by Lan LLP
Right away, I fabricate a Lillian-profile for him to distract myself from admiring his handsome features. This is a man who enjoys an affluent lifestyle, completely self-centered and arrogant, and everything is catered to him. He’s not married; therefore, he has commitment issues. His current predicament probably sabotaged his plans of meeting one of his many swimsuit-model girlfriends. He has a different flavor for every occasion or need. I’m willing to put money on the fact that he never lacks the company of a beautiful woman. I have a character flaw of judging people based on their materialistic appearances. It’s a terrible trait I’ve inherited from my mother, and needless to say, I’m not proud of it.
We finally arrive at the hospital, and he’s quickly transferred to the emergency area. Since his identity is unknown, the hospital has maintained the highest level of confidentiality for him. I stand at the foot of his bed as two eager female nurses remove his dampened clothes; first the vest and dark gray tie, then his dingy dress shirt, and finally his pants and boxers. I catch myself staring inappropriately at his lean, muscular, naked body as I nervously bite on my lower lip. This is so unprofessional of me, and I’m appalled at myself. I see some minor bruising on both his arms and some scrapes on his knees. He’s endowed in both length and girth, I shamefully note. What the heck is the matter with me? I’m thankful when they cover his distracting ripped body with a unisex hospital gown.
Right away, I gather my crumbled dignity and then exit the room to search for Dr. Stanford, the lead physician. I’m requesting to be involved with this man’s care since I’m already familiar with his case. Dr. Stanford happily concedes without any hesitation. I think he has a lot of respect for me even though I’m only a first year medical resident. I’ve worked extra, long hours to prove my worth to him, and I think it’s paying off.
I walk over to mystery man’s bed to examine him closely. He’s very handsome indeed even when he’s sleeping. Stop it. I place my two fingers on his radial artery to obtain his pulse rate, 55. I assume he works out from his healthy rate and his muscle tone. There I go again, losing my train of thought. I quickly release my grasp of his wrist and step away from his bed. I better let the nurse complete his physical because I’m nowhere in the correct frame of mind. For reasons I can’t understand, this man is slowly breaking down my invincible barrier that I’ve worked years to build and reinforce. How is this even possible?
After my ER assessment, mystery man is transferred to a private room. Dr. Stanford agrees with my decision to order a comprehensive workup for him. He’s responding well with continuous IV fluids. I decide to keep a safe distance from him, only observing his condition from his medical chart. I would hate for Dr. Stanford to witness my unprofessional gawking of our patient. I’ve worked way too hard to let some stupid crazy crush hurt my impeccable record.
It’s starting to get dark outside. I better get back to the dorm and prepare for my three lecture classes, starting early tomorrow morning. I leave my instructions for mystery man’s care with the attending nurse and slowly make my way out of his room. For some strange, dumb reason, I’m stalling to leave. Why do I still want to stick around here? It can’t be because of mystery man, can it? I refuse to accept that as a reason. Argh! I’m frustrated with myself. I grab my things and force myself towards the exit.
The bus is running early tonight. Sam, the driver, greets me with his usual friendly smile as I step onto the bus. I’m distracted and only return his gesture with a nod, instead of my routine ‘Hey Sam. How was your day?’
“Your mind is jumbled up tonight, Miss Lillian,” he interrupts my daydreaming.
“I had an interesting day, Sam,” I respond to his concern.
“I can see it on your puzzled face,” he replies with a smile.
I take my normal seat in the front of the bus and ride all the way back to the dorm in silence, thinking about what my first encounter with mystery man will be like when he’s awake.
Chapter 4
Lillian Ly
As I lay face down over a decadent silky pillow, he leisurely walked his two fingers up the back of my ticklish legs. I’m wearing nothing, but a black lacy thong. The sensual taps of his fingertips lured dormant cravings deep within my body. His fingers suddenly stopped at my upper inner thighs, purposely coaxing more intense desires for him. It’s effective. I wanted and shamelessly begged for more. He proceeded with wispy feathery kisses along the middle of my lower back. My body squirmed pleasurably underneath him. He slowly parted my thighs and slid the thin lace material to one side for full access to my velvet lips. With every slow touch of his fingertips along my sensitive skin, moisture gathered, and I desperately yearned for him to take me. He placed his two fingers over my moistened sweet spot and began a soothing circular massage. The rhythmic motion sent me almost completely over the edge. He had an approving expression on his face, watching me fall apart under his control. It was apparent to him that my body craved more. He gently rolled me onto my back with the same pillow propping my pelvis up. He continued his delicious taunting with his skillful tongue as he placed his head between my unsteady bent knees. He also caressed and kneaded my breasts with his free hand. The arousing motion and pressure of his burning tongue and two fingers circling inside me provoked an explosive orgasm. I moaned and panted pleasurably.
I hear my loud voice moaning over and over again, but now, it sounds more like buzzing. Oh crap, it’s just my damn alarm. I pat my hand on the nightstand to kill that annoying buzz. It stops finally, and I fall back in bed with my eyes wide open, feeling dirty and disgusted with myself. I’ve never had a vivid, wet dream like that before. Oh man, this mysterious stranger is affecting me in the worst way. I force myself out of bed to brush my teeth and get dressed when I see that my first class starts in less than twenty minutes.
