Filthy Doctor: A Bad Boy Medical Romance

by Amy Brent

  “I haven’t talked to Randy since I left Chicago,” I said. I felt the muscles in my cheeks tighten at the mention of his name. “There’s really nothing left to say.”

  Ed was about to say something, then he glanced past me at the open doorway and smiled, which was odd because Ed never smiled. He pushed himself up from the chair and went around the desk. I turned to see who he was looking at and came eye to eye with the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. At least the most gorgeous man that I’d ever seen in person.

  The man standing in the doorway was tall, with jet black hair and baby blue eyes and teeth so perfect and white they almost didn’t look real. He had a deep tan and a Kennedy jawline. He was wearing a dark suit that probably cost more than my first car, an open-collared white shirt that showed off tufts of dark curls on his chest, and a gold Rolex that looked like it weighed twenty pounds on his wrist. When he looked at me and smiled I literally thought I was going to melt in my panties. The last time my pussy felt this hot I had accidentally sat on a black bicycle seat that had been out in the summer sun all day long.

  “Hey, there he is,” Ed said happily, sticking out his hand and patting Dr. Cole Walker on the shoulder. “How are you doing, doc?”

  “I’m fine, Ed, thank you,” Walker said formally. I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my throat and clasped my hands together behind me. I tried not to bounce on the balls of my feet like a love struck high school girl… high school… That’s when it hit me. Holy shit. I knew Dr. Cole Walker from another life, from another time. Holy shit...

  “Lucy? Oh, my god, Lucy Walsh? Is that you?”

  He let go of Ed’s hand and moved toward me with his arms outstretched and a look of wonder on his handsome face. I stood dumbfounded as he wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me in for a hug. He squeezed me tight and grunted playfully, then pulled back with his hands on my shoulders. His eyes went around my face.

  He said, “My god, Lucy, I can’t believe it’s you.”

  “You two know each other?” Ed asked, his bushy eyebrows in a deep vee above his eyes. “Stupid question, obviously, you do.”

  “We do know each other,” Cole said, eyes sparkling. “Or we did. We were high school sweethearts.” He gave me a big grin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Lucy.”

  I think my mouth moved for several seconds before my brain decided to take part in the conversation. I blinked away the shock and mustered a smile.

  I muttered, “Calvin Walker? From Milwaukee? You’re Dr. Cole Walker?”

  “Colton is my middle name,” he said, nodding. “Cole sounds so much better than Calvin, don’t you think?” He glanced over at Ed and made a mock serious face. “If you tell anyone my name is Calvin I’ll have to kill you.”

  “No worries there, doc,” Ed said with a smile, his pudgy hands waving in the air. He put his fingers to his lips and pretended to turn the key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  I was smiling, too, because I’d never seen Ed so openly enamored of anyone. But I couldn’t blame him. Gazing into Dr. Cole Walker’s eyes it was easy to see how anyone could fall in love with him, even a fat sixty-year-old heterosexual man who was normally as affectionate as a rattlesnake. It was no wonder the viewers loved him.

  Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist and melted into him again. He laughed as he put his arms around me and made cute little grunting noises as he rocked me from side to side. I put my head on his chest and sighed. I could only imagine what Ed was thinking. Heck, I could only imagine what Calvin—I mean—Cole was thinking, being accosted by a woman he hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years like some deranged fan.

  It felt like old times, only I was hugging the famous Dr. Cole Walker and not nerdy Calvin Walker, the skinny, teenage boy who took my virginity in exchange for his.

  Chapter 7: Lucy

  I hated high school. My mother literally had to pry me out of bed in the morning to get me to go, I hated it so much. I was an awkward girl with unruly blonde hair and pimples and skinny legs and practically no boobs or hips (those came later, thank God).

  There was nothing round about me other than my IQ, which was around 130. I was gifted, but was certainly no genius, at least when it came to being social or attracting boys. I was easily the smartest girl in the eleventh grade, which wasn’t that surprising given that most of the other girls were focusing all their time and limited brain cells on their wardrobe and makeup; and on creative ways to lose their virginity. I was the least sexual girl in all of Milwaukee. All my vagina was good for was getting stuck to my panties during sweaty gym classes.

