Naughty, Dirty, Cocky

by Whitney G.

“Right away, Miss.”

  I pulled out my phone so I could vent about this mess of a night to my roommate, but before I could scroll down to her name, I noticed a new instant message from D-Doctor.

  D-DOCTOR: Has your date “slurped” your pussy yet? Am I interrupting?

  JERSEYGIRL7: No, and you’re not interrupting anything ... If I tell you about what happened on my date tonight, can you promise that you won’t laugh?

  D-DOCTOR: Probably not.

  JERSEYGIRL7: I’m being serious.

  D-DOCTOR: As am I. Tell me what happened and I’ll tell you whether it’s something worth laughing about or not.

  JERSEYGIRL7: Well, it’s not! The date was amazing and the sex was everything I expected and more!

  D-DOCTOR: Your date was supposed to be at 7:00 and it’s just now 7:35. This speaks volumes about the level of your expectations ...

  JERSEYGIRL7: Okay, fine. He lied to me about everything ... He even lied about having a penis.

  D-DOCTOR: Come again?

  JERSEYGIRL7: You read my message. It means exactly what I wrote.

  D-DOCTOR: Call me. 555-1874.

  I stared at his message, in utter disbelief that he gave me his phone number. I know we’d agreed to a phone call after I lost the bet, but this soon? The same day?

  JERSEYGIRL7: How about we renegotiate the phone call thing? Don’t you think we should continue keeping things in ‘virtual reality,’ so we can remain friends?

  D-DOCTOR: 555-1874.

  I swallowed and stared at his number again, finally hitting call after a few minutes.

  “Yes?” he answered on the first ring, and with that single word, his deep and sexy voice took me completely aback.

  I waited to see if he would say something else, but the line was silent.

  “Hello?” I said. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who asked me to call you ... Hello?”

  “Hello,” he said, and then seconds later, deep laughter came over the line.

  “You asked me to call you, so you could laugh about my situation?”

  “I wanted you to call me so I could put you on speaker phone. I’m double checking some of my nurses’ reports tonight and I’ll have to multitask, if I’m going to get them done by morning.”

  Right ... I thought it was cute that he continued to put up the sham of being a doctor with me, but given my night tonight, I couldn’t even make fun of him right now.

  “Did your date at least apologize to you for wasting your time?” He finally stopped laughing.

  “No, I left after he asked if I was going to split the cost of a four-dollar drink. He said he only invited me there so we could take in the ambiance, and he probably thought I wouldn’t cause a scene after he told me about his penile agenesis. He was actually planning to take me to Burger King for the real dinner afterwards.”

  “I see.” His laughter returned, and it turned me on completely. “I think you and I should meet, JERSEYGIRL7.”

  Silence.

  “Um ... You just want us to meet?”

  “I want us to fuck. But I thought saying that first would be rude. Nonetheless, if you agree to that, I think you would finally end your months of misery.”

  “No,” I said firmly, even though every word he’d said dampened my panties. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t even know you.”

  “You don’t have to know me to fuck me.” He paused. “You clearly didn’t know the man you just went out with. You didn’t even know he was born without a penis.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You haven’t managed to get past a date with any of the men you’ve met on the app. Last time I checked, they’ve all been failures.”

  “So?”

  “How many of them were a one hundred percent match to you, like I am?”

  I was silent.

  “Exactly,” he said. “I think it’s in both of our best interests if you let me fuck you the way you’ve been wishing for after all these months. I can guarantee I won’t be a disappointment, and I actually know how to eat pussy.”

  I needed to hang up on this man right now. Any man who could soak my panties in seconds with his voice alone, was bound to be trouble.

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” were the only words I could say.

  “Then give me three reasons why it’s not.”

  “One, I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Garrett.”

  “Okay, Garrett. Are you going to be a gentleman and ask for mine?”

  “I’m going to ask you for the other two reasons why I can’t fuck you, first. Those are far more important at the moment.”

  “Are you alright, Miss?” The cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror and I flashed him a reassuring smile. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and saw that my face was flushed red.

  “Hello?” Garrett spoke again. “JERSEYGIRL7?”

  “Yes?”

  “What are the two other reasons why I can’t fuck you?”

  “Two, you’re not really a doctor. You’ve led me on about something as simple as that for months, so there’s a high possibility that you could be a serial killer.”

  “You’ve never told me what you do for a living and I haven’t assumed anything at all. Other than the fact that I think I’d enjoy the taste of your pussy against my mouth. What’s pointless reason number three?”

  I stalled, thinking of any possible reason, but every nerve in my body was begging me to stop playing games and take this man up on his offer.

  “Exactly,” he said, his voice low. “There isn’t a third reason and your first two reasons make no sense at all. What are you doing two Fridays from now?”

  “Nothing that I know of.”

  “Wrong answer,” he said. “You’ll be fucking me ... Say it.”

  “I’ll be fucking you,” I whispered, not believing I was actually saying that aloud.

  “Good. Glad we could finally get on the same page. Where do you want to go for the ‘date’ part?”

  “Huh?” I was confused. “The date part?”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic,” he said. “You’ve always told me that you need to be mentally aroused before sex, preferably on a date. So, where do you want to go for the date part?”

