Cold November Rain
The Doc
Series #2
BY
EBONY CLARKE
Moon Mistress Publishing USA
Smashwords Edition
Moon
Mistress Publishing
New London, CT 06320
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are otherwise used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual or fictional events, locales or persons/characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright
2011—Moon Mistress Publishing
Cover Art Designed by Moon
Mistress Publishing
Text set in Times New Roman 11
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion(s) thereof in any form whatsoever.
Chapter One
Summer was long gone, the leaves on the tree turned from their lush supple green to brilliant reds and oranges before drifting to the ground signaling the coming of winter. On this chilly November night, the fallen leaves crackled and crunched beneath Doctor Stephenson’s feet as he wound his way to neighborhood bar. This would be the seventh time he’d made this trip since summer. The seventh time he would be hoping to run into her, to see her sitting at that far corner booth, alone, martini in hand. Every night she haunted his dreams, her breath hot against his neck as she whispered ‘Doc’ in that sultry way of hers. Even in his waking hours, just thinking of the way those three little letters rolled off her tongue was enough to make him hard. There was no denying his Mystery Woman had somehow wormed her way into his head and if he didn’t see her tonight Vin thought he’d go crazy…or worse yet, he would simply combust leaving nothing behind but dry ash.
As he did every time he took this walk, when he got to the El Royale Hotel, he looked up to the windows of the room on the fourth floor to see if her light was on. A few times, he’d passed by to see the light on and to catch glimpses of people moving around up there, from this angle it was hard to tell if she was one of them. She probably was, he didn’t doubt that she kept the room on permanent reservation. Even though the El Royale was somewhat of a dump—though it had been a booming, rockin’, little place in its heyday—the cost to keep a room open on a monthly basis couldn’t be cheap.
On the nights he passed by and saw the light on, caught the movement beyond them, he wondered who she was with and what she was doing for him. Wondered why he’d had the bad luck to miss her again.
Tonight, like so many sad and lonely nights, the window was dark. That didn’t mean anything, she could be in the bar or perhaps she didn’t make the trip tonight. That was always the case when the window was dark. Vin felt that tinge of loneliness settle over him as he continued his short journey.
The bar was busy tonight. A lot of cold lonely people looking for a little warm company. “Hey, Doc!” Tony the bartender called out to him. At first Vin didn’t hear him, the way Tony said ‘Doc’ didn’t do anything for him at all, but soon enough he raised a hand in the bartender’s direction just as his blue eyes fell upon the booth in the far corner.
There she was. Smiling. Dipping her fingers into the last drops of her martini so she could get the olives and tease the man sitting across from her.
Vin felt his heart drop and the hard-on that was only beginning go flaccid. She was here but she’d already picked out her prey for the night.
“Too bad,” Vin mumbled under his breath. Trying to decide if he should stay or go, Tony put a glass of scotch on the bar for him. No sense letting good booze go to waste. Bellying up to the bar to retrieve the drink he had a better angle on her companion for the evening; male, maybe thirty, good looking. Lucky guy didn’t know what he was in for tonight. The Mystery Woman raised her empty glass to catch Tony’s attention and their eyes met. She smiled for him. Shy. Precocious. Full of promise. Vin raised his glass and smiled back before turning away from her. She was with someone else tonight. What was he supposed to do? Downing the double-shot he gazed in the mirror to catch her reflection, she was staring at his back from the corner of her pale green eyes. Was she wishing he’d come over there? Maybe. Only one way to find out.
Vin eased himself off the barstool and made his way over to where the couple was engaged in light conversation. “Excuse me,” he said to the man in the booth, “You’re in my seat.”
“Pardon?” The man asked as he looked from him to her. “Were you waiting for this guy?”
“Actually,” she said softly, “I was.” She was surprised and delighted by the Doc’s forthrightness. “Hi, Doc.”
There it was, ‘Doc’, just the way she said in it his dreams, with that extra little coy kick she gave the ‘c’. Do-C. It made him want to melt. “Hi.” Vin said to her. “Three’s a crowd.” He said to the man. “Go on.”
“What the hell?” The man complained. He’d been doing so well with her, he was sure he was going to get laid tonight from the way she was undressing him with those haunting eyes. “I hate games.”
“So do I.” She said to him and gently put her hand over his wrist. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, here, let me pay for the drinks.”
“You got it, sister.” He got up and Vin stepped back to let him pass. “She’s all yours.” He took a seat at the bar and ordered another drink.
“How are you tonight, Doc?” She asked as Vin took a seat across from her. “Long time no see.”
Vincent Stephenson didn’t like games either. At least that made three of them who’d sat at this table tonight. “You want to keep going with this? Another drink. A little chit-chat? Or should we just go up to your room now?”
“No need to be crude, Doc.” She admonished quietly. “The least you can do is sit with me for a moment or two while I have another drink. After all, I did let you chase my date away.”
Vincent leaned across the table. Damn, she looked fine tonight, sitting there with her strawberry hair pulled back in a braid, her lips glistening with pink gloss and the way that deep green sweater dress clung to those curves made his lower regions tingle and remember that hard-on of earlier in the evening. There was something intoxicating about being near her. Vin had his share of Working Girls and she wasn’t one of them, not by a long shot. She might sleep around but she wasn’t slut, in fact, she had a certain quiet elegance about her. “Date? Is that what you call it? I bet you don’t even know his name.”
Tony’s shadow fell over the table and she sat back to allow the bartender to put the drink in front of her. “Here,” she said to him as she handed over a fifty. “Please put the gentleman’s….both gentlemen’s…drinks on my tab.”
