by Eva Luxe
It’s nearly five o’clock and I’m glad I only have one more patient left to see before calling it a day. One of the best parts of being a family practice doctor is the hours.
Many of my medical school classmates were striving to be surgeons or other specialists because they thought the money would be better. And they were right— most family practice doctors and generalists, on average, make less than the specialists do, especially in large cities where rent is expensive, and competition abounds.
But most of my classmates had little to no interest in smaller town family medical practice, which can be quite lucrative. In smaller cities or college town areas such as Houghton, where I practice, both the overhead and the competition are lower, so good money can be made for less hours compared to other fields of medicine. And, while many of my classmates were knowledgeable and esteemed in medicine, few knew or cared much about business and they also seemed to have a very low tolerance for risk.
They got into medicine because it was a relatively stable career whereas I can’t help but be anything but an enterprising entrepreneur at heart. I was raised around it— my father is a real estate investing and construction mogul who taught me that the best job is to work for yourself. I was born into money but also taught how to keep making more of my own.
One thing my business partners and I batted around was the idea that doctors should invest in chain practices like dentists do. We put together a business model of mid-sized city to small town doctor’s offices that we built, invested in and work in, and we go in with other doctors who help us run them. Therefore, I combine business acumen with the practice of medicine to make use of two of my talents. And in the process, I make a hell of a lot of money.
Suddenly, there’s a pounding on the door that jolts me out of my thoughts.
“Dr. Monroe,” someone calls.
I open the door to find the newest nurse at our office standing in the hallway, looking frantic.
“Trisha,” I say. “Thanks for letting me know the next patient is here. I’ll be right with them.”
“No, it’s not that,” she says, looking a little breathless. “Maria is here.”
Fuck.
“Crap. Where is she?”
Trisha lowers her voice before answering.
“She’s in the lobby and she says she’s not leaving until you go out and talk to her face to face.”
Her eyebrows furl together and she looks around as if making sure no one overheard. She must have heard some of the rumors about me— how much trouble I’m always getting into, and why she was hired to replace Maria, the nurse before her.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Monroe,” she says. “I tried to tell her you were busy…”
“It’s fine, Trisha,” I tell her, smiling at her. “It’s not your fault. I’ll go right out and see her now.”
“Okay,” she responds, looking relieved.
But I’m annoyed. Not at her, but at Maria.
I suppose that one of my talents is being as good with my hands (and other things) in the bedroom as I am in the exam room. And with every up side comes a downside. Because one of the drawbacks to having this talent is that I get a lot of what I like to call “clingers.” Women who like to say they’re just in it for the sex but then don’t ever want to stop seeing me again.
The latest one is in my reception area, no doubt making a scene about how much she just needs to see me, to talk to me, to be around me. No doubt causing a ruckus that will lead to my business partners and fellow doctors calling me up and saying we need to talk, again.
It’s been a long day of seeing many different patients and I just want to go home. But first I must deal with Maria. And hope that my ever-demanding sexual appetite hasn’t gotten me in trouble career-wise once again.
Chapter 8 – Derek
“What are you doing here, Maria?” I ask, as soon as I’m in the lobby. “Part of our agreement was that you stay away.”
“That’s exactly what I’m here to talk to you about,” she says, her eyes boring into me.
Damn. Those chocolate brown eyes shining off her olive reflection are part of what made me have to have her so bad that I would risk what I had built to sleep with her.
But we were supposed to have an understanding. She’d approached me with the idea. Even though we’d worked together for a long time and I was her superior, we’d just be together once, and it would all be fine after that. She told she was moving away soon anyway, to be with her mother in St. Louis, to help take care of her because she was ill. So, then I wouldn’t be her boss anymore. It would just be for one night of passion.
Of course, I upheld my end of the bargain. But I guess I’d given her such a good night that she wanted to extend it into many more. That’s the problem— I’ve never found anyone worth connecting to for good and doubt I ever will. A lot of these women are gold diggers who don’t say that up front but instead show their true colors after the deed’s been done. My mom died when I was young, and my dad met a gold digger like that, who took him for half of everything in the divorce, after she ran away with some pretty-boy actor.
I’m not going to let that happen to me. I try to make a deal with these women and they seem to be all into it at first. But after once or twice everything changes. Once they get a whiff of how much money I have, they think that’s what they want, but then they get my cock— I’m not trying to brag but a lot of women have said it’s the best they’ve had— and they’re hooked.
It’s like I’m a drug they can’t quit. And it’s turned me into a liability.
“I’m here to discuss our agreement,” Maria continues, reminding me just how much of a liability she’s turned into. “I don’t really know if it’s fair.”
“Well, you already signed it,” I tell her, for what must be at least the third time.
I look around and see that the only patient still waiting in the lobby is my 4:45 appointment, Mr. Jefferson, and he’s over ninety years old and nearly deaf as a doorknob. Still, I lower my voice, just to be safe.
“That money is already in your bank account,” I tell her. “And in case you’ve forgotten, it’s quite a lot.”
She bats her eyelashes and shakes her tits at me, but those tricks don’t work on me anymore. Especially since I paid her to go away and she’s still here.
