Possessive Doctor

Now though, I’m a glorified admin. I need to do something about that, hire someone to take care of this stuff. For now though, it’s all on me.

As I pack up to leave just before ten, I see an email on my phone. It’s from Chuck. “I guess you work late, too,” I say to myself.

Brent, you noticed that, huh? I thought the same thing. Kid showed up with some minor bruising on her arms and a sprained wrist. It all was consistent with a bad fall, maybe down some steps, but she insisted that it was a car accident. Her father backed her story up. And to be totally honest, the leg was so bad we just accepted the story and tried to treat her. Poor kid. How’s she doing? Drinks for sure. I’ll text you. Chuck.

I frown a little bit at that, but it doesn’t surprise me. Big hospitals like the one Chuck works for aren’t going to investigate every single patient they get. If there’s any sign of abuse or something obviously wrong, they’ll send the case on to the proper authorities, but there’s nothing like that with Amber.

Really, there’s just a story that doesn’t match her injuries. There could be any number of reasons to lie.

But I just have a bad feeling about this one.

I lean back and close my eyes. I think about my hands on her leg… and the way she looked at me when I touched her.

There was desire in her eyes. I’m not making that up.

“Amber, what are you doing?” I whisper.

I close the file, stand up, and head out for the night.* * *One week passes and Amber keeps popping back into my mind.

I thought I’d forget her. Just another pretty girl with an odd little inconsistency in her story. No big deal, it happens all the time. But I just can’t stop thinking about the looks she was giving me and that strange injury.

I feel something for her. I don’t know what it is yet, but I feel it.

When she finally comes in again, I feel oddly excited to see her. She’s wearing dark yoga pants again and a white t-shirt. She looks gorgeous, her dark eyes shining as I smile at her. She limps over, leaning too much on the cane. I can see the pain in her eyes, even if she is good at hiding it.

“How are you today?” I ask.

“Okay. I’ve been doing those exercises.”

“Yeah? Really? There’s no punishment if you didn’t.”

She laughs. “Maybe I need a punishment. I mean, for motivation.”

I chuckle and meet her eye. “I don’t know. If you’re doing them already, you have enough motivation.”

She blushes a little and I think she realizes what she just said. “Right. Of course.”

I take her into exam room one and help her onto the table. We do the same thing, I take her vitals and such, before I sit down in a chair.

“So, tell me and be honest. How many days did you do the exercises?”

“Every day,” she says. “Seriously. My leg’s aching, but I’ve been doing them.”

“Good.” I lean toward her. “Aching how bad?”

“Worse than before. It’s like I’m… tired? I don’t know.”

“You could’ve pushed it too hard. Was there any pain worse than normal?”

“Once. I stopped though.”

“What were you doing? Show me.”

She demonstrates the move from her seated position. I know what she’s doing instantly.

“It was that,” she says. “Felt it on the down move and had to stop.”

“Okay. Let’s cut that one out for now. Ready to get in there?”

“Ready.”

I help her down and she limps along next to me. She’s small, about five foot four at most. I’m over six foot, so helping her along is pretty easy. I take most of her weight, not hesitant about touching her body.

We head into the gym and I take her right over to some open space. “Let’s start with some light stretching,” I say.

She nods and we get to work. My hands are all over her body as I warm her muscles up. I try not to let my carnal, base thoughts invade my mind but it’s hard not to when I’m touching a body like this.

“Does that hurt?” I ask, pushing her leg back.

She shakes her head, biting her lip. Fuck, it’s a sexy look. I push the thought away.

“Are you sure?” I press.

“A little,” she says, letting out a breath.

“Okay, and down,” I release her. “You can be honest with me, you know. I need to learn your limits.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I smile at her, head cocked. “We need to learn to work together.”

She smiles back. “You’re right.”

We make small talk as I finish stretching her out. She’s funny when she relaxes and lets her guard down. I like it when she smiles at me, when she makes some wry little joke. I can’t help but laugh, and not even the fake, friendly laugh I reserve for some clients that bore me to tears.