I make it there right before the doors shut me out. I sit down for a few minutes and realize that I’m already struggling to stay focused in my first class as snippets of my dirty dream torment my troubled mind. Viral infections don’t seem all too interesting to me right now. I can’t stop seeing his handsome face and hands all over my body. Argh! I can already tell this is going to be a dreadfully long day for me. How can I think about pathology at a time like this? I’m angry with myself for not being able to concentrate and for allowing this man, who I know absolutely nothing about, dramatically influence me this way. Why am I being so stupid right now?
Carson Bradley
Ouch! I feel an unfamiliar sting in my right arm as I push my body up from a reclined position. I’m hooked to an IV pump and wearing a damn hospital gown with no boxers, baring my ass to all who enter this room. What is that smell and where the hell am I? I look around for answers and realize that I’m a patient at a hospital. That cold, sterile scent is all too familiar to me. I spent a good part of my high school years at a hospital in Chicago.
* * * * * * * *
The last thing I remember was being forced to jump out of my private jet in the middle of a blinding, tropical rainstorm. I had fear pumping through my veins, making my heart beat fiercely. I’ve experienced many types of turbulence before, but nothing compared to this. It felt like an evil force of nature was rattling me aggressively inside a metal can, and I had no means of escape. I was merely steps away from heaven or hell.
Captain Franco decided to attempt an emergency landing instead of crashing into the water. Thanks to his incredible flying skills, our jet sliced through violent waves, bounced off several times and jerked everyone and everything around. I fully understood the value of a seatbelt following that miraculous landing. I blew out a breath of relief and released my death grip of the armrests. Owen calmly instructed me to pull out the lifejacket under my seat and securely fasten it around me. I immediately complied without any reluctance. Captain Franco inflated a bright yellow raft and bravely jumped in first. Owen leaped out after him, and then it was my turn to follow their lead into the dangerous depths of angry waves. My entire body shook with fear of dying.
I leaped out into the darkness, missed the raft, and surged instantly away from them. I yelled out in hope of grabbing their attention, but there was no response from any direction. I was now on my own, terrified. Initially, I swam for my life, but it was pointless. There was no way to cut through the blackness of that desolate night. I might as well have been a helpless blind man in a panther’s den. Eventually, I gave up my useless swimming and played it smart by conserving my energy. The crashing waves continued to beat forcibly against me as I drifted for countless hours with the help of my life jacket.
Again, I wanted to blame God for everything at that moment. I had a lot of hate reserved for Him. He already took Emily from me, making my life lonely and miserable for years. And now He was ready to take mine before I wanted to give it up. It didn’t seem fair to me, but neither is marrying Bianca without love. Maybe this was His way of telling me it was definitely a mistake. I knew I had to dissuade myself from thinking such depressing thoughts because it wasn’t going to help me survive. I decided to concentrate on the one thing that would easily distract my hopelessness, my cancer research. If I gave up now, I would lose all my years of dedication and effort. This daunting thought was by far more terrifying than the fear of dying. I had to fight to remain alive for the sake of my work. I had millions of lives riding on my survival.
The blindness of night finally lifted, only to expose me to the excruciating heat and scorching sun of day. My throat was parched, and my lips were uncomfortably chapped with blisters. Though I was completely surrounded by water, I wasn’t able to drink a single salty drop of it. This was by far the worst form of torture. I only survived the horrific night to suffer the beating heat from above. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would last, but just when I thought all hope was gone, I spotted dry land from a near distance. I thought I might be hallucinating, but I didn’t care. I swam desperately towards it with whatever life I had left in me. The surrounding corals were sharp, but I paid no attention to them. I dragged my lifeless body onto the beach and reached out for help, a foot.
____________________
A blushing young nurse walks into my room, and my recollections are abruptly interrupted. She timidly introduces herself, barely making any eye contact and begins assessing my vitals. I remain compliant while she completes her tasks and then probe relentlessly for answers when she asks if I had any questions. She tells me that I was brought to this hospital by a medical-resident named Lillian Ly, who found me on a beach. She also mentions that the hospital has done everything to keep my case confidential, which I’m pleased to hear. The last thing I need is the damn paparazzi coming here to destroy this hospital’s peacefulness and my personal privacy. I deal with plenty of their shit back in the states. I want to keep my anonymity for as long as possible and give her just the minimal details she needed to complete her medical charting. I begin with my name and date of birth, “Carson Bradley, 32, born May 31, 1982.”
After my assessment is completed, I sit back and decide that I don’t want to be anything but lazy today which is abnormal and uncharacteristic of me. My recovering body only wants to bask in the warmth and radiance of the sun shining through the far west window. It’s therapeutic for me. My mind is free of any stress or obligations. I’m almost at the center of my tranquility, when I’m distracted by cautious sounds of docile footsteps entering my room.