“You want to pay for him for the whole night?” Tony hitched a thumb to the rejected would-be lover.
“Just that last one, please. You keep the change.”
“You got it. You want another one, Doc?”
“Yes, he does.” She answered for Him. When Tony walked she leaned over the table. “I see your patience isn’t your strongest suit, Doc.”
“Gonna tell me your name tonight?” He said impatiently.
The woman sighed deeply. “What is it with you, Doc? My name, his name, your name…what difference does it make?” She drank the martini that had been sitting in front of her while Tony came back with Vin’s scotch.
Grateful for the fresh round, he picked it up and drank down half of it. “Call me crazy but I just like to know who I’m getting in bed with.”
“So do I, however, it didn’t seem to bother you too much last time.” She returned.
How could she possibly know who she was getting into bed with if she didn’t know so much as their names? The woman truly had a major screw loose somewhere in that very pretty head of hers. Under the table he felt her bare foot slide over his ankle and slowly make its way up to his inner thigh. She sat there drinking her drink and looking at him oh so innocently as she licked the drops of alcohol from her lips with the moist tongue. Ok, fine, who cared what her name was? Still, “How ‘bout a hint?”
Across the table that shy smile turned into a full grin and she shook her head. “Poor, Doc.” She cooed. “Don’t you know that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet?”
“Romeo and Juliette,” Vincent mused quietly, “Shakespeare fan?”
“Does that surprise you?”
Everything you do surprises me, lady. Vin held his tongue lest he blow this chance to get laid that he’d been hoping for so long. Instead, he finished the scotch in the glass only to see that her glass was also empty. If he was going to be inside her again tonight, and that was exactly what he intended, then Vin wanted to call her something, she got to call him ‘Doc’ and, well, ‘bitch’ just didn’t seem appropriate. “Then, that’s what I’ll call you…Rose.” Across from him she smiled a shy grin. “Shall we go now?”
Perhaps she’d misjudged this one. The night was young and there was plenty of time—and ways—to discover if that was the truth. “After you, Doc.”
Vin didn’t like the tone of her voice, he was being pushy and he knew it. So did she. What was in the harm in sitting here a few minutes more and talking to her? He might even find out something about the woman he was about to be deeply inside of. To his chagrin, He thought that perhaps he didn’t really want to know anything about her at all other than how she was in bed. That was fine for a hooker, but as he’d already ascertained, this woman was not a working girl. He shouldn’t treat her like one. Watching her slide across the booth to stand up, he plucked the shawl from the coat rack at the end of the booth. It was soft, fuzzy, and deep green like her sweater dress. He draped it around her shoulders taking in the shortness of the dress which clung to her legs several inches above the knee, the black stockings and matching green stiletto heels. Wrapping her in warmth, she looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she said in a whisper that was almost sad.
“I am a gentleman.” He held out his free arm to her, she looked up at him for a moment trying to judge if he was serious or not. In the end, she looped her arm through his and he escorted her from the bar while the man he’d booted out of her bed tonight scowled at them from behind a rather large glass of Jack Daniels. “Gee, Rosie, I don’t think I made a friend.” He commented.
Beside him the woman laughed. “Neither do I, Doc.” Unseen by them, the jilted lover wasn’t the only one watching.
The hotel room was just as he remembered it and just as he’d seen it a hundred dreams between now and the last time he saw her. The door opened to the bedroom, off of which to the right was the bathroom, straight ahead was the living area and those windows he was so accustomed to looking at from the street.
Although he was unaware of this face there were many nights she’d sat in the chair by the window in the darkened living area and watched him stroll down the street on his way to the bar or on his way to wherever home was for him. Often he stopped under the streetlight and looked up to her window while she wondered if he would have the courage to come to up to her room on his own. He never did, he just stopped, gazed and then went on his way. As he walked by her windows on those night, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for her. Had he gone down to the bar in search of her and, if so, what would happen if she should wander in a few minutes after him? Being the type of woman who, in large part, liked leaving things to Chance and to Fate, the woman he called Rose never followed him. If she should run into him again then that would fine and they would take it from there but she wouldn’t actively chase him or any man. Besides, while she came here to this hotel room more often than she should, she didn’t go to the bar until the loneliness became unbearable and the ache in her screamed for comfort.
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” She invited as she laid the shawl in the chair and put her purse on top of it. “I have to use the Ladies Room.” She disappeared into the bathroom. All of that booze in her had to find its way out sometime and He took the opportunity to pop a Oxycodone into his mouth. His leg was acting up again, an old war injury he left Operation Desert Storm with and never was able to lose. Now that the weather was turning cold and damp, he was relying his cane to keep him toddling around. In the summer, the heat felt great, and he nearly danced around but after late September all bets were off and he was apt to be found clutching his cane, gimping around, until May and being twice as grumpy as usual. When he met her back on that hot summer night, he didn't have the walking stick but tonight he did. She hadn't said a word about it in fact, as far as he could tell, she hadn't given it or his noticeable limp so much as a second glance.
Vin learned to live with the injury and he intended to do many things that would cause his leg a great deal of discomfort but bring so much pleasure to the rest of him. Make yourself comfortable she said and so he did, Vin tossed his jacket to the nearest chair, kicked off his sneakers and sat on the bed to take off his socks, leaving them on during sex was just tacky. While he waited for her to return, he looked through her purse hoping to find her driver’s license, credit card, anything that would tell him who she was. All he found in the clutch were a pack of Altoids Cinnamon Smalls, lipstick, cigarettes—he had no idea she smoked—a key ring, non-descript except for the medallion which looked like solid gold and read; Libra with image of scales. Other than that the only other thing in the purse was a hundred dollars in twenties neatly folded. No help there.