  I was probably the only girl in the eleventh grade not having sex of some kind. I remember a contest among the eleventh-grade girls as to who could have sex with the most varsity football players. Hand jobs counted as one point, blowjobs counted as two, and if you went all the way, that was three. And if you let him stick it in your ass (ouch!!), that would get you two bonus points. Points were tallied at the end of the semester and the lucky winner got the title of Biggest Slut—slash—Biggest Athletic Supporter in the school, which was on par with being crowned prom queen at my school. Needless to say, I did not participate. I barely knew what a penis was, and the thought of having one in my mouth just grossed me out. God forbid one ever try to invade my vagina or butt hole!

  The school work was easy for me mainly because I gave a damn. While my peers were out cheerleading or painting posters for the big game or getting laid in the back of some football player’s car, I was locked in my room studying. Academically, I would accept nothing but the absolute best. I once argued with a teacher who had given me a 99 on an exam when I felt I deserved 100. After an hour, I wore him down and he changed my grade. I earned that 100. I deserved it. I didn’t put much thought into my looks, but I’d be damned if some old fart with thinning hair and thick glasses was going to ruin my perfect grade point for the year.

  I had one friend, a girl named Wanda Couric, who was as big a nerd as me. We never went to high school dances or football games because we thought sports were too violent and high school boys too stupid. Such thought processes made for a lot of lonely Saturday nights. After a while, we even got tired of each other’s company. You can only go to a pity party so many times before even that gets old. Wanda ended up getting contacts and wearing short skirts and joined the in-crowd while I just kept slogging along with my eye toward college. High school was like a prison to me. One more year and I would be paroled. It didn’t occur to me at the time that college was going to be ten times worse.

  Then, toward the end of my junior year, Calvin Walker transferred to Milwaukee High and my entire world flipped upside down. He was an Army brat whose family moved every couple of years. I vividly remembered the first time I saw him. It was a Friday after lunch, in the middle of Mrs. Higgins’ advanced calculus class. I was in my seat at the front where I always sat. The door opened and this tall, skinny boy with a shock of jet black hair hanging in his eyes and glasses with thick frames walked in. He handed Mrs. Higgins a note from the office and stared at the floor. She turned to the class to announce him, as if anyone but me even cared. Most of the kids didn’t even look up.

  “Class, this is… Calvin Walker… a transfer student from… oh goodness… Berlin, Germany. Are you German, Calvin?”

  He shook his head without looking up or saying anything. She gave him a smile full of pity because she knew what a snake pit Milwaukee High could be, especially if you were a nerdy kid with no social skills, as he appeared to be. She patted his shoulder and told him to find a seat. The only seat available was the one at the very front of the row to my right. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he folded his long legs into the seat and laced his long fingers together on the desk. He sat down without looking around, almost as if he were afraid to see what was around him.

  Calvin Walker was tall and lanky, with not much meat on his bones. His chin was dotted with pimples and he had a few dark hairs shadowing his upper lip.
When he sensed that I was staring at him he glanced over and gave me a quick, nervous smile, as if he was glad to find someone here even more of a nerd than he was. What struck me most about him was the color his eyes behind the thick lenses. They were bright blue, like the sky on a clear summer’s day. There was something about the way he smiled at me that made me all warm and fuzzy inside. I knew at that moment that Calvin Walker and I were going to be the best of friends. Maybe even more.

  I got up the nerve to approach him in the lunchroom the next day. He was sitting alone at a table by the window, picking at a piece of meatloaf with the tines of a fork as if he were trying to figure out exactly what it was made of. I usually ate alone, but that day I slid onto the round plastic seat directly across from him without asking permission and just started talking. It was greatly out of character for me, but there was something about Calvin even then that drew me to him, like a moth drawn to a flame. Granted, it was a nerdy flame, but a flame nevertheless.

  “Hi there,” I said brightly. I had never flirted before a day in my life, so I had no idea how to go about it. And looking seductive was not in my bag of tricks, so I just smiled to show him the perfect teeth that had only been free of braces for a few weeks and stuck out my hand. “I’m Lucy. Lucy Walsh.”

