitely do, it usually just hits a bit later since we’re not subject to the biological clock as much.

  “Sweetheart, we’re the last guys on earth to criticize someone for their childcare choices. Remember, we went to medical school, and medical school is now fifty percent or more female. We saw how our female classmates struggled with daycare, nannies, babysitters and the like once they had kids and had to balance work, life, and motherhood. It’s not easy, and if anything, you have even more of our respect for doing it on your own.”

  She nods, even if there’s a little sadness to her voice.

  “Thanks,” she says in a bit of a wry tone. “I didn’t want to be a single mom. No one does because it’s so hard,” she says with emphasis. “But life is what it is, and again, I wouldn’t give my baby back for anything,” she says. “If anything, I think I’m a lot happier as a mom than when I was single. I used to roam around the city always searching for something, but now, I think I’ve found my purpose.”

  “As a mother?” I ask. I’ve always adored women who make motherhood a priority, and Bethany clearly fits in that category. But she surprises me.

  “As a mother, and as a person,” she clarifies. “After all, Danny will grow up, even if it seems like a long time from now. One day, he won’t need me every second of every day, so I want to develop myself too,” she says. “I want to explore my interests and become even more of a woman.”