The dresser drawers were empty, not a single change of underwear, bra, nightgown…nothing. The small closet was also empty. For a woman who spent so much time here the place was completely devoid of even the smallest personal object. He doubted there was so much as a toothbrush in the place and yet she obviously kept this room on permanent reservation for whenever she felt the need to bring some new stud to her little love nest. Returning to the bed, he rummaged through the nightstand where he found several interesting things although none of them gave him a clue as to her identity. Fuzzy handcuffs and not the safety kind with the release catch but actual police issue cuffs, a blindfold, a soft and pliable dildo, tapered candles—a little hot wax anyone?—KY, a long peacock feather and a half empty box of Trojans in the Pleasure Pack. Sitting right alongside these items happened to be a King James Bible, and a phone book.
“Find anything interesting, Doc?”
Putting the half empty box of Trojans on the nightstand and not being able to help but notice the four remaining condoms were all of the ‘Her Pleasure’ variety, Vin was unapologetic at being caught snooping , “Oh, a few things.” He looked over to her and instantly changed his mind. “Well, maybe one thing in particular.” Vinnie said swallowing hard as he stared at her leaning in the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom of this corner suite, the dress gone for the night. She reclined there in only a very sexy pair of dark green panties, matching strapless bra, the black stocking turned out to be thigh-highs which were very seductively clinging to those well-molded thighs, and her dark green stiletto heels.
Maybe he should have had two Oxycodones?
(And a Viagra?)
“Well, that’s better. I would hate to think that nothing in this room interested you in the slightest.” She cooed as she sauntered over to him. “Put those away, Doc,” she whispered and motioned toward the box of Trojans.
“No,” Vin returned wanting them and the contents of the drawer within easy reach for the rest of the night. Did she flinch? It was hard to tell. The condoms, there was something about them, something she didn’t like. Something, maybe, dark and ugly.
Still coming toward him she drew in a deep breath and looked away from the black box with its contents of various condoms. “Been looking for me, Doc? Waiting for me?”
Vin pulled the t-shirt over his head and then patted the empty space of bed next to him. “Not anymore.”
The Doc was very striking especially for an older man. She’d never had much interest in older men until he caught her eye, those she usually left with from the bar were her age—which was 38—or younger. He had a flat stomach and tight chest whereas most men of his age had rather large spare tires, back hair, and man-boobs those things were altogether unappealing as far as she was concerned. Not the Doc. Even with that bum leg of his, he was in fine shape. She liked his gray/silver hair as it went very well with those striking blue eyes.
Sitting there on the bed watching her wind her way over to him, Vincent fully appreciated the way her hips rocked from side to side and the way her lips glistened after her tongue lapped along them. Slowly reaching behind her back, Rose unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. The nipples on those pert little breasts were still pink and they were very hard as her hand ran along their curves making his rock hard.
She appreciated the tent he was pitching in those faded blue jeans. Her eyes sparkled and she bit down ever so coyly upon her bottom lip as she reached out for it. “Been thinking about me?”
Long graceful fingertips ran over her body from her breasts, down the curve of her waist, past her hips and then reached out to the hard part of him. The merest whisper of a touch and the hard-on that had been beginning to rage now roared. “Incessantly.” Vin admitted without feeling as though he should hold back. He reached up to touch her and run his hands along the smooth alabaster skin that had replaced he golden tan of summer he’d seen last. The woman was in his head and now she was finally back in his bed—or he in hers—out of his dreams and into reality. He wasn’t going to let any of it slip by him. She leaned into him and he took one pert pink nipple into his mouth as he breathed deeply of her scent. Vin was slightly disappointed not to have the sweet scent of honeysuckle greet him he remembered it so well in his dreams. Disappointment turned to arousal as the heady aroma of cinnamon settled into his brain. With his lips and tongue sucking at her, his head buried against her chest he heard her heartbeat pick up the pace.
Like the last time, she pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. She stared down at him with hungry sparkling eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you too, Doc.” She whispered. That was true, she had been waiting for him. She’d been nearly elated when she saw him walk into the bar tonight as she immediately began coming with ways to politely ditch the much younger man she’d been sitting with. When he came over to the table and inserted himself into the evening, dismissed the other man as though he were nothing more than annoying fly, he’d been very turned on, yes, she liked a man who knew when to be a man and take charge of the situation. Doc seemed like that type of a guy to her.
Words, though altogether useful, were not necessary any longer.
Vin's smooth hands planted themselves on each of her hips and then slowly made their way up the curve of her supple back to the braid at the back of her head. Untying the ribbon the kept in place he ran his fingers through her hair until it was loose, wild and hanging free about her face and breasts. It was much longer than he remembered it being this past summer, then it had only cascaded to her shoulder blades. It was lighter this time too, hadn’t it been a deep auburn before? Yes, it had. Was it dyed or was this her real color? It was hard to tell since she had no carpeting to give away the secret of the drapes. No matter, he liked this color better anyway. Cupping her pretty face in his hands, he brought her down and in for a long kiss.
Cinnamon.
The scent of Fall. Of crisp leaves, hot cider and warm apple pie. Of nights by the fire, glasses of wine, and sweet kisses such as this.