“Perhaps I want more,” she says, with a wink.
“Too bad,” I tell her, getting frustrated now. “I’ve already given you way more than you were entitled to, which was a big fat nothing. You signed a relationship disclosure form, remember?”
It was true. Part of her allegedly brilliant plan to sleep with me without either of us risking anything was a disclosure form she’d signed agreeing that she and I were in a sexual relationship and that she wouldn’t sue me for any damages should the relationship end. Therefore, I didn’t owe her any money. At least not technically.
After she went back on her word, asked me to move to fucking Arizona with her and started threatening to sue me when I said no— correction, I said, “Hell no, are you out of your fucking mind? Arizona is 2,000 miles away and an average of ten degrees hotter, not to mention this was supposed to be a wa’am ba’am thank you ma’am kind of deal, not a ‘let’s move to suburban desert Utopia for the rest of our lives together kind of deal”— my partners stressed that we were on shaky legal ground and reminded me of one of the important rules of business: avoid lawsuits, if possible. Plus, I felt kind of bad for her because obviously, she got a little too fucking attached and felt like I was breaking her heart when I had only ever meant to bang her and move on.
So, I paid her to go away— quite handsomely I might add— although it’s chump change compared to being stuck with someone so gaga over me that she’d extort money out of me, for the rest of my fucking life. Yet here she is, still wanting more.
“Maybe I don’t mean more money,” she says, curving an eyebrow at me in what I know is her attempt to be sexy. But she really just looks desperate at this point. “M
aybe I mean I want more of your big, hard…”
“Ahem,” someone says, clearing his throat, and I look at the open door between the doctor’s office portion of the building and the reception area to see Niles Stanton, one of my business partners and fellow doctors here at the practice, glaring at me. “Derek, do you need me to take Mr. Jefferson, since you are obviously pre-occupied?”
I turn back to Maria.
“No,” I tell him. “Maria and I were just finishing up.”
Although that’s the same thing I’d said a couple weeks ago after I’d shot my cum over her back. I felt I was marking my temporary territory and moving on. But apparently, she took it as some kind of declaration of love and or some age old ceremony wherein I supposedly claimed eternal ownership of her. This is the drawback of having a huge cock and knowing what to do with it.
Chapter 9 – Derek
“I’ll let you get to your patient, Dear,” Maria says, with a slight chuckle.
Niles raises an eyebrow at me, even though I think he knows as well as I do that Maria is in some fantasy-land pretend relationship in her head, and that I’m not her “Dear.” That would go against the agreement I made with my partners when they let me stay on— get rid of her, for good. And don’t do anything else that’s risky.
I’m doing my best to keep the agreement, even though Maria keeps popping back up.
“Let me know what you decide about my request for more money,” Maria says, heading out the door.
“Derek. Can I see you in here for a moment?” Niles asks.
I nod to Mr. Jefferson and say, “I’ll be right with you, good sir.”
He smiles at me and holds up a small magazine.
“Take your time. I’m just perusing your Readers’ Digest here. Thanks for keeping such entertaining material in your waiting room, Docs.”
“You’re welcome,” Niles says, smiling at Mr. Jefferson. “Anything to keep our patients happy.”
Then he pulls me into the reception area where Trisha is busy answering the phone for last minute callers trying to schedule appointments for the next day, which they won’t be able to do. Smaller town family practices are always so full there’s a waiting list. That’s part of what makes owning a chain of them such a great business model— there’s never any wasted time in which we’re not making money.
“Derek, what are you thinking?” Niles explodes to me, as soon as we’re out of earshot of Mr. Jefferson, which isn’t a hard feat considering his range of capable hearing distance. “You told me you were taking care of this.”
“I am,” I tell him, rubbing my temples. “I’ll just throw a few more grand at her and she’ll be off to the desert mesas in no time.”
“I hope you’re right,” Niles says. “Because I really don’t want to have to exercise the option to let you go, but you seem to be almost begging me to do it. You know the new company won’t put up with any of these shenanigans you always get yourself into…”
“I know,” I tell him, hoping he’ll stop harping on it.
This fall out between Maria and I couldn’t have come at a worse time. My business partners and I are in the middle of making a deal with another company to expand our chain practice model into more states. But the other company is in the due diligence phase and they want to make sure everything is legit.
I don’t think that firing my nurse after fucking her would be something that they would consider “legit.” My business partner agreement with Niles and the other doctors gives them the option to cut me out of the deal for behavior that would harm their interests, and I’m determined not to let them do that.
“It won’t be a problem, Niles, I promise,” I tell him.
“Okay, then I’m going to go home and pretend I didn’t just overhear our former employee talking about the...”
He trails off, obviously feeling too awkward to continue.
“The size of my cock?” I ask him, grinning.
Damn it.
If it weren’t for the size of my cock—and my desire to pleasure women with it— I wouldn’t even be in this mess. But I still can’t help but brag about how big it is, especially to my old pal Niles. Even though he’s mad at me right now, I know he appreciates my sense of humor in every situation.
