Naughty, Dirty, Cocky

by Whitney G.

  She sat still at her table, slowly slathering a bagel with cream cheese.

  “Natalie?” I stepped closer to her. “Natalie, I know you hear me talking to you.”

  “Good morning, Nurse Johnson and Doctor Clemons!” Natalie waved at them as they entered the lounge. “How’s the day so far?”

  They said “Pretty good,” and “Mine’s okay,” at the same time.

  “Good to hear.” Natalie took a bite of her bagel and stared straight past me.

  Annoyed, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tapped on my inbox — hating that she was actually staying true to her email-only communication with me.

  I sat down at the table across from her and typed an email.

  Subject: New Study/Course

  Did you finish reading that new study I emailed you earlier this morning? If you’re interested in learning more, I can pay for you to take the course online, if you’d like.

  PS — How much longer are you going to keep this shit up?

  —Dr. Ashton

  Her phone buzzed against the table and she swiped her screen, typing a message right back to me.

  Subject: Re: New Study/Course

  Yes, I did finish reading that study. I truly enjoyed reading it — thank you, and I would definitely like to take the online course.

  PS — As long as it takes for you to treat me like your resident (or your friend) again. Boss-employee relationship or not, I don’t appreciate the way you talked to me.

  PSS — For the record, you are, BY FAR, the most unprofessional doctor I have ever worked with in my career.

  —Dr. Madison

  Subject: Re: Re: New Study/Course

  I’ll pay for it as soon as I get back to my office and forward you the login information. You can start taking the course next week.

  PS — A friend wouldn’t have stood me up at the last minute without giving me a reason. Boss-employee relationship or not, I don’t appreciate the way you stood me up.

  PSS — You haven’t worked in this field long enough to actually have a “career.”

  —Dr. Ashton

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: New Study/Course

  I can start taking the course when I feel like it ... And the only reason I stood you up — a VERY, VERY GOOD REASON might I add — is because I didn’t want to start my new job with the weight of previously sleeping with my boss on my shoulders. I didn’t want to have the memory of being beneath you in your bed every time we worked together here ...

  —Dr. Madison

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Study/Course

  You really need to work on your use of CAPS LOCK. You’re emphasizing all of the wrong words. And for the record ... IF you had actually shown up, you wouldn’t have had the memory of being beneath me in my bed at all.

  I would’ve had you on all fours ...

  —Dr. Ashton

  THE RESIDENT

  New York, New York

  Natalie

  I now regret ever saying that working in a private practice was less challenging than working in a hospital. This was, by far, much harder and I was struggling for the first time in my career.

  I’d foolishly thought that my first few weeks were a blueprint of what I’d be doing for the rest of my residency — simply shadowing Dr. Ashton or another doctor for a few months at a time and taking tests here or there. But the second the program coordinators sat me down in a private boardroom and laid out more of the program specifics and how it was about to change, I realized I was in over my head.

  Mondays through Wednesdays were the days I spent with Dr. Ashton, the tension between us growing hotter and more explosive by the second. The lustful energy was practically palpable each time we shared the same room. It was becoming so obvious, that in the middle of our last session with a woman who was suffering from misplaced anger issues, she stopped mid-speech and looked at both of us, yelling, “Jesus! Would the two of you just fuck already?”

  Thursdays were the “research days” when I spent hours on the third floor of the practice, conducting studies in the lab — splitting my time between the psychologist and the psychiatrist. (And since this was only one day a week, they both gave me enough ‘solo study’ work, so that I had to come in on the weekends and finish. I never finished ...)

  The worst day of all though was Friday, which was definitely a cruel joke on me by the universe. Fridays were designated to be “as needed day” which meant that even if I were in the middle of completing a research assignment or catching up on some charting that was long overdue, if any of the board doctors needed me to do something they didn’t want to do, I was their girl.

  And they definitely made me their girl.

  My Fridays were a never-ending reel of mending minor sutures, “I just want someone to listen to me for twenty minutes,” sessions, basic physical checkups, rectal exams, lab test screenings, “please retrieve the nurse’s notes on my patient’s family history from twenty years ago now, please” demands. They started the second I walked through the door at seven o’clock in the morning, and I was lucky to get out the doors of Park Avenue Wellness by ten o’clock at night.

  So, technically, I dreaded Fridays, but I also dreaded Thursdays because they cruelly pushed me into those Fridays without a second thought.

  “You look like absolute shit today.” Shannon plopped down next to me on our couch late Thursday night. “Like, you’re naturally gorgeous— usually, but I can barely even recognize you right now with those big ass grey bags under your eyes.”

  She leaned closer and sniffed me. “And what is that smell? Have you not showered at all this week?”

  “Thank you so much, Shannon,” I said. “I can always count on you to make me feel better about my life.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  I wiggled my way out of my sweater and tossed it across the room. “A doctor caught me on the way out today and asked me to help him hold a baby while he set up the room for a CAT scan. The baby looked at me for two seconds and vomited all over me. It’s like she wanted to confirm the state of my life for me, you know?”

