Home For The Holidays

I started to tell her that she should let Samantha explain but thought better of it. Knowing her contrary ass, I shudder to think what would come out of her mouth. So, I set about explaining as succinctly as possible. Thankfully Dr. Bryson remained stoic throughout my explanation before heading off to see Samantha. I wondered as I spoke to the middle-aged woman if she’d ever been faced with this particular predicament before. I couldn’t tell from her reaction.

“I’ll see if she’s ready for you. Wait here.” I headed back to the bedroom to find her freshly scrubbed and wearing another one of my shirts, this one a thousand dollar button-down silk number that only she would think is a good fit to wear to bed. “The doctor’s here. Are you ready?”

“If you were me, how ready would you be to have some stranger staring into your hoo-hah just minutes after you did the deed? Never mind, just send her in.” She has a point, I hadn’t thought about that, but if it came down to her embarrassment or making sure she was okay, then the latter wins hands down.

I sent the doctor into the room and then spent the time pacing until she came out again a while later. I’d just come back from checking on our dinner, in fact, when she came through the door. I noticed that her face was a little red and could only imagine what the mighty terror had done to the poor woman.

“She’s quite the character, isn’t she?” From the way her lips twitched when she said that as if she was trying hard not to laugh, I figured it couldn’t be too bad. All the same, I had no comment on that score. “How is she? Is everything okay?”

“She’s fine, I gave her something for the soreness, but other than that, there’s nothing medically wrong with her.” I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her for her service.

“My admin will take care of you, and I’ll get back to you in a few days if we decide to keep you on call.” One of my team came out of the shadows to lead her out, while another was there with a new tray with our dinner. I opened the door to find her in bed, looking down at herself. “She thinks you killed me.”

“What?” She laughed her ass off and rolled around on the bed while I stood there, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

“The doc, she asked me a whole lot of questions about what you put in there. I started to have some fun with that but then realized that she might not look favorably on you if I told her you shoved a club up my snatch.” She thought that shit was funny, apparently because she hooted with laughter while I finished my walk to the bed and laid the tray there.

“ Anyway, I told you I didn’t need a doctor. Nothing’s broken; I’m just a little torn and bruised though she did say my snatch looks like it went a round or two with a heavyweight fighter.”

“No, she didn’t!” What thee hell kind of quack is she?

“She didn’t, but I did ask her if that’s what it looked like since that’s what it feels like.”

“What else did she say? Did she give you a prescription or anything like that?” She picked up a tube of cream from the bed beside her and held it out to me. “There’s this, but I don’t need it.” She tossed it to me, and I read it. It was an over the counter topical cream with numbing effects.

“Why don’t you need it?”

“I like how it feels. Is that weird? The doctor seemed to think so.” She creased her brow.

“Why do you say that? What did she say?”

“It wasn’t what she said. It was the way her face changed when I said it that I liked the feeling. She suggested some different positions to use that would put me in control when we make love, but I told her I preferred it the other way around. Maybe that was TMI.”

It might’ve been for the doctor, but it was doing wonders for me. “Come let me see, let me have a look at you.” I’m only going to look. I’m not going to touch, smell, or taste… She slid down on the bed and spread herself open without shame or hesitation. Maybe it’s the way she’s taken to sex, so freely and open that I find irresistible, I don’t know. There’s just such a freeness about her approach that I’ve never noticed in anyone else before. There was no coyness, no false affectations to gain my interest. She’s just…Sam.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I think I love you.” You could hear a pin drop as we were both stopped in our tracks by my words. I hadn’t meant to say those words out loud and especially not so soon. But when her eyes filled with tears, those beautiful pools of wonder, and she lifted her arms like an innocent begging for a hug, I found that I didn’t care that those words had left me wide open.