Page 3 of Will See You Now
I must have been in there a while, spiraling and waiting for the distant sounds of sirens to alert me of my doom, because Mrs. Waddington was knocking on the door of my office. Something she rarely did.
With a steadying sigh, I stepped out of the bathroom and crossed the small office to open the door. I was a little surprised to find it was just her, looking confused but ever so polite as always.
She was an older lady, hired because of her impeccable CV and her ability to wrangle any doctor or nurse. Her stern eyes looked at me through horn-rimmed glasses.
“Your next patient is here, they’re in with the nurse,” she said, not indicating anything was wrong. Showing no sign that a distressed young woman had just accused me of depravity.
Miss Walton had left, then, if my next patient was in for processing. She’s gone without a word. She’d let me finger her until she came, let her gynecologist finger fuck her, then sauntered off. A surprise flicker of anger joined the relief.
The rest of the afternoon passed with tension. I was on edge, counting down the clock, ready to escape the room I’d violated a patient in. Because even if she’d enjoyed it, it was a disgusting misuse of power. By the time 5pm rolled around, exhaustion had me dead on my feet. Mrs. Waddington wanted me to stay back to fill out some paperwork, but I brushed her off, promising I’d be in early tomorrow instead.
When I got home, my mind wouldn’t go anywhere but to that woman. I couldn’t focus on anything but the ache in my dick, the urge to take her fully. So I fucked my fist to thoughts of her on my table, her pussy wrapped around my cock this time… the ripple of her muscles squeezing, milking, encouraging.
My orgasm had me buckling and hating myself to such a depth a sob pulled from my throat. This was a darkness I never wanted released.
A week later, a list of my patients for the day had me pausing with my coffee halfway to my mouth. Miss Harper Walton, follow up. She was coming back. To what? Threaten me? With the police in tow? For… more? Again, excitement warred with panic. I was going to get a fucking stomach ulcer if this didn’t resolve itself soon.
My morning went by like hell, dragging on as I discussed birth control, examined patients, and checked for pregnancy. It went on and on, going through the motions until I knew she was here for me.
I felt sick to my stomach when Mrs. Waddington informed me Miss Walton was with the nurse and would be ready in a few minutes. I stared at myself in the mirror again, bracing myself for whatever was to come. If it was more, I didn’t know that I could resist. Didn’t know that I wanted to.
My hand wrapped around the doorknob, anticipation shooting up and down my spine, making me light-headed. But I had to be professional, own up to my actions and hope she wasn’t here to threaten me. She had me by the balls and she must know it. I certainly did.
Stepping into the room, I took a moment to read her chart without looking up, catching my breath. Then, when I did glance up, all the air was knocked from my lungs.
Miss Walton sat there, big green eyes peering at me, legs pressed together as she perched on the table in her thin paper gown. Her silent gaze tracked me across the room as I settled into the wheeled chair and shuffled closer to her, gripping her chart like it would protect me.
I rested by her waist, not between her legs. I wouldn’t go there unless I needed to. A sigh released from me when our eyes met.
“Miss Walton,” I said.
“We’re not beyond that?” she responded with a wry smile, surprising me. She didn’t seem angry at all, she was looking at me with a cocked brow and… was that excitement? My eyes flickered to the two hard points of her nipples showing through the thin gown. She looked kind of like I felt, confused, some anticipation because it had been so —
“Miss Walton,” I repeated, swallowing a gulp, pushing the thoughts away.
“Yes?” Her tone was playful, and I found I couldn’t get a handle on her. She didn’t look like an abused patient facing her abuser.
“I think you should see a different doctor.”
I noted the tension stiffening up her body, the flicker of disappointment she tried to mask. She sat before me, vulnerable, almost naked, and I was rejecting her. But I had to.
She chewed her lips, looking contemplative.
“I need you to just do this for me, tick a box. My — I’m a junior doctor, supposed to be going on a trip in a few weeks to help communities recovering from war. Everything is good to go but the full physical I need. Proof that we’re in sound health. Insurance sent me to you…” she explained with a husk in her voice, like she was trying to keep it steady.
I glanced down to double check her age on the chart, only twenty-six, a baby doctor. Eleven years younger than me. That wasn’t so bad, this might not be so — I stopped myself, I was not trying to rationalize my actions. Eleven years was a lot. Thiswasbad.
“It — it would be inappropriate. I can put you in touch with one of my colleagues,” I answered, wheeling back a little to get out of her space. Trying to look detached.
I heard her huff. “If you don’t do it, I’ll tell everyone what you did.” Even without knowing her, I could tell she didn’t mean it. Her words were shaky at best, her conviction lacking. She winced when I turned and our eyes locked, that rumble in the depths of my mind working its way up.
She wouldn’t say anything, she was as affected by this as me. Her eyes widened when I let my professional mask fall and stepped closer.
“Legs in stirrups,” I told her, playing along with her blackmail. In silence, she placed her legs in the stirrups, her chest heaving a little as she spread for me.
A tension settled over the room as I wheeled my chair to her feet, the squeak of the wheel breaking the quiet. I would check her again, run through the motions of a pelvic exam, to, as she said, tick the boxes. This didn’t need to be anything more. I could do these examinations in my sleep.
Without looking at her face, I scooted closer to her vulva, sliding her gown down to pool at her stomach.