Straddled over him, her hips slowly ground down on him making the crotch of faded jeans steamy. Lips and chests pressed together, skin to unfettered skin, she reached down between her own legs to undo the restrictive clothing he was still wearing. Before she could free him, Vin rolled her over onto her back and pinned her hands behind her head with one hand. She let out a deep sighing moan and her back arched off the bed.
She liked it rough, question was; how rough? Getting a firm grip on her wrist, he picked them up as he reached into the drawer by the bed to produce the handcuffs. She didn’t complain in the slightest when he harnessed her to the bed. Now his hands were free and she was secure.
From below him, in a heavy whisper she asked, “What are you doin’, Doc?”
“Nothing you don’t want me to, Rosie.” Vin whispered back. With devilish delight he put the key between her breasts so that she could see it but she couldn’t get to it. Looking back at her it was clear to see that she was so turned on right now she was almost glowing. Those limpid eyes sparkled with anticipation. Yes, this was the way she wanted it but chances were she didn’t want it too rough. Like last time, just rough enough to let her know who was in control tonight. He was going to take as much delight as he possibly could in finding out just where that line was drawn for her.
Over and over, in his dreams one thing haunted him more than anything else, even more than those pale eyes and sweet sighs. It was the one thing he didn’t get to do the last time they were here. Now that he had her in such a submissive position, and she was enjoying the hell out of it, he was going to indulge himself in that act from the tip of his nose, to his lips, his chin and by the end of it, hopefully he’d be soaked to chest with it. Slowly, he made his way down her naked body from neck to should to nipple and further still. Hands and mouth roaming wherever he pleased, lingering as long as he wanted all while he listened to her sigh and took in the enthralling scent of her. Turns out Medical School is good for more than medical situations. An intimate knowledge of female anatomy did wonders outside of the hospital. In fact, he couldn’t remember a class he enjoyed more and was hard-pressed to think of one that he’d put into practical use more often. Seemed she liked it too. There were so many subtle places to touch and taste on a woman’s body, so many places other men passed by without a single thought, but they didn’t understand about nerve endings , pressure points, and endorphins. Hell, let’s face it, most guys didn’t know the difference between a moan of pleasure and a groan of pain.
Most guys were idiots.
He wasn’t most guys.
She definitely wasn’t in any pain.
The closer to that smooth place between her legs the more the musky scent of her overpowered what cinnamon she wore, mixed with it, made it stronger as musk mingle with spice. Pretty emerald satin panties slid over the silk black thigh-highs and past her shoes to the floor. He thought about taking off the stockings then thought better of it, she could leave those and the shoes on if she wanted. Making his way back up those lovely legs, Vin was almost drooling before he got to where he really wanted to be, he just kept breathing in deeper and deeper trying to pull more and more of her into him. That scent seemed to fill so many barren places.
Hot breath brushed against her lower lips making the waiting space between tingle and ache to be touched. How many men had cum and gone between now and the last time she saw her Doc? Ten, fifteen maybe? She’d even found herself scoping out older men as of late in hopes of replacing him but she didn’t have any luck with that. No, none of them was like this. Her restrained hands pulled against the cuffs on her wrists wanting to reach down and touch him, run her fingers through that silver hair and over his shoulders. The frustration of knowing she couldn’t only made her want him more as the caress of the palm of his hand roamed over her inner thigh. Her eyes closed as she let out heated moan.
That soft mound of smooth flesh rose up to bring him more of that wanton scent that made his mouth water. She wanted him to taste of her. Time to see how many steps there were to that line. Perched between her legs, the tip of his tongue twitching in his mouth, he looked up at her with just his eyes. “Beg me, Rosie.” She stared back at him with those hungry eyes, the ones that drove him wild, the ones that pleaded for him to do whatever he wanted.
“Please, Doc?”
More steps than he might have previously thought by her unquestioning willingness to comply. “Again.”
“Oh, please, Doc? Taste me.”
What a sweet invitation. It would be rude to say no now wouldn’t it? Hearing her wasn’t enough, he wanted to see her face too. So, he didn’t close his eyes as the tip of that waiting tongue flicked out to get its first taste of her. Above him, secured to the bed, she let out a quick moan as her eyes closed and that back arched even closer to him. She was just as tangy and sweet as that musky scent told him she would be. He wanted more. Much more. To that end, he slid his index finger into that hot moist place and she quivered. A few slow thrusts in and out and, mercilessly he stopped. He waited for her eyes to open again, when they did they were hazy and puzzled. “More?”
He was going to tease her endlessly! “Bad Doc,” she chided and watched him give her a sly grin as her inner thighs tingled from the softness of the whiskers on his face.
“Horrible,” he agreed from between her legs. “More?”
“Yes,” she sighed, “Please?”
“Please? Please what, Rosie?”
Involuntarily her hands strained at the cuffs again as she tried to reach for him. Taunting her between her rising and falling breasts lay the key that would free from this prison. “Please more…please, Doc, don’t stop.”
“That’s better.” He looked past her face to her hands straining against the cold metal cuffs as she tried to reach for him. Vin had to hold back the smile lest she think him…evil. He’d let her go soon enough but not before her arms fell asleep and were useless to her for a while. “Sometimes, Rosie, you have to ask for what you want.” He’d tell her to demand it but, while Rosie loved and to tease and to flirt, she didn’t like to be the dominant one and even if he told her to do it, she might shy away. Shying away was the last thing he wanted her to do tonight, he’d waited too many months for that.
“I’ve missed you, Doc.”
