Dr. Single Dad: A Single Doctor and Virgin Romance

by Dark Angel

  “Then why don’t you, Ethan?” he pauses for a few seconds, and I even stop moving my hand. I know that everything hangs in this moment; if he really goes for it and decides to fuck me here, I might have blown the whole thing. I’m not sure how much he will care about me after fucking me on the first try. Men like him are quick to move on, and that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen… I need to worm myself into his life and this company long enough for me to see this job through. Whatever it takes.

  “Because…” he seems to look for the right words, and then takes his hand to my face. He brushes two of his fingers against one cheek, and them grabs me by the hair. Yanking on it, he forces my head back and presses his lips against my neck. “You intrigue me. And I like intriguing women.”

  I gasp as he pulls on my hair, but inside, I’m sighing with relief. What would I do if he tried to fuck me? I’d have to keep playing him, and so I’d have to stop him and keep on teasing… The problem is, I’m not sure that I would've been able to do that.

  “I told you before,” I say, taking my hand from his boxer briefs. “You never met a woman like me.” Moving fast, I clash one forearm against his and force him to let go of my hair; in the same flowing movement, I place both my hands on his hair and now it’s my turn to pull. He throws his head back, exhaling in surprise, and I lean into him. Parting my lips, I let my tongue out and brush it against the crevice between his lips. I can feel his whole body tensing up, and there’s even a slight movement in his neck, but I keep him in place. He wants to kiss me, and God, so do I, but I won’t let it happen. Not now. A kiss has to be earned, and I’ll make him work for it.

  “That remains to be seen…” he tells me, looking me straight in the eye. He’s dying for more of me; I can read it in his face. And, well… I’m also dying for more. Grabbing his hair by the root, I start to sway my hips violently, grinding against him as harshly as I can. My pussy is pressed tight against his hard cock, and even though there are still layers of fabric between the two of us; I don’t let that stop me. Right now, I’m not doing this for him; I’m doing it for me.

  I ride him as if we were fucking, and even though I’m just grinding against his thickness, I feel a coiled tension building up inside of me. Fierce and wild, it’s still in its chains… But it won’t take long to break free. I know I should keep my cool right now, but I can’t stop myself. How could I say no to pleasure when it’s breathing down my neck and whispering my name?

  As the tension inside my muscles grows into a thunderstorm, I have to grit my teeth. Throwing my head back, I close my eyes and let pleasure wash all over me. My jaw is hurting, but I refuse to open my mouth; if I do it, I won’t be able to stop myself from moaning or screaming. As fireworks go off inside my head, I do my best to hide it from everyone. Building up all the tension between Ethan and I is key, and I can’t allow anyone to figure out how much I’m enjoying this. In a wicked way, the more I try to pretend my brain isn’t frying right now, the more the fangs of pleasure bury themselves into my soul.

  Even though I remain silent, my mind, body, and soul are screaming inwardly. Ecstasy rages me through like a vicious flood, and even my pussy is spasming. God, what I wouldn’t give to fuck him right here, right now.

  My muscles are twitching, and there’s an urge inside of me to surrender to a feverish frenzy, but I hold my own and keep grinding against him. Then my entire body tenses and it's as if a fiery hot bolt of electricity is coursing through me—head to toe.

  I steady myself by gripping Ethan's strong, hard chest. And the next moment, I explode. A million mini internal fireworks are popping off and my pussy is spasming harder and faster than I've ever felt before. I feel like I want to collapse, but I can't.

  I have to maintain my composure. I open my eyes—I realize I had them squeezed shut—and I take a deep breath. Did he notice? It's hard to say.

  God, I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I didn’t want it to be over this quickly. I could keep going like this forever… Of course, but then I probably wouldn’t be able to resist the pull of his cock. Hey, what can I say? I was having fun. Lots of it.

  I take one deep breath, and acting as solemnly as I can, I let go of his hair and sit up. The audition is over. It’s just the first step in a long ladder of strategic moves, but it’s done at least. And I think I nailed it, although I started my little show feeling as confident as I could, I have to admit I was a bit afraid of screwing the whole thing up.