  “Not Burger King.”

  “Of course not Burger King.”

  “Well,” I said, not wanting a recap of tonight’s fiasco. “What type of restaurant do you want me to pick? Like, give me a price range.”

  “Price range? Price range ...” He sounded as if he was testing those two words in his mouth, as if he wasn’t sure what they meant. Then he let out that low and sinful laugh that made me wish I knew what he looked like, so I could see it for myself. “There is no price range. Just tell me where you want to go.”

  “How about Delilah’s?”

  “That’s a fancier version of Burger King.” There was a smile in his voice. “How about picking some place you might actually enjoy?”

  I mentally flipped through the long list of exclusive and elegant restaurants in Manhattan that I’d always longed to try.

  “I’ve always wanted to go to Per Se,” I said. “But I’ve heard it’s pretty hard to get a table there, though.”

  “Per Se, it is,” he said “And it won’t be hard for me.”

  “Because you’re that important?”

  “Something like that. Can you do eight o’clock?”

  “Yes. Eight o’clock.”

  “Okay, JERSEYGIRL7. I’ll see you at Per Se two Fridays from now at eight o’clock and you can tell me your real name then. Don’t stand me up.”

  “I won’t.” I hung up, ready to finally call my roommate and tell her everything, but D-DOCTOR sent me one final message.

  D-DOCTOR: I highly suggest you don’t wear any panties the night we meet. You won’t need them ...

  THE DOCTOR

  New York, New York
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  Garrett

  “Dr. Ashton?” Emily knocked on my door Monday morning. “Dr. Ashton, you have a visitor waiting.”

  “I’m not here.”

  “We can all see that you’re here through your office blinds, sir.”

  “Then close my office blinds.”

  She shook her head and stepped back. “Dr. Ashton will see you now, Mr. Baxter.”

  Seconds later, Mr. Baxter, a longtime client of mine who had way too much time on his hands, walked into my office. He shut the door behind him and started his usual ritual before addressing me. He walked over to the windows on the other side of the room, glancing down at the streets below. Then he smiled and walked over to the far side of my office, admiring my awards before finally settling onto my black, custom made chaise.

  “What brings you in today without an appointment, Mr. Baxter?” I asked, setting down my pen.

  “I just wanted to talk about the weather with someone.”

  “May I suggest having this conversation with someone who doesn’t charge by the hour?” I say. “Perhaps your wife?”

  “That’s the thing. She doesn’t want to talk to me right now because I told her I didn’t want to have sex anymore.”

  I sighed and looked up at the clock on my wall. I really needed to raise my prices soon to prevent shit like this from happening.

  “Okay, Mr. Baxter,” I said, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. “Why don’t you want to have sex with your wife anymore?”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He wagged his finger at me. “If I answer that question, you’ll bill me for this session. I’m only here because I was in the neighborhood and I was just stopping by to talk about the weather.”

  I stared at him.

  “It’s been raining a lot lately, hasn’t it?”

  I said nothing.

  He smiled at me and stood up from the couch. “Well, thank you for chatting with me about the weather, Doc. I’ll see you for our official session next week.”

  The second he walked out of my office, I started to type an email to our doorman —hoping to reaffirm the rules for not letting people come upstairs without actual emergencies or appointments. I was on the fifth paragraph when Emily and every single doctor in the practice simply walked into my office without knocking.

  “Am I living in the twilight zone, today?” I looked up at them. “I could’ve sworn the number one personal rule that I have here isn’t that hard. When my door is closed —”

  “Leave me the hell alone,” they all said in unison, laughing.

  “We know you weren’t coming to the conference room to make the welcome call for our new resident, so we decided to bring it to you.” Emily picked up a Twizzler from my stash without asking and stuffed it into her mouth. Then she dialed a number on my desk phone, while the other doctors all crowded around my desk.

  This is definitely the twilight zone ...

  The sound of a call ringing came over the speaker phone and a woman answered in the middle of the fifth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello!” All the doctors said in unison. “This is Park Avenue Wellness Group!”

  They rehearsed this?

  “Natalie, this is Dr. Laurel speaking,” Our world-class, but never-in-her-office gynecologist said. “We’re very excited to welcome you into our family as a resident and we just wanted to give you a collective call before you started. We know your desired specialty may change over time, but we’re all one big, happy family here, so we’re looking forward to meeting you and working with you.”

  “Wow ...” The resident I didn’t vote for or want seemed impressed. “Thank you, so much for the warm welcome. I really appreciate it.” She sounded happy.

  “We really appreciate you, too,” Emily said. “Are you still open to coming in for your first tour of our practice this Friday?”

  “Absolutely. Five o’clock, right?”

  “Yes! Five o’clock. Can’t wait to meet you on Friday, Natalie! See you then.”

  “See you then. Thank you all so much.”

  “You’re welcome!” The doctors said in unison once more, something else they’d clearly rehearsed, and then they slowly dispersed from my office.

  “Did I hear you say that you can’t wait to meet this Natalie resident?” I asked Emily.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “The doctors agreed to hire a resident without even giving her an interview? Isn’t conducting an interview the first rule of hiring?”