  “I’m sorry.” She laughed and gave me a side hug. “On the plus side, you’re one of the highest-paid residents in the state. You make fifteen thousand more than me a year by working there, so that has to count for something, right?”

  I slowly turned my head to face her and gave her a blank stare.

  She laughed even harder. “How are things with the dirty doctor?”

  “Dirty Doctor? That’s what we’re calling Dr. Ashton now?”

  “Yeah, somehow I don’t feel right calling him ‘Dr. Nine Inches’ like you do. Plus, I think it sounds better.”

  I tried to laugh, but nothing came out but a dry heave. “He’s still finding creative ways to push me into speaking to him again.”

  “You’re still giving him the email only treatment?”

  I nodded, but he was honestly breaking me down with each day that passed. All it took was one sexy smirk, one lick of his full lips, or a “Surely you can say thank you for this,” when he brought me breakfast and hot coffee every morning. (I was certain my ‘Subject: Thank you for Breakfast + I Truly Appreciate It’ emails would come to an end soon.)

  “You know, it would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so damn attractive and beloved by every person who works there.”

  “Beloved? I thought you said he’s the rudest out of all the doctors.”

  “Oh, he definitely is.” I sat up on the couch. “But everyone loves him because aside from his assholery from time to time, he’s actually quite generous.”

  She looked as if she didn’t believe me.

  “He pays for twenty percent of his patients’ care every month, and he takes on twice as many pro bono cases as the next top three doctors combined.”

  “You’re kidding. How’d you find out?”

  “I was going through his desk the other day, trying to find out where he’d hid my cell phone.” I smiled at his umpteenth failed a
ttempt to break my silence. “I saw this list of notes and a bunch of checks paper clipped to it. They were all payments for the patients who either couldn’t afford his fee or didn’t have health insurance. And the notes were a very thorough list of at least fifty things he’s taken on for free this year. Fifty.”

  “Well, maybe he’s not so bad after all. I mean, you clearly like him and vice versa, so maybe when you two get tired of playing these childish games with each other, you can at the very least be friends again.”

  “I’m not going that far.” I picked up my phone as it vibrated against the coffee table. “He’s going to give me that apology, or at least acknowledge he didn’t have to be so rude.”

  I swiped my screen and saw a message from the doctor himself.

  Subject: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

  Dr. Laurel won’t be coming in tomorrow. You’ll need to handle her three morning appointments. A nurse will be available.

  —Dr. Ashton

  Subject: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

  Dr. Laurel? Aren’t her morning appointments usually all pap smears?

  —Dr. Madison

  Subject: Re: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

  Yes.

  Is that a problem? Are you uncomfortable touching pussy?

  —Dr. Ashton

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

  No, I just ... I haven’t done one of those in a long time and I only did a few as an intern. I’m sure I’ll be fine, though.

  —Dr. Madison.

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

  You don’t have much of a choice ...The nurse who’s assigned to help you will be taking observation notes on your performance for Dr. Laurel to “grade” later.

  As much as you’ve touched your own pussy at night to thoughts of fucking me, I think this should be rather easy for you.

  —Dr. Ashton

  THE RESIDENT

  New York, New York

  Natalie

  The next morning, my heart raced as I faced my first patient of the day. My gloves were on securely, the nurse had perfectly arranged the tools on the cart for easy access, and a vagina was right in front of my face.

  “Dr. Madison?” The nurse whispered from behind. “Dr. Madison?”

  “Yes?”

  “When are you planning on starting the exam?”

  “Um, right now.” I scooted my stool as close to the patient bed as I could go. “Could you place your feet in the stirrups for me, please?”

  “They’re already in the stirrups, Doctor.” The patient hissed. “Just like they were already in the stirrups ten minutes ago, and twenty minutes ago. Any longer, and my legs may give out. Do I look like I’m in good physical shape to you?”

  “No ... I mean, yes. I mean —” I sighed. They might as well have asked me to perform neurosurgery. I never was good at this. For a very good reason.

  “Dr. Madison?” The nurse whispered again. “Do I need to get Dr. Ashton to do this? You have another appointment in twenty minutes and you have yet to even start this one.”

  “No, I’ve got it,” I said, picking up the speculum. “I’ve got it.” I moved the speculum close to the patient, preparing to insert it, but I dropped it to the ground.

  “Okay, that’s it.” The patient sat up. “Get me someone else. Now.”

  I didn’t even offer a rebuttal. I took off my gloves and rushed out of the room, straight for Dr. Ashton’s office. I knew he was here and even though he told everyone not to bother him until after lunch, I knocked on his door anyway.

  “Does anyone here know what the words, Don’t bother —” He ended his sentence as he opened the door. “Do you have a pussy phobia? Is that why it looks like you’re crying about your assignment right now?”

  “No .” I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s just that ...”

  “Any day now, Dr. Madison. You can complete that sentence if you try hard enough.”