  “I hope you enjoyed it,” I merely say, dismounting him as I speak. It almost hurts to do it, but I have to act as coldly as I can. Acting like a true professional, my personality goes from lewd and seductive to straightforward; my audition is done. I turn my back to Ethan and pick my bra and dress from the floor; as if nothing happened, I get dressed as casually as possible. He remains frozen in place, unmoving, and I’m sure that a river of raging adrenaline is still coursing through his veins.

  As I walk back to my seat, I can’t help but look at him once again. Looking back over my shoulder, I smile and give him a wink for good measure. I know he’s going to be thinking of me for the rest of the day, and that’s exactly what I want.

  Even though Ethan is just a target, one thing is for sure: he’s going to be in my dreams tonight. And I can’t wait to meet him there.

  Ethan

  "I'd say girls 25, 26, and 27 were our strongest candidate," Joel says, an eager smile plastered across his face. He's leaning back in his chair, his arms held above his head. He's swiveling back and forth. He seems pretty happy with the turnout at the audition. And I am too.

  Of course he'd list girls 25 and 27, I think to myself. They fucking had their lips wrapped around his fucking cock, and he sure didn't hide the fact that he was enjoying it. He was anything but shy. He was downright eager. But if it were up to me, I'd say girl 26 was the hottest fucking prospect.

  How does Joel not see that? Maybe because she was in my lap, not his. That ass. Those legs. Those smoldering eyes framed by a waterfall of blonde hair that flows down to her shoulders. I mean, the woman gave my cock its own heartbeat for god's sake!

  What more can I ask for? And whom am I kidding? Of course it's up to me who we hire. It's my fucking company. I'll hire whomever the fuck I want to.

  "I'm telling you, girl number 26 is a star waiting to fucking happen," I say with total conviction. I put my hands up in the air, palms up, in a gesture that says this is a no-brainer. "I don't even know why we're still having this discussion."

  "Is she a star, or does this have to do with the fact that she seemed to be all over you during that audition?" Joel asks. "I mean, she only had eyes for you. She never once looked in my direction or acknowledged my existence. In fact, the entire room didn't exist to her—if it wasn't for your presence."

  I nearly roll my eyes. "Don't sound so jealous Joel," I laugh.

  "Are you guys referring to Brittney?" Cheryl asks me, looking down at her stack of papers. She looks up and eyes me suspiciously because I'm not normally in these meetings. It's like she's known me long enough to have a sixth sense or something. I know what she's thinking too. She's looking at me like some overprotective mother hen. I have to play it cool, like I really don't give a fuck about woman number 26, just to keep her from giving me that fucking annoying sideways glance of hers.

  "We also have those twins… Bella and Ella… that could make for some interesting video shots and story lines," Joel chimes in. "That's every guy's fantasy, isn't it?"

  "The two brunettes? Speak for yourself. You think just because they're twins with big tits that they'd be perfect for Illicit Entertainment? That they're star material? Please. Give me a fucking break. They're boring. They're predictable," I yawn.

  "What's with you this week?" Cheryl asks. "You're acting different."

  "Because I give a shit about who's cast this month? There's nothing fucking different about me. Illicit Entertainment is my brainchild. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure we cast a real star this month?
We have a lot fucking riding on our new technology. We've sunk millions into it. We're taking this company into the next fucking century and beyond—now's not the time to take our foot off the gas pedal."

  This seems to make sense to her—or maybe she's still wrapping her head around it all—but she shrugs her shoulders. She looks back at her clipboard and reads through the audition list again.

  "OK, so does this mean that women numbers 25 and 27—Ella and Bella—are out?" Cheryl asks.

  "Why can't we just bring on all three?" Joel suggests. He clearly doesn't want to let those girls go.

  I sigh and continue to make my case. "Of course it means they're out, Cheryl. And Joel, if this were simply about bringing on more women—sure, we could hire all three. Hell, we could hire a thousand in the next hour! But let's remember what we set out to do with this audition. Are you forgetting? The point was to find the industry's next big star—a super star for our new platform! And a star isn't predictable. She has an almost ethereal quality that hooks you in. Do you understand what I'm saying here? She carries a unique, dynamic draw. She's sexy, but confident. She's the woman who's just beyond your reach."