That surprised him, such words were unexpected. But maybe it was just part of the internal mind game she was playing. Vin didn’t doubt that on nights such as these there was much more than animal sex involved, at least in her head. Something drove to her this and he would very much like to know what it was. The words led him to think that, perhaps in her mind or maybe even her heart, it was a whispered plea to a lover that never returned. He wished he knew her real name but the one he was using was pleasant enough. “Missed you too, Rosie.” Vin whispered with his mouth poised over that wet waiting place. His hot breath met the tender sensitive flesh there and made goose bumps arise on the thighs on either side of him.
Soft, wet tongue and gentle commanding finger found their home. She thought she’d lose her mind. Nobody did it like the Doc. All of the men who’d cum and gone over the last two years…nobody did it like the Doc. He seemed to know. To understand what these nights were all about. He used them to the very satisfactory advantage of both of them. The rest were cumbersome, they were ungraceful, awkward and lacked in self-confidence. That was the best of them. Others were…selfish. They were…brutish. Some were even…cruel. They took advantage of what she offered so freely and greedily robbed her of it.
Not The Doc. He was confident, maybe even a little arrogant but not cocky, not annoying. He didn’t seem to have a cruel bone or bad intention in his slim body.
She’d watched him so long before her chance finally came and he walked into the on that fateful August night. She just couldn’t let that chance slip away. No, not after she’d sat quietly in the shadows listening to him as he fought for one patient or another the passion and zeal rising in his voice. Not after she’d sat so quietly for so long and watching him as that same passion and zeal took hold of his rather handsome face. He took chances. He took risks. In the end, he was almost always right. More than that, he was a very strange creature indeed, in that, in spite of all of the chances he took, The Doc was a man who could admit when he was wrong. Perhaps he didn’t like to do so…who did? But he could do it, she’d even go so far as to say that he knew when to do it.
To her it seemed that The Doc knew when to do just about everything.
Very strange indeed.
Lost in her thoughts and the pleasure between her legs, she didn’t notice when she began to cum and so she didn’t hold back.
It was just the coolest thing in the world when a hot dream became an even hotter reality. Before Vin knew it, he was drenched in those hot wet juices from nose to chest just as he wanted when he started this.
Thank you, Professor Lawrence and your Female Anatomy Class. They were the best four credits in the whole world.
That’s what Vin thought as he made his way up her, tongue leaving a long slick trail from the space between her breasts to the key between them. Her arms were good and tired now, yep, they surely were. His eyes glanced over at the items in the drawer but dismissed them for the moment, maybe later he’d like to use that dildo but not just now. Rosie’s misty eyes followed him as he plucked the key from its resting place, letting his hand linger there a long moment to feel the rapid beat of her heart before he unlocked the cuffs. “Come with me.” He grabbed a condom out of the box.
Anxious to see what he had in mind, Rosie did as he asked, and followed him away from the bed. She found that her arms were heavy almost as though someone replaced the bone with lead.
Vin looked around the room. The wall with the dresser had space but it a joined the room next door, he didn’t want to disturb the neighbors. The wall where the chair sat—the chair looked interesting too but he’d get to that later along with the dildo—there was room there and there was another wall between them and then nothing but the street beyond. “Over here.” He took her hand and led her over to the empty space. She was short but not too short and those heels would definitely help, they were turning him on just looking at the way they led from the floor, up those black stockings to her bare ass. Against the wall, if he bent deeply at the knee, which would be to his advantage in the end though it would be murder on his leg…small price to pay….for such heights of pleasure. “Face the wall, Rosie.” The eyes that had looked at him with curious desire now did so with trepidation. He took another step toward the line. “Do it.”
Heart skipping a beat, she turned to the wall, put her hands against and waited. The next thing she knew, his hand was between her shoulder blades pushing her further into the cold wallpapered sheet rock. She tried to push him away but her arm wouldn’t move, when she tried to force it her shoulder cried out in protest. Behind her The Doc pressed his naked body against her and gave his next command.
“Spread ‘em.” Vin whispered in her ear. “Wide.”
“Doc?”
Vin grabbed a handful of strawberry hair with his free hand and gave it a firm yank. “Do it.” Rosie hesitated but she didn’t say ‘no’ and she didn’t say ‘stop’. “Now, Rosie, nice and wide.” When his lips met the nape of her neck those lovely legs parted to shoulders width. When he bit down they spread a little further still and her firm ass arched out toward him.
Still a ways to go before he found that line.
Rosie was ready and Vin was beyond ready as he tore open the wrapper, did the right thing before sliding into her. Face pressed to the wall she moaned out his name; “Doc,”. He wanted to see her face and he used that handful of hair to turn her head as he began to surge in and out of that hot tight hole. The one he’d been dreaming about.
The one she’d been waiting for him to fill again.
Maybe a Viagra would have been a good idea. Next time.
Next time?
Yeah, oh yeah, definitely…next time. He didn’t come here tonight only to walk out with light satisfied balls but no name or phone number. An email address at least.
Turned to him this way her neck was exposed, so vulnerable and tasty as it started to shine with a sheen of sweat. Burying his whiskered face in the space he breathed in the scent of Cinnamon and sex, he marveled at the way she changed her scent with the seasons. Did she that on purpose? She must. Rosie smell light and breezy in summer and heady in fall, it was all just another way to attract the right prey. Like him.
Lucky fucking him.