  “I swear you never listen to me,” she said, shaking her head. “Manhattan Medical had an error in Human Resources. I told you about it months ago. Long story short, we got an amazing resident in the deal, and Dr. Laurel and Dr. Taylor actually did meet with her on several occasions. They just didn’t let her know what they were really interviewing her for,

  since Manhattan Med wanted to keep their screw-up a secret.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Extremely.” She stole another Twizzler from my vase and finally shut my door.

  I knew now that there was no way I was going to make it all the way to next Friday without some form of stress relief, so I pulled out my phone and logged into NewYorkMinute. I was scrolling down to JERSEYGirl7’s name in my inbox to ask if she’d be willing to meet earlier, when I noticed she was already in the middle of sending me a message.

  Jerseygirl7 is typing ...

  JERSEYGIRL7: Hey. I might have a question ...

  D-DOCTOR: Hey. I might have an answer ...

  JERSEYGIRL7: Are you open to meeting me this Friday instead of next? Would you be able to reschedule some of your “appointments”? I’m already going to be in New York in the evening for a meeting that day, so I figured I’d ask.

  D-DOCTOR: Yes, I’m very much open to *fucking* you this Friday instead of next. That’s not a problem at all. Same time?

  JERSEYGIRL7: Same time. Oh, and do you want to finally exchange pictures so you’ll know who to look for/vice-versa?

  D-DOCTOR: No, let’s keep it interesting ... See you at 8:00. I’ll be sitting at table number 12.

  THE RESIDENT

  New York, New York

  Natalie

  On Friday, I stood in the lobby of a glittering, glass building that was nestled in between two condominiums on Park Avenue. There were a few black sofas and chairs artfully placed around the marble floors, and an elevator at the center with shiny, silver doors. The words “Park Avenue Wellness” were etched onto a wall across from me, with a long list of doctor names underneath.

  This definitely doesn’t look like a private practice ...

  “Excuse me?” I walked over to the security guard. “I have a tour scheduled for this evening. Which floor do I need to go to for the Park Avenue Wellness Center?”

  He raised his eyebrow, as if he couldn’t tell if I was joking or not. Then he laughed.

  “All of the floors are part of the practice, Miss,” he said, hitting the up button. “You’re probably looking for Miss Emily, though. Sixteenth floor.”

  “Thank you.” I stepped inside the elevator and hit sixteen as the doors closed.

  The second the cart stopped and revealed the sixteenth floor, my jaw dropped. It looked more like a vacation resort lobby than a department of a private practice. The panoramic floor to ceiling windows gave a perfect view of the rain; there were lavish chaises facing the city, and the massive glass desk in the center of the room was the only giveaway that this might be a place for healthcare.

  A few women dressed in light blue scrubs compared notes and laughed, and a female doctor in a white coat and black dress, held the desk’s phone up to her ear.

  “Are you Natalie?” A bubbly blonde stepped right in front of me. “Natalie Madison?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Well, great! You’re right on time! Let me get your coat. You won’t want it getting dusty when we walk through the sections under renovation.”

  I took off my coat and she smiled as I handed it over. “I
take it you’re going somewhere special after this?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll make your first tour short, then. Most of the doctors are gone for the day anyway.”

  I caught the nurses pointing in my direction as she walked away, and I began to regret wearing my date outfit here. My dress was black and strapless, stopping right in the middle of my thighs. The cut at the front was low enough that the tops of my breasts spilled over the fabric a bit, and my red and silver stilettos were far from appropriate for meeting my future coworkers.

  Emily made no mention of my outfit when she returned, though. She simply linked her hand in mine and began showing me around the sixteenth floor.

  She talked a mile a minute, opening doors here or there, introducing me to some of the doctors who were still sitting in their offices. When I realized that she was literally going to take me on a tour of all twenty-five floors in this building, I made a mental note to bring flats every day.

  “This is what we call our treatment corridor,” she said, as we walked around the fifth floor. “We have eighteen treatment rooms for our day in-patients, and five rooms for overnight patients. It’s rare that we have to keep someone overnight, but if we do, you or one of the other residents would be required to take observations until the morning.”

  “Got it.” I followed her back onto the elevator. “What’s the dress code for residents here?”

  “Dress code?” She laughed. “The ratio for men to women staff here is sixty-five to thirty-five, and the board’s ratio is even tighter. I believe it’s seventy percent women and thirty percent men. That said, there is no ‘dress code,’ and I highly doubt there ever will be. Most of the nurses and interns wear their favorite scrubs, and the doctors wear whatever they want under their white coats.”

  “What?” I was completely caught off-guard by the numbers she’d revealed. “The practice is sixty-five to seventy percent women?”

  “Of course, it is.” She smiled and motioned for me to step back onto the sixteenth floor. “Why else do you think we’re number one in the state?”

  “I ...”

  “Exactly.” She winked. “I believe the only two board-level doctors you haven’t met are Dr. Laurel and the owner of the practice, Dr. Ashton ...” She clucked her teeth. “Dr. Laurel does more outside work than any doctor on staff, so you’ll probably only see her during the monthly staff meetings, and Dr. Ashton —”