  “Long story short, I severely hurt a patient the first and second time I did a pap smear. I fucked everything up and almost cost the hospital a lawsuit — twice. It got settled eventually and the chief realized it was an honest mistake but...”

  “You avoided them as much as possible for the rest of your intern years — which is technically cheating, but since you thought women’s health was never in your future, you decided to never properly learn?”

  I nodded and he grabbed my hand, tugging me across the reception area and down to the women’s health wing. He entered the room and grabbed a chart, immediately snapping into a mode I hadn’t seen from him since I started here: A sweet, compassionate doctor.

  “Miss Farmington, I’m Dr. Ashton and I’d like to complete your exam today. Would you feel comfortable with me doing it?”

  “Yes.” She blushed. “Absolutely.”

  “Pay close attention, Dr. Madison,” he said softly. “We’re going to do four of these together today, so this won’t happen again.” He motioned for me to put on gloves and within seconds, all of his attention was on the patient.

  I watched as he performed the exam with ease, never losing focus as he kept her occupied with small talk and laughter. It took him ten minutes to complete the part I was scared of doing, and twenty minutes to complete the breast and pelvic tests.

  He completed the next two exams the same way — softly instructing me to pay attention to how “easy” this was, and by the time he was finished, I was somewhat confident that I could do the final exam alone.

  “Turn these in to the desk for me.” He handed the nurse a clipboard. “Thank you for helping today. I’ll watch Dr. Madison complete the last one by herself.”

  The nurse wished me good luck and left the room.

  “What time is the last patient due in?” I asked.

  “Now.” He picked up a clipboard. “Get undressed and get on the table.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” His voice was low. “Get undressed and get on the table. I’m going to help you with your problem, personally.”

  “With all due respect, I don’t need you to give me a pap smear.”

  “Good, because I wasn’t planning on giving you that at all.” He looked me up and down before leaving the room.

  I stood still, in complete and utter shock. Half of me wanted to drop all of my clothes right then and just let him have me the second he returned to the room. And the other half of me actually wanted the same goddamn thing.

  I slipped out of my shoes, panties, and my skirt, taking a seat on the edge of the patient bed before covering my lap with a piece of starch-white paper.

  A knock came to the door and he asked if I was ready.

  “Yes ...” My voice was so soft I could barely hear it.

  The door opened and he entered with a clipboard in his hands.

  “Miss Madison,” he said, looking at me as if I was actually a patient. “I’m Dr. Ashton and I’ll be taking care of your pussy today.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the script...”

  “It is today.” He smirked and sat on the stool in front of me and clicked his pen. “But first, a few personal questions. Do you currently smoke?”

  “No.”

  “Do you currently do any type of recreational drugs?”

  “No.”

  “Do you currently fuck other people?”

  “What?”

  “Yes, or no,” he said. “Are you currently fucking other people?”

  “I’m not ‘fucking’ anyone.”

  “Good.” He wrote on his clipboard. “When’s the last time you had sexual intercourse?”

  “I can’t answer that question.”

  “You can, and you will.”

  I shook my head. “A year ago.”

  He dropped his pen to the floor in shock, but instead of picking it up, he simply pulled another one from his pocket and shook his head. “Did you come?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” he lowered his voice.
“Did you come?”

  “No.”

  “Interesting.” He set the clipboard down and grabbed a pair of gloves, putting them on as if this was a real exam. “Lay back on the bed, please.”

  I didn’t make a move. I simply stared at him — half turned on, half beyond turned on, so he stood up and gently pushed me back against the bed himself.

  He smiled at me and quickly took off the gloves, tossing them into the trash across the room. “It’s a habit. I highly doubt I’ll need those with you today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He avoided my question. “Put your legs in the stirrups and spread your legs for me.”

  I slowly followed his command and looked up at the bright, white ceiling.

  Within seconds, I felt his hands gently caressing the inside of my thighs. Then I heard him let out a low laugh.

  “It’s rude to laugh at a patient’s body,” I said. “That’s the first rule of good bedside manner. With all of your years of experience, you should know that.”

  “I’m not laughing at my patient.” He trailed a finger against my soaked slit. “I’m just wondering what made you get rid of all of the hair you previously had down here.”

  My entire body blushed red.

  “You definitely had hair here when I touched you in my office weeks ago ...” He smiled at me. “For the record, I don’t mind it either way.”

  “Well, you’ll probably never see it again after today, so what you mind or don’t mind doesn’t really matter. Also —”

  I immediately stopped talking once I felt him blowing against my clit, once I felt him darting his thick tongue against it. His hands continued to caress my thighs, and as he began kissing my pussy as if he were kissing my mouth, I lost all train of thought.

  My breathing slowed as he buried his head in my pussy and slid two fingers deep inside of me.

  “Ahh ...” I felt my legs getting weak from being in the stirrups, but he didn’t let me move.

  Moaning, I reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair as he sucked my clit into his mouth.