The Doctor Will See You

by Lana Brazen

  Unfortunately, that’s how attachments begin, and commitments start, and James was clear he didn’t want a relationship.

  Imagine my surprise, then, when I see him in the local market near the list-showing.

  “Daddy, I want the white one.” Standing near the glass bakery case, a small girl points at a cupcake heaped with sprinkles. She isn’t more than seven years old, and James hikes her up to his hip while dipping her over the case.

  “Which one, baby?” His tone is sugar-sweet, unlike the reserved doctor or the rougher handyman. After ordering, he twists at the waist, tickling the child’s stomach before setting her on the floor and looking up.

  Surprise!

  “Lana.” My name is breathless from his lips, but it isn’t the sexual lusty sound he moaned on Thursday.

  “Dr. Lubton,” I greet him.

  “Daddy, she called you doctor,” the child giggles.

  “That’s because I am, sweetheart.” His hand rests on her head, auburn curls underneath his touch.

  “My daddy fixes people,” she says to me. “He makes them better.”

  “He’s a hero,” I say, grinning at the sweet smile beaming up at me. I swallow back the lump in my throat and the words racing through my head. He fixes people. He makes them better. It’s about who satisfies you best. Bile burns my chest as I think of all he’s done to me. How he has made me feel better about myself. Was I broken? Did he fix me?

  “Hannah, this is Ms. Blasen.”

  “Hello,” the child says, lifting her hands to cover her mouth as she backs into her father’s leg.

  “You ordered a cupcake. Is today a special day?” I hate to ask, probing a child.

  “Mommy had a baby.”

  The shelves behind James’s head blur. The bakery case grows hazy. The sounds around us mute like I’m slipping underwater.

  “Lana.” I hear my name, but it’s long and dragged out, like Layyyyy-nahhhhh. I break out into a sweat, the perspiration on my lips as my armpits run cold. My hands shake as I brush hair behind my ear.

  I should congratulate the child on being a big sister. I should congratulate James on the birth of another child. I should…say something, but I can’t. I can’t think about anything other than the roiling of my stomach and the acid in my mouth.

  “If you’ll…” I don’t finish excusing myself. I set my basket full of things I thought I needed: crackers, some apples, a wedge of cheese on top of the bread stand and exit the market.

  I have no idea how I make it home, but the next minute I’m in my driveway staring at my house through liquid-filled eyes.

  I’d lost trusting people with my ex-husband. You’d think I’d learn. My body heaves, colliding with the steering wheel while I berate myself by slapping my hands on the top of the circle.

  Somehow, I make it into my house and collapse on my bed, where I curl into myself and give in to the pain in my chest.

  + + +

  A rapid knocking on my door rouses me. I don’t know what day it is. I’ve managed to shower, which was a horrendous experience with the montage of memories. I smacked the tile and banged my fist and let tears consume me until I had nothing left.

  I blamed myself most of all. I’d done this by getting involved. I should have fucked Andrew alone. I should have gone home with Xavier. I should have never called James.

  Eventually, I stop berating myself, accepting that it was what it was, and I got what I got, and a million other clichés.

  The hammering at my door continues, and I walk down the hall. A car I don’t recognize sits parked in my drive, and I typically don’t open the door for strangers, but the rapping knuckles won’t stop.

  As the front door flings open and my mouth opens to ask what the hell is so urgent, the words freeze on my tongue as my body goes cold.

  “I can explain,” James says, and I stare at him. Dress shirt untucked. Flip-flops on his feet. He looks nothing like the other times I’ve seen him, and once again, I wonder who is James Lubton? With his hair disheveled and panic brewing in his blue eyes, I’m puzzled by his appearance.

  He stares back at me, probably noting my swollen eyes or the bags underneath. I don’t think I slept through the night, only cried like a love-sick teen.

  Stepping forward, he forces me to take a step back, too stunned to find him on my stoop to remember I hate him. Well, maybe not hate.

  He reaches for the door, still gripped in my hand, and closes it. The click sounds like the clang of a bell, and I feel like the fight is on.

  Round 1.