Lost in his own thoughts and desire, his eyes rolled back in his head behind closed lids, Vin was completely oblivious when the nibbling turned into gnawing and then a strong bite. It wasn’t until the salty tang of blood met his tongue that he pulled back but not at first, no not right away. He let it linger on his tongue and dribble down the back of his throat before realizing he had to be hurting her. If he kept going, just a little more pressure from his teeth would break the skin and he might well come away with a chunk of flesh in his mouth. Glancing down at the corner of his eye, he saw one of those too tired to raise arms trying to reach back and push him away. Another thing he didn’t realize as he was lost in thought was his thrusts were matching the pressure of his jaw. The slender fingers on that helpless hand flexed and stretched and flexed and stretched. Below his chest, her breath came shallow and controlled. The legs below her, the ones that ended in those come-fuck-me pumps threatened to give out. Seemed without knowing it, Vincent Stephenson found that line.
Still she didn’t say ‘no’, she didn’t say ‘stop’. No, what Rosie did say, what she managed to croak through a tight throat was;
“Doc?”
Pain wasn’t the object of The Game, not for him and as much as she might put up with it, not for her either. Maybe it was true and most guys really didn’t know the difference but Vin lived with enough pain to know it when he heard it and had a feeling that Rosie did too. Nights like this were for walking along the razor’s edge not for crossing over it. Although it took a bit of doing and an amount of self-control that he was very unaccustomed to exercising Vin pulled back and eased off. He forced his jaw open to release the tender flesh caught there, he let his tongue lap along the wounded place taking up the last of her blood even though he knew he shouldn’t. It was so tender and sweet, when his tongue rang along it and his lips kissed it, she seemed to melt against the wall. The hand that was flexing and trying to bat him lay still as it tried to hold its owner on her stilettoed feet. She didn’t mind the strength of his thrusts…not too much judging from the way she once again arching that fine ass toward him…it was his teeth on her neck. He’d use that lightly from here on out. The hand in her hair gave another firm yank. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a moan that would make the angels cry. He was back to the right side of the razor’s edge. “I know you’ve been waiting for me, Rosie. You dream about me.” He didn’t know if he was right when he uttered the words but her response was he needed for confirmation of its truth. Another truth was that he couldn’t hold out much longer. Bending deeply at the knee Vin gave a long slow upward thrust. “Come on, Rosie, I’ve been dreaming about you too.”
Was that true? Did The Doc dream about her? What did it matter if it was a lie? The whole thing was a lie, why not enjoy it while it lasted and before the illusion shattered? Where was the harm in that?
At the moment, it was nowhere that she could see.
“Do it, Doc. Go on. Fuck me.”
At the last two words it was Vin’s turn to flinch. He didn’t know why he should find them so ugly right here and right now. After all, what else were they doing if not fucking? Still, part of him wished she hadn’t cheapened it. Then again, maybe that was what she needed. “Fuck you good.” He whispered back. Her back to his chest, he felt her cringe and quiver as the word came from his lips. She didn’t like it either but she needed it.
Pressed against the hotel room wall, the woman Vin knew as Rosie, surrendered to him and the rest of the night.
By the time dawn threatened to arrive, the box of Trojans was empty, every hole in her had been filled, and all of the toys had been used. Exhausted and feeling as though all of his bones had somehow been replaced with helium, Vin rose from the bed. “Where are you goin’, Doc?”
“I don’t like to wake up alone.” That was where she left him the last time; alone. If that was going to happen after a night like this then he’d rather do it in his own bed.
She shouldn’t. No she shouldn’t. Absolutely. Positively. Should not. She never did this. She swore to herself when this started that she never would do this!
“Stay, Doc.” Rosie pleaded from the bed as she reached out for him. “You won’t wake up alone.”
He took off the t-shirt and climbed back into the bed to take her up in his arms.
In the morning, when he woke, she was still there. Sleeping peacefully on his shoulder and smiling slightly as she dreamed. Looking toward the window he saw that it was raining. It was Sunday. He had nowhere to go and nothing to do. No one was expecting him. If he wanted to, if she wanted him to, then he could spend the day here in this bed with her. At the thought of it he found he had a good deal of morning wood. How could that be after last night? Yet it was. There she was, soft and warm and waiting. Quietly he reached for the box only to remember it was empty.
What did it matter now? He took in her blood last night and if she had anything that was treatable but not curable, he was already at risk. He was clean, he knew that because he got tested twice yearly. Working Girls and all, AIDS was a real draw back. Rosie wasn’t sick, the worst that could happen…maybe..was that she’d get pregnant. Gazing down at her, watching her sleep, he thought that wasn’t such a bad idea. He could fall for her and he didn’t even know her name.
Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!
Outside the rain fell gently against the window casting soft gray glow over the room. Vin rolled the sleeping woman onto her back he straddled her just as her eyes opened. “Mornin’, Rosie.”
“Mornin’, Doc.” She cooed. She’d been so sure he’d sneak off in the middle of the night. He was still here and he was sliding into her again..and…. he hands reached out and caught his hips before he could slide all the way inside. “Doc?” There was no condom between them. Finally, they were flesh to flesh. Men often complained that condoms made sex feel weird or that they couldn’t feel anything, but what they didn’t realize was that the same was true for the female involved.
Holding himself on one elbow, he used the other hand to pull herself away, he laced his fingers through hers and pinned her arm by her head on the bed. “It’s ok, Rosie, don’t be afraid. It’s ok, I really am a doctor.”
I know…that was what she wanted to say. I know, you’re Doctor Vincent Stephenson and you’re the Head of the Diagnostics Department at Boston-Middleboro Hospital. Of course, she said no such thing.
The incredible sex they’d engaged in last night and that of a few months ago didn’t come close to what they did next on that rainy Sunday.
