Dr. Stud

Easy there, Dr. Stud, I command myself.

“People call me Joe,” she explains. She seems to be in a hurry or something. “You can just call me Joe. All I need is a prescription refill. I forgot my pills in—”

“I see you live in New York,” I interrupt, dragging my attention back to the form. “But you didn’t fill out your doctor’s information. Do you mind if I—”

“You don’t have to do that,” she snaps. “All I need is prescription refill.”

I lean back in my chair and steeple my fingers. She purses her lips in frustration, but I am enjoying that. It’s been a long time since anyone tried to tell me how to do my job. I’m not offended or anything, but it’s not going to happen that way.

“When was your last exam?”

Her mouth pops open, her carmine-colored lips reshaped into a pert rosebud.

“I really don’t have time for an exam,” she says in a tight, tense voice. “This should be just a moment of your time, Doctor. I really have a lot to do.”

“I can’t write you a prescription without an exam,” I smile. “It wouldn’t be right. I’m sure you understand.”

Her nostrils flare as she takes a breath while her face is frozen in a mask of polite fury. Wow. She really hates this. Someone hasn’t taught her how to respect authority.

“Is there another doctor in the office?” she asks slowly, her voice lowered.

“I’m afraid not!” I grin.

I know I shouldn’t be smiling, but this is fun. This is really fun. Her chest heaves as she breathes in and out, a blush creeping up to her collarbones.

“You seem tense,” I observe. “Is everything else all right? Are you experiencing heart palpitations? Shortness of breath? Leg pain?”

“What? No,” she huffs. “Look, all I want is a—”

“I’ll need to check your vitals,” I announce, rising from my chair. “Why don’t you meet me in exam room two? I’ll ask Jen to get you a gown.”

“A... gown?” she repeats, choking. “As in, an exam? A full exam?”

Snapping her folder closed, I lean for a moment on the corner of the desk. From this vantage, I can see the shadowed valley between her breasts, pulsing as her breath continues to quicken. Her fingers nervously drum against each other, and I suddenly remember standing behind her as she stumbled into the hat shop. I remember the tension in her shoulders, the way she moved with such a tautness. This woman has been under a great deal of stress, I can tell. She must be just boiling inside.

“Please don’t worry, miss… Joanna,” I tell her in a low, comforting voice. “I’m here to help. I’ll have you fixed up and on your way in no time.”

Chapter 9

Joe

I stand in the middle of the small room, too furious to move. My arms are wrapped around my rib cage, like I am trying to hold all my pieces together. This is outrageous. It’s a simple prescription, one that millions of women get. Why am I getting the country doctor act from this guy?

And just who the hell does he think he is, anyway? The sign on the door said Dr. Warner, but this is not the man that I remember. That guy had a lot of white hair coming out of his ears. When I was six, he told me it was cotton candy when I pointed it out. He was funny and nice, and always warmed up the disk of the stethoscope in the palm of his hand before pressing it to my back. I liked that guy.

This guy is… different. His hair is dark brown, neatly trimmed over his ears but a little longer on top so that it flops around when he’s speaking. I didn’t see any hair coming out of his ears, but did notice the dark blue of his piercing eyes. A little too muscular to be a doctor, I think. A little too broad. He looks like a fitness instructor or something.

As soon as I imagine him in a tank top and track pants I remember who he is: the guy from the hat shop. The one who thought I didn’t know how to use a key.

Oh, now it makes sense. He’s a doctor, so he’s accustomed to being allowed into people’s personal space. That’s why he just invited himself into my gallery without even introducing himself. That’s why he thought he could just chat with me. He probably thinks everybody is crazy about him too. Doctors are all ego.

I startle when a meek knock comes at the door, and the nurse pokes her head inside. She squints her nose apologetically as she comes in with a folded bit of fabric in her hands that she places on the exam table.

When she turns back around, she tips her head to the side for a millisecond, giving me that expression of recognition that means we must’ve gone to school together or something. It’s only her professional reserve that keeps her from squealing at me like Dusty did yesterday.

Well, thank goodness for that.

“You can just go ahead and get undressed,” she explains sympathetically, tapping the gown with her fing