  “I was married ten years ago. She was ten years younger than me. She wanted a baby, and we finally had one after three years of trying, but she changed. Or maybe I changed. Hannah is the greatest gift I’ve ever had, but I no longer loved Tracy, my ex-wife.”

  He pauses for a breath, inhaling as he continues.

  “She remarried and had a second child. Born only yesterday, and I had Hannah for the night.”

  He exhales and continues.

  “I really am a doctor. Dr. James Lubton Everest. On the medical building wall, you’ll find the name James Everest for rheumatology, suite 1A. I rent suite 3B for…” His voice drifts. “But I don’t want that anymore. I only want you in my office. I only want to play doctor with you.” He steps to me, but I step out of his grasp. I know my weakness—his touch—even though he’s never reached for me this way with such desperation in his tone.

  “Lana, please. You’re my match. You get me. This lifestyle. I don’t need it all the time, just once in a while, and I thought…I thought I could have it with you. There’s something about you.”

  “To share me with other men?”

  “I’d do it for you. How you come alive, how you glow, how you hunger for more. I want to give it to you.”

  “What if I didn’t want another man? If I didn’t want Andrew in bed with us again?”

  “Then I’d honor that because you…” he exhales softly “…you do so much for me, and I want to discover more, play more. Just us.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Let me make love to you, like a man trying to win over a woman. No roles. No costumes. Just us. Me standing before you as me.” He swipes his fingers through his short hair, already sticking up at odd angles.

  “I still don’t know what that means, or if I can trust you.”

  “Let me prove that you can. Let me…let me kiss you.” He steps into my space, and I have nowhere else to move with a table at my back. “Let me explore you with my fingers, my tongue, my hands, more than I already have. I know your body. Let me learn your mind and heart.”

  “I don’t know…” But I do. My chest moves with exaggerated breaths. My breasts scrape against the tee-shirt dress I’m wearing without a bra. My nipples peak. My core pulses.

  “I do,” he states, his calm demeanor gone, and then his mouth crashes mine. His fingers delve into my hair at the sides of my head, and he tilts me so our mouths open, tongues meet, and I melt into the kiss of all kisses. My body feels alive, like a live wire triggered, and I want to wrap my legs around him. I want him to fuck me on this table in my hall.

  “I want to make love to you.”

  “James,” I groan, uncertainty still in my voice while my body screams yes.

  “Take my time. Slow, tender.” His fingers leave my hair as his mouth moves to my neck. His fingertips travel down the opposite side, skittering over my collarbone and lowering for a breast. He cups the weight while sucking at my skin, teeth nipping the juncture of shoulder and neck. My knees give, and he squeezes my breast, palming the entire globe in his hand before pinching the nipple between forefinger and thumb. He pulls back from his attention on my neck and returns to my mouth. Lips on lips and tongue to tongue before breaking once more.

  “A bed. Naked. Let me love all over you. Mouth.” He kisses me. “Fingers.” He lifts my hand to his lips, nibbling at the tip. Then he lowers his hand for the hem of my dress. “Body.”

  I
should stop him, my brain thinks.

  Don’t stop, my body screams.

  “I want to know who you are.”

  Before I know it, his hand is between my thighs, covering the soaked fabric over my core with his palm.

  “You want me, Lana. I want you.” He removes his hand, then reaches for mine, pulling it to his covered erection, the length long and lean behind his zipper. “Please.” He moans into my mouth, and I break. I squeeze him in return, and he bends, slipping his palms under my knees and lifting me.

  I squeal, complaining I’m heavy, but he returns for my mouth, demanding, “Kiss me.”

  I do as he asks as we make it to my room. Tenderly, he lays me on the bed, following me and slipping a leg between my thighs as his mouth meets mine.

  “I need you naked, Lana.” There’s a change to his voice, a shake and uncertainty. He isn’t commanding but telling me, as a man on the edge. I pull the T-shirt dress over my head, exposing my mostly naked form. His mouth begins a full-body exploration by kissing my jaw, chin, and neck. Traveling to my shoulder, then chest and breast. He sucks hard at each and continues lower. He removes my underwear, torturously dragging it down my thighs, over knees, and releasing it from my ankles. At my feet, he reverses his attention, kissing the pad of my feet, licking my ankle, and sucking up my calves. He tugs my knees apart and takes his time kissing up each thigh, teasing me with his nose at my center but not bringing his mouth to me. Yet.