She could fall for him. She mustn’t but she could. For now, she could feel and she could dream.
Vin and his lovely lady Rosie passed the day making love in the hotel room.
Chapter Two
Vincent Stephenson didn’t leave the El Royale Hotel until nearly 6pm on Sunday evening and when he did the man behind the desk gave him a strange smile that irked him. “What?”
“Nuttin’,” the young man mused, “just, ah, I seen a lot of guys come and go from there,” he pointed upward to the room on the fourth floor with a skinny finger. “You’re the only one I’ve ever seen twice. She must like you.”
Rosie liked him all right just not enough to tell him her name. Not what she did. Where she lived. Where was from or where she thought she was going. She was still a complete mystery even though he knew her most intimately. He had no plans to see her again nor a way to get in touch with her other than to look for the light when he passed by on the street.
**
Monday morning came and he dragged himself out of bed, he collapsed here right around 9pm. After a hot shower in which he very much regretted washing away the scent of her, and a three Oxycodones to relieve the pain in his overly strained oh so pleasantly over used bum leg, he slept deeply the whole night through.
The Team was gathered in his office waiting for the day to start, Vin was late again. Most of them wondered if the man even owned an alarm clock let alone knew how to use one. As t hey sat there making chit-chat about what they’d done over the weekend an odd sound began to drift down the hall from outside the office.
“Is someone whistling?” Canon asked.
The whistling stopped and…”Carmelita-aaaa… hold me tighter I think I'm sinking down,” the singing began. “And I'm all strung out on heroin. On the outskirts of town.”
“He damn well better not be,” Sargent said as he got up from the table just as Doctor Stephenson came into view outside the glass. He was…strolling…down the hallway, head tossed back, singing to the tune on his iPod. “Well, I'm sittin' here playing solitaire with my pearl-handled deck . The county won't give me no more methadone and they cut off your welfare check.” Whistling once more he opened the door, turned to his team, smiled and said; “Good morning.”
“Awww, crap,” Wylder bitched, “what are you on now?”
“High on life,” Doctor Stephenson retorted. “Disappointed?”
“No, I just believe you that’s all.”
“Too bad,” he chimed, “got anything interesting or are we all just sitting around on our butts today?”
There wasn’t anything that was really going to peek Doctor Stephenson’s interest at the moment but that didn’t mean their skills couldn’t be put to use. “Forty year old male,” Canon began.
“Not interested,” Doctor Stephenson dismissed it. “go on.”
“Don’t you want to hear the symptoms?” She asked.
“Maybe later. Who’s next?”
“Twenty-one year old female,” she started, paused, and then continued, Figured he’d go for the young woman over the middle-aged man. “Presents with severe dry mouth, double and blurred vision—she can’t read the eye hardly at all—labored breathing and vomiting.”
“Hung over?”
“Tox-screen said no and her sister, who brought her in and is twenty-three in case you’re interested, said they went to some new horror movie last night and then went home.” She tossed the folder across the table. “Anyway, she’s negative for alcohol which should still be showing up if she was drunk last night.”
“Any other illicit drugs?”
“Pot,” Canon shrugged her shoulders. “She says she been feeling bad for a few days, felt a little better yesterday so she went to the movie but this morning she had trouble standing up when she got out of bed.”
“Could be Guillian-Barre syndrome,” Sargent suggested without much interest.
Well a little round of Who’s Right and Who’s Wrong was always fun. “Could be Myasthenia gravis,” Doctor Stephenson countered. “Let’s get to work.”
The rest of the day went just as well as any other day but the pretty little twenty-one year patient kept getting worse. That wasn’t anything new. They often got worse before they got better. Around noon Smyth walked into the office.
“You know, I heard the strangest thing earlier today,” he commented, “it sounded like…you…singing.” Stephenson just sat there staring at him. “Others heard it too and they’ve said they didn’t know you had such a lovely voice,” he teased. “The nurses actually had nice things to say about you today.” The tone of his voice grew slightly. “What’s going on, Stephenson? What new drug are you on?”
“Gee, one good day and everyone thinks I’m on heroin or something.” He complained. “What? I can’t have a good day? That’s not allowed?”
Smyth stood there staring at his old friend who was bright eyed, not pale in the slightest, wasn’t shaking or scratching himself and just genuinely seemed… “This isn’t you, Stephenson, you actually look…dare I say it…giddy?” He leaned in closer. “Who’s the new hooker?” That made Stephenson smile wide and give a chuckle. “Ah, that is it. So who she is? Care to share her number? I could use it.”
“I know you could but sorry, she’s not a hooker,” Stephenson said as he got up and came out from behind the desk.
“You mean to tell me you had a real date with a real woman? One you didn’t pay for?” That was astounding.
“Yep.”
“Well, who she is? What’s her name?” Smyth asked excitedly. This was big news and he was a bit miffed that Vin had been able to keep it from him. Now that he knew, he wanted to hear every detail.
What’s her name? Small sticking point. “No idea.”
Smyth groaned. “Oh, I see you had random sex with some woman you picked up in a bar? Figures.”
“Nope, with some random woman who picked me up in a bar.” Vin corrected.
“Well, at least you didn’t have to pay for it.” Smyth held his hand out. “Oh, wait, was it the woman you told me about over the summer?”
“Yep.” He said happily. “Ran into her Saturday night, I left her hotel room on Sunday night.”
“Good for you.” Smyth complimented. “I didn’t know you still had it in ya, you old dog.”
“Actually….’it’ was in her.” Vin crooned.