  He wiped his mouth off on the back of his left hand and shook my hand with his right. His grip was limp, as if he were afraid of squeezing too tightly. “Calvin Walker.” He said it in such a way that it sounded like he was asking me if Calvin Walker was his name rather than telling me that it was.

  “Hi, Calvin Walker,” I said, giving his hand a good shake to let him know that I wasn’t going to break. “Walsh and Walker… Walker and Walsh… I bet we’re next to each other in the yearbook!” It was a retarded thing to say and I immediately regretted it, but he smiled and bobbed his head. His hand was warm and moist. I pulled my hand back and rubbed my palms on the legs of my jeans for a moment, then fiddled with opening the container of milk on my lunch tray. “So, where are you from?”

  “All over the place,” he said in the questioning tone again. “We just moved here from Berlin.”

  “Berlin? Wow. How cool was that? Living in Germany?”

  “Not very,” he said with a shrug.

  I took a sip of the cold milk and picked up my fork. I had a lump of meatloaf on my tray, as well, along with a scoop of mashed potatoes and a few green beans. I dipped the fork into the potatoes and carefully stuck it in my mouth, being as ladylike as possible. My mom always told me to eat sparingly around boys. Take small bites, don’t eat everything. “You don’t want them to think you’re a pig, dear,” she would say.

  I daintily wiped my lips on a napkin and kept prying. “So, what brings you to Milwaukee, Calvin Walker?”

  “My dad’s in the Army,” he said with a heavy sigh, as if the weight of traveling the world was pressing down upon him. “He’s just got transferred to Fort McCoy in Monroe, so we’ll be here for a year or two.”

  “Do you like it so far?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he said, narrowing his eyes to look around the lunchroom for a moment. The place was a haven for cliques. The jocks were at one table. The cheerleaders at another. The remainder of the tables were divided among groups of popular kids, unpopular kids (who weren’t even popular amongst themselves), the brainiacs, the dopers, the drunks, the criminals, and others who ate lunch in their own little worlds, trying to avoid the real world around them. Just let me get through the day without getting the shit kicked out of me, they prayed. I had to admit that I had days like that, where I hunkered down in my own little world and tried to go unnoticed. Being smart didn’t score you points in high school. To the contrary, the smart kids were usually the most alienated and bullied because they made the popular kids and the jocks feel stupid. They felt stupid because that’s what they were, stupid, not because someone else made them feel that way.

  When his eyes came back to mine, he smiled just enough to let me know that he was glad I was there. “Other than the food, I think it’s going to be okay.”

  “I think so, too,” I said happily. I grinned at him and he grinned back at me, and without another word, our bond was formed.

  From that day forward, Calvin and I had lunch together every day and hung out just about every weekend. We discovered a mutual love of advanced math (nerds), competitive chess (nerds again), and a fascination with all things Star Wars. After school, we’d meet at the library so I could help him catch up on his studies. Schools in Germany were a world apart from good old Milwaukee High. Calvin was smart, maybe smarter than me, but he needed a little extra tutoring and I was happy to help.

  I remembered sitting next to him at a table in the library, our chairs so close that our thighs touched. A little tingle ran up my leg into my vagina, which had never seen an object more foreign than a bar of soap and the monthly supply of tampons. My clit tingled when his hand accidentally brushed mine. When I got home from the library some days I had to change my panties because the crotch would be soaked. Calvin was waking something up in me that I knew had always been there but had never tried to come out before. I wondered if I had the same effect on him. I decided that the next time we were alone, I’d somehow manage to accidentally brush against his crotch to see if his penis was hard. It funny how ridiculously clinical I sounded back then. I wanted to see if his “penis was hard”. I was sixteen, for Pete sake. I had no idea what to call a boy’s thing back then. If a boy had told me he wanted to shove his throbbing cock into my tight teen pussy I would have run away screaming. Now… well… not so much.