I glance over my right shoulder for a glimpse of my new visitor. Damn, who’s this woman? She’s well above average height, probably five foot six or seven inches. Her appealing slender body is hidden under her oversized, professional white jacket. I nosily check her medical badge on the left side of her chest for her name. Med-Resident Lillian Ly, wait a minute; I think that’s the name of the woman who found me. I recall the nurse mentioning it earlier. If I have to guess her age, I would say mid-twenties because of her academic level, but she’s obviously younger in appearance.
Immediately, I feel an unfamiliar tug growing in my chest as my body hardens into stone under her sweet, demure presence. I can’t understand why my heart is racing so rapidly as I watch her approach me. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t respond to women, they respond to me. The delicate features of her slender, youthful face are stunning. There’s a mysterious hint of the exotic about her, possibly Asian or Hawaiian which triggers my curiosity. I can’t stop gawking. Her distinctive light russet brown eyes, rimmed with dark, thick lashes, leave me in a trance. I’m under their magical power. I hope I’m not being too rudely obvious. Her fair complexion is slightly kissed by the golden sun in all the desirable places, on the tip of her dainty nose and cheek bones. Only by sheer will power am I able to restrain my hands from reaching out to touch her soft glowing skin. Her silky chestnut colored hair is neatly tied back in a single ponytail, giving me an irresistible glimpse of her long, slender neck. Why can’t I resist imagining how sweet her rosy lips would taste? Damn, that gorgeous smile…what model wouldn’t kill to have it? My mind would surely forsake me if she offers me another perfect smile.
I continue to steal glimpses of her unblemished beauty as I avoid being caught. She has an adorable tiny mole underneath her left eye. If you blink, you’d miss it because the little dark speck is unnoticeable, but not for me. Her mouth curves slightly higher on the right side when she smiles. She bites on her thumb nail or lower lip out of nervousness, I’m guessing. People usually avoid eye contact and hone in on a subtle habit when they’re nervous, I know this to be true from my years of interaction with clients and employees. She’s left handed and wears no rings on any of her fingers. I’m pleased she’s not married, not really understanding why.
Shit, I’m embarrassed for losing myself in her presence. I keep hoping it’s not apparent to her. This isn’t like me to break down in front of a woman. I have to get a grip on myself. This bothers the hell out of me, not having control. How is it possible for me to be so drawn to this young woman? We’ve only met just a few minutes ago, and we haven’t even said a single word to each other. Why does she stand out like a rare pearl in a vast ocean? What’s making me feel this way? I haven’t had this tug in my chest for years.
* * * * * * * *
I lost Emily, my high school sweetheart, to Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the tender age of seventeen. We met in fifth grade. I was the awkward new kid in class that everyone stared at, but kept their distance from. She was the first person to open her welcoming heart to me, and I was grateful. I hated being the new kid all the time. My father dedicated a good part of his life to serving our country in the Marines, meaning we did too. We moved around habitually from base to base. I speak several foreign languages fluently, thanks to him. It wasn’t the ideal upbringing for a young boy without siblings. I was never anywhere long enough to make lasting, meaningful friendships until we moved back to Chicago permanently.
I knew it was real the minute I saw Emily’s entrancing blue eyes. She was soft spoken, kind hearted, generous and funny. We spent every free minute together, hanging out in her treehouse. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t share with her. She was my best friend. It wasn’t until our freshman year when I gathered up enough courage to ask her to be my girlfriend. She agreed, of course, making me incredibly happy.
My teenage life couldn’t have been more perfect until she was diagnosed with late stage Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I was completely devastated and sobbed for weeks. I went from loving life to hating it and blaming God for being unfair to me. I had never been this angry in all my life, but for her sake I didn’t give up. I stood by her side and suffered her pain while crying behind her back. She battled courageously for almost four years and fought hard to make it to our senior prom. I was determined to give her the most memorable night of her remaining life. I knew she loved the lake and wanted to plan something special around it. I worked at Mrs. Meinkin’s bakery for six months before I was able to save up enough money for a fancy dinner cruise at the Navy Pier and a limo ride around Chicago. She wore a beautiful violet-colored evening gown with a stylish hat to cove
r her bared head. The disease and treatments had robbed her of her youth and beauty, but I still saw the same entrancing blue-eyed girl who stole my heart at first sight.
With her suffering and death, my heart faded away with her. I haven’t loved or cared for any woman since then. I know we were young, but the feelings I had for her were real and irreplaceable. Sure, I’ve been with many gorgeous women after Emily, but at the end of the day, I was always left feeling empty and alone. This is probably why they only lasted a few weeks to several months. It was impossible for me to replace Emily. No one could ever measure up to her, and I made sure they didn’t. I was afraid I would forget her if I allowed someone else into my life.
Lillian Ly
I nervously walk towards him; the man I’ve been having illicit dreams about is now staring deeply into my paralyzed eyes with his own enslaving hazel green eyes. He looks confident, stern and controlled, but his mind seems preoccupied. I think he’s studying me and determining if I’m professionally capable of managing his care. Maybe he thinks I’m too young and inexperienced. Many of my patients have told me this in the past, making me very insecure about my age. I refuse to let him intimidate me, so I offer him one confident smile and avoid his inquiring eyes. The last thing I need is for him to validate my attraction for him by looking into my admiring eyes.