  “I want you naked as well,” I groan, struggling with the ache at my center, the desire for friction like a weight against me. He rolls off me and tugs the dress shirt over his head. He kicks off the flip-flops and lowers his shorts and boxers in one motion. As he pauses, allowing me to observe him, I sit up, straddling my feet on either side of his stance. I wrap a hand around his solid shaft, tugging, and his eyes close.

  “I love how you handle me. I dream about you touching me, taking from me what you want.” I lower and place him in my mouth, swallowing him to the back of my throat. My head bobs, and his hand rests on the side of my face. “I love watching you take me so deep.”

  The words spur me on, and I cup his balls, squeezing tenderly as I twirl my tongue over him.

  “I want to come in your mouth. I want to fuck those breasts one day and coat them in my cum. I want to fuck your ass while you beg me to do it.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “But…” He presses at my shoulders. “Not yet.” I lie back, and he lowers to the floor, spreading my knees as his mouth comes to me, paying my sensitive area all the attention he’s paid it before, but this time is different. Fingers circle and tease. His tongue prods and retreats. He’s drawing out every motion, every suction, and I’m coming out of my skin.

  “James,” I groan, using his name. Not the good doctor. Not the bad boy handyman. Just James. An orgasm comes forth, long and drawn out and tender and sweet, and I moan and twist, allowing it to cover my body in prickles and pins. James stands, and I scoot back on the bed. Like a classic lover, he lowers, slipping his fingers inside me, teasing folds already prepared for him.

  “I want to feel you without anything between us.”

  “Is that safe?” He knows what I mean, but I’ve signed the consents. Each one says how often he’s tested.

  “I haven’t been without protection since my marriage.”

  “Me, either.”

  He places the tip at my entrance, and already, it’s different—the smooth head covered in my juices. He moans as he slips forward, taking his time to go slow, moving inward as each ridge and ripple splits me open, and he’s coated in me. Once he’s as far as he can go, he pulls back, but my legs wrap around his waist, and I hold him inside me with the heel of my feet at his backside.

  “Put your feet on the bed. Thrust upward.” I do as he asks, and he meets me thrust, for thrust, for thrust. It’s a dance as his hips roll forward and mine match. We collide in tender connection, filling each other. He’s deep, so very deep, and my back arches, head thrown back. His mouth lowers for my neck as he pulls back, then rushes forward. Back and forth, back and forth.

  “I need…”

  “What do you need?”

  “Fingers.” He already knows me, and his fingers lower, the tender brush of his tips on my clit as he fills me inside, and I break. Silver spots prickle my sight. My body feels covered in tender kisses. He stills, balancing on an elbow while I ride him, dragging him in and then drawing back as his fingers tease. I come so hard; the room eventually fades a bit. He kneels back, dragging me with him as my lower half rides up his thighs.

  “I need more,” he mutters, warning me, and I nod as he holds my hips at an angle and drives into me. Thrust, thrust, thrust.

  “I’m going to come again,” I scream, and his thumb comes to my clit. A flick and a tap, and I lose control, clenching at him, squeezing the solid length buried deep within. He stills, jolting once before pulling out of me.

  “Nooo,” I cry out, wanting him to come inside me, but he grips himself and jerks, lowering me quickly and leaning over my chest. He smooths the creamy substance over each breast, coating his fingers, squeezing my nipples.

  Sweet Jesus.

  He releases himself and lowers for my mouth, the kiss possessive and rough. Tongue and teeth before slowing to a tender suction and then a peck.

  “My God,” he breathes out, rolling to his back and lying next to me.

  “I agree.” I sigh. His head turns so he faces me.

  “I never wanted to know someone. Couples come and go, but for once, I’d like to be the couple, not the extra.” His eyes search my face. “Watching you with Andrew. It did something to me. I felt this possession, and I wanted to claim you. I wanted you as mine.”

  “James.” I exhale, my body satiated from his actions and warm from his words.

  “Say yes to me, Lana. Let’s learn more about each other.”

  “Like boring moments, and talking on the phone, and dates at night?” I bat my eyes, teasing him.

  “Like everything.” He turns to me, reaching for my face and drawing me forward for more kisses.

  Epilogue

  True to his word, James and I did what he said. We talked, learning more and more about each other. We dated. We kissed. He was romantic. And we had one connection we believed brought us closer to one another.

  “Ms. Blasen, the doctor will see you.”

  “Thank you, Andrew,” I address him as he leads me into suite 3B where James awaits me.

  “Sweetheart,” James greets me stepping forward to give me a reassuring kiss. It’s been six months since our first visit with Andrew, and it’s only been James and me learning what we like about each other. He’s brought me so far out of my sexual shell, and I like to think I’ve carried him in some ways along the journey. He wants what we are about to do, and I admit, I do as well. I’ve fantasized about it, and we’ve even used it in our sexual activities.

  Pretend Andrew is under you, licking your pussy while I fuck you.

  James can be so dirty.

  “Are you ready for this?” James asks me, still holding my face in his hands before we take a seat in the plastic chairs. His eyes search mine, and I’m confident if I change my mind, we’ll walk out of this office and still be together. But I want this, and I smile up at him to reassure him.

  Andrew is the consulting doctor today, handing us the consent forms for all our protection. We are the couple James wants to be.

  It’s James who watches with greedy eyes as I spread my legs and allow Andrew to give me a breast exam.

  “Dr. Lubton, could you please assist me and check her pussy for arousal?” Andrew doesn’t mince words or play doctor as professional as James, but his thick fingers and rougher touch still does what it needs to do, stimulating my nipples and releasing the arousal James will soon inspect.

  James fingers me, and I bow off the table. Andrew leans in for a breast, sucking at it while James lowers, his tongue stroking over my wet core and swollen nub. It’s se
nsation overload with warm mouths on tender areas.

  “She wants to come,” James says, after bringing me to the brink but not tipping me over the edge.

  “She can wait,” Andrew states, and he moves to the end of the table. “Dr. Lubton, if you wouldn’t mind taking a seat. Ms. Blasen, I’m going to ask you to walk across the room so I can examine your back.”

  James takes a seat in the plastic chairs, and Andrew supports me off the table. “Please walk to Dr. Lubton.”

  I do as I’m told and stop before James. His eyes meet mine, alight with pleasure. I still wear the paper gown, which drapes open, exposing my front, and he crosses his arms, lifting a hand for his lip and tracing around them. He’s struggling to wait for direction.

  “I’m going to ask you to remove the gown and lean forward please, placing your hands on the doctor’s thighs.”

  I slip the gown off my shoulders like it’s evening wear instead of paper. Standing naked and exposed to both men in the middle of the room, I should feel self-conscious, but I don’t. James’s eyes rake up my body, and Andrew draws a finger down my back. I shiver under the touch.

  “Could you please turn and sit on Dr. Lubton’s lap? I’d like to check your gag reflexes.” Andrew lowers his scrubs once I’m situated, straddling James's lap in a reverse position. I rock over his thighs as I take Andrew deep, my pulsing core in need of attention, and I whimper with Andrew in my mouth. James reaches for my breasts to fondle them, but it isn’t enough. He lowers for my center, confirming my arousal is still desperate and dripping.

  “She needs to come,” James demands, knowing I’m so close. Something must pass between them because James’s fingers work faster, and my mouth works harder on Andrew.

  “Jesus, I want to come down her throat,” Andrew hisses but pulls back. He remains before me, allowing my hands to rest on his hips until my release breaks free under James’s ministrations. I moan with gratitude, the juices dripping over James’s scrubs.

  “With your permission, Doctor,” James addresses Andrew, “I’d like to give her a more thorough internal exam.” Immediately, I think of the toys James likes to use on me, but he surprises me. Guiding me upward, he slips his scrubs to his ankles. I hold Andrew’s hips as James lowers me over his hard length. I gasp as James enters me with one swift thrust in this reverse position.