Doctor Dave

by Knox, Abby

  Well, that was not what I was expecting. I feel the need to set him straight. “Listen. I like my job. I like my independence. I like my life. I don’t need you to whisk me away, OK?”

  “OK. Fair enough. Sorry. I got overwhelmed and I’m really eager to see you, angel.”

  He’s called me every pet name in the book over the last thirty minutes and it never gets old. The tingles just keep coming.

  “Well, in the entire scope of things, a few hours isn’t that long of a wait, is it?”

  He laughs. “Gonna be the longest few hours of my fucking life.”

  “Well, I can give you something to think about in the meantime,” I say, hardly believing the weird fantasy I’m about to reveal.

  Doctor Dave groans. “Oh, baby, don’t tell me. No, wait. Yes, tell me.”

  I close my eyes and cringe as I say it. “You know those big linen stores that sell all the bedroom and bathroom stuff? They have one here. Well, I have a weird secret. Do you want to hear it?”

  “You’re killing me, doll. And, abso-fucking-lutely I do.” The low register of his voice continues to violate me through the phone. And I find it delicious.

  I continue. “Well, I’ve always had a little fantasy about hooking up with a nameless, faceless guy at the linen store. You know, on one of those really tastefully decorated bedding displays?”

  He pauses, and I’m ready to feel humiliated if he laughs at my silly fantasy.

  “You mean those little half-size beds with a thousand throw pillows that are not actually meant for sleeping?”

  “Yeah,” I say, waiting for the ax to fall.

  Instead I hear a low, guttural growl and the word “fuck.” And then he says, “I can’t let you have a nameless hookup on one of those stupid mini beds. Millie, that’s gonna be me on that bed with you.”

  “Oh, OK.” I can barely get out the words, I’m so happy.

  More pounding and shouting.

  I think Dr. Dave is in more trouble at work than he’s letting on.

  “Where are you, precisely?”

  I let him know that now, I’m right in front of the sporting goods store.

  “Are you anywhere where the security cameras can see you?”

  I grin. “It just so happens I’m in a dead zone. The cameras in this area have been acting wonky for a while now.”

  His voice drops lower and he whispers, “Find a secluded spot right now. I want you to get ready for me.”

  Shaking all over, I duck into a nook by the maintenance access doors, in between the hippie crystals store and the one that sells all the pop culture tee-shirts. “Done,” I breathe.

  “Now, I don’t want to freak you out but—”

  “Do it. Be freaky.”

  His words sweep over my skin like feathers. “Put your sweet hand down your panties.”

  As if I hadn’t thought of that. I unzip my pants and slip my hand down the front of my panties. “Done.”

  “Are you wet?”

  I slide my hand deeper. “God, yes,” I breathe. “The way you talk to me? I don’t have to touch myself to know I’m wet.”

  “Fuck,” he whispers.

  I close my eyes as my fingers sweep down the bare skin of my bikini area, farther down toward my split. My whole body is electrified, anticipating what he might tell me to do next.

  “I’m so fucking hard for you right now, baby. Rub yourself while I talk to you,” he says. “And close your eyes.”

  My hand slides lower, rubbing, while my fingers slip in between my folds. The wetness is unreal, and the sensation of my hand’s exploration and Dr. Dave’s voice in my ear drenches me even more.

  “When you scream my name, I want you to call me David. OK? That’s my name. Dave is the guy on the radio. Me, here, with you, I’m just David. OK?”

  “OK. Tell me what you want me to do next,” I plead.

  “Has my sweet virgin ever gotten herself off before?”

  I’m so hot right now my eyes want to roll back in my head and I fear my knees might give out. But I keep control of myself and answer him. “Yes.”

  “Touch your clit and tell me what it feels like.”

  When my fingers swipe my tight button, my body jerks and I let out a small whimper before biting down on my lip. My cheeks feel hot. “Oh!”

  “What does it feel like?”

  I squeeze it gently. “Hard. A little achy and throbbing. It wants you, not me.”

  “Sweetheart, you are letting me get away with murder, you know that?”

  My words sound like the sins I’ve yet to commit when I reply, “David, you could get away with anything at all when it comes to me.”

  Chapter Nine

  David

  My hand squeezes my cock but the sensation of my own hand is nothing compared to the shivers of pleasure her voice gives me. “Fucking hell, that’s some filthy talk coming from a baby-animal-hat knitting virgin named Millie.”

  She sighs, and I can tell she’s not lying. She is most definitely touching herself while we talk. “You bring it out in me,” she breathes.

  Reagan pounds on the door.

  “Dave, what the fuck!”

  I cover the phone mic with a finger from my free hand. “Run a house ad! Jesus!”

  My producer is pissed. “We already ran like seven house ads, the station manager is getting calls from angry listeners. Calls at home, Dave! Come on!”

  I shake my head. I know that most of my listeners are normal, sane people. But you can’t be too careful. How do some of these psychopaths find out the home phone number of the station manager? This is why I don’t use my last name on the air. I grit my teeth as I realize I should start a new policy of all my callers using fake names. I don’t want people like Millie targeted by some deranged lunatic.