“Crude, but ok.” Smyth agreed with a smile. “And you don’t know her name? Are you going to see her again? She must be really something, huh?”
Before Vin could reply, Wylder came rushing into the office to tell them that the patient was now experience a degree of paralysis. The three of them rushed off toward her room.
**
Sad and lonely she sat by the bed holding his still warm hand. It was always still. He never curled his fingers around hers anymore. Never opened his eyes. Never smiled for her or told her that he loved her. Yet she still sat here almost every day, holding his hand, talking to him, reading to him, hoping that one day he would wake up. There was no hope of that. For the last two years, he laid here in this bed never moving or making a sound. The doctors said he wasn’t in any pain and that he could go on this way another five or ten years, maybe even more. Wiping a tear away from her pale eyes she drew in a deep breath. “Tommy made the football team, Craig. First string.” She said trying to keep her voice light. “I know how much you’d love to see him play. He’s so proud. He’s good too, the coach says he’s first rate. He misses you, I know he doesn’t come often but he’s just a kid, you have to forgive him.” She patted his hand and then brought it to her lips.
“She’s getting worse because it’s not Guillian-Barre it’s Myasthenia gravis and your treatment is making her worse!”
The voice was a way down the hall yet but it was growing louder. She looked down at the diamond watch on her wrist, a wedding present from Craig just four years ago. It was past noon and usually by now The Doc was down in the cafeteria having his lunch. Not today.
“It’s not Myasthenia,”
Another voice and it was joined by a third telling the other two to calm down this wasn’t helping the patient any.
The blinds behind her were open. She doubted she had enough to time to get up and close them before he came into view. She turned her back fully to the windowed wall and held her breath.
Doctors Stephenson, Sargent and Smyth were walking quickly down the hall passing the coma ward as they argued. Stephenson was almost past it when the woman inside caught his attention or rather the strawberry color of her hair did. It was pulled back in a ponytail, she was wearing a white fisherman’s sweater and faded blue jeans as she sat on the bed holding the hand of the man in the bed.
“Look, Stephenson, it’s Guillian-Barre, it fits perfectly….”
“If it fit at all the treatment would be working,” Stephenson interjected trying to keep one eye on Sargent and one on the woman in the room. Was she purposefully turning away from him? Trying to hide her face. That was the way that it seemed the closer he got and became even with where she sat the more she turned in the other direction. What was so interesting on the floor that she just couldn’t take her eyes off of it? If she was hoping to hide her face, it wasn’t working for her because He thought he knew the back of that head all too well. There should be a large bruise on the side of her…
As he looked for it, she brought her hand up to her neck as though it ached and rubbed it. Was she trying to cover the bruise his teeth left? Was it really her?
There wasn’t any time to stop in and get a good look at her. He kept going down the hall but couldn’t help straining his neck to look back only to see that she was now turned in the other direction, still facing away from him and he was still able to get a look at that pretty face.
“Stephenson!” Sargent demanded. “What are you looking at?”
“I’m coming, leave the old gimp alone.” He wanted to break off from the little group and walk into the room, wanting to grab her by the chin and turn her face to look at him so he could know for sure. Right now, he had to tend to the patient. "You're supposed to be kind to veterans, you know." On his way back he'd get a better look at her.
For twenty minutes, they went back and forth over the diagnosis but in the end, when the tests came back they were both wrong. The patient had botulism. Twenty-one and she’d gone to some non-board certified plastic surgeon and gotten tainted BoTox injections two weeks before. What was the world coming to when a woman who was barely old enough to drink was putting her life on the line to rid her face of non-existent wrinkles?
“You wanna get some lunch?” Smyth asked but Stephenson stopped in front of the coma ward. “You can tell me more about your mystery woman…much more.” He coached cheerily.
Stephenson walked into the room now devoid of anything but the patients and their monitors. He walked over to the third bed, the one in the middle of the room, the one where the woman had been sitting. It could just be his imagination but was that the scent of cinnamon hanging in the air? Looking down he picked up the chart; Craig Miller, aged 39, and resident of the Boston-Middleboro Teaching Hospital’s Coma Ward for the last two years. Emergency contact; Wife, Juliette Miller. “A rose by any other name,” he mumbled. “Slick. But I got you now.”
“Vin?” Smyth asked from the doorway. “Lunch? I’m buying..as usual.”
Vin put the chart back. “Can’t.” He said. “Got a date.”
“With the mystery woman?”
“Nope, with Emma in Medical Records.”
“Emma?” Smyth asked in disgust. She was a lovely woman but she was over sixty, she was as grouchy as Vin and, word was…a lesbian. “Oh, you’re pulling my leg, right?”
“Nope.” He looked at Smyth. “Catch you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? It’s only 12:30.”
“Really? Seems later.” He wandered off to the Records Department.
**
Craig Miller, architect, business owner, avid tennis player and golfer…hit by a bus at the tender of age 37 and never woke up. Looking at his medical records, Vincent had no idea why the man wasn’t dead. He should be. Be better for him and obviously a lot better for Rosie…Juliette. Juliette Miller, aged 38, married to Craig 2 years before the accident. No kids. She was a teacher at the Williams School. The records provided him with her home phone number, work phone number, cell number, and home address. “Swank.” He mused as he read it. Building buildings must have been paying off before Craig had the misfortune of stepping off the curb at the wrong time. It certainly helped explain how she could afford to keep a hotel room on a permanent reservation.
Thanking Emma for her help, Stephenson went back to the Coma Ward and inquired about the patient in the middle bed. “Does he get a lot of visitors? Who are his family members?”