Sure enough, he shakes his head but he’s slightly smiling.
“Joke all you want, but just follow through with keeping your word for once,” he says, “and make sure you take care of this.”
Niles nods to Trisha. I’m about to tell her goodbye before following him out, but she’s on the phone, so that seems rude of me.
As Niles leaves, I hear Trisha say, “Umm, I’m really not sure. Let me ask him.”
I figure it’s a good thing I’m here.
“Dr. Monroe, I’m sorry to bother you once again,” Trisha says sheepishly, putting a hand over the phone.
“It’s okay, Trisha,” I tell her. “It’s already been one of those days, so tell me what’s up. I don’t see how anything could get much worse no matter what it is.”
“It’s just…” she says, searching for the right words.
I blink at her, wanting to say, go ahead but be quick about it. I do have other things to do today. But I don’t want to be cruel to a new employee who is clearly trying her best.
“Shirley Suttell is on the phone,” Trisha continues, looking apologetic once again. “I don’t really know her, but she sounds kind of crazy. She’s asking if she can bring her daughter in for some sort of purity exam.”
She shakes her head.
“I mean, I know that’s insane,” she says. “So, I’m going to just tell her we don’t do that sort of thing.”
“Hold on,” I tell her, thinking of Shirley, but more accurately, of her daughter Elizabeth Jane. The last time I saw her, she was a senior in high school and completely forbidden. But that was at least a year ago, if memory serves me correctly. “How old is she?”
“Let me check her chart,” Trisha says. “Oh, here it is. She’s nineteen.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “Well I think she’s talking about a pap smear.”
“Dr. Monroe,” Trisha insists, crinkling her nose at me while slowly shaking her head. “I really don’t think that’s what she’s talking about.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I think it is, but in any event, we’ll sort it out when she gets here.”
When I think of the prospect of seeing Elizabeth Jane again, my cock stands straight up to attention. But so, does my heart. Which is ridiculous, since I never get romantic feelings and I’ve barely managed to escape from my last attempts at a no- strings- attached relationship.
I guess I’ve always had a soft spot for Elizabeth Jane while also— now that she’s nineteen— having a hard on for her. I tell myself that any feelings I might be getting only stem from paternal-like instincts.
I’ve never had a child— never wanted one— but poor Elizabeth Jane was abandoned by her own father and that crazy mother of hers is always going off about it, making it sound more traumatic on her that it must have been for Elizabeth Jane. These feelings must be present because I only want to care about her. Not fuck her brains out. Or let her steal my fucking heart.
I must think about something gross— the thought of soon checking Mr. Jefferson’s bed sores to see how they’re healing, which is definitely one of the downsides of having a family practice— to get my cock to settle down and behave. Too bad there’s no such quick fix for my heart.
I’ve known Elizabeth Jane for a long time. I can’t believe Little Lizzy is all grown up. I imagine how she must look now, and I can barely take it any longer.
“See if she can come in tomorrow,” I tell Trisha.
“Tomorrow?” she looks shocked. “But you don’t have any openings…”
“Well, then shift things around and make one,” I tell her.
When she looks hurt, I add, “I’m sorry, Trisha. It’s been a long day and I need to get home. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
> I just want to go jerk off and think about what I wish I could do to Elizabeth Jane Suttell. I can’t believe her mom wants me to check her virginity. But, like Niles just said, a doctor’s job is to keep the patients happy, right?
What crazy Shirley Suttell wants, she’ll get. Even though she probably has no idea how much I want it too. Nor does she have any idea how anxiously I'll be waiting to see Elizabeth Jane tomorrow— which feels like months away as I go to see my last patient of the day.
Chapter 10 – Elizabeth Jane
I sit anxiously in the waiting room, fiddling with my nails. I’ve come to this office and waited here in the lobby to be seen since I was young, always feeling some sort of nervousness due to having to be at the doctor’s office, but never have I felt this level of anxiety.
I fiddle with my nails, which I’ve painted bright red, a color my mother despises because she says it’s for whores. I don’t usually paint them at all, let alone in this shade, but I guess it was an act of rebellion.
My dad ran off on my mom with another woman and she suspect’s that he cheated on her with quite a few others before he finally left her for good. She thinks all men are pigs and that any woman who would sleep with one is a whore.
When I was younger, I found a card he had sent me for my birthday and it had his phone number on it. But Mom said she tried calling it so that she could collect child support from him and it was disconnected. She told me he’s a no-good deadbeat and that as long as I live under her roof, I won’t be trying to contact him. She also added that it’s for my own protection, since he’d just treat me as badly as he had treated her.
That’s why she says I should never trust a man. And I don’t plan to. I don’t trust women either, which is why I don’t have many friends. All of them just want to gossip and backstab. I only trust myself, and it’s hard to do even that when I second guess every decision I ever make.
I’m not sure if Mom expects me to be a virgin all my life but she has said many times that I have to wait until I get married to have sex, and that there are no good guys worth marrying. And apparently, I’m not even allowed to masturbate. So really, I’m not supposed to have any options at all, I guess. Such is life with my mom.