  "Ok, we get it," Joel says. "She needs to be some creature of almost mythical status."

  "No, that's not it," I continue. "It's real simple. This next star needs to be Brittney. She showed us that she had it all during her audition. The smoking hot body. The penetrating gaze. The fucking attitude. It's the don't-fuck-with-me attitude. She was a woman on a mission, and we can fulfill that mission. Look—let's hire her. You'll see what kind of porn-star material that she is. And you'll feel ridiculous for ever doubting me."

  Joel nods at me in agreement, but Cheryl doesn't seem totally convinced yet.

  "Why was she so laser focused on you, Ethan?" Cheryl says. "Doesn't that seem odd?"

  "Cheryl, you're overanalyzing this," I say. "It's not fucking odd at all. This is a porn audition we're talking about. She did what she needed to do."

  "Okay, I trust you," Cheryl nods.

  I'm glad they finally agree, but do they really have a choice? Not if they still want their jobs. It's nice to have them on the same page, but at the end of the day, I don't need their approval. I look down at my Apple watch. Not only has it been buzzing non-stop with emails from the press regarding Illicit Escape announcement—it seems everyone and their mother wants to give it a whirl—but my watch also shows me that it's 11:05. I'm five minutes late to my next meeting.

  "You'll have to excuse me," I say. I push my chair back and stand up. I fix my suit coat and straighten my silk tie. "This has been productive, don't you think? It's going to be a great month."

  I walk out the door and continue down the hall when I feel the presence of someone behind me. I can hear what sounds like a woman's heels clicking against the hard floor. I turn around and see Cheryl. She stops, and for a wordless moment, looks at me with her hands on her hips, and her lips scrunched. I haven't seen her strike this kind of pose in a while.

  "Do you have something you need to say to me?" she asks. I can practically see her shoe tapping against the floor in irritation.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

  "Come on Ethan. I've known you forever," she says with a look of exasperation. It's a look that says she didn't believe a word I said during our meeting.

  "I really don't know what you're talking about," I maintain with a shrug. "Does this have anything to do with our meeting just now? Because everything is fine. I mean it. You have to believe me Cher—"

  "You better watch yourself," she says, cutting me off. Her brows are knitted in seriousness. It reminds me of an angry caterpillar.

  "Now you're acting like the crazy one," I say, throwing my hands up. "I mean come on. Do you even hear yourself right now? I don't know what kind of story you've been spinning in your head, but—"

  "Stop it, Ethan. I've known you for too damn long. Since when have you ever cared so much about hiring a particular porn actress for this company?"

  "Well, I—" I begin, before she cuts me off.

  "I'll give you the answer, Ethan—it's never," she says. "Not once. So why now? Who the hell cares if we hire Ella and Bella with the big tits, versus some skinny blonde that can hold your gaze?"

  "She's not just some skinny blonde," I say. "I see a certain quality in her. A star quality."

  "Oh come on!" Cheryl laughs. "Are you serious? Some woman with a perfect body and who only has eyes for you makes you lose your head all of a sudden? I can see it in your face. You personally like this one."

  "What a joke—I do not! This is pure business," I reply.

  "I'll say this again because I care, Ethan," Cheryl says. "Watch yourself. This is—"

  "You're treating me like you're either my mother or a jealous lover."

  "Stop, Ethan," she continues. "And let me finish. This is a business of sex and flesh."

  "Don't you think I realize that?"

  "Well, in this business, you can't let your emotions get in the way. You can't be blinded by it all"

  And with that, I watch as Cheryl turns around and walks down the opposite end of the hall without looking back. As I stand there, her words echo in my head.

  Am I allowing my emotions to get the best of me?