  The arousing thoughts of my Millie touching herself while my voice is in her ear is now competing with Reagan’s angry voice, which is bringing me back to reality. I can’t slap one out in the bathroom at work. What the hell am I thinking?

  But at the same time I can’t let her hang up.

  “Millie, sweetheart, I have to go. Dammit, I don’t want to leave you hanging like this but…just promise me you’ll stay on the line, OK?”

  She gasps in a breath and lets out a shuddering sigh. “Uhm, I’m not going anywhere, doctor.”

  “David,” I remind her. “I’m your guy, Millie. You call me David.”

  Chapter Ten

  David

  The next thing I hear is her breath catching in surprise, and it’s not because I’ve turned her on.

  “Millie, sweetheart, what is it?”

  “Huh,” she says. “That’s weird.”

  I don’t like the sound of this.

  “Tell me what’s weird.”

  “Somebody left a light on at the sporting goods store, way in the back. I just noticed. I don’t remember it being on before.”

  “Don’t go over there,” I insist.

  She protests. “But it’s my job. I have to check it out. It’ll be fine.”

  “Millie, get out of there now. I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all,” I say urgently.

  “It’s fine I’m just gonna go turn the…” She trails off and then I hear a small gasp followed by something that sets all my caveman nerves on fire. “You? What are you—”

  “Millie! What’s going on! Who’s there with you?”

  My girl doesn’t respond. I hear a lot of clattering and then silence. The need to get to her overwhelms me. I call her name several more times and then instead of my beautiful girl, a man’s voice says, “I’m sorry. Millie can’t come to the phone right now.”

  The call drops. Rage like I’ve never felt before suffuses every cell in my body. If anything happens to her, I swear to god. I. Will. Kill. Him. Whoever he is. But I have an idea.

  I bolt out of the bathroom, laser focused.

  “Where are you going? You are still on the air, Doctor Dave!”

  “Not anymore,” I blurt o
ut as I grab the keys to my bike and my helmet.

  “But the sponsors… The station manager is on his way.”

  “Great, then he can do the show.”

  “Dave!”

  I call over my shoulder, “If you want to make yourself useful, call 911 and tell them to head to Southfield Mall. A man is about to die a very painful death.”

  When I peel my bike out of the underground garage, the amount of ice on the road catches me off guard and forces me to slow down, despite my urgency.

  I struggle to keep the bike steady at a slower speed while wrangling my phone at the same time. Shit, I’ve got maybe two minutes of battery power left on it.

  It takes a few tries before I finally manage to hit the emergency button and reach dispatch.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  As calmly as I can, I begin to tell the dispatcher on the phone what’s happening, but then the call drops. “Fuck!” I shout, looking at my screen as the battery fully gives up the ghost.

  I gun it, praying that Reagan decided to listen to me and called 911.

  I don’t care about the ice on the road; I don’t care about anything except getting to my Millie.

  I careen into the mall parking lot so hard that I lose my balance. Under normal circumstances, I could either regain my balance or set the bike down and hope for the best.

  But on this ice, I’m not in control.

  I set the bike down and brace myself. The bike slides out from under me, going in one direction and I go the other, tumbling and whizzing across the ice, my body crashing hard against the concrete sidewalk. I’m a little banged up, sure, but I’m feeling no pain except the pain at the thought that Millie’s in trouble.

  And what’s my plan to get into the mall now that I’m here? I don’t have one other than to crash through the locked glass automatic doors if I have to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Millie

  It feels like all the blood in my body has pooled in my guts and I can’t breathe.

  Pretzel Guy is standing in front of me, looking very put out. And he’s within grabbing distance.

  “Who were you talking to?” he asks.

  Oh god. This is bad.

  Do not engage, says my brain. Also, put your hand on your stun gun without him noticing. Also, try to sound casual so you don’t spook him. Also? Breathe. I finally conquer the panicky dry mouth and stammer, still not able to remember his actual name. “Hey…you? How did you get in here?”

  Pretzel Guy laughs and comes closer as I inch backwards. “Well, you’re a very silly girl when you get so much as a crumb of attention from a man. You really should be more careful. I watched you punch in your security code, and you didn’t even try to hide it. I memorized it, waited a few minutes, then followed you inside.”

  I swallow, deciding not to ask him why he’s here. I think it’s obvious. He’s a psychopath, that’s why.

  “Is there something you need?” I ask, trying to sound more like I’m concerned for his welfare than scared out of my wits. My hand rests on the end of my stun gun that is holstered to my belt.

  Pretzel Guy stops and crosses his arms. “You know? I do need something. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop playing games with me. I guess I need to take matters into my own hands. That’s why, when I left work, I parked across the street and walked all the way back here in the freezing rain. Can you believe what I do for you? Every night I wait around just to say hello, just to let you flirt with me.”

  Not yet, Millie. Don’t knock his ass down just yet. He’s watching you.

  “I…h-have a boyfriend,” I breathe.

  “Oh, Millie,” he chuckles. “I think you’ve been misled. Whoever that was, whoever was on the phone with you? That’s not your boyfriend. No suitable boyfriend would ever coerce his girl to masturbate in public.”