  A few weeks later, Calvin came to my house after school to study. We were in my room with the door open (there were no rules governing the doors in my house because a boy had never set foot there), sitting on the floor with our knees touching and our calculus books open on our laps when my mom stuck her head in to say that she was running to the grocery store. It would be hours before my dad would be home and she had to get something for dinner. She asked Calvin if he’d like to stay for dinner and he said sure. I waited until I heard the front door close and the car pull away, then I put my book aside and leaned forward to kiss Calvin on the lips. The look of shock on his face was priceless.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, pulling his head back.

  “I’m kissing you, dummy,” I said. I was on my knees in front of him, which my hands resting on his knees. I tried to work up a seductive look. “Is that all right?”

  I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Sure...”

  I leaned in and kissed him again. This time he kissed me back. I pushed the book off his lap and put my hands on his shoulders to push him back to lie flat on the floor. With him on his back, I straddled his hips and pushed my crotch against him. With my lips still on his and my tongue awkwardly in his mouth, I felt his cock getting hard beneath me. And I mean rock hard and huge, like straddling the bar on a boy’s bike.

  “Does that feel good?” I asked, rubbing myself against him.

  “Yes…” he whispered with his eyes closed. He slid his hands up my thighs and brought them around to my ass. He dug in his fingers and pressed me to him.

  The pressure of my pussy against his cock made me tingle all inside. I took a deep breath and moaned in his ear. “Oh… wow… that feels… really good…”

  I had never French kissed before, but I was glad to see that it wasn’t hard to figure out. Calvin’s tongue came out to play with mine. His hands on my ass got firmer and he ground my pussy against his cock. I was wearing jeans and cotton panties, which were drenched from the waves of juices that were gushing from deep inside me. The fabric between us was hot from the friction. I could just imagine us catching fire and the Milwaukee Fire Department having to come put us out.

  I heard Calvin gasp and he pressed me to his cock and lifted his ass off the floor. I didn’t realize it at that moment, but he was cumming in his jeans. At first, I thought he was in pain, but when I pulled back from his lips
I saw the look of teen ecstasy on his face. His eyes were closed behind the thick glasses. His mouth was hanging open and he was sucking in quick gasps of air. I felt him growing hot beneath me as his milky goo soaked the front of his jeans. I could smell our sex in the air; pungent, tangy, intoxicating.

  When it was over, his face turned red from embarrassment and the mood suddenly changed. I climbed off him and looked at the wet spot on the front of his jeans. I hid a smile behind my hand and quickly looked away. I was proud of myself because I made that happen. It was the first time I realized that I could pleasure a boy and get pleasure in return. It sparked something inside of me. I wanted to do it again. I wanted to do more, other things, nasty things. I wanted to do everything the sluts at school talked about.

  “Uh, I gotta go,” he said as his face turned ten shades of red. He stumbled to his feet and gathered up his books. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

  He covered his crotch with the books and hurriedly left the room. I sat there for a moment in my soggy panties with my clit tingling and my pussy dripping, unsure what to do next. I knew nothing about masturbation back then, so I was left high and dry, or high and wet, so to speak.

  If that happened today, I’d just pull out my little box of toys I kept in my bedside table and give myself a happy ending. But I was just sixteen and that was my first foray into sex, if you could even call it that.

  Eventually, I just got up and went into the bathroom to clean myself off. I put on clean panties and jeans and went back to my studies, all the while thinking that the next time this happened we’d both leave satisfied.

  Chapter 8: Cole

  When I walked into Ed Quigley’s office and saw Lucy Walsh standing there, I literally felt my heart clench in my chest, like fingers had closed around it to give it a tight squeeze. I had no idea that World News Tonight’s new executive producer Lucinda Rhodes would turn out to be Lucy Walsh, the first girl I had ever had sex with. And the first girl I ever loved. Hell, she might have been the only girl I’d ever really loved. It had been nearly twenty years since I’d seen her, but I’d never even come close to the kind of relationship I had with Lucy. Some would call that sad. I just called it life. I had been too wrapped up in my career to even think about a serious relationship. Plus, I had too much fun playing the field. What was the old saying? Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? In my case, it was why buy the cow when you already had access to an entire dairy farm. I had all the free milk I could drink. Hell, I could bathe in free milk. Why fuck that up with silly things like monogamy and commitment?