  Brittney

  I walk into the corporate headquarters of Illicit Entertainment. The outside of the building is white and non-descript. In fact, if I didn't have the address in my hands, I wouldn't have believed this was the right place. But the interior of the building is a different story. The open-floor concept of the main room is sleek and modern. The lobby is outfitted with black leather furniture, and glass-topped tables. It all fits. I mean, a company getting ready to unveil the next big thing in porn technology should look like this, I think to myself.

  "Well, isn't this fancy," Walter says in his slight English accent, whistling. "Look over here—there's even a giant interactive LCD screen that makes it look like you're standing under a waterfall."

  "I've never seen you look so star-struck before," I laugh.

  "C'mon, you have to admit—this has to be one of the most tech savvy buildings in the city—just look at these sensors," Walter says.

  "Is there a directory somewhere?" I ask. "This place is massive. How are we going to find her?"

  "Over here. Let's see… A, B, C—Cheryl. There she is. Second floor," Walter says, with his finger hovering over the list of names.

  We leave the lobby and step inside of the elevator. Ads for upcoming Illicit Entertainment movies with titles like Pussypocalypse, Two Girls One Bed, 40 Girls and 40 Nights, and Panty Dropper in Paradise adorn the walls.

  "They're creative," I say. "I'll give them that much."

  "I guess that's one way to put it," Walter shrugs.

  The elevator chimes open on the second floor, and to our right, we find a woman sitting at her desk. She looks to be in her early 40s with golden brown, wavy hair. This must be Cheryl.

  "Hi, are you Cheryl? I'm Brittney."

  "Of course! It's a pleasure to meet you," she says, extending her hand. "We're all so excited to welcome you to the Illicit Entertainment family. Ethan speaks highly of you."

  He does? That's good to know. And if she's calling him by his first name, they must be close. I mentally shelve that comment in my brain. I wonder to myself what he's been saying to everyone. I guess my audition went even better than expected, which is good. I'm off on the right foot, and a step closer to my goal.

  "I'm looking forward to it," I say. "And this is my assistant Walter."

  He extends his hand to Cheryl. "Nice to meet you."

  They shake, and he holds onto her hand for a few extra seconds. Is it just my imagination or does Walter seem to have a special sparkle to his eyes? Cheryl's kind of cute, I suppose. Plain, in a way. But cute enough for an older woman.

  "Okay, let's get the boring formal stuff out of the way," Cheryl says, pulling a stack of paperwork from a manila folder. "These contracts walk you thro
ugh our onboarding process."

  "There's a lot of contracts—" I say. And there is. The stack is a formidable size.

  "It looks like a lot, but these are pretty standard for the industry. There's an NDA—for the new technology we're rolling out, a W9, our codes of conduct—you get the picture, all the obvious documents," Cheryl says.

  "Okay, where do we start?" I ask, ready to get through the pile of paperwork.

  "Let's quickly go over this company's do's and don'ts. I think that's a good place to start," Cheryl says.

  I look over at Walter—who hasn't said a word. He seems to be transfixed by Cheryl.

  "First, your sexual health is important to us," Cheryl continues. "We expect a high level of personal hygiene on the set, and we have a strict testing and STD prevention protocol. Also, if you are escorting or thinking about escorting outside of your work with Illicit Entertainment, we strongly urge against that."

  She puts her hands up almost apologetically and continues. "A stigma still remains in the industry you know toward those entertainers who choose to go down this path."

  I nod my head as she continues her spiel. I've heard this all before.

  "There may be gonzo scenes in the films you shoot to give it a more 'realistic' quality—of course that's you interacting with the director and cameramen. And you can expect a healthy dose of pop shots, facials, and creampies. I assume you're okay with all of the above?" Cheryl asks.

  She's all business now, but is she for real? None of this is new to me from my days as Brittney White. "Sure, I get it; I've been out of porn, but I've been around this industry for a while," I say. "Where do I sign?"

  At this point, I just want to get this over with. I watch as Walter excuses himself from the room. "I'll be right back," he says to both of us. He feigns that he needs to use the restroom, but I know better. I know he's scoping the building out.

  Cheryl points her finger to the bottom of the fourth page and I add my signature. We continue on through the paperwork, and while I don't show it, the NDA makes my insides coil like a guarded snake.