  So, he saw everything. Great. It’s likely he’s been watching me all night.

  Then my stomach drops to the floor like I’m hurdling down the big hill on a roller coaster when I realize something. “The cameras,” I whisper.

  “That’s right? Smart girl. I knew you were perfect for me. I’ve been dicking with the cameras for weeks, just to see how long it would take corporate to fix them. Turns out, they don’t give a shit about you. Unlike me. It’s pretty easy to see I’m the only one looking out for you. That’s why I’m here. To protect you, Millie.”

  I try to sound breezy. “Protect me from what?”

  “You don’t even know my name, do you?”

  “In fairness, I don’t think you’ve ever introduced yourself. You just showed up and started talking to me in the parking lot one day. Word to the wise, don’t walk up to women in parking lots. You could get yourself hurt if they don’t know you’re harmless.”

  He laughs. “You’re adorable, you know that? I like a woman who talks back.”

  Pretzel Guy grips my upper arm with one beefy hand and pulls me away from the wall. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere where we can talk.”

  This guy must be utterly bonkers if he thinks I’m going to let him take me to a second location, especially when the first location is a dark, abandoned shopping mall.

  See, Paul? I say telepathically to my coworker. This is what happens when you call in sick.

  “Well, actually, I need to finish checking the locks on all the doors first, and then we can go find a quiet place to talk, OK?”

  His tone turns angry and he spits out, “You didn’t seem too concerned about doing your job when you were fingering yourself right out here in public, did you? Not very ladylike, was it? Well, now you’re with me, and I’ll teach you quickly how a lady behaves…”

  That word—ladylike—does something to me. I guess you could say I’m triggered. Everything turns several shades of red and the angry bile rises in my throat. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but this? Him putting his hands on me, slut shaming me and stalking me? Not. Fucking. Tonight.

  A distant clattering noise startles us both. My hand acts on its own just as Pretzel Guy’s eyes flick away from me.

  I point and shoot, with no plans to ask any questions later.

  Chapter Twelve

  David

  I do the only thing I can think to do. I pick up my bike, start it up, and position myself far enough away to reach the highest speed my bike can go. Careful not to slide on the ice this time, I barrel straight toward the accessibility ramp that leads from the parking lot, up the sidewalk, and straight toward the glass doors as fast as I can go.

  Praying I don’t die. Praying that this isn’t the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  I need not have worried about the glass. The glass breaks all right. The locked metal frame, however, doesn’t budge. The bike crashes into the bottom of the door frame and my body is catapulted inside the building, along with a million shards of glass.

  I don’t have any idea how far I fly. My body lands with a thud against the dirt inside a huge planter full of overgrown philodendrons. I roll over, groaning, and carefully remove my helmet, tossing it aside. Picking myself up, I assess any bodily damage with my eyes in the dim light because the overload of adrenaline right now means I definitely feel zero pain.

  I stumble down the wide, shadowy corridor and start yelling her name. I just don’t know what else to do but call out to her.

  “Millie! Millie, I’m here! Where are you, baby!”

  When the corridor reaches the center atrium, I see movement in the darkness to my right. I look and the first thing that registers in my brain is a figure, standing over a lump on the floor.

  Panic stokes a fire in my lungs and words no longer have sound as I choke out her name.

  I don’t know what’s going on; I barely remember who I am at this point. All I know is one thing: I have to get to her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Millie

  Oh my god. Doesn’t one attacker in a night, like, max out the quota or something?

  Pretzel Guy I can
handle. He’s currently passed out on the floor in front of me in a puddle of his own piss.

  But now, some new, shadowy figure is barreling toward me from the east entrance of the mall.

  Well, this new dude had better brace himself, because I’m pretty sure my brothers and their fellow cops and firefighters have busted down the doors at the west end of the mall. I can already hear the thundering of their boots and the crackling of their radios.

  The cavalry is here.

  For once, I don’t mind having three big, overprotective brothers who sleep next to their scanners, looking out for me while I’m at work.

  I can’t make out this man’s facial features, but his leather jacket looks like it’s been brutalized by farm equipment, and his jeans are shredded all the way down one side. He looks like he’s been run over by a semi-tractor trailer and dragged fifty feet.

  And he’s charging toward me.

  Shaking from head to toe, I aim my stun gun at the new intruder, not sure if the device has enough charge left for a second, larger attacker. “Max? Martin? Any minute now, guys…”

  About ten yards away from me now, the man speaks. “Millie.”

  That’s all it takes. I know that voice immediately. It’s the voice I’ve been hearing in my ears every night for five years. Doctor Dave is in the fucking house. Holy shit.

  He’s not just a voice anymore. He’s real, and he’s coming toward me, and he’s hurt.

  “Oh my god, what happened to you?”

  He doesn’t answer, doesn’t seem interested in the question. I can only hear him breathing heavily.

  My knees tremble. And all the breath that I’d been holding in while facing Pretzel Guy, I quickly expel.

  If I had any doubts about whether Doctor Dave was actually interested in me just dissipated into the air like a drop of water on a hot frying pan. In fact, everything feels hot.

  “What are you doing here? You’re hurt. We need to get you to the hospital!”