A young doctor, Natalie had early on seen the embarrassing effects she could have on her male patients, young and old. Wanting to be respected and professional she did all that she could to put them at ease; bunned hair, thick frames, little to no make-up or perfumes, knee length skirts, and comfortable, low heeled, closed-toe shoes that while not ugly were certainly not sexy. She had even taken to wearing non-revealing tops, never-minding that her smock would cover the blouse anyway.
More importantly, she kept front of mind the golden rule that must, at all cost, be followed by an attractive young doctor, male or female; that very first rule taught back in med school… to maintain eye contact at all times up until the actual examination is begun.
But this time her eyes strayed, didn’t they? Twice. And to her horror they lingered. It could not have been more than a second, or two, but it might as well have been forever. Mortified, she practically yanked those misbehaving eyeballs back where they belonged. Her eyes back in place, she discovered that her ears had also turned on her, the pounding in them causing her to wonder if she could trust any of her senses. Warmth flushed through her cheeks. She knew from past experience that a tell-tale redness was currently spreading across her chest, and neck. Not trusting her voice she offered what she hoped was a professional smile, but in her discomfiture she could not even be sure of that. At this point she could only hope that he hadn’t noticed.
But she had been too obvious. There was no mistaking the shame in his eyes as her peripheral vision caught a subtle, yet unmistakable movement down there, followed by the folding of his hands as they attempted to cover his embarrassment.
”Excuse me. I have forgotten your chart.” She couldn’t get out quickly enough, and could only hope he hadn’t seen his name on the chart currently clutched in her hands. She paused outside his door, collecting herself. ”What to do?”
John! John had a busy schedule, but she would make it up to him somehow. John would have to examine the patient. He would have to, but she would go back in with him so she could apologize. The boy had no cause to be embarrassed, and nothing to be ashamed of. What happened had been entirely her fault. She would gather herself, regain her professionalism, apologize, and explain why a different doctor would be seeing him. It was the right thing to do.
She walked in first, the doorknob cold in her palm, followed by Dr. Jonathan Martin. The teenaged boy was as she had left him, sitting on the examination table, his socked feet dangling comically, his posture erect. From behind her she heard a whispered, “Oh, my!”
“Thank God,“ her hands nearly raised in prayerful relief. “It was not just her!”
Between a rock and a hard place
I turn away from his face.
“You know we shouldn’t.”
He grabs my cheeks. He’s firm but gentle as he turns my face back to his. Still, he doesn’t speak. Just stares. Breathes. Tilts his chin until I can feel his stubble against my jaw. He looks at me from under shadowed lashes. A sliver and light from the moonlit window illuminates his ghostly-pale blue eyes. I lower my gaze: focusing on the folds of his cupid’s bow. He notices and bites his lip. Damn. Desire strikes inside me. I know I should run away. I should flee from the feelings surging beneath my skin. This is dangerous. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. Images flicker before my mind. Images that make my knees buckle and my heart race. I close my eyes. Try to steady myself. I lean away but my back is met with the hardness of the wall. I sense him closing in: the heat of his body inches from mine. I brace myself for his touch. I ache for it. I worry about how much time we have, and I know once this moment ends, it will be gone forever. It was now or never.
“I need you to say it.”
Fuck. Why is he making this so hard? I remain silent. Frustrated by his demands. Desperate for his mouth to find me in the darkness.
He pushes up against me. I can feel him. How much he wants me. I begin to unravel at the seams.
I can’t hold on anymore. I open my eyes and feel the intensity of my gaze. I am resolute and he knows what is about to come. His hand is on my neck, pulling me in. Our lips brush together and I hold myself there, soaking in the electricity firing between us. One last glance at those icy eyes and I’m lost. Kissing him is like plunging into an ocean. I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper into him. Losing myself. Pushing harder to plummet further down into the pit of my passion. My obsession. I can’t come up for air. To discover I’ve drifted too far from the shore to ever make it back home. Right now, with his fingers caressing my curves, his tongue colliding with mine, I don’t need ever to breathe again.
Forget your mouth, yes. Instead, I want you to grab it. I ask that you put your fingers around it. How much can you squeeze it, while you watch ever-so-closely its tip? Everyone has one, but this one is mine, and I allow you to handle it. Encircle it with your hand. Now increase the pressure, slowly. And when a certain point is reached, you'll see it exude and ooze and there'll be no stopping it.
And that's the thing. You'll never get the toothpaste back in the tube.