Good Time Doctor

It’s fine, I tell myself. I’ll figure it all out tomorrow. In the meantime, I set my phone aside and pull the covers up around me. It’s not the same in this hotel bed without him here, either, without his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me against his warm, solid body. But I try to relax anyway, and eventually I manage to sink into a deep, unbroken sleep. Unfortunately, I don’t dream about Dr. Robinson after all. In fact, even though it’s unusual for me not to, I don’t dream about anything.

The next day is taken up by preparations for the graduation. I show up at my mother’s an hour early, but she still scolds me for being late and puts me to work straightaway, preparing the house for tomorrow’s big party. Mom and Dad have the biggest place out of all the aunts in the area, so they’re the ones who will be hosting my whole extended family for this graduation party. Which is fun and all, but it also means a ton of extra cleaning work, and Mom is already a huge neat freak.

In between the drudgery, though, are small glimmers of excitement. Basically, every time my phone buzzes with a new message from my mysterious doctor. I still don’t quite know what to think of him. I don’t know who Angel is, or what his whole deal was with the bathroom.

But on the other hand, like Monica said, I’m entitled to a hookup. So maybe, if I can keep my instincts at bay and stop myself from leaping in too deep, or reading more meaning into this than there is… Maybe it’s fine if I don’t know everything about his life. It can just be a simple hookup, one that I don’t ask too many questions about.

So I’m trying to convince myself. But every time our text exchange veers from sexts into more serious topics, I’m reminded all over again that he seems… well… great, still.

Hope everything is going well in prep for the graduation, he texts me late on Saturday, after I collapse into bed, exhausted all over from the deep cleaning Mom made me give the whole house and backyard. It’s sweet of you to do so much for your cousin. You must really love your family.

That’s one way of putting it, I write back, grimacing. But then I relent. I do love them, they just drive me insane sometimes. They’re always ordering me around. And while I don’t blame my cousin for that, and I’m happy to do things for her, my parents on the other hand…

Are they pretty demanding? he asks in response.

I sit up in bed and listen to the house around me. A few rooms over, I can hear the hushed voices as Mom and Dad argue, as usual, about one thing or another. Mom is a perfectionist, I finally reply. No matter how hard I try, I can’t do anything right.

Like earlier in the day, when I dusted the entire living room from top to bottom. She’d come in and rooted around behind the bookcase, just to point out obscure, out of the way spots I hadn’t even realized were there to declare that I’d missed too many places and needed to go over the place again. Same with later that day in the backyard, when she made me set up, take down, re-set, and move the tables endlessly, criticizing me the whole time. As if it was my fault we were hosting this event. As if I’m the one who decided to hold it here, and like it’s my fault the backyard isn’t big enough to Mom’s satisfaction.

As for my dad, he just sits there nodding along to everything Mom says, and never stands up for me—or himself, for that matter. It’s infuriating.

That sounds tough. Want to talk about it? Jason replies, and then, before I can even respond, my phone starts to buzz again. He’s calling me.

I pick up, licking my lips nervously before I whisper, “Hello?”

“You sounded like you could use an actual call,” he replies, his voice low and deep in my ear.

I swallow audibly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“Yours too. I’ve missed you.”

I laugh softly, eyes on my ceiling. “You do realize it’s only been a couple of days since we saw each other, right?”

“I know. Which makes me think I might be crazy. But still. I did miss you.” There’s a hesitation on the other end of the phone. “Is this your way of saying you didn’t miss me at all?” he asks, but the way he asks it, I can tell he’s joking.

I huff out a laugh under my breath. “Mm… I might have missed you a little bit. Only a little bit, of course. Don’t read too much into this.”

“So you didn’t miss me enough to, say, let me take you out for breakfast tomorrow, to get your mind off things?”

I press my lips together and shut my eyes. It’s tempting. Far more tempting than I care to admit. But… “I’ve got the graduation itself in the morning. And then the party starts afterward, in the afternoon, around one.”

“Ah. A full day of family drama ahead of you, then.”

“I wish you could be there,” I blurt, unable to help myself. Then I clamp my mouth shut, wishing I could take it back. How desperate do I sound? “I just mean… Talking to you relaxes me, is all. It’d be nice to… to have someone there who’s on my side. That’s all.”

“Right,” he says, and I can still hear the grin in his voice. “Because you don’t miss me at all. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” We both laugh, and there’s another pause on the line. “I can come, if you’d like me to,” he offers, and I go still with shock.

“Really?”

“Of course. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

“Even at my cousin’s boring graduation party?” I snort.

“Especially there. After all, it sounds like you’ve put in a lot of work, making this the party event of the season. How could I miss it?”

I snort. But I roll over and smile at my reflection in the bedroom window across the room. “I’d like that,” I say, meaning it. “Again, if you think that’s not too crazy. Like… meeting my family, and all that.”

“If you don’t mind subjecting them to me, I certainly don’t mind meeting them,” he answers easily.

“What, subjecting them to you, the hot doctor I’m hooking up with?” I respond, rolling my eyes. “I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine with it.”

“Well, they don’t know all the dirty particulars.”

“True. If they knew what a filthy mind you had, they might think twice.” I smile.

“Me? It’s your dirty mouth I was thinking about. All those messages you sent me about wanting to suck my cock. Or were you teasing me, Naomi?”

“Teasing is your specialty, Doc,” I respond, and a pleasant thrill runs through me, my heart beating faster in anticipation.

“Is this you asking me to tease you again? Because you know I love doing that. Touching your sexy body, running my hands and my mouth all over your smooth skin, kissing your neck and your chest, making you gasp as I make my way down to your little pert nipples…”

I press my lips together, checking the doorway to be sure. But there’s no other sounds in the house. I’m the only one still awake, surely. Still, I lower my voice when I reply, even as I run my hands over my body, tracing the path he talks about. “I love feeling your hands all over me,” I whisper back. “Never knowing where you’ll touch me next, or how you know my body even better than I do.”

“My favorite part, though, is watching your face whenever I touch you. Like when I’m licking and sucking on your breasts, gently biting at the skin there, toying with your nipples one after the other… I sneak glances at you the whole time to watch the way your eyes fall shut and your lips part with those faint, sexy little gasps you always make.”

“I can’t take my eyes off you either. Whenever you kiss down my body, over my chest, my stomach, and lower… I love watching the heat in your gaze as you look up at me. I love never knowing what you’ll do next, but surrendering myself to you, giving you complete control over me.”

“So it’s the control you like, is it?” He’s smiling now, I can hear it. “I do love ordering you around. Like right now, Naomi, if I told you to touch yourself…?”

“Where, Sir?” I breathe.

“Touch your hips first. With both hands, lightly.”

I obey.

“Now move your hands over

your hips and down. Trace them over that sexy, shaved mound of yours.” I do, my breath hitching a little. Already, my clit feels swollen and aching with want. I know, even before I touch myself any lower, that I’m already wet. “Now slide one hand between your thighs,” he tells me. “And run a finger over each of your perfect pink little lips.”

I trace my